The Bound (Ascension #2)(92)

She opened her mouth to protest but found that she couldn’t. How can I fear this moment when I didn’t even stop to consider what to do in the face of a Braj in Aurum?

Cyrene looped her hand into the crook of his elbow and then nodded. They walked into the ballroom, and applause broke out. As she walked with Dean down the stairs, Cyrene couldn’t tell if people were happy to see her or not, but she tried not to care. Dean had just called her his. That was all that was important.

The room was decorated completely in white. All the tables had expensive white silk cloths that draped to the floor. The glasses were white frosted. White flowers of every variety were artfully arranged into centerpieces, so the entire room was perfumed with the fragrant scent. Servants were dressed in sheer white frocks and carrying trays of clouded drinks. The whole room looked blanketed in snow, and the familiarity of it lulled her.

They walked to the center of the room where space had been left open for the royal family. Introductions followed for all of his sisters. Therese and Tifani along with their dates were next. Then, Alise and Robard made it into the room. Robard shot Dean a dirty look, and Alise looked pleased with herself. She smiled brightly at Cyrene and waved like they were old friends. She was a dangerous one for sure.

The rest of his sisters filtered into the room.

Just when it was time for Brigette, the announcer cleared his throat, and a page ran toward him. He looked down at the piece of paper he had been given and nodded.

“Her Royal Majesty, Queen Cassia Ellison, the Matron Bride of the Sea, and the King Regent Tomas Ellison,” the man declared.

Cyrene looked up at Dean in surprise. “Where is Brigette?”

The whispers throughout the room proved that everyone else had noticed her absence as well. Brigette had been there when Cyrene and Dean were outside of the ballroom, and now, she was missing.

“I don’t know,” Dean said. He looked worried.

“Should we go check on her?”

He shook his head. “It would be best not to draw any more attention,” he whispered as his parents made it to the circle.

The Queen raised her hands, gesturing to the musicians to begin playing. But then, just as the first chord struck in the room, the announcer dropped his cane again.

Everyone swiveled back to the entrance to see what the commotion was. Someone was to be announced after the Queen and King? That simply wasn’t proper.

The announcer cleared his throat, and when he read the new piece of paper, his eyes enlarged to twice their size. It was noticeable, even from where Cyrene was standing.

“Her Royal Highness, Crown Princess Brigette Ellison, the Maiden Bride of the Sea, and”—the announcer looked up at the crowd in shock and bewilderment—“Master Basille Selby.”





“Oh Creator,” Cyrene whispered, “what have we done?”

“You mean, what has Brigette done?”

Cyrene looked up at Dean, but he just shook his head.

“There is nothing we can do to fix this. Brigette dug her own grave. She’s going to have to lie in it.”

“What will your parents do?”

“Nothing in public. They’ll wait until everyone is distracted.”

Queen Cassia looked ready to rush over to her eldest daughter and filet her alive.

To Brigette’s credit, she didn’t even flinch under her mother’s gaze as she strode into the ballroom in a royal-blue gown with Basille Selby on her arm. The whispers erupted all around them, and Cyrene could already tell that the old gossip was circulating the room.

Brigette stepped up to her mother with a wide smile on her face. “You remember Master Selby, don’t you, Mother?”

Queen Cassia smiled at him, but her eyes were murderous. “It has been nearly a decade since I’ve heard that name.”

Basille bowed to the Queen. “And not a day goes past that you haven’t missed hearing it, I’m sure.”

“I’m sure,” the Queen responded icily. “Maestro, a dance to celebrate my eldest daughter’s eternal wisdom and grace in all matters.”

Cyrene jolted. She barely knew Brigette, but she almost wanted to go save her from the wrath in the Queen’s look and the disgust in her cool voice.

But Dean put a hand on Cyrene’s back and pulled her into his arms just as the music began. “Not a battle for you to fight, my little warrior.”

“Me?” she gasped. “I’m not a warrior.” Her feet slid across the floor with Dean leading the way.

“You run into battles headfirst without a thought for your own safety,” he whispered against her hair. “That sounds like a warrior to me.”

Cyrene remembered the last time someone had called her a warrior. She’d had her warrior ceremony in Byern. After finding out that Affiliates and High Order had started as the warriors from Viktor Dremylon’s army when he killed off the Doma, she’d had to prove her warrior status, and she had just barely survived.

“Perhaps I just desire to help the people I care about,” she reasoned. “Maybe that doesn’t make me a warrior. Maybe it makes me a humanitarian.”

Dean quirked an eyebrow up. “A humanitarian? For someone with your particular…skill set, I find that a bit ironic.”

“Why is that?” she demanded. “Are you saying that I can’t care about humanity?”