I reel back. "Arlet, no. You don't want him as a mate."
She doesn't say anything for a few moments, her gaze distant. "You are mated to a king. Why not me?" she asks, biting her lip.
"What about Lord Vann," I ask. I know it's the wrong thing to say when she glares at me. "I saw the way you acted when he was hurt. He can't seem to stop staring at you."
She flares her nostrils. "He's a prick. I don't care for him at all."
I take a deep breath. "Very well. But Arlet, Promise me you won't try anything with the elven king. I don't want you getting hurt."
She narrows her eyes but nods reluctantly. "I promise."
"Good." I stand up, still holding the gown. "I should probably try this on. How does it even work with all those laces?"
Arlet grins, standing up as well. "I'll show you tomorrow. It's quite elaborate, but the effect is stunning."
Chapter37
Aragonite
TEO
The morning of the festival has been hectic and boisterous. Now everyone is crowding out of their houses and standing in front of the Ardorflame temple. I must admit, it's beautiful. The light of the lava veins is bright and the spell lights reflect off the crystals embedded in the massive pillars that hold the temple up. The people are dressed in their finest clothes and jewelry, their faces bright and eager, as if they are all in a trance. They talk excitedly, waiting for Mother Liana to appear and begin the festival.
I wait on the steps of the palace, observing my people from afar. Even from here, I can see the elven king and his posse. Arlet is also visible, with her bright red hair and pink dress. She is talking with her hands while the king merely watches her.
I don’t have to agree with him to get his help,I remind myself.
Teo?
I suck in a breath.Yes?
Will you come?
Just like that, I'm spinning on my heel and practically flying to her room. When I arrive, she opens the door, and I behold her in her festival gown.
It's a sight to behold. The fabric of her gown is as blue as the ocean, and it falls in gentle cascades around her feet. The bodice is studded with sapphires, and her hair hangs loosely around her shoulders. I want to run my fingers through it. The neckline dips down to her ribs, revealing that beautiful stone on her sternum and showcasing the betrothal gift I gave her—forty gems laced together. She looks like a goddess, and for a moment, I'm left breathless.
“Happy Festival,” she says, stepping forward and placing a leaf in my hands. I look down at the small green thing and then return my gaze to her.
She smiles. “It’s from the plants I’ve been growing. It’s a niue root leaf.”
I grin, so proud of my mate. I draw her into my arms. “Thank you. This is a really beautiful gesture.” I think of how much we need plants, how dead this mountain was before she arrived.
She pulls back and looks up at me. "Will you help me braid my hair," she says softly, beckoning me to come closer.
I suck in a breath, knowing what that means for mated pairs. A sign of our attachment, for one to braid the other's hair.
I take a step closer, my fingers twitching as I reach for the comb on the vanity. There are several metal cuffs with gems waiting to be scattered throughout her hair. My fingers grip the carved bone, and I want to be anything but gentle, but my mate is soft. So much softer than I could have imagined.
She sits on her bed, and I sit beside her, separating her hair into sections and combing each strand carefully. It's a delicate process, and I'm grateful for the silence that surrounds us.
As I braid her hair, my fingers weave strands together until it forms a perfect plait. With every pull and twist, I can feel her breathing become deeper. I realize that this is more than just a mere task, but an intimate ritual between mated pairs. It brings us closer, and I can feel the energy between us surge.
When I'm finished, I stand up and step back, surveying my handiwork. Her hair has been unbound for too long, I can hardly stop myself from tracing the shell of her very round ear. I turn back to the vanity, grab one of the jewels, and secure it above her ear when she turns to face me.
She presses her hands to the waist of the gown. It's been so long since I've seen clothes like those used.
"Do you like it?" she asks. “Arlet made it."