Elanin Larenthios shifted in her seat as much as her attire would allow. The fine violet silk of her gown felt like nettles against her skin. Perspiration poured below her gilded collar, only partly due to the heat. She'd been trained for this, she knew. Her mother, Lithiel, had stuffed her in elaborate gowns and hateful corsets since she'd first flowered. A proper lady—according to her training—should sit still and smile demurely.
Elanin was failing miserably. Her cool demeanor melted as soon as she entered the courtyard. Sweat down her skin like so many candles. She picked at her dress, and the glances her fidgeting were earning from her mother were furious. I'm to be wed, she thought. It all seemed so absurd that she nearly laughed aloud.
Her parents, on the other hand, held their composure as though their lives depended on it—not just their fortune. Their smiles came easily. Words took nimble flight from their lips, adding to the insect swarm of chatter in the air.
Imaril Rael, her intended, grinned at her from across the table. He was handsome enough; His skin was an unblemished green-gold and his blond hair was shaven on both sides of his head, fitting a new trend. He offered little in way of conversation. So far his lexicon had been limited to compliments, making sure her parents were aware of the beauty of their garden, the woven canopy above their heads, and of their sole daughter.
Perhaps he was as nervous as she was, or simply dull. For her own sake, she hoped against the latter. She was surprised her parents had agreed to the match. The Raels descended from merchants, and consequently had too much coin and too little power. She came from the blood of mages. Her ancestors had often been prominent in the Mages' Guild, some had even served Skywatch's ruling family.
She could name half a dozen families with heirs her age and bloodlines that would better suit her own. The Aedires, the Anthalls, the Nandils…yet she was sitting across from a boy whose family's only claim to provenance was clever bargaining. She may as well have been traded for goats.
"You look so lovely." Imaril told her. Again.
I should, she thought, after three hours I would have rather spent doing anything else. She smiled in reply, demurely, even—while she tried not to vomit.
Her handmaiden Nira stepped onto their platform with an ornate silver wine decanter in hand. Nira's expression was terse, like she'd bitten into a bitter melon. Ela's smile was more genuine after seeing her. She didn't look at her for long, better to let Imaril think she was swayed by his pleasantires and boot-licking.
She couldn't help but tense when Nira passed behind her to fill her father, Tauron's cup. The spiced wine was so strong that it made her nostrils flare. Despite herself, she glanced at Nira while she poured. They locked eyes, and Nira's expression softened from a scowl to a grimace.
Tauron waved to dismiss Nira, causing her to jump and splash the three of them with wine. "Milord, I-"
Tauron rose, whipping around like a snake with a foot upon its tail. "Useless wench!" He raised his hand and—
"No!" Ela shouted. She sprang to her feet and caught her father's wrist.
Nira recoiled in shock. She stepped back, only to slip off of the platform and fall into the shallow pond below. Wine spilled into the water, surrounding Nira in a red corona.
Ela couldn't move. Tauron's eyes burned like mage fire. The courtyard went silent, as though every insect hovered midair to watch. "Stop this, both of you!" Her mother's voice ran out like a blade being unsheathed.
He brought his other hand out to slap Ela across the face.
Lithiel cried out in surprise. A few shrieks and gasps escaped from their guests, Ela wagered some were stifling laughter.
Tauron left the platform, undoubtedly unwilling to remain in wine-splattered robes any longer. Ela sat back down, her back as stiff as a lightning rod. Her shock was literal; she could feel the electric current running underneath her skin, waiting to be called upon.
She ignored it along with everything else. As the scattered chatter fluttered back to life, she only listened for Nira climbing out of the pond below. She could feel the many eyes trained on her, so she fixed her eyes on the canopy above her, better than seeing their amusement or pity. She willed her hand away from her aching jaw.