“When,” Lady Rivenna asked, arching a single silver brow, “in the long and distinguished history of our family, has anyone ever successfully bargained with me? Besides, Lady Iris has important work to attend to here.”
“Oh, surely she can sniff random leaves or whatever it is she’s been doing any day of the week,” Rosavyn said, earning another sharp glance from her grandmother. “This is one of the most significant social gatherings of the early season. If Iris is to establish herself properly in society, she absolutely must be seen in the right company. My company, specifically.”
Iris refrained from pointing out that Lady Rivenna had just told her the races were not ideal for making connections. In truth, her curiosity about the pegasus racing had only grown since their conversation, and she found herself hoping Lady Rivenna might relent.
“Please, Grandmother,” Rosavyn begged. “Mother is insisting I attend, and I shall be stuck with her and the twins if Iris does not come along.”
“A cruel fate indeed,” Lady Rivenna remarked dryly. “To be surrounded by one’s own family.” But she turned to Iris and asked, “What do you think, Lady Iris? Does the prospect of witnessing fae society engaged in one of its more frivolous pastimes appeal to you?”
Iris hesitated. She didn’t want to appear eager to escape her studies—she’d been genuinely enjoying the botanical examinations and the tea house’s many mysteries—but she couldn’t deny the pull of curiosity about this quintessentially fae spectacle she’d only read about in books.
“I would be honored to accompany Miss Rosavyn,” she said finally. “If you feel my studies can spare the time.”
Lady Rivenna paused, her lips pursed.
“Please, Grandmother,” Rosavyn repeated. “I cannot possibly attend such an occasion without proper female companionship. Please, please,please?—”
“Oh for goodness’ sake, stop this unseemly whining. Very well, you may have Lady Iris’s company for the afternoon.”
“Oh, thank you, Grandmother!” Rosavyn darted across the kitchen and pressed a swift kiss to her grandmother’s cheek, which Iris noted Lady Rivenna attempted—and failed—to receive with due dignity.
Excitement bubbled up inside Iris as Rosavyn seized her hand, tugging her—just a touch too hastily to be deemed entirely proper—toward the back door. “Oh, my gloves!” Iris protested with a laugh.
“Quickly!” Rosavyn released Iris’s hand, though she could hardly contain herself, rising and falling on her tiptoes like a sparrow ready for flight.
Iris turned back, relieved she’d left her gloves in Lady Rivenna’s private alcove this morning instead of in the study upstairs. She raced off as the older woman heaved a dramatic sigh and muttered, “The pegasi shall still be there, my dear, even if youwalkat a reasonable pace.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Hold still,”Iris laughed, tucking the last stray wave of hair into place with one of Rosavyn’s many pins. “There. Now you look like a proper lady again.”
“Finally!” Rosavyn turned back around on the plush velvet seat, smoothing her skirts as the enchanted carriage crested the final hill outside Bloomhaven. Unlike typical carriages, this one required neither horses nor driver, operating solely on magical energy stored within its lumyrite-infused chassis. Iris’s grandparents did not own a carriage like this, though she suspected they once had.
The vehicle slowed as they approached their destination, and Iris peered eagerly through the window. The carriage came to a gentle stop, and a small chime sounded, indicating they had arrived. “We’re here!” Rosavyn’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she flung open the door. “Come on!”
Iris followed her friend out of the carriage, her boots sinking slightly into the soft grass. The moment she straightened and looked around, her breath caught in her throat.
The carriage had stopped atop one of the many rolling hills that formed a rough ring around a shallow dip in the landscape. The gentle slopes of these hills served as natural seating areas,with colorful pavilions and canopies dotting the greenery like wildflowers. In the air above the central dip, glowing ribbons of golden light twisted and curved, forming an elaborate three-dimensional racetrack that sparkled against the azure sky. Magical obstacles floated at various points along the circuit, while bright flags fluttered near what must be the finish line.
“It’s …” Iris struggled to find words adequate enough.
“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Rosavyn grinned, clearly delighted by Iris’s reaction. “Oh! It looks like something is about to begin. A qualifying round, perhaps?” A melodious horn sounded, and the crowd’s cheerful chatter intensified. “I’m not familiar with the particulars,” Rosavyn added, “unlike my brother Evryn, who studies the bloodlines and racing records and places the most ridiculous wagers. I simply love being here. The atmosphere, the excitement, the magic of it all.”
Iris followed Rosavyn’s gaze upward just as six pegasi glided through a shimmering portal that had appeared in the air. The magical beasts displayed a dazzling array of colors—deep blues with silver-tipped wings, burnished copper with manes that trailed sparks, and one that was a gold so pale it seemed to glow.
The riders guided their mounts in a formation so tight it seemed impossible they wouldn’t collide, yet they moved with such precision that not a wingtip touched. They circled the natural amphitheater once, the pegasi occasionally dipping low enough that spectators reached up as if hoping to catch a stray feather, before taking their positions at the starting line where a band of golden light pulsed in the air.
“Where should we sit?” Iris asked, tearing her eyes away from the spectacle long enough to scan the various spots along the hillsides. Some spectators huddled under colorful canopies and tents, while others spread blankets directly on the lush grass. The air smelled of sweet honey cakes and spiced cider,with vendors wandering the hillsides carrying trays of treats or pushing colorful carts.
Rosavyn gestured toward a small pavilion draped in forest green and silver perched on one of the best vantage points. “The Rowanwoods have a family stand, of course. It has one of the best views of the circuit—well, aside from the High Lady’s stand.” She pointed to an elegant white and gold structure situated on the highest knoll. “But I prefer to wander among the open areas.” She pulled Iris toward a grassy section where spectators milled about freely. “It’s far more fun than enduring the company of my family.”
They wound their way through the crowd, Rosavyn nodding graciously to various acquaintances as they passed. Ladies flaunted silk gowns with intricate embroidery and towering hats adorned with feathers, while gentlemen sported pristine waistcoats and polished shoes. Iris, in the practical dress she’d worn for a day of work and study at the tea house, was woefully underdressed for such a grand occasion. She lifted her chin, reminding herself that she belonged here just as much as any of these ladies.
From their vantage point, Iris could see across nearly the entire circuit. Small flags marked different sections of the hillside, and a group of musicians played sprightly tunes from a wooden platform nearby, their melodies carrying across the natural amphitheater. Down at the base of their hill, bookmakers sat at small tables with colorful umbrellas, calling odds as eager bettors pressed forward.
“This is thrilling,” Iris said, her eyes drinking everything in. “And so lovely to get away from the tea house.” She stopped suddenly, widening her eyes. “Not the tea house specifically,” she added hastily. “Your grandmother’s establishment is wonderful. I meant because of—well, your brother. He is mostinfuriating. How ever do you endure his ridiculously rigid ways?”
Rosavyn laughed, the sound bright and mischievous. “It’s quite the challenge at times,” she admitted. “When he is being particularly insufferable, I like to remind him of the time he and Evryn were attempting to outdo one another with levitation spells as boys. It was early morning and neither of them was fully dressed yet. Jasvian’s spell went awry and left him drifting helplessly near the ceiling in only his underthings, the spell forcing him to float through the house for all to behold.”
