then.
Vambran was decked out in a most regal outfit, his officer's uniform. He wore a finely tailored pair of dark blue breeches, loosely tucked into his crisp black boots, which came almost to his knee and were then turned down to a wide cuff. A snow-white silk shirt billowed over his arms, with tiny slashes in each sleeve designed to show off the blue silk layer underneath. His black leather riding gloves made a nice contrast to the shirt. Over all of it, the lieutenant wore his ceremonial breastplate, all polished silver with gold highlights, including the family crest, a bas relief tiger's head facing directly forward. He had even buckled on his crossbow, which hung from his belt on the opposite side from his sword.
'You look dashing,' Emriana whispered to her brother. 'Especially the breastplate.'
Vambran smiled and whispered back, 'It was Xaphira's, you know. She gave it to me the night she disappeared. I had to have it adjusted for size a bit, of course. You, by the way, look radiant.'
Emriana giggled and looked down at her own attire. She and Jaleene had spent most of the afternoon preparing her for the evening, and for the first time, she was glad for it. She wore a dress the color of sea foam, creamy white with just a hint of green highlights in it. Over it, her entire upper torso was bedecked in an elaborate vest of fine gold filigree that hugged her bosom snugly, enhancing her figure. From the wrought mesh of gold hung emeralds interspersed with tiny bells and chimes. Every move she made caused the little instruments to tinkle gaily. Even the girl's boots, hidden beneath her dress, were festooned with strings of bells that jangled sweetly when she walked.
Emriana's hair had taken the longest, for it had been pulled up and piled stylishly atop her head, with individual ringlets hanging down at each temple. Though she found it difficult and occasionally frustrating to walk elegantly and keep still so that it would not come loose, she felt very regal. Jaleene had even applied some face paint, highlighting her cheeks and darkening the area around her eyes. When the girl had seen herself in her wall mirror, she felt that the last vestiges of her childhood had faded away.
'Shall we?' Vambran asked, offering his sister his arm.
Emriana smiled and looped her own wrist around his crooked elbow, and together they descended the steps to the party.
At that moment, the orchestra stopped in mid-song, and Uncle Dregaul appeared on the balcony next to the musicians, directly above the crowd.
'Lords and ladies,' he began, gesturing for quiet. The general conversation dropped to a low hum, with only a few murmurs still rolling through the guests. 'Tonight is a very special occasion, for many reasons. We have several delightful surprises in store for you throughout the evening. But before we can let the party truly begin, let's all welcome our guest of honor tonight.' He gestured, open-palmed, toward where Emriana and Vambran stood at the bottom step of the last staircase. 'Tonight,' Dregaul said, 'Let us celebrate her passing into adulthood. Let us envy her, and try to remember what it was like to be sixteen.' That drew more than a few chuckles from the crowd. 'I present Lady Emriana Matrell!' Dregaul finished with a flourish.
The partygoers gathered close, clapping and cheering cordially for the girl.
As Emriana and Vambran approached the garden, guests hovered around the siblings, and every last one of them greeted her, calling out good wishes for a happy birthday. The first to meet her at the base of the stairs were, of course, her own family. Grandmother Hetta was standing in the front, with Ladara right by her side, as usual. Emriana smiled brightly at her grandmother, and she thought she would begin to cry, she was so happy.
Hetta leaned down and gave Emriana a kiss on her cheek.
'My little Em is all grown up,' the elderly woman said, a glow in her eyes of absolute pride. 'Dazzle them, dear.'
Emriana's mother gave her daughter a tight hug. 'My baby,' she said, then stepped back. Evester and Marga were next, with the twins by their sides.
Evester gave Emriana a quick hug and whispered, 'You've made us all very proud.'
Then he was stepping back again, letting his wife in.
Marga beamed as she took Emriana's hands in her own. She smiled for a long time.
'Just look at you,' she said softly. Then she finally crushed the girl in a tight hug. 'It's wonderful having you as my sister-in-law.'
Marga kissed Emriana on the cheek, and Emriana flushed with emotion, genuinely happy.
The twins both hugged their aunt at the same time, wrapping their arms around her waist.
'You look beautiful,' Obiron said.
Emriana smiled down at her nephew.
'If you promise to behave, I'll dance with you later,' she told him.
That brought a huge smile from the boy, who nodded and looked at his mother.
'Can I eat, now?' he asked.
Marga rolled her eyes and shooed him away with a, 'Yes, but don't get anything on your clothes.'
Quindy was feeling the fabric of Emriana's dress and said, 'Can I wear this when I turn sixteen?'
Emriana gave a mocking groan and grabbed her niece in a second hug.
'Sweetheart,' the older girl said, 'You'll have your own dress that's twice as pretty as this one.'
When Quindy grinned, Emriana tussled her hair and stood up.
'All right,' Hetta commanded, 'let her through. She has guests to greet.'
The family parted to allow Emriana and Vambran to pass through them and meet everyone else.
The birthday girl beamed as she strolled among her well-wishers, smiling and thanking them with a word or a nod. She didn't feel at all like herself at the moment, but like she was hiding in someone else's body, a member of the royalty with everyone in attendance at her beck and call. She took a deep breath, getting her proverbial feet back under her and firmly on the ground.
It's just a party, she told herself. No one made you queen.
There were guests in attendance from numerous other merchant Houses. Many folk she knew, at least by sight and reputation, if not personally. There was Ariskrit Darowdryn, the matriarch of House Darowdryn, one of the oldest and wealthiest merchant clans in all of Chondath. Ariskrit was probably nearly as old as Grandmother Hetta, and Emriana had seen them together on more than one occasion at parties, visiting like old friends. Ariskrit's nephew, Tharlgarl, was at her side, a huge bear of a man with great white mustaches that hung down below his chin. Everyone called him 'Steelfists,' and the nickname fit, for he was wearing the most pompous suit of full plate mail Emriana had ever seen, fully stylized with gold highlights. It must have weighed as much as Emriana herself did, the girl thought, and she could only imagine how stifling it would be inside the suit in the warm and sticky clime.
Both of them smiled and took her hand, offering her congratulations, as though turning sixteen was some sort of accomplishment that she had worked for, rather than simply a passing of years.
A little farther on, Emriana shook hands with several members of the Elphaendim household, including the patriarch of the merchant family, Thalammose, who stood quietly with his grandniece, Cauvra. Cauvra was only a couple of years younger than Emriana herself. Cauvra looked positively bored, but as Emriana caught her eye, the other girl smiled and waved. The girls had played with one another on the handful of occasions when the two Houses gathered together for some event or another, though in more recent days, the word in the gossip circles was that Cauvra was a budding young wizardess and her great-uncle Thalammose, an accomplished arcanist himself, would no longer let her far from his side. 'The Old Elf,' as many referred to him derisively behind his back, apparently feared to let her out into the world, where her potential talents could easily be enslaved or misused.
Brastynbold Elphaendim was also there, though he was about as far from his uncle in temperament as possible. Whereas Thalammose was a quiet, timid lover of books, 'Oldhelm,' as people knew Brastynbold, was a boisterous fellow with a huge love of wine and a fair brawler in his own right. Few people in Arrabar had not heard the story of the time he'd hurled a greatsword across an entire courtyard-after downing nearly a small keg of fiery wine by himself, so the story claimed-squarely striking a thief in the back as he attempted to escape by climbing over an estate wall. Looking at the immensely tall, barrel-chested man, Emriana no longer doubted the veracity of the story, especially after he took her hand in his own with a riotous laugh and brought it to his lips for a kiss. He nearly took her arm out of her socket, but she turned the grimace into a smile and politely curtsied, then moved on.
