My mood seemed to only have worsened by the time guests began pouring into the halls. Luckily for me, Weylan and my sister arrived earlier to greet and welcome our guests while I continued to stay holed up in my rooms.
By the time I came down the stairs that lead to the main hall, the music and dancing had already begun. Ladies and gentlemen form two lines in the centre of the hall as the musicians play a lively, merry tune.
The ladies are all smiles and laughter as they dance, spin and skip following the rhythm of the music with their dance partners. I am nauseated by the joy and merriness that fills the room after spending the entire day in a gloom. So, I make for the back of the room, where there is enough wine and champagne to numb.
As I make my way, I spot Jordyn who has just arrived with Lady Jillian. The black lace dress she wears was mesmerizing to say the least. It clung to her, accentuating her every asset. The dress was black and cuts deep at the neckline, modest enough to keep one's imagination from running rampant. The sleeves were long and flared at the elbows. Not particularly suitable for dancing, I observe.
A black hairpiece rests on her raven black hair and falls just above her eyebrows, gem stones gleaming in the reflection of the chandelier.
I do not realize I am staring until she meets my eyes and I look away instinctively. Embarrassed, I bring my attention back to the glass of champagne in my hand.
"Brycen, at last!" Weylan appears by my side, with a slap at my back. "It's about time you got here, host. Quite a turn out ey?" He says, grabbing a drink on a tray from a passing servant.
A trait Weylan always seemed to lack miserably, was sensitivity to the feelings or emotions of others. Though, I wasn't particularly offended by his lack of gentleness. In fact, I was relieved that he did not prod. I smile and nod, taking in the room and its occupants with him, when someone else captures my attention.
Standing by the refreshment table, gloating loudly like a pompous peacock to a group of men, was none other than Lord Aerin Patterson. "Who in gods name invited him?" I grit through my teeth to Weylan who was now also aware of Aerin.
"I think I have an idea." Weylan says, contemplatively.
We both watched as Aerin surveyed the pretty women in attendance like a predator assessing its next prey, and then his gaze halted upon Jordyn.
He flashed an oily grin in her direction as if replaying a memory of her in his mind. The gesture was enough to make my blood boil and I briefly fantasized jabbing a fork in his throat. What in gods name did Jordyn ever see in this pathetic waste of space, I would never know.
There had been rumours circling at one point, suggesting that Jordyn was unchaste. It was right about the time she was being courted by Lord Aerin. The rumors were squashed of course, by Weylan and Lord Jerod who hunted down the high born young lady, Mierna who had started the rumour. She claimed to have witnessed them at an inn during late hours one night.
Lord Jerod had found a way to silence the rumours, either with bribes or threats. My bet was on the latter. Eventually, everyone assumed the rumour was just the wild imaginations of a jealous girl. I on the other hand, had my reservations about whether the rumour was truth or not.
I knew Aerin and her had been in courtship that lasted years which was highly uncommon. Most courtships lasted a year at max, a month at least before the knot was tied. Jordyn was probably convinced Aerin would propose after he had completed his studies and Aerin probably knew she was too in love with him to break off their courtship no matter how long he made her wait.
I certainly bore no moral judgement on Jordyn's part were the rumour true, it wasn't really anyones' business. But I've never really been able determine if it were true or not, not even from Weylan, who was a closed book when it pertained to matters involving Jordyn.
Lord Aerin was in high demand among the high born ladies. He was considered to be dashingly handsome in a stereotypical sense with his wavy blonde short hair, blue eyes and a smile that could sell the ocean a glass of water. He came from a good, wealthy family who controlled much of the grain fields in Korinth.
Sensing our stare, Aerin's gaze shifted to where Weylan and I were standing. The filthy grin he wore instantly vanished, replaced with a wince as he saw the promise of murder in our glare. 'Don't even think about it or we'll bury you alive' seemed to be the message sent and received, as he quickly looked away and made his way to the gardens.
"Excuse me" Weylan said in a tone I could not quite place as he too vanished into the crowd.