Chapter 32
THIRTY-TWO
It’s been more than a week. Months in Anthropa. Mine hasn’t used my sigil yet.
Although my parents decided to keep me busy by going to seamstress fittings and getting a new wardrobe for the meeting with Theron’s family, not even the prospect of new, pretty gowns has managed to improve my mood.
It’s the night before the meeting, and as I restlessly toss and turn, thinking about Mine, an idea forms into my mind.
The House of Cryos has an armory full of magical objects passed down through generations. I haven’t been there in hundreds of years, but I seem to remember a certain item that might help me.
Getting out of bed, I surreptitiously go to the armory, successfully passing the security wards. There is a myriad of objects inside, ranging from deadly weapons to more mundane items like enchanted jewelry and magical mirrors.
There is a certain mirror I’m looking for that allows you to spy on what a person’s doing at a certain moment in time.
It takes me a few hours of going through the different mirrors before I finally find it.
It’s the size of a table mirror, it’s frame a secret combination of gilded runes that give it its power.
I hide it underneath my nightgown and head back to my room.
Once I’m alone, I prop it on a table and, slicing my finger open, I let a few drops slide in between the carvings of the runes to activate it.
A bright light shines from inside the mirror, and I take my bloodied finger and write Mine’s name on the surface of the mirror.
Lucien de Vitry.
With bated breath, I wait for the image to form on the surface of the mirror.
Moments pass, and nothing happens.
I frown. Did I do something wrong?
To test that the mirror works, I wipe his name and replace it with my own.
Immediately, an image forms of me. It’s as if someone held a camera to my back and filmed me, the image showing me staring into the mirror with a frown between my brows.
All right. So it works. Then why doesn’t it work for him?
A faraway memory drifts into my mind of Tommy mentioning Mine’s full name is Lucian Valerion de Vitry.
I prick my finger again and write that name.
Nothing.
What in the Source?
I wipe the mirror again and this time, I write only Valerìon de Vitry.
The mirror shines brightly and this time, an image forms on its surface.
I blink in confusion. Is Lucian not his name? Otherwise, why would the mirror only work when I write Valerìon de Vitry?
The question slides to the back of my mind as I focus on what I’m seeing.
He is in a foreign room, leaning against a counter and sipping on a cup of dark liquid that I assume to be that human coffee he enjoys. He’s not dressed in his military uniform but rather in a casual white shirt that molds to his muscular body and a pair of dark slacks. My eyes are drawn to his big and strong arms and a sigh escapes me as I remember being held in his embrace only a week ago.
He seems well. He certainly doesn’t look upset or distraught at my absence. His scars too, have healed much better since I last saw him, another sign of the passage of time in Anthropa.
He’s smiling and nodding at someone.
I narrow my eyes. Who is he talking to?
As I study his surroundings more, I note it’s some sort of a kitchen, but not the type I’d seen at the base. This is smaller, more personal. Something that would be found in an apartment in the city.
His lips move. He is speaking to someone. But I can’t see yet who is around him.
Biting on my lips, I clench my fist in annoyance. Why doesn’t the mirror have audio too?
His mouth moves too quickly and I can’t make out too much of what he’s saying except for the words fine and tomorrow .
A flash of navy blue material catches my eye in the periphery of the image. The person whom it belongs steps closer, and a gasp flies past my lips.
She’s a woman in her twenties, her hair primly tied at her nape in a clean bun. A few strands of hair flow down her forehead in a thin fringe. She half turns and I get a better view of her face. Small heart-shaped face, china-like complexion with a smudge of blush on her cheeks, she has big blue eyes framed by dark long lashes. Her nose is small and upturned, her lips full and pink.
I gulp down uneasily.
She is absolutely gorgeous. I don’t think I’ve seen a more beautiful female. Most of the goddesses I know cannot compare to her either. I cannot compare.
She walks closer to Mine and as he places his cup on the counter, he opens his arms for her to hug him.
I grip tightly onto the desk until the wood cracks so I don’t break the mirror instead.
She’s shorter than him, her head reaching his chin. He leans forward and lays a tender kiss on her forehead and I see red.
I. See. Red.
The temperature drops abruptly in my room and errant energy seeps off my pores in dangerous waves, freezing everything in its path. My eyes become glazed with jealousy as I stare at Mine, my Mine, hugging and putting his lips on another female.
How. Dare. He?
Who is she? Who in the Source is this beautiful female and what is she to him?
My energy is so uncontrollable, it reaches the mirror, enveloping it in a film of ice. I’m close to my tipping point. I can feel it. I am so close to forgetting about all the rules and going back to Anthropa to kill her. And him. If he dared to cheat on me, then he is next too. Because how dare he?
I’ve only been gone a short period of time and he’s found someone else already? What about all those promises and sweet words he told me? Is he telling her the same thing? Is he telling her she’s his only one, that he’s never looked at another before?
You are so dead, Valerion de Vitry. When I catch you, I’m going to make you suffer in ways you’ve never in your life imagined for making a fool out of me.
Before my rage can morph into devastating heartbreak, another figure appears in the room. The angle of the mirror shifts, pulling back to reveal the entire kitchen rather than just the angle where Mine is.
The male is around Mine’s age. I can only see his profile as he approaches Mine and the female. He has a straight nose and a tanned complexion, his hair the darkest of black. He’s dressed casually in a pair of gray pants and a black sweater.
The female turns to him, her lips spreading into a dazzling smile. She leaves Mine’s arms and launches herself at the other male, who takes her in his arms, his hands moving possessively down her back. Then he pulls her in for a kiss.
A full-on, mouth to mouth kiss.
I blink in confusion. What is happening?
Mine rolls his eyes and says something to them. They break apart a few seconds later and more words are exchanged, after which Mine looks up, directly at the angle of the mirror.
His eyes are narrowed to two slits, but as the other male continues talking, his face erupts in a bright smile.
The couple are now holding hands, with the male throwing one arm around her to keep her close. His face is tilted toward her, his lips curved up in a perpetual smile. I cannot see his features clearly or the color of his eyes, but his bone structure reminds me of Mine in a way.
As that thought enters my mind, my eyes widen in comprehension.
He must be related to Mine! A cousin or something. Which means the female is family too.
I let out a sigh of relief. It seems I will not be murdering anyone tonight. Though when I see Mine again, I must let him know that regardless of whether he’s related to those people, unless that’s his mother, he cannot put his lips anywhere near her.
Nodding to myself in satisfaction, I watch them for a few more minutes as they busy themselves around the kitchen to prepare food. Well, it’s mostly the female and the other male. Mine just stands there, looking into empty space with a rather stupid grin on his face—stupid because it’s not for me, of course.
Suddenly, the image from the mirror dies, and no matter how much I try to reactivate it, it’s in vain. I suppose these aren’t meant for constant surveillance. Since I don’t know how to power it up again, I toss it in a drawer and go to bed, satisfied I won’t have to kill my beloved for wronging me.
Ah, it’s always the little things that make me the happiest.
But that happiness is short-lived when the following day my maids fuss over me to make me beautiful for Theron and his family. A constant frown is etched on my forehead as I have to withstand being poked and prodded.
The most work goes into my hair as the maids add jewels and embellishments. The entire ensemble is heavy and uncomfortable. My mother comes by a short while later, nods her approval, and asks the maids to add a few more pieces of jewelry to my neck and hands.
In the end, I no longer feel like myself, just a pretty display piece. But that is exactly what mother intended.
The meeting takes place in the blue room of the palace of Cryos—a dining room reserved for special guests whose walls are painted with the rarest shade of blue in Aperion.
My parents and I are the first to arrive. Both Maledo and Molokai had begged out due to previous engagements.
When Theron and his parents arrive, a succession of greetings ensues as well as false platitudes that I have a hard time not rolling my eyes at.
“Theron, dear, what happened to your face?” my mother asks when she gets a better look at him.
I raise a brow at him. Though the wound is not as bad as before, there is a rather ugly scar running down his face.
“He got it in his last mission. It was a hard one. Commander Azerius has praised him for it, of course,” his mother interjects.
Theron glares at me, a warning in his gaze not to say anything about the real cause of his scar.
I smile to myself. So he had to lie… I’m sure his pride would have been shattered if anyone found out a female scarred his perfect face.
Clown.
“I’m so sorry to hear that, Theron. It must have been a very difficult mission. Was it a level twelve demon?”
His nostrils flare. “Yes,” he answers in a clipped voice.
“Oh my, I’ve never even seen a level twelve demon. Are they very scary?”
He looks ready to explode. “Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“They are scary.”
“You’re so brave,” I praise him in a high-pitched voice.
Everyone seems convinced by my act, thinking I’ve just been impressed by Theron’s military prowess. But Theron realizes I’m secretly laughing at him, and this only makes everything so much funnier.
We take a seat at the table and wait for the courses to be served. Our parents make small talk while Theron continues to glare at me, occasionally touching his scar and remembering my promise from before.
As the conversation turns to our upcoming nuptials, our parents are discussing the best time for a wedding when Theron suddenly interjects.
“I am going to be involved in a long mission at Commander Azerius’ request. I believe it would be best to postpone the nuptials.”
Both our parents gasp in shock.
“You want to postpone the wedding?” my mother asks in a tremulous voice.
“I believe it would be best to take advantage of this opportunity,” he states.
“I think Theron is right,” I speak out. “Of course I am eagerly awaiting the wedding, but this is a rare opportunity for him to establish his career. We would not want him to miss out on it, no?”
“I suppose you are right,” my mother comments reluctantly.
“It is an important mission,” Theron continues.
Olivia, his mother, looks from her son to my parents, suddenly at a loss for words. I see they did not discuss this in advance and it makes me wonder what made Theron speak out. It’s well known he’s not an independent thinker and always relies on his mother to make decisions for him.
Perhaps I did scare him. I stifle a smile at the thought. Ah, but if I had known, I would have done this from the beginning so we wouldn’t have gotten engaged in the first place.
Alas, the past is the past. There’s no need to dwell on it.
“If Theron thinks that would be better, then I agree as well. Do you have a date in mind, my dear?”
“Since it is such an important mission, I cannot say how long it would take.”
Both parents are quiet.
“I suppose we can reconvene once Theron is done with his mission,” my mother says. She’s not pleased with the outcome, but she cannot object to it, not when Theron’s accomplishments would reflect good on our match too. Mother is nothing if not a strategist, and no matter how much she’d like to see me married tomorrow, she knows she must tread carefully.
“It is settled then. The wedding will be postponed indefinitely until Theron finishes his mission,” my father finally speaks after quietly observing the exchanges.
The conversation becomes stilted and awkward and Olivia declares that they should leave.
I give Theron one last threatening look as I watch him go. It seems he’s not entirely stupid. He still has some self-preservation since he realizes he will never get a tame and biddable wife in me.
“Minerva,” my mother calls out. “What did you do?” Her eyes are shooting daggers at me as she strides to my side and grabs my arm roughly. “You think I was fooled by that demon excuse?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I smile sweetly.
My father sighs and shakes his head.
He grabs my mother’s hand off my arm and pulls her to his side.
“You’re taking her side?”
“I am not taking anyone’s side,” my father says in a weary voice.
“Yes. You are.” She glares at him. Stomping her foot against the floor, she leaves the dining room with a huff.
Alone with my father, he turns his attention to me.
“He’s terrified of you,” he adds quietly.
“Who?”
“Who do you think?” He laughs. “Theron.”
“But I didn’t do anything.”
“You don’t need to lie to me, Minerva. Others may not see it, but I would recognize the effects of the eternal ice anywhere.”
Oops.
“He started it.”
“And you finished it.”
“Of course. I defended myself.”
He nods silently at me.
“You are stronger than I thought.”
“Have you ever given any thought to me at all?”
“I don’t understand what you’re asking of me.”
“It’s simple. You’ve never concerned yourself with me. You’ve allowed Mother to make all the decisions. I still cannot believe you allowed her to betroth me to Theron.”
He scratches his chin. “I suppose he might not have been the best choice.”
“He is supposed to be a level eight, Father.”
“And you defeated him.”
“Quite badly.”
“I see.”
“What do you see? That not only is he weak but he’s also a liar? That’s not an honorable male.”
He purses his lips. “You are correct.”
“So? Are you going to do anything about it?”
“What can I do? The betrothal has been approved by the House of Moirai.”
“It can be petitioned to be broken.”
“No. It cannot.”
“There has to be a morality clause in there, isn’t it? We can just unmask Theron as a liar.”
“We would make the House of Pyros our enemy and that is not the goal,” he replies drily.
“There has to be a way. Surely you see how badly matched we are. Think of your future grandchildren. I should at least be matched with someone stronger than me.”
He hums in approval.
“I will see if there is anything to be done.”
My eyes widen. Hope shines in them, perhaps for the first time ever.
“That’s… That’s very kind of you.”
“It is not kindness, Minerva. I happen to be as concerned about this match as you are, though my reasons might be a little different.”
“What do you mean?” I frown.
“I have said too much. Do not concern yourself with that.”
“But—”
“You may retire to your room.”
He moves past me to leave. Suddenly, though, he stops. He half turns and stares at me for a moment.
“The birthday of the Duchess of Sigmore of the House of Arche is in a fortnight.”
“So?”
He takes a few moments to answer.
“Your presence is required.”
“What? Why?”
I’ve never been required to go to the celebration of a monarch’s birthday before. Certainly, I’ve never had the inclination before since I hate those parties. My parents are always the only ones who go, sometimes with Maledo, but he is the heir.
“I do not know. The duchess stated she would like you to be present.”
“How does she even know who I am?” I’ve never met the Duchess of Arche before. I don’t think I’ve ever even been to Arche.
“That I cannot answer. But since she specifically asked for your presence, she must know of you. I wonder…”
“What?” I stride to his side.
“She has a son. You may have met him. Perhaps she has heard of your achievements in the military and she might be interested in a match, though it would be irregular for that to happen since it is widely known you are engaged to Theron.” He pauses, deep in thought. “Though if someone could break your betrothal contract, it would be the Duchess of Arche. She not only has influence with the Supremes but also with Commander Azerius.”
“Who is her son?”
“He’s Commander Azerius’ right hand. Cerenios.”
My body freezes as a sliver of fear washes down my back.
“If that is a viable option, and the duchess is indeed seeking a mate for him, then I would be amenable to break the betrothal with Theron.”
“That is…” I whisper, unable to find the words.
“Alas, I will have to discuss with the duchess first. Good day, daughter.”
He leaves.
I cannot will my limbs to move as his words replay in my mind.
The Duchess of Sigmore, Cerenios’ mother, specifically asked for my presence at her birthday celebration. My father may think it has to do with a potential match between us, but I know better.
Cerenios knows something—suspects something.
He just needs the evidence to get me convicted.
A birthday celebration is the best place for him to interrogate me without anyone raising a brow.
By the Source! I am in so much trouble.