18. Eveera
Eveera
Not everyone was as eager about the news as I was.
Rorin’s been puffing about the apartment since last night, slamming doors and drawers, and snapping at his men.
His feelings towards returning home are obvious and while I could feel pity for him, I don’t. Meeting the king gets me one step closer to ridding this realm of the two Vellaran leeches responsible for my early rise to power. It honestly couldn’t have worked out better, us getting a summons. “You’re going to burn a hole in the floor from all of your pacing.” I comment. Watching him spiral at first was humorous - now it’s just annoying.
He stops mid pace to look at me. So much palpable discomfort rolling off of him. “I committed treason by bringing you here. They could string me up and then you’d be left to fend for yourself. And how would the tiny queen fare if it came to that?” He barks.
Irritation pricks underneath my skin. “Oh quit your whining. You chose to commit treason. You aren’t ignorant, or maybe you are, and I’ve been trusting an idiot all these days.” He seethes at my harsh words. “You want to break the rules for your own cause? You want people to listen to you? Grow a pair and deal with the consequences of your actions. Untuck your tail from between your legs and go confront them like a real General. If it costs you the noose then, well, at least I’ll get to go home early.” I snap, slamming the door behind me.
The hall at first was a bit dizzying to navigate, all the winding turns, but before I knew it I was spit out in front of my men's bedrooms. I knock twice on the door and Orem answers. His face is surprised as he steps aside to let me in. “Boys! She's here.” He shouts, looking at me nervously, his feet shifting underneath him. “I’ll uhm. I’ll go get Armond and Ezra.”
“Good plan, O.” I murmur wandering over to the window.
It's not long before a heavy arm drapes over my shoulders. Axel doesn’t say anything, instead the two of us just stare out at what we can see of the post. Golden rays of sunlight filter throughout the room, highlighting parts of the crystalline glass. “Eveera?” Armond’s voice echoes through the suite. We turn around and I detach myself from Axel, clasping my hands in front of my stomach. “Is everything alright?”
I bob my head up and down, “oh it’s better than alright.” I state, their faces twisting in curiosity. “We’re going to meet the king. Tomorrow.”
For some reason I thought my men would share my enthusiasm about going to Valen, then I remembered I didn’t share with any of them my secular ambitions for this agreement and the arguments started almost instantly.
“We agreed to be here.” I explain again.
“ We didn’t agree to anything.” Orem grumbles .
My fingernails dig into my palms as I hold back most of my irritation. “Orem, dear, if you’re going to try and have a backbone I suggest you do it without hiding behind Maxwell.” He scowls, but makes no move to step up in front of his brother.
“Leave him alone E. He’s not wrong.” Axel tries to mollify me.
“Oh my gods !" I shout, my fingers pinching the bridge of my nose. "Can you all please stop the damn whining , this is not negotiable for me. This is what I am doing. It doesn’t have to be what you are doing. And if I have to hear this ‘we didn’t agree’ thing one more time I will lose my fucking mind.” I don’t know how many more times I can express this. I am not keeping any of them here, regardless of their quote unquote bound duties. “I know you have an order to protect me, but as queen I can release you from that. You don’t want to follow me into this madness? Then don’t.”
Ezra laughs darkly. “You think we have a choice? If we stay we’ll probably die. If we leave they’ll hang us for abandoning you. You act like you’re giving us an out just because you’re sovereign but we didn’t make these oaths to you out of friendship or kinship.” His words sting as he steps closer to me. “We made them out of necessity. We made them to the crown.” Maxwell reaches out his hand, tugging on his commander’s shoulder.
“Speak for yourself.” Axel snaps, his tone sharp, stepping in front of me.
"What was that Mecham?” He bites.
“I said speak for yourself. Not all of us took the oath to climb the social ladder. Just because you fell from her favor doesn’t mean you get to talk to her that way. She is the crown, whether you like it or not.” The two of them stand nose to nose, steam rolling from both their ears. Armond steps up to separate them, looking at me to continue .
I back away from Axel, lifting my chin to look over the five of them. “You’re right. You no longer have a choice, how silly of me to offer it.” I keep backing up until my heels hit the wooden door and I grab hold of the doorknob. “One more complaint.” I say over my shoulder, giving them my profile. “One more deflection of orders. Just one more - and I’ll do the work for the council and hang you myself.” From my peripheral I can see their faces shadowing over. “You all have gotten too comfortable. A mistake, I see.”
The conversations with Rorin were no less pleasant when I returned. We spent the better part of the afternoon arguing between going on foot or portaling.
I hate portaling, it makes my head turn fuzzy.
He, however, doesn’t seem to care about that fact and is adamant that he wants to be in and out of Valen as quickly as possible. When I prodded him as to why the rush he began griping to himself about the summons. Something about not wanting to be a “trussed up swine” for this Celebration that the court throws every year.
Since I didn’t really want to know what that meant and I knew we’d be coming back here anyways, there wasn’t much to do in terms of packing. I decided to fill my time and impatience with training. No harm in sharpening up my skills.
Winding through all of the obnoxiously lit halls was like taking a tour of the sun. Everything here in this kingdom is bright and glowy - another difference between Obsidian and Vellar. There are windows that line most of every hall that keep the daylight flowing in. It’s all very open, trying a little too hard to show that they’re a passive people in my opinion. But I can’t argue that it would seem that - should the gods be real and actually care about us - between our two kingdoms Obsidian is not the favored one.
I shuck off my weapons belt while walking out into the ring to set the targets. My body is anxious to sweat off the pent up tension from the past few weeks. I choose one of my ruby hilted daggers and with a swift throw I launch it at a horizontal angle. The trajectory allows it to slice through the “neck” of each of the targets in one fluid motion, lodging itself in the side of the final one.
Ready to go again I pick up another one of the rubies and throw it directly into the “head” of the second target. Repeating the maneuvers, I keep going until my hands feel raw and I’m out of breath. By the end each target is filled with daggers, knives, throwing stars, and arrows made of Obsidian steel. Sweat is rolling off me in streams and the towel I brought does very little to fix it. Lining myself back up I ready myself to go again. The movements are routine enough that my mind loses focus and drifts off to a memory of Armond and I.
-
“Pick your feet up! You’re shuffling! You’ll never best an opponent with feet like that!” I want to slap the smug grin off his pale skin. I charge again focusing this time on my feet, too hard apparently because he checks my shoulder and I land on my back.
“ARMOND! YOU INSUFFERABLE BASTARD!” I snarl. He never lets me have the upper hand. “YOU’RE TWICE MY SIZE YOU MISERABLE OAF!” His laughter ringing through the room only serves to anger me more. He Voids in and out of the place. Leaving me to only hear that blasted laughter.
“Such harsh words from such a tiny queen. Little venomous serpent.” I whip around to face him but he isn’t there.
“Stupid Voiding powers.” I say to myself.
-
My laughter slips out into the present.
“Daydreaming again while training?” Armond’s voice startles me.
My brow creases in annoyance, “just thinking of one of our first spars.”
“You were such a venomous little serpent.” He says, moving out onto the floor in front of me. “Hope you pick up your feet better now than you did then.” His sword is ready in his hand along with mine that he kicks towards my feet.
“I’m training.” I argue, lazily picking up the sword. He lunges for me, metal glinting in his hands as he aims low for my side as I’m crouched over. I barely block the blow, rolling under his next swipe. “That wasn’t fair.” I shout back, readjusting my stance and placing equal weight on my legs for balance. My knees are bent slightly ready to pounce on him. The butt of his hilt meets my sternum before I have a chance to leap at him, throwing me back down. I roll out of the way of his incoming heel and grab onto one ankle, my legs swinging out to kick into the other. His leg buckles on impact which allows me to pull him to the ground next to me. We tussle on the floor for a moment while I try to pin him. I ready my knee to kneel into his chest and hold him in place. “Prepare to yield, Monty.” He shakes his head giving me a lopsided grin as he Voids out from underneath me. I tilt forward, losing my balance. Damn Voiding powers.
He Voids back in right as I am vertical again. I run at him, and he swings his arm wide. There's no sword present anymore, only his fist. My metal clatters to the ground and I duck at the last second barely missing his hit, landing a solid blow with my elbow into his gut .
He goes down with a grunt and quickly my legs wrap around his shoulders, locking him in. “You want to play dirty and use your Wield? Two can play that game.” He claws and grapples at my shins when I connect my fingers to his temples, shoving my Wield into his mind.
He slaps the ground three times yielding almost immediately and I release him, pulling my magic back. Both of us lay there a minute. He gets up first, extending a hand my way. “Like I said, venomous little serpent.” I smirk, still not wanting to be friendly yet. “Are you prepared for tomorrow?” He asks cautiously.
I suck in a deep breath wiping at my skin, “is anyone ever really prepared to meet the two people responsible for their own parents deaths?”
He rests his clammy palm on my shoulder, “you’re sure you want to go through with going?” I turn to look up at him, my gaze hardening. “I’m not arguing. Don’t get my noose ready just yet.” He says, trying to get a laugh from me. But it doesn’t work. The gravity of the situation settling on me.
“I meant what I said.”
He nods, his face growing solemn. “I know. Just remember who’s on your side here. Your anger shouldn’t be with us.”
“And are you on my side out of obligation or choice?” I ask.
He raises his brow. “The truth of it?” I nod, but inside I'm hesitant to hear his answer. “Both.”
The doors to Rorin’s room and office were both shut when I walked in. He’s nowhere in sight, giving me a moment’s respite from having to interact with another person .
I move to peel off the damp leathers the minute I am in the bedroom, struggling as I try to climb in the shower. My hands fumble with the temperature dial to turn it as hot as it will go until the steam rises off the droplets on my skin.
It’s a fast shower for once. Knowing we have to be up and out of the post early, I peek out of the shower to grab one of the gray towels sitting on a shelf next to me. It’s soft against my bare skin, a slight chill running down my spine as I step out of the steam. Combing through my wet curls, I wrap it loosely in a smaller towel on top of my head while I go through my clothes, looking for something to wear tonight. I settle on dark leggings and a fitted tunic, pulling on my boots and winding my hair down from the towel and into a knot at the base of my neck.
Knock knock.
“Come in.” I don’t bother to look up from the vanity, I already know who’s walking in by the scent alone. “Princeling.”
“Food’s ready, you can join us or not.” He says curtly.
“Well if I hadn’t planned on joining I would be stark naked under those sheets.” I look at his face in the mirror’s reflection for a reaction but his expression is stony. “And that would have been quite a scene for you to behold.” I boast.
His eyes widen a but that's all I get from him and he clears his throat. “A-hem. You can hurry and leave with me. Or you can dawdle more and find your way there by yourself.” He leaves the room briskly, not bothering to close the door behind him. Dick.
Rorin waits outside the room - leaning against the wall. He’s clad in all black, his shirt opened at the collar. His hair is mussed up, the curls splaying wildly against his forehead. Tension lines through his face as he picks at his nails only looking up when I move to stand in front of him. Those two hazel eyes narrow on me for a moment before he pushes off the wall and stalks off in front of me, leaving me to trail behind him.
The noise of the room was hard to miss as we got closer to it. Rows of tables and benches line the center of the room. Higher ranking soldiers and captains filling nearly every seat. There is a lingering sensation of fear mixed with curiosity when we enter the room, all eyes turning to us. My men, I notice are up at the head table with Rorin’s. Orem is chatting Bennett’s ear off and at a brief glance one might assume them friends, not pacified enemies. I stalk around Rorin’s looming form marching up and over the table before plopping myself on the bench.
“Must you always be so…irreverent?” Mousy snaps quietly.
“Yes.” I quip as Rorin takes his seat in between us. The staff comes around with the same simple dish for all of us. A blatant example of their low resources. They cast an apologetic look towards the prince and his commanders which none of them acknowledge.
My men are uncomfortably quiet as I settle into my spot, Orem stops chattering off to Bennett and Ezra and Maxwell keep their eyes downcast on their food. Axel was the only one to look down the row at me but even that was tense. I guess my words hit their mark earlier.
The dining hall resumes it's normal commotion but our table eats in silence.
WHAM! The doors to hall slam open, disrupting everyone as a woman rushes into the room, charging towards us.
No…not towards us. She's charging at me. I realize quickly.
She points her narrow finger in my direction. ““IT WAS YOU! YOU KILLED HIM. IT WAS YOU!” Rorin pushes up from the bench hurriedly and braces an arm in front of me. He signals his soldiers, several of them getting up to apprehend her. “YOU TOOK HIM YOU MISERABLE BITCH! ”
I stand up slowly behind his arm, and slowly move it out of my way. “I’m going to need you to be more specific, dear.” I call out. “I’ve killed a lot of men in my years.” Stepping up, on, and over the table again I place myself in front of her. When I get too close to the distressed woman she spits directly in my face.
Ooo so we want to play tough girl do we? “Tsk tsk tsk. That wasn’t very nice.”
Her lip curls, “YOU TOOK BARON FROM ME.”
Ah, there it is. “So the little traitor had a little whore.” I croon, egging her anger on. “How sweet.” She’s struggling against the soldiers’ grip on her biceps. “Oh it’s fruitless to fight against them. Funny they hold you back, one of their own, instead of me. How the tides have turned.” She lets out a snarl, saliva foaming and collecting at the corners of her mouth. She’s winding up to spit in my face again but before she can I let one of my tendrils snap around her head sealing her mouth closed. “I wouldn’t do that a second time if I were you.”
Her eyes widen in shock at my magic. “What should we do with her, General?” The men detaining her look over my head and to Rorin.
“I’ll take her, gentlemen.” I say. They don’t respond, the wariness in their expressions deepens. I crane my neck around to see Rorin nod his approval and allow another tendril of my magic to slip out from my skin and bind her wrists together. “There. Much better.” The guards shoot Rorin one more look before passing her over to me.
“You’re really going to let her handle this?” Mousy’s voice shrill and loud enough for the entire room to hear. I stop in my tracks, waiting for the prince’s answer.
“She has a method, who am I to stop her?” He says disinterested. A small smile tries to slip across my face as I push the woman further out into the hall. Leaning in close, my breath brushes the shell of her ear .
“Hear that? I have a method. Of course, Baron didn’t seem to like my methods too much. Let’s see if you do.”
I brought her back to the same cell I held Baron in. Her blood and snot have created a grotesque pool underneath her hung head, dripping on top of the stain her lover left behind. We've spent most of our time together with her fighting to push out my Wield, to block me from accessing her fears. She didn't do a very good job because it wasn't long when I figured out that abandonment is her biggest one. Little did I know last night I brought that one to life.
She’s now gone quiet. Her whimpers matching the drip of her blood. I tune in every so often to see if her fears are changing. If she has anything interesting about her at all, only thing that I found was the memory of her welp of a father leaving her mother and her to rot on the streets, followed by her mother whoring herself out. I applaud the entrepreneurship her mother had, if only she hadn’t taken a turn for the worse hanging around a little too long with the cretins that crawl about brothels. From there the little snotty wench grew up and met a little traitor. Only he abandoned her too. Albeit at my behest but still.
Poor poor little traitor’s lover.
I’d feel worse if the man she so bravely defended hadn’t sold out all our men with the intention of getting us ripped apart by Hadar’s Guards. I’d stay out of their court business but the one she’s devoted too is the reason I was flayed open on a field. And that is not how I plan to go.
My Wield pulls back just enough for her to catch her breath, maybe give me something other than sniveling. “Are you ready to talk now?” I hum. “I’ll admit, you’ve held out longer than most. You must have really loved him.” I purse my lips together considering her. Her rosy hair is drenched in sweat and hangs limply around her face.
“You r-really are as c-cruel as they warned.” She says, her words slurring together.
“That just might be the most interesting thing you’ve said so far, dear.” Her whole body shudders as I slink closer. “Not that I’m expecting a heart to heart or anything. But woman to woman? It’s not my fault I am this way. But I’ll take full responsibility for the fact that I like being this way .” My finger slides under her chin forcing her to keep holding my stare. “Now sweetheart, answer me this and I’ll make it all stop.”
“I’m n-not telling y-you anything, somnia maga. ” Dream witch.
I give her a disapproving look. “Oh dear. Name calling and the wrong answer. How unsurprising.” A tendril spears right through her, her scream loud enough it rattles the rickety metal bars around us.
“Haven’t you had enough?! Just put her out of her misery already.”
I snap the tendril back into me at the intruding voice. “Sir Mousy Buzzkill, everyone.” I throw my arms out to the sides. Unfortunately, he doesn’t take the bait. “Fine.” I concede, dropping my arms back down. “She was getting boring anyways.”
He stares at me dumbfounded. “You’re just going to leave her there? Not even end her life with whatever respect she has left?”
My head jerks towards him, “she lost her respect when she sidled up with a traitor.”
“News flash, Your Highness. We’re all traitors. What makes them so different?” He shouts. There’s a glint in the corner of the dank hall outside the bars, and a pair of green and gold eyes flash my way.
I jerk my chin towards the prince. “She knows information, but she refuses to give it despite my efforts.” My head turns towards Mousy again, “you want to put her out of her misery? Be my guest; I’ll leave you to it.” He pales at the suggestion, yanking open the cell door and stomping past me to unlock her chains. Her body thuds into the pool of mucus and blood on the cement.
Her weak voice barely carries her last hiss in my direction, “ Somnia maga morieris a malo in ossibus tuis.” Dream witch you will die from the evil in your bones.
Lovely. I send a little wave in their direction while calling out over my shoulder passing up the prince on my way out.
The chaise up in the apartment has been calling to me for the past hour and once I'm finally out of the cells and face to face with it, I collapse. My eyelids fall heavy the minute my head hits the plush velvet. I’d drift off to sleep if not for the incessantly noisy thoughts filtering in from Rorin’s head. “ Your mind is very loud.” I send down the seal.
“Then ignore it.” He snaps.
“If it were that easy I wouldn’t be talking to you. Believe me, I don’t like you enough to voluntarily have a conversation.” I snap back at him, and just as everything starts to numb and drift again, the scent of bourbon and citrus fills the room. I crack an eye open to see a scowling princeling standing over me. “You’re staring.” I note while trying to close my eyes again.
He places both his hands on the edge of the chaise caging my head in when he leans down . “Mm. Merely observing, Your Highness.” These proximity run-ins with him are becoming more and more frequent. “We need to talk.”
I raise my brows, “about?”
“Vellar.”
My interest piques. “Oh?”
He stalls for a moment, pulling his lip between his teeth and chewing on it. “There is going to need to be a plan.” He says .
“A plan for?” I ask.
He taps the rune on my wrist "These.”
“Care to elaborate?” I press.
He huffs, lifting his chin up so that I’m staring at the stubble on the underneath of his jawline. “We have red angry runes on our wrists. At some point someone is going to notice.”
He doesn’t give me anymore than that, forcing me to chime in. “Oh-kay…so we need a plan for what? To explain it?” His head bobs up and down. “We can’t just tell them to fuck off and mind their own business?”
Rorin tilts his face back down, his expression disapproving as he says, “no.”
Damn , I think. “Alright…any suggestions?”
He tilts his gaze back up. “One. But you’ll hate it.” When I don’t answer, he takes that as his cue to keep rambling. “We’ll have to be convincing, they’re not easy to conceal, and if questions are raised…well it’s just better if we stick closely to one another. And that closeness will most likely raise other questions—” Alarm bells start going off in my head as he explains this plan.
“Don’t you dare suggest we sleep together, princeling. Please tell me you aren’t suggesting that?!” I shriek.
He shakes his head giving me a moment of relief, “well no not literally. But I think it may be in our best interests to make them think we entered into an agreement as a result of…passion.”
Disgust churns in my stomach. “A result of passion? You’re right. I hate this idea.” He mumbles something along the lines of “ I knew you would.” But I can’t be bothered with the snide comment as I’m still stuck on the suggestion that we did this based on our being romantically involved. “I don’t make decisions based on…passions. ”
“You do too. Just a different kind of passion. If anyone asks about the runes we can spin a story of us falling for each other. That we faced death during our travels and in the heat of the aftermath we made promises to one another. Or after I almost lost you when on the battlefield we decided to commit then, as a means of reassurance to one another.”
He sounds completely ridiculous. If his parents believe it, they’re denser than I assumed. Oh gods, what if my own men start to believe it. “Will it keep them from retaliating for you bringing me into your kingdom? Into your battle?”
“No, but it may delay them long enough for me to get you back on Obsidian soil.”
I look at his face. His stupid chiseled face, that has his stupid smug smirk on it. “I hate the idea and I hate you for suggesting it.” He stares down at me, waiting for a yes or a no. “Fine.” I state pushing out from underneath him.
“You concede so easily?” His tone surprised. “You realize this will mean a bit of acting on both our parts. They’ll need to be convinced that we are mad for one another.” I grunt in understanding. Obviously.
“Bleeding fucking gods.” I groan. He takes a seat on the table in front of me, resting his forearms on the tops of his thighs.
He looks at me intently, his face growing serious. “I have to ask. What made you so…”
“Charming, exciting, alluring…” I suggest.
Rorin’s brow pulls tight, “no.” Oh. I think. “Pitiless. Merciless. Heartless. I saw her life too, through your mind. You did a shit job at keeping me out.” His words wash over me like cold water it's such a drastic change of the subject.
“Did you want me to have mercy on the woman?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I didn’t say that.”
“Then what are you saying?”
Rorin doesn’t answer me, so I choose to invade his space this time. I move off the couch to stand in front of him. His face is at chest level for me with our height difference. “This is what you asked for.” I murmur, dragging a finger against his pulse. “If you wanted merciful, if you wanted compassionate, or even a peaceful way to handle things you would’ve never knocked on my door.”
He swallows thickly, his throat bobbing with the movement. “So you tortured her for being affiliated? For being a potential threat? Or because she came after you?” He looks at me earnestly his rough hand coming up to his throat and wrapping around my fingers.
“I tortured her for a few reasons. To find out how much Hadar’s Guards know thanks to her lover, because I could, and because you let me.” His face drops at my words. I smile as I back away from him, letting him stew over that fact, the fact that he could’ve stopped me and didn’t.