20. Eveera
Eveera
I thought the hallway to Rorin’s room being completely glass and having a view over the gardens was obnoxious enough until I learned that they actually named the hall, and nothing original either, they named it “The Glass Hall”. Foul.
Bennett takes me down a separate marble staircase different from the one that Rorin dragged me up. This one spilled us out into a less see through hall - no less gaudy though. The ceilings have golden arches that curve across them, forming panels with different displays of artwork above us. We have something similar in the king and queen’s wing in my own castle. This artwork is somewhat less impressive however.
When we reach an alcove that opens up to a corridor lined with doors, he motions for the door closest to my left, “this is your men’s apartment. Mine’s just across the hall. If you, you know, need anything.” He states, throwing a wink in for good measure.
“I’ll pass.” I say and watch as his eyes dim at the refusal and he slips quietly into his own room.
BANG BANG! I knock and when no one answers I let myself in .
The room opens up to a foyer with four doors facing each other, doors that I presume lead into bedrooms. A hearth is nestled in between the two doors to my right and the back wall has a wide expanse of windows. Golden upholstery glints at me from the couches, the same mahogany wood throughout the castle - or from what I’ve seen - is in the chairs and tables. I step further into the apartment, stepping up to a tapestry of what looks to be one of Vellar’s legends.
My hand strokes down the fibers, tracing the threaded linework. “When did you get in here?” Ezra’s voice breaks my line of thoughts. I turn to see him, his blonde hair is damp and his lounge pants are hanging low on his hips. It wasn’t that long ago seeing him like this was one of the heights of my desires, and now…well now it’s just Ezra.
“Bennett let me in only a few minutes ago.” I tell him.
He’s leaned up against the hearth, his arms folded across his bare chest. “I see. I’m assuming you’ve been given rooms somewhere else then?” He asks, his tone guarded.
I nod. “Mmm. I have. The princeling thought considering the circumstances I would be safer—” I throw air quotes around the word - ‘safer’ - “near his quarters.”
He rolls his eyes tilting his head to look out the windows, “I’m sure he did.”
“You don’t trust me.”
“Is that a question or a statement?” Ezra asks.
I sigh, combing my hair out of my face. “Both.”
His expression softens as his arms drop to his sides, regret flashing across his face as he looks to me. “I said some…uncalled for things.”
“Ha.” That’s it? I think. They were only uncalled for?
“You’re more than just the crown to me—”
I raise my hand to stop whatever heartbroken sob story he’s come up with. “What’s been said has been said.” Both of his shoulders slump down even further than I thought possible. He hangs his head back bringing up both hands to drag down his face.
“What are we doing here, Eveera?”
“That’s a loaded question.” I say but he doesn’t look satisfied with that response. “We are here for a purpose and then we are going home.”
“Please be more vague.” He groans, frustration filtering into his tone. “I deserve to know, E. We all do.”
I toggle between telling him or keeping him in the dark. Telling him puts me at risk for him trying to stop me, but not telling him puts us at risk for not being able to work together behind enemy lines. He waits patiently for my response and after several minutes I decide to give him at least an idea of my real reasons here.
“Justice.”
Ezra’s stare hardens on me. I can see the gears turning in his brain trying to piece together what I meant. I plop myself down on a chair where I can recline into it, my right leg crossing over my left and he takes the seat adjacent to me. We sit in silence for the next several minutes during which I figured out the rest of my men must be sleeping. Finally he looks up at me, “jus…tice…” he says slowly.
“Justice.” I repeat.
“That all I’m going to get out of you?” He asks. I nod, my fingers dragging across my lips pretending to seal them shut. “Hmph.”
"You don’t trust me.” I repeat the words hanging heavy above our heads. He doesn't say anything as my feet carry me away from him. With my hand on the doorknob, I turn over my shoulder to look at him once more. “That was a statement.”
I walk back through the painted hall, Rorin’s staff averting their eyes as I move past them. I follow the same path I took with Bennett a little more slowly this time. My eyes snag on the entrance into the gardens we’d flew past earlier. At the time I was only interested in finding my men and making sure that they weren’t locked away in some dank cell. But now, now no one is here to stop me from perusing them.
Can’t hurt to look right?
The doors open out onto several paved pathways, each one lined with different flowers. I take the path straight out in front of me, the hedges filled with white gardenias. The deeper in I go the more I realize it’s a labyrinth complete with hidden alcoves that no doubt are filled with secret debaucheries. The walk ends at a stone circle, looking around I see the mouths of the other pathways framing the center stone. The heart of the gardens , my mind figures. From where I stand, If I look up, I can see clearly into the suspended glass hallway that leads to Rorin’s room. And if I look down I can see that the center circle showcases the Kingdom of Vellar’s sigil - a bright six pointed star.
A shiver ripples through my spine as it stares back at me, the gold glinting harshly in the setting sun. I shake it off, not allowing my fears to settle in. They’ll have to kill me before I allow my own fears to overwhelm me while in the home of Eiser and Mareese. Ahead of me there is a stretch of hedge that catches my attention. It’s devoid of color from this angle, looking like a black hole, beckoning me. On my way to it, I notice an inscription on the stone surrounding the sigil, warning people to walk around it and not over it probably to prevent the metal from tarnishing.
Fuck you , I say in my mind, spitting on the sigil as I stomp over it. Not as satisfying as it will be to kill the king and queen, but it settled my discomfort for the moment. Entering the dark path I notice that the flowers crawling up in a chaotic display are black baccara roses.
That’s a funny choice of flower to have in a Vellaran garden . My fingers run lightly across the petals of the flowers native to my kingdom. One’s that are usually showered all over my court. Their darkened hue makes the hedges appear like they’re bleeding in the evening light. “I see you’ve taken it upon yourself to explore our court.” My heels ground themselves onto the cobblestone while I tilt my chin over my right shoulder. Queen Mareese . She’s in the same iridescent dress as earlier that hangs loosely on her tall and frail figure. She stands a few feet from me, turning to face the flowers as I am, her hands folded behind her back. “Rorin always did prefer the darker side of things. Even flowers.” She adds. I’ve still yet to verbally acknowledge her but she doesn’t seem bothered as she continues speaking, “I thought it such an odd choice when he requested the black baccara, but seeing you here now it all makes sense.”
I pluck one from the hedge, “does it?” Her dress swishes on the stone as she moves to stand next to me.
She has a tight smile plastered onto her face. "They’re native to Obsidian, are they not?” She asks.
“Obsidian’s native flora are not why you came to talk to me.” I reply, keeping my response curt.
Irritation flickers on her face. "Clever girl. After your little…display in the council room I found it imperative to know you. My son has, after all, just let a rather unpredictable force inside of our walls. I’d like to have your assurances that we won’t regret this.”
You won't have time to regret it – you'll be dead. I want to say. My hand comes up to tuck a stray hair out of my face and behind my ear. With the barest tilt of my wrist I flash the rune in her direction, as I’d hoped it would, her gaze snags on it. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep the promises I made to the princeling—” Her hand darts out, snatching my wrist and cutting off my words.
“He d-didn’t…” She stammers and I can feel the heat pricking underneath the rune where her grip has tightened. “What deal did he make with you witc— AH!” With a hiss she drops my hand like a hot coal. Her attention switching to where she's been burned by the seal’s magic.
“The promise I made to the prince is for his knowledge alone. You’ll have to find it in yourself to trust me. Or don’t - up to you. But,” I let my Wield take over just enough to blacken my eyes, “as you saw from my ‘display’ earlier. I have no issues taking the situation into my own hands. In case you need a reminder of Rorin’s and my privacy.” Her fear is palpable, her magic useless against me.
“Eveera?” My power pulls back at his voice and the queen and I both look up to see Rorin standing a few paces from us. His face filled with mild worry. Who that worry is directed at is a mystery to me, but I imagine it’s for her.
Vitriol fills her gaze. “Maybe your mother was right to hide you. If I had a monster for a child, I’m not sure I would want them out in the world.” She snarls.
Rorin moves to my side standing close enough that our arms brush against each other. “How lucky you are that your court is so…bright. I hear monsters enjoy the dark…I’d hate for them to seek you out.” Her face pales while I turn into Rorin’s chest, our fingers on instinct locking around each other’s, his free hand comes around to my lower back and I raise on my toes putting my lips against his ear. I speak mind to mind, but to her it'll look like I'm whispering. “ She knows about the runes.”
He leans into my touch, the position on my back turning more possessive as he holds me . “Does she? ”
I nod against him slightly, “ Funny - she thinks I am the one who manipulated you into this agreement.” I lower myself back flat on my feet, flashing a cloying smile her way before pulling her son and myself out of the gardens.
Rorin paces the length of the room while I tilt the bottle of this sickeningly sweet wine to my lips. My arm extends the bottle up and out to him which he snatches from my hand and takes a long swig of. He drops it back into my lap and continues his pacing. The motion is serving to only make me dizzy at this point.
“How did she find out about the runes?”
I shrug, taking another languid sip of the acrid wine. “She caught sight of the rune when I was tucking my hair behind my ear.”
“So you flashed it at her.” It wasn’t so much a question as it was an annoyed realization.
I shrug. “Mmm. If you want to think of it like that, sure. I flashed it at her.” He slumps down next to me reaching between my legs to take the bottle of alcohol back and finishing it off.
“Are you trying to get us killed?” He asks, his voice hardening.
“You were the one who said they’d notice eventually.” I argue.
Rorin looks at me incredulously, “that doesn’t mean go and show it off! You can’t just tempt fate here with my parents, with my-my father.” His yells his words stammering together.
Interesting. “You’re afraid of them.” I say.
“Don’t use your Wield on me.” He growls .
“I don’t have to. You reek of it, you’re afraid of what they’ll do to you, and yet you defied them anyways. I honestly didn't think you'd care based on your previous lack of care for their opinions.”
The expression he gives me is a mixture of anger and pain. “Don’t do something like that again here without discussing it with me first. Make all the power moves you want in your own court, but here you wait for my say so.” He stalks off out of the room leaving me alone so I walk myself into his bedroom. Where it would seem the words avant garde should perfectly describe the whole of Vellar - they don’t even begin to cover the obscene furnishings that are housed in this glittering palace - and yet the decorators must have skipped Rorin’s room. The walls are the same marble throughout the castle, but everything else is a variety of grays, blacks, and greens. The gold filters through lightly, his tan military uniforms hang in the armoire next to his regular clothes, and his gold general’s armor stands in the corner next to the large mahogany desk but that's about all of the noticeable Vellaran touches in here.
Slipping off my shoes I feel the chill of the marble flooring. I walk around to the desk my fingers gliding along the sleek wood edge. It isn’t as large as the one in his office at Bair, but it still swallows me up as I sink into the leather seat. The idle time I have gives me a moment to hash out a letter with all of the updates, including this ridiculous fib that Rorin has concocted, and send it off to Felix. Quickly I scribble the updates I have for him on a piece of paper and fold it, pulling out my wax and seal. Lighting the candle in front of me, I warm the wax and drip it onto the folded edge, pressing the seal down into it. The now embossed wax glints at me in the firelight as I set it aside to be sent off tomorrow. My head falls into my hands as I think of all the things I have to do. Heavy is the crown one wears., my mind coos. I swapped one war for another but this time I have no Vada, and no Room to privately work out all my stresses. So showering in a scalding hot stream of water will have to suffice.
I stalk over to the bathroom and strip out of my clothing. I twist the knob all the way to right until steam billows up and out of the shower. Much like that night in Bair, the realization of where I am and who I am sharing a roof with hangs over me. It’s like I’ve signed my death warrant already by simply being here…
“ I know you’re not listening to me. But if you were…you’d probably tell me what a fool I am for taking this deal. Or what a fool I am for not bringing you along. And you’re right, I am - a fool that is. On both counts.” I wait for the steady thrum of Vada's presence to run through my head but it never comes. I slide to the tiled floor, pulling my knees into my chest. The serpents on my skin slither and blink up at me as I empty my mind. Out of boredom I summon the Wield, watching the tendrils wrap and tighten around me. They brush against the scars on my thighs triggering the urge to add new ones. Unwillingly, the words the queen said tonight drift into my brain, “Maybe your mother was right to hide you. If I had a monster for a child, I’m not sure I would want them out in the world.” I used to envision hearing Mareese, if only to hear her screams as I killed her. But, in this moment at least, I think I would have lived a much happier life without ever hearing it. Because now there is a voice to my nightmares…one that isn’t just my own. They’d like to think of us as weak and vulnerable. They rightfully think of us as a monster - and if a monster is what they want, then a monster is what they will get. My conscience reminds me.
A soft knock sounds at the bathroom door interrupting my thoughts. “WHAT, princeling?!”
“Er - not the prince, Your Highness.” A soft feminine voice comes muffled through the wood – Millicent .
Turning off the water I step out of the shower and open up the door finding the taller blonde standing on the other side with my dinner in her hands. She smiles. I grimace back while snagging a towel for my hair off the shelf. “You can just set that down on the desk.” Her gaze follows me all the way to the clothing rack set up with my things, the sensation making me uncomfortable. “Oh don’t tell me you do it too.” I say, selecting a silk set off one of the hangers.
"Do what?” She asks.
I pull the chemise over my head and secure the slip robe around me tightly. “Stare. Rorin calls it observing but he really means staring.” I turn around to see her draping her hand across her mouth suppressing a laugh. I twist my long dark hair into a messy knot on the top of my head.
“I’m not, I was just—”
“If you dare say observing, I will rip out your vocal chords where you stand.” Her face pales slightly but the smile doesn’t falter.
Taking the somewhat lighthearted threat as her cue to leave she pushes off his desk that she's leaned against and only turns back towards me when she reaches the door. “I was staring.” I eye her curiously waiting for her to finish. “You’re an enigma. You are…an elusive creature we’ve only heard horror stories about or rumors of. A monster that was meant to hide under our beds and in our wardrobes. Yet here you are now, albeit shorter than I imagined—” I snort at that, “—in the castle helping your supposed enemy with a war that isn’t yet yours.” My mouth opens to interject but she raises her hand stopping the words. “I have no doubt to the King and Queen you are that monster. They are expecting you to act as a caged feral animal. Don’t give them the satisfaction.” We hold the others’ stare for a moment as I give her an almost imperceptible nod. The door clicks behind her .
Grabbing the food I crawl into bed and lean back against Rorin’s absurdly comfortable headboard. Of course his bed would feel like this. I grumble to myself while I mull her words over. I hate that she makes a good point, only people who care make good points. I don’t need another person who doesn’t know me, caring.
As for the ‘caged feral animal comment’ that was exactly what Mareese was intending to do in the garden, bait me until I snapped. I won’t give them that satisfaction. Not yet. Not until I have them wound so tightly in my web that they will be begging for me to kill them. Only then will they see how truly monstrous I can be.
I was curled up in the large silky bed drifting to sleep when I finally heard Rorin come in. Barely glancing in my direction he slipped off into the bathroom and turned on the shower. The white noise of the water seemed to go on forever before he finally emerged back out.
His dark curls lay damp against his forehead, beads of water dripping down the corded muscles of his back and absorb into the fabric of his towel. I watch the muscles flex in and out as he picks out a pair of navy pajama bottoms and starts to… oh hell no. I bolt upright in his bed. “Please to all the gods that might be left, tell me you are not about to strip down right in front of me.” As if the loosely tied towel slung low on his hips wasn’t enough of a distraction, the thought of what a sight his bare ass would be. I stop the imagery from materializing in my mind.
He doesn’t bother looking at me, chuckling lowly to himself. “Why, your Highness, think you might find something you’re… interested in?” I glare holes into the back of his damp head and cross my arms over my chest .
“No. I don’t feel like burning my retinas into blindness at the sight of you naked.” He has one hand on the waist of his towel holding it in place . The towel shifts precariously as he walks over to the edge of the bead. Leaning his arm on the headrest he lowers his face towards mine, “most women gape in awe when they see me naked, but no one’s burnt out their own eyeballs before.”
“Well then let me be the first.” I huff out in frustration trying not to inhale too much of him. Why the hell does he have to smell so good? I duck under the covers putting distance between us and to offer him some modicum of privacy. That low laugh grows distant as he abandons my bedside. I hear the soft thud of his towel and against my better judgment I can’t stop myself from imagining what that bare ass looks like this time. My fingers squeeze the fabric tighter around my head before I lose all sense and actually look. “Are you done yet?”
“I guess that means you didn’t peek. I was done nearly five minutes ago.” I throw the covers off my head. He’s grinning while standing at the vacant side of his four poster bed. My eyes widen. “You’re not seriously going to…” His smile falls and his shoulders droop, both hands grabbing the pillows from that side. With an annoyed vigor he haphazardly sets up a cot on the floor. It takes a shameful amount of pointed effort to not gawk at noticeably scarred bare chest or those silk navy bottoms that are slung somehow lower then the towel was but not low enough to release anything.
This is a punishment; it must be. Not only do I have to endure him in the same room but he has to be half dressed? And look good half dressed?
He flops onto the makeshift bed, punching the pillow a few times to get comfortable. I guess if I have to convince people we are in love, his appearance alone will make it easy. His personality on the other hand…
The stillness of the room is only slightly disrupted by soft snores filling the silence and for a moment it all feels very mundane. Then I remember where I am and who I am with and all my torrid motions come rushing back.
I get up letting my feet hit the cold floor and rush into the bathroom to splash my face, the temperature shocking my system. My head hangs between my shoulders, with my stare planted on the basin in the counter top. Little demon… drifts through my mind jolting me from my thoughts. I search my mental channels for her, for that voice, but nothing else comes. Just a figment of my imagination, I guess, so I send another splash up into my face.
“No. No please don’t do it. Don’t lock…” I whip my head towards the sound of his voice. “Don’t lock…” Tiptoeing back into the room I peer around the bedpost. He's thrashing around on the blankets and there is sweat plastering his hair to his brow while panicked mutterings escape his lips. I hate to admit it but the tortured look frozen on his face highlights how beautiful he is, raw and unfiltered.
A part of me wants to reach into his mind and watch the nightmare - but I know already what I’ll see. It’ll be that same boy on the same dusty floor with the dead man spitting threats at him. The same thing I saw in his mind in the outer lands.
Wake him. I flinch at the sound of my conscience. Wake him!
Fine, persistent bitch. I hiss. I hesitate before closing the distance and crouching next to his twitching form, my fingertips ghost over his cheekbone. “ princeling…princeling, it’s not real. Wake up.” I let my hand rest on his cheek fully. His face is burning up underneath my palm. “ Ror—” my feet flip out from under me. Rorin’s eyes are glazed over as his face twists in rage, his hand squeezing and pressing down into my windpipe. The full weight of his body digging into my freshly healed gash on my torso. “ Rorin, let go of me!” I struggle to break into his mind. "I would really rather die in a much more valiant way than being choked out on the floor." I tell him but it does nothing. The dull burn of the rune on my wrist progresses to full third degree, “ RORIN!” At my shout, his pupils shrink back down to their normal size and air starts flowing into my lungs. Familiarity and then confusion enters his hazel eyes as he looks down at our position and then at his hand, realization dawning in his face.
“Oh my gods, Eveera.” The rasp in his voice a result from all of his earlier muttering. His hand flies off of my neck and in a quick succession he grabs my waist flipping me over and on top of him. His right hand spears into the hair above my nape while he cradles me against his sweaty chest. “I am so sorry…” I am struck dumb in my place as he rocks us back and forth. I’m torn between considering staying here and catapulting him across the room.
The latter wins…thank the gods. My elbow connects with his ribs as I push him away as far as his body weight allows me to. “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!” My voice is broken and hoarse and he reaches towards me, lightly brushing the bruises that match the shape of his fingers already forming.
“Gods, Eveera. I didn’t realize…” the tenderness and concern in his face is enough to make me want to vomit. I tear my gaze from his, scrambling to stand and move over to the mirror where I can get a closer look at the purple marks blooming across it. That’s what you get for listening and waking up the damn swine. I didn’t notice he'd moved until I felt his chest brushing against me. He drops his forehead to my shoulder with each of his hands wrapping gently around my biceps. Electricity sparks under his touch and I withhold the shiver that threatens to run through my body at the contact. How utterly ridiculous and pathetic the both of us look. Bruised, sweaty, and winded; usually in my book these would all be positive signs of a male and female interaction, but tonight it’s just…unsettling.
We stand here for awhile. Finally, his palm reaches around my front and finds my chin. He forcefully tilts my head to the side as he looks over the marks. “You’re overstepping.” I hiss, yanking my chin out of his grip. He spins me in my spot until it’s both our chests that are brushing against one another. “Next time you’re squealing like a pig in your sleep, I’ll throw a pillow at you. That’ll leave less marks.”
His eyes narrow and I swear the muscle in his cheek twitches as he ignores me and continues his appraisal of my injuries. From the corner of my eye I can see the sky brightening. “The staff will be in soon to wake us with their chores.” He says breaking away from me to pick up his disheveled bedding off the floor. We wordlessly climb into the bed and instantly the heat from his body warms the covers, fatigue ramming into me like a bull. His arm reaches over, fingertips lightly brushing my throat before he flips around to face the windows. I swallow thickly, ignoring the discomfort as I stare at the wall.
“This plan better work.” I whisper into his mind before everything fades to black.