22. Eveera
Eveera
Rorin stays behind in the bathroom. I wasn’t afraid of him seeing my scars, but I didn’t feel like answering any questions either. He can figure it out himself.
When I walked into the sitting room I was surprised to find that Axel was draped across a lounge chair with a drink in hand. He looks up and eyes me up and down. “You look terrible, E.” Usually that sentence would have some levity to it, but today his voice has none.
He gingerly offers me his drink that I gulp down in one go, wanting to avoid the taste. “You’re so sweet.” I quip. “You should go—” I wave my hand around, “—go change or see if Armond needs you. He probably does.”
His deep brown eyes flit towards the bedroom door. “What, you’re not worn out yet?” He says that one as a joke but unfortunately the mood hanging over it causes it to fall flat. “Evie…what are you playing at here? You spend a few days with the guy—”
I groan, interrupting him. “I already got this speech from Ezra. I don’t need it from you too.”
His arms cross over his broad chest as he looks over at me. “So just like that you’re all done fucking Ezra and now you're crawling into bed with the heir of Vellar?” I open my mouth to correct him. “If you’re going to say that you’re not actually sleeping with him then fine. That’s not the point. The point is you’re comfortable even pretending that you are.” I am not comfortable with it. I want to argue but his face has a look on it that prevents me from doing so. “I mean, Evie…you’re putting everyone in a tough spot here. You’re putting me in a tough spot here.” His stands up, his hands brushing up and down my biceps. He pulls me into a familiar hug placing my head right under his chin. “I love you. But I don’t get it. You hate everything he is. Or you’re supposed to at least.”
I let out a long breath trying to process those words. “Yes.” These are the moments when I hate him most. I hate how well he knows me, how well he reads me. He switches out his chin for resting his cheek on the top of my hair.
“You don’t have to. Get it, I mean. You just have to trust me. If you can’t do that then…” His body tenses against mine and he pushes me out away from him making me a witness to the hurt on his face.
“Don’t threaten me, E. We’ve moved beyond that. You don’t think that we know how powerful you are? That you don’t really need us? You spent nearly the first half of your life training to be THE weapon, of course we know. But you’re not just our queen, you’re our family, dammit. We aren’t about to leave you here. I don’t care what fucking deals you make with him .” His finger jabs towards the doors behind me. “We made our oaths to you and we will uphold them.” He’s practically shaking with frustration.
“I thought you made them to the crown?” It’s mean and I know I shouldn’t have said it. Not to him at least, but I couldn’t help it .
Hurt turns to anger as his grip loosens on my arms. “Not me. I made them to you. ” I give him a nod and he’s gone from the room without another word and I’m left with all of what he said hanging above me.
I knew I couldn’t avoid these dinners for very long. However, the longer I sit here the better the idea of stabbing myself between the eyes with the fork in my hand sounds as each of the different lords drone on. I thought I’d already made a shocking impression on the court’s nobility until the other night when I walked in wearing the hand print necklace their prince left on me. I must be losing my luster though because tonight I barely got any reaction at all.
Millicent has a place at the end of the table sitting next to a few of the other ladies, she gives me a once over and when our eyes lock she shares an expression I’ve become familiar with, one my men wear often. There is concern and a look of protectiveness in her eyes - I can only assume it’s not for me but rather because of my proximity to the prince.
“Can you please make her stop?” Lord Birk’s obnoxious voice pierces my ears, drawing my attention to him, his knobby hand is pointing at my fork and plate. “The noise is positively grating, your Excellency.” The endearment draws a laugh from Orem who's standing behind me.
“Something funny, boy?” He sneers.
“A-hem, excuse my soldier. I am sure his slip of laughter simply came from your use of the word ‘excellency’ when referring to your king.”
The lord cocks his head, his beady little eyes narrowing at me – scrutinizing, “you and your men find it humorous that I believe my sovereign to be of excellence? ”
I drag my fork against the plate again staring at him for added discomfort. “Merely a difference of opinion is all.” My response has him slamming his hand down on the table and jabbing that knobby finger at me a second time. Before I can react, Rorin pushes me back.
“Lift that finger at her a third time and I’ll slice it clean off. Give her the respect she is owed, Lord.” Birk’s face turns into a rather unattractive shade of red. I can feel Rorin’s magic pulsing under his skin begging to be let out until I place my hand on his forearm, nudging him back into me. I expect him to tense up when I do it, but he plays his part well moving his arm protectively across the front of my waist and hooking my body into his.
A throat clears from the other end of the table where we see Mareese’s face scrunched in annoyance. “If you wouldn’t mind, could we save the rather grotesque threats for somewhere a little less civilized than my table?”
Lord Birk’s face flushes a bright, a litany of kiss-ups leaving his mouth and heading straight for the asses on both the king and queen. Rorin and I sit back in our seats, his arm sliding from my waist but keeping a protective hand draped across my lap.
I wasn’t surprised when at the end of the dinner - we were asked to stay afterward. The palace guards usher us into the council room and while everyone takes their seats, Rorin and I stay standing. His hand resting gingerly next to my side. “Have a seat son, no one’s going to hurt the girl.”
Rorin bares his teeth. “Queen.”
The king waves his hand. “Yes, of course. Queen.” The way he says it makes my stomach turn. As if my title is a stain on the realm. “There is a plethora of details to discuss until the Valen Celebration in eight days.” He looks openly between the two of us, “the most important of which seems to be your infatuation with the young, queen .” His lip curling up again when he says it.
“I’d rather talk about the war we’re currently fighting.”
“Hm.” The king taps his finger against his chin in contemplation. “You received the directives updating you on the status of Piram and Bair, I presume.”
I nudge him through the seal. “ Don’t let him bait you.”
He ignores me. “I did. And you have nothing to say about what was in them?”
“Princeling.” I warn, but he ignores me again and for the next half hour Rorin and his two guards take turns arguing the importance of our return to Bair and then to Piram. The council interrupts every so often to deliberate amongst themselves, most of them too lost in debate to notice the silent stand-off between the four royals among them. My eyes are trained on Rorin, Rorin’s on his father, and his mother’s on me.
“ If you continue to clench your jaw like that, your pretty teeth will break.” I say leaning into him casually. “We are going in circles here, ladies and gentlemen.” I say aloud.
The council members look startled at the sound of my voice, including the king who leans back in his chair. “You’re quite right. We really don’t need to be having this conversation at all. Do we, son? I believe we’ve already had this discussion.” I can hear Rorin screaming inside of his mind containing the desire he has to throttle his father. “I’ve let you dally and play, you had your fight in Bair and barely won. Now you have responsibilities here, you are the heir to this kingdom not just a general.”
Laughter slips past my lips and a stubby withered man sitting next to Mareese looks up at me from his stack of ledgers. “Forgive me, your Highness.” He says to the king as he levels a glare on me. “Queen Eveera. The laughter is becoming inappropriate, from you and your men. Do not forget yourself or that you are a guest in this court. Our generosity and peaceful natures go only so far.”
“Excuse me…” I start.
“Chancellor Finnigan.” He finishes.
I nod. “Chancellor Finnigan. Thank you for your…insight.” I feign a look of thoughtfulness. “You’re right. We’re guests in your court and you may choose to rescind our invitation extended by the heir here at any time. I nearly did the same when he and Sir…” My mind blanks on Mousy’s name, “when he and his companion showed up at my doorstep. They were willing to do anything for our assistance. It was out of the goodness of my heart that I entered into diplomacy with him. He was a destitute general suffering the loss of too many men thanks to your king’s battle directives.” The council’s eyes bounce around to one another as I continue. “The reality of your front lines has surpassed grim. They are being decimated and without the Obsidian army you won’t even be barely winning the fight against Baelor.” My eyes lock on the king, who has a smug smirk pasted on his face. “It is clear the war has not touched you here in Valen or you would’nt be having your little party. I hate to inform you that war will always find a way to your doorstep. Just because yours are gilded does not make you exempt from that. If you like the thought of ending up dead, well by all means, my troops will put out and you can see how far that gets you.” My hands are laced together in front of me, my serpents slithering wildly along my forearms as my Wield tastes the fear emanating from so many of the members.
Queen Mareese rises from her seat, mirroring my pose at the opposite end of the table. “Our ‘little party’ as you call it, is a tradition. Maybe you do not have those where you are from, Queen Eveera, and that is why it seems so uncouth to you that in times of war, we find times to celebrate.” Her gaze challenges mine as she gives me a cold smile. “Forgive me for my boldness but I must ask. If you care so little about what happens here to us in Vellar, is the assistance you offer us really out of the goodness of your heart as you said? Or is it out of my son’s lack of control for what is between your legs?”
Rorin’s mouth drops to say something as he slips behind me. I stay my hand at him, “ whatever you are about to utter to be my virtue’s knight in shining armor, don’t. You’re playing into their hands. We want them playing into ours.” He clamps his mouth shut and presses a whisper of a kiss into my hair, with the weight of his stare a shiver goes up my spine.
This is all a ruse. It is all a game, my conscience reprimands.
I lean into the kiss absentmindedly while I meet the every pair of eyes staring at me. “You wanted me to be convincing right?”
“Wha—” I turn in my spot while my magic forms into my favored claws. They watch my hand rise to Rorin’s face where I trail a fingertip down his cheek, dragging the claw across his bottom lip. He doesn’t flinch at the cut the sharp point makes or at the blood beading up from it. Heat flares in those hazel eyes, his tongue pressing hard into the inside of his cheek. The burn from his stare finds its way down into my stomach.
You’re only reacting this way because everyone is staring. It is not because of the look he is giving you. But for some reason the heaviness of his eyes tracking my movements seems to make time slow down.
I’m not sure this will work to convince them. But from the kiss on my head to my magic marking him in front of the most important people in all of Vellar, our ownership has become very obvious. I break the stare between us, my eyes landing on Mareese, while I bring the blood covered finger up to my lips, wrapping them around it.
“I’ll let you decide Queen Mareese.”
Save for a few gasps the room was completely silent.
Time only resumed its normal pace once I step out of the direct line of Rorin’s heated stare and leave them all in my wake. None of the men seemed to follow my exit, and if they had I would’ve been far too preoccupied to notice. When I stepped back into the apartment, Millicent was there working on a plate of sweets while reclined in Rorin’s desk chair. She freezes when she sees me. “Do not say a word.” I warn.
She lets out a low whistle, “you two put on quite the display at the end there.”
I shoot her a frustrated look, “what did I say?”
She shakes her head, “you look like you need a drink.”
I collapse on the bed and stare at the ceiling. “I do but all of the drink in this court is absolute shit.” I clamp my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose.
Millicent’s moves had been so silent I assumed she wasn’t in the room with me any longer until I cracked an eye open to find her standing and leaning over me. Her hands are placed squarely on her hips. “ Gods! Do you make it a habit to sneak up on people?” I snap.
She shrugs her shoulders, “I think I can solve your shitty alcohol problem.” As soon as the words are out of her mouth she is up and marching out of the room and I have to bolt after her. She’s taller than me and takes significantly longer steps. Finally, I fall into step with her, winding through the halls and down sets of stairs. All of which end with us in front of a rather nondescript door.
"Where are we going?" I ask, partly curious but mostly aggravated. Millicent looks towards me before giggling again. Why the hell does she laugh so much? I wonder.
The door she opens, opens up into a very busy and steamy kitchen filled with people moving frantically about with pots, pans, and trays of food. She takes my hand and weaves us through the commotion. A few stray glances land in my direction, but nobody says anything about my being here with her. “Is the less shitty liquor somewhere in here?” I yell out over the boisterous noise. She doesn’t give me an answer, just continues barreling through the busy workers.
Low and behold in the center of the kitchen and chaos sits a disheveled Rorin, a peeved Mousy, and Bennett who is shamelessly flirting with one of the maids. She looks down at me and winks before calling out to the three of them.
“Well well, Millie, what pray tell caused you to drag her Highness into the belly of the beast?” Bennett flashes me a toothy grin. Flirt. Rorin’s leaned back in his chair, both of his sleeves are pushed up to his elbows showing off his corded arms.
“ We are going to get drunk. In the city. She says our alcohol in the castle tastes like shit.”
Bennett pushes out from his chair and loops a lazy arm around Millicent’s shoulders. “So what you’re saying is you need some male escorts?” She rolls her eyes and gives him a shove but he only holds onto her tighter, ruffling her hair.
She slaps his hands away, “I am saying - before you started messing with my hair, you asshole - that we are going to get drunk. Whether you choose to join us or not is up to you. But I wasn't about to get in trouble by broody over there,” she hooks a thumb in Rorin's direction, "for not telling him where she went." With a grip on my bicep, she drags me past them and into a hallway I actually recognize. The three of them must have followed us because I can hear Bennett arguing a few feet back with Mousy. As we get closer to my men's door, Orem peeks his head out of their door, probably to see what all the noise was about .
“Evie? What are you doing down here?” He asks, looking genuinely confused.
Millicent waves him off, “oh, we’re just walking through.” She smiles at him and I can see Orem’s cheeks turn pink when we pass him up.
He ducks back inside, and in the next few minutes three of my men tumble out into the hall. Axel is hopping on one foot trying to get his boot on while a sleep addled Max straightens his clothes.
She groans at the six of them, continuing her hot pursuit for the exit that leads out into a courtyard. We cross through until we reach the gates and that's when Mousy begins his whining again, “Millie, please tell me we aren’t going to walk ?!” She pointedly ignores him making me like her just a little more. Her pace stays quick until we cobblestones.
Axel catches up and loops an arm around me, looking out and around our surroundings before extending two fingers to tap Millicent’s shoulder, “where exactly are we going?”
“ Goldfinch .” She and Bennett answer at the same time. “To get drunk.” She adds again and a boyish grin spreads ear to ear across Axel’s face.
“Oh thank the gods. You know your alcohol in there tastes like dragon piss right?”
Max - more awake now - joins Axel in throwing an arm around me from the other side, “have a lot of experience with Vada’s piss, brother?”
THWACK! Max’s arm lets go of me and goes straight to rubbing the back of his head. “Ow.” He mouths.
Millicent turns around to look at us, “Vada?”
Max's eyes go wide at his slip up and Axel gives him a look while redirecting the conversation. “Let’s just hope this Goldfinch redeems you all.”
Loud drunken voices start to drift our way from the end of the next street we turn on. It’s not long before large lights come into view. Beaming at the end of the alley is a bright sign that reads “GOLDFINCH” hung above a set of swinging doors.
Our bodies press tightly together as patrons shove past and through our group trying to make their way outside while we try to make our way inside. A few whoops sound through the crowd at the sight of Millicent, Bennett’s face souring at their brazenness. He drapes a protective arm around her while flashing a crude gesture at one of the callers. The two of them argue quietly, heading towards a table in the corner of the room. It’s raised on a platform giving us a view over the lively crowd. Rorin’s body bumps against mine as we pile into the booth. His arm moves around my shoulders to lay against the back of the bench. The position caging me in place. Which is not what I planned on doing tonight.
I slap my hands down on the table and push myself up. “Move, princeling.” He looks up at me his expression annoyed, not bothering to listen to me.
“We just sat down.” He argues.
I nudge him again a little less gently this time. “ Move . I need a drink, that’s why we’re here isn’t it?” Thankfully Millicent bounces up from her seat exclaiming that she’ll come with me. When Rorin still doesn’t stand I swing my leg over him, practically sitting down in his lap to get out of the booth, his hands come up to my hips pulling me snug against him and anchoring me onto his lap for a millisecond - the movement sending shocks through me - his hazel eyes darkening before he lifts me up and over him. Orem gets up next helping Millie down like a gentleman, unlike how Rorin just handled me .
Millicent takes off into the crowd and I follow, keeping an eye on her blonde head bobbing through the crowd. I realized halfway through that Orem didn’t sit back down but in fact came with. “I don’t need a babysitter, Abrams.” I gripe.
His answer to that complaint was his finger looping through my weapons belt keeping him locked into his side. So they think I need a babysitter and to be leashed?
We find Millicent leaning over a sticky bar top that's set in front a colorfully lit wall. The shelves are all lined with different bottles that glow in the fluorescence. She’s chattering with a gangly man covered in gold paint who flashes a bright smile at us when we join her. “And what can I get you, loves?” He asks, his accent thick and noticeably not Vellaran. “Three pitchers of ale.” Millicent slides over a few pieces of Vellaran money that he doesn’t hesitate to swipe up quickly, winking at her. Before he leaves to go gather our pitchers I slam down my hand startling a few patrons in the vicinity.
“Is that the strongest thing here or is there something else I can add to that?” The bartender looks me up and down as if to gauge by my size how much of a lightweight I might be. He chuckles behind his gold teeth and lips then turns away from to pour our drinks, not answering my question. I hop up on the stool and place both elbows behind me on the counter behind me. Orem unfortunately is blocking most of my view with his bulky frame. He keeps both eyes trained on the man behind the counter making our drinks. Every so often though I notice, he switches focus, and his eyes wander over to a unaware Millicent.
“Let me know how that drink goes, love. You make it through that and I’ll make you one on the house.” I spin around in my chair and find the man laughing while he passes off the tray to Orem. Millie smiles again at the bartender and hops down from her seat, looking up Orem she pats his chest, softening his otherwise icy expression. He jerks his chin for us to walk in front of him so he can keep an eye on our backs, ordering Millie to hook her arm through mine and not to let go until we’re back at the table.
Axel and Bennett cheer when they see us approaching. Orem sets the tray down and I reach for my drink, pushing it towards Axel. “Here. Try it in case it’s poisoned.”
He gapes at me before picking it up grumbling, “sure, I’ll just be the expendable one.”
I smile. “When you become a royal, I'll test your drinks for you. But for now drink up.”
Axel smirks, tipping the drink to his lips, “are you proposing?” He teases before swallowing the sip. His face twists in discomfort. He passes it to Orem next who takes a sip as well and ends up coughing and sputtering afterwards.
“Bleeding gods, Eveera, if you wanted to be lost to Oblivion you could’ve just asked.” Orem chokes out, his shadowy Wield hovering over the pads of his fingers.
I raise my brows, reaching for the cup. “Can’t be that bad.” I mutter, decidedly ignoring the looks that are passing over the Vellaran’s faces.
“Well…it’s strong.” Axels adds.
I gulp it down in one go, the contents of it singing the back of my throat. I drop the empty glass harshly in front of Rorin. “Child’s play.” I snark, slinking back into the crowd before anyone can stop me.
The mass of sweaty bodies sucking me into itself, my body flowing to the rhythm. I feel the sensation of a wandering hand graze over my skin. My head starts to loll along with the music as the alcohol does its job and I sink into the stranger’s touch. Unfortunately the distraction is short lived when I feel the annoying sensation of being watched. I tilt my head to the side and see two dark, stormy, hazel eyes boring into me and my new dance partner. My smile widens as I listen to my impaired judgment and sway my hips against the man behind me.
“ Problem, lover?” I croon.