26. Eveera
Eveera
Rorin’s question plays over in my head again and again, “ and after that?”, while I stand here with four heavy heads in a satchel and a finger tucked into one of my small pockets. The prince gives a nod to the soldiers standing guard at the door who are pretending to not notice the growing pool of oxidized blood by my feet.
The loud sound of the wooden hinges is deafening as the grand dining hall opens up. Our soldiers move in a formation in front of us so that they walk in first. Rorin, stands at my side, his brows drawn tightly together.
“ Why are you making that face?”
He keeps his focus forward. “ Something is wrong.” Rorin pushes through our guards, signaling them to circle back around me quickly. Much to my shock, they listen, blocking me completely from view and unfortunately also from seeing. “Father.” His voice is hard, laced with as much hatred as he can muster.
“They set us up.” The words rush out of him quickly, I can feel the violence in his Wield grow as his control slips. I shove at the guard’s backs a few times, forcing them to part their barricade of bodies. Very slowly I move the few steps necessary to stand to the side of the prince.
On the left of King Eiser is a greasy, sickly pale man. There is an air of arrogance around the two of them that is stifling. The grimy male stands up, as if he were the host of the dinner, and widely opens his arms to greet us. “Well, you must be the Queen of the hour. No offense to Queen Mareese, of course. It’s just that its not often our world truly gets to see the Nightmare Queen.” He laughs. The sound is grating, and there is a sneer in his voice as he calls me by the nickname.
“Baelor.” Rorin says into my mind. So, I think, this is the tyrant of Hadar.
“ We could kill them all now. It’s a little lack luster in my opinion, but between the two of us…” I tell him , my fingers curling around his and squeezing. I don’t know why I do it, maybe to comfort him. Lately my hatred for the prince has been so…temperamental. But if nothing else, I can chalk it up to the game we’re playing. The ruse in place that we are lovers. That explanation will have to be enough for now.
He subtly shakes his head, “ no. Not yet.”
“ It takes care of both of our problems.” I try my Wield coaxing his. Only a few eyes wander to the weight in my hand. When he doesn’t answer I concede, “have it your way.”
I saunter up to my intended seat. By no coincidence I’ve been placed directly in front of Baelor and a young girl - she can’t be older than Millie - as sickly and gaunt as the king next to her.
Thwump! I drop the sack of heads that lands centered between the two kings. The burlap opens slightly revealing their gaping mouths, glassy eyes, and the hack marks. Gasps ripple around the table and one lord retches. “I believe these belong to you.” I say .
Baelor’s laugh assaults my ears again. “And what made you come to that conclusion, Your Highness?”
“Hmph. If they’re not yours, then they must be his.” My finger lazily points to King Eiser.
“That is a remarkable accusation!” The man, Birk, shrills.
Rorin’s familiar scent and presence engulf me as he reaches under my chin to tilt my cheek up at him. His soft, warm lips press against it. “Excuse my beloved, she has a tendency for theatrics.” He tilts his head at the table surveying the men we killed, “their heads were a bit difficult to remove with only dinner knives handy.”
I’ve zoned out on everything else that came after the word ‘beloved’.
The chairs scrape out from beneath the table as we take our seats. Rorin reaches underneath mine pulling me closer to him to then casually drape an arm across the chair back.
Mareese is stares at us in horror. “Have you nothing to say of her accusing your father for being responsible for the-these men?!”
“To that? No.” He says and my gaze settles on his mouth, the blaze of that kiss burning still. “But, to the company you’ve invited to our table, I have a lot to say.”
Eiser flags over a servant to clear the heads from the table. The poor thing gags and heaves the whole way as he does so. “Now now, son, inviting them here is all in the name of peace.”
“Ha. Peace . Of course, how could I forget.” He says the word ‘peace’ like it’s something stuck to the bottom of his shoe.
“War has never won anyone anything, Rorin.”
Disbelief crosses both of our faces. Coming from the man who refuses to witness the actual carnage his seat partner has caused to Vellaran citizens. “It seems to have won plenty for King Baelor here. The ruler of now three kingdoms, and the occupant of a fourth. War seems to agree with you.”
“It will not win him Vellar. While you were off…” his hands wave around, gesturing at nothing in particular, “gallivanting and killing, we have been drawing up a treaty. A treaty that will serve us both without any more bloodshed.” The two kings share a look that I zero in on. “But that is hardly dinner conversation. Dinner I am sure many of us are no longer hungry for.”
I can feel the vibrations of Rorin impatiently tapping on my chair. My hand moves over - of it’s own accord, again - and squeezes his leg lightly. My serpents slide down my arm to connect to him. As if they could absorb and tether his magic the same way they do mine to take the edge off.
My eyes snag on a glint of golden blonde hair. Millicent juts her chin at the girl in front of me. A pitiful thing. Hollowed cheeks and deep set eyes. The ruby curls cascading down her back are severe against the paleness of her skin. She’s the shell of a girl. My magic feels for any indication of fear, but all I sense is a darkness that mirrors my own. Looking to Millie again, I can see her mouthing something. “Pru-el-la” her lips repeat the name a few times until it clicks, Pruella…Baelor’s only daughter. What a liability she must be.
As if she senses my magic probing her, her eyes dart up and around. “Pruella, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Oh now, none of that. You’re a princess in your own right. Formalities are such a bore.” Rorin’s heavy presence weighs in my mind. I angle my face only slightly towards him. The arm behind me tenses but he doesn’t send anything down the seal. “How do you feel about your father’s tirade of mass genocide? ”
Her back straightens a little. “I support my father’s efforts to do what he deems best. He’s a great King. One who has grand plans for our sister kingdoms.”
Rorin and I share a look. “ Sister Kingdoms? Is that what you’re calling them?” The prince laughs in disbelief while she nods.
“Sounds like you are a devoted and obedient daughter, Princess. Your father is fortunate.” Eiser praises her, the slight not going unnoticed by either of us. “Although! It would seem Queen Eveera was the most fortunate. No parents to disobey or disappoint.”
Tap. Tap. Tap. “Mm. Yes. Being orphaned is so much better than pesty parental disappointment.” Calloused fingers lace into my hair, moving in slowly circles on the base of my neck.
The king swirls his goblet one…two…three times before tipping the contents into his mouth. The resemblance is there between father and son but Rorin looks far more like his mother. A travesty really. “Enough of this. Peace is duly in order and what a better time with the Valen Celebration in less than three days.” Applause and compliments round the table, praising the two kings for their amicable relationship. But I don't believe it, Rorin called it before we entered the room, they're setting us up. I can't help but smile to myself.
So many deceitful plots in place. So many games. It will be fun to see the fight. It will be better to be the victor.