Chapter Three #2
“There is more to courtship than sexual interest,” Lilith says, finally finding her voice as I spear the severed corner of the potato—tritato?
I doubt that’s what it’s called, but that’s what I’m going to call it. The pleasant flavor of garlic and herbs greets my tongue.
“You’re the one with the strange tradition,” I counter through my chewing. “Demons don’t go around announcing who they want to bed through letters and gifts.” I wave my fork at the flowers.
“Ves, this is worse than a courting gift,” Eve says as she cuts into her eggs. “Courting gifts are subtle. This is a—”
Lilith clears her throat, interrupting Eve, and Eve pauses, lifting her dark brows high.
“If you do not tell her in the next sentence, I will,” Eve says, leveling a cold, firm stare across the table.
“Tell me what?” I glance at Lilith beside me.
Heaving a sigh, Lilith lifts her left hand between us. There’s nothing notable. No scar, no runes, no markings. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be looking at.
“I don’t understand,” I say and take another bite of my food.
“Fenryn visited last night to offer me this.” She wiggles the finger with a silver band upon it. The large, square cut emerald flashes. “A gift of silver,” she says.
“But it’s not a courtship gift?” I ask, trying not to sound confused.
Her face grows incredulous. “You…” her brows crease. “Do you not—how do demons marry in the hells?”
“Marry?” I nearly sputter my mouthful of eggs onto my lap. Swallowing, I set my fork and knife aside. “You’re married?”
To Fenryn?
The Sovereign King of Sol Fenryn?
The mountainous fae Fenryn?
I have questions. None of which are delicate.
“Not quite,” Lilith laughs. “Right now we’re akin to being engaged.”
A human practice.
The promise to wed.
“But now I truly do wonder how demons marry,” Lilith says and she sips at her water. “Is marriage common in the hells?”
My eyes swing to her. “No,” I answer. “And it’s always via contract. The terms of the marriage, including duration, are always bartered beforehand.”
Lilith’s face pinches. “Demons predetermine how long they’ll be married?” She sounds bewildered.
“Marriages are nothing more than a political tool,” I reply. “One used to merge or split Houses. There’s always one side who stands to gain more than the other.”
My marriage contract with Kassil is proof enough of that.
With a small, disbelieving shake of her head, Lilith says, “The process here is much different. We marry for love, or because we’re Fated. Though that’s not to say political marriages don’t exist.”
“Which is yours?” Eve asks, her keen eyes watching Lilith closely.
“For love,” Lilith answers softly with a matching smile. Her smile fades. “It’s a touch heartbreaking to hear demons don’t have the same romantic inclinations as fae.”
“Romantic?” I scoff a laugh. “We prefer our entanglements carnal.”
Things are easier when emotions aren’t involved.
“Carnal?” Lilith repeats, her brows high.
“Speaking of, entertain my curiosity, Lilith,” I say as I reclaim my silverware and cut into my eggs. “Is Fenryn in proportion? And if so, congratulations.”
Lilith’s expression grows confused as Eve slowly swings a pair of wide, ice blue eyes in my direction.
“You… are… not,” Eve says, her voice firm.
“You can’t tell me you haven’t thought—”
“I can assure you I haven’t,” Eve interjects wildly.
“I don’t understand.” Lilith’s eyes bounce between Eve and me.
“You don’t want to,” Eve shoots at her, but keeps her eyes locked with mine.
“I asked delicately,” I say with a shrug. “Thought that would be enough.”
“No, Ves, it isn’t enough,” Eve counters, her tone sharp. “Because it’s not something you should ask.” The last few words tumble from her in a heated rush.
Lilith opens her mouth.
And Eve is quick to point her fork at her. “I swear to the gods if you answer her Lilith, you will wear your breakfast,” she declares. “I do not want to spend my meal hearing about that fae’s crotch.”
Lilith slams her jaw shut, eyes wide, and the delicate pink stain across her cheeks returns, growing brighter than before.
“So it is a delicacy thing,” I say, mostly to myself.
“Sweet mother of the moon,” Lilith whispers.
“Do we really have to bring her into this?” I drawl flatly, annoyed by the mention of my absent mother. “Either way, good for you. Enjoy him,” I add offhandedly, pushing my annoyance aside.
Lilith makes a few incoherent sounds.
“Stop, you’re going to kill her,” Eve says, fighting against the creeping smile on her face. “Well-bred fae like her aren’t equipped to handle conversations like this.”
“Neither are you!” I laugh.
“I’m more than happy to talk about women all day,” Eve counters in a rather sly, boastful manner. “Males, on the other hand, disgusting.”
She launches her balled up silk napkin at me. It unfurls and falls short, blanketing a cluster of white lilies.
“Fair enough,” I reply with a shrug. I look to Lilith. “Forget I asked.”
She stares at her plate. Brows high. Lips pursed. Cheeks blazing pink.
With a scoff, Eve returns to her meal, inspiring me to do the same. Despite wanting Lilith’s silence earlier, having it now, I feel guilty.
“When do you marry?” I ask quietly.
I imagine there’ll be a ceremony or ritual or celebration Ryc and I will have to attend. Another gathering of fae. I pin my slight smile in place.
Her chest heaves with a deep inhale. “That’s loosely what I wanted to talk to you about,” she says, meeting my stare.
My brows furrow.
“Rowen and the news he brought changes the timeline of things for us a bit,” she says.
Eve sinks back in her seat, shaking her head. “That’s what you wanted to discuss?”
“Why would Rowen’s news bear any weight on what you and Fenryn choose to do?” I ask.
“She can’t marry him until after you and Ryc ascend,” Eve returns, her tone less than kind. “And since you’re going to be presenting yourself to the council, they’re going to want to know when you plan on ascending.”
“We don’t have a date for that,” I reply, trying to understand.
“Date doesn’t matter,” Eve says. “What matters is earning your approval. She’s going to ask you to override the High Council.”
Lilith releases a small sigh. “Unfortunately, Eve is right. The High Council will deny a marriage between Fenryn and me because we’re not mates.”
“But… Ryc and Tanila,” I say, leaning back in my seat.
“A different situation,” Lilith says. “Somehow the council was able to prove Ryc believed his mate to be dead.”
Well, he wasn’t wrong.
I certainly wasn’t living.
Rather than admit Fate paired a Sovereign King with a Death Bringer to the High Council, Ryc did what he needed to protect himself. With all the hassle surrounding Rowen and his involvement with the hells, I can’t imagine what Ryc would endure.
“Alright, but why approach me?” I ask. “Why not Ryc?”
She’s known him centuries longer.
“Fenryn has approached Ryc,” Lilith answers and there’s reluctance in her tone. “He’s hesitant—and I know it’s because of me. He’s protecting me. I don’t blame him. Fenryn hasn’t made an honest effort in searching for his mate.”
“I’m all for begrudging the whole Nektos-chosen system, but he’s a Sovereign King, Lilith,” Eve says. “It’s his duty to find his mate. I have to agree with the King Killjoy on this.”
Of course she means Ryc.
I stare at Eve.
Blinking.
Mark this as one of the exceedingly rare times Eve sides with Ryc.
“Then it’s a good thing you’re not the one becoming High Empress,” Lilith counters, sending a cool glare across the table.
“You’re setting yourself up for failure,” Eve sighs.
“I’m aware,” she replies with a sad smile. “I love him. And if his mate were to walk into his life today and he forgets me and everything between us, I’ll love him still.”
Eve’s stern expression softens as Lilith’s words twist my feeble little heart.
“I hope we’ll have the support of the High Empress when the time comes.” She rises from her seat, returning her half-empty glass to the table. “We’re both fully aware of how it may end, but that’s not enough to keep us from trying.”
Flashing a well-practiced smile, Lilith retreats from the room, leaving her breakfast untouched and the lingering scent of carnations and peaches in her wake.
?????????????
Not yet High Empress, let alone Sovereign Queen, and already people are clamoring for favors, support, and power.
I hate it.
Is this what it’s going to be like to rule?
Surely it can’t be the same here as it is in the hells. Right?
Is this what it’s like for Ryc?
If so, I don’t know how he does it.
Sitting upon the basin of the marble fountain in the center courtyard as I stare at the Moon Temple, I soak up the last of the afternoon sun.
I should be at my sparring lesson with Cyran and Eve.
Instead, I waste time here.
I’ve no interest in learning how to fight from a mortal.
What I’ve learned through the centuries has been enough to ensure my survival. There’s nothing more I need. Besides, I’d make for a poor student right now. Lilith’s plea sits heavy in my head and dark on my heart. I’ve become too feeling a creature.
And it’s all this realm’s fault.
That’s partly a lie.
I’ve always been a feeling creature. It’s been the source of more pain than it was worth in the hells. I was forced to narrow my world to Ylara and Vaelyn to survive. Here… my world has grown broad. Here, I have twice as many creatures to care about.
Lilith happens to be one of them.
As damned as her involvement with Fenryn may be.
The sharp cry of a bird sounds from the trees in the nearby distance. It goes unanswered, adding to the eerie, looming presence of the temple despite the broad daylight.
Left abandoned and unguarded, the temple is no longer the stunning vista it had once been.
Not since the night of the eclipse. Too many windows now feature new hardware—boards.
They cover the once beautiful stained glass windows.
It’s an effort to keep any errant creatures, four-legged or otherwise, out.
They certainly keep me out.
I haven’t gone inside since the night I returned.
And truth be told, even if the windows weren’t boarded and the doors chained shut, I wouldn’t venture inside. I already know the kind of death and destruction demons leave behind.
There’s nothing left for me within those walls.
Nothing other than memories of people who no longer stand on this side of the veil.
None of Celesta’s devotees survived the eclipse.
They didn’t deserve that.
No, that’s a full lie.
Artemise and Opal did. As did everyone else who was like them. The only thing Artemise ever did right was dismiss Eve from service in the days leading to the eclipse. Otherwise Eve would have been in that sanctum too. I would have lost her.
No.
Death can never have Eve.
Death already has a significant part of her. I can’t allow anything more.
Despite the lack of marker—no body, no blood, no stone broken, no memorial placed—I know exactly where Cora died. Staring at it, my jaw tightens as does the cold grip around my heart.
She didn’t deserve death.
She’s the first mortal I’ve ever truly believed to be given an unjust death.
One of the first things I did upon my return was scour this place. And I found it. The damned black ribbon. Found it in a small patch of flowers near the edge of the courtyard. Tattered and frayed, it clung to the petals of a pristine white tulip.
Perhaps one day, when I can stomach the possibility of losing Eve, I’ll give it to her. And tell her everything.
Because she deserves that.
A low warble above draws my eyes overhead.
The blood-red stare of a white raven peers down at me, perched upon the marble shoulder of my mother. He’s nearly as white as the stone he sits upon.
In all my existence, I’ve never seen a white raven.
Tilting its head, it pins a single red eye against mine.
“Come to enjoy the quiet or the view?” I ask.
The creature leaps from the statue, throwing its wings out. It glides to land upon the stone basin beside me, out of reach. With a weary eye held in my direction, it drinks from the fountain. The way it stares at me, it’s as if it’s waiting for me to say something.
So I speak.
“What do you want, bird?” I ask, arching a brow.
It gives a soft trill in answer.
A quiet laugh escapes me.
I didn’t expect it to respond.
“I’m fluent in common tongue and the language of demons,” I say with a half smile. “Raven… or bird, not so much.”
For an extended moment, it holds my stare and I can’t help but feel like it expects something from me. Or perhaps I’m projecting all the guilt and shame I’ve buried yet continue to carry.
As I rise I say, “Don’t keep demons as company, raven. They’ll leave you scarred and broken.”
It’s a hard lesson I’ve learned countless times.