Chapter Twenty-Four #2
And Eve’s quarters are down the hall. The idea of not being close sends a sharp spike of worry through my chest.
“These quarters will be prepared any time you need them,” Oraphia answers. “They’ll become guest quarters.”
“And Eve? Will she be moved too?” Despite my best effort, my tone is laced with underlying concern.
“Lady Eve was asked if she wanted to be relocated closer,” Oraphia replies. “She has requested her current quarters remain hers.”
I pause, fighting the immediate reaction of hurt in favor of logic and understanding. She doesn’t need to be as close… not since having learned to ferry. I suppose we can’t remain like we’d been in the temple forever…
Oraphia taps my shoulder, tearing me out of my thoughts.
“Up now, Queen Ves,” she says. “It’s time to get you into your dress.”
As I stand, Raevi appears before me, clutching a black box against her chest. Not obsidian, I realize. But paper.
“You’re going to love the shoes,” she says, smiling.
Lifting the lid of the box, she pulls it away, revealing the prettiest pair of black silk shoes I’ve ever seen.
?????????????
If Oraphia had been a second slower in ushering me from my quarters, I would have ripped the sheet from the standing mirror.
I can’t help but feel ostentatious—I’ve never worn a dress with a train of this length.
It calls for attention in ways I’ve never sought.
Not being able to see myself lends more credibility to my thoughts than I’d like and feels like punishment.
Raevi and the two other attendants follow in my wake as I walk, the sound of my shoes filling the hall with an even, steady rhythm. Arms filled with black silk and lace, they follow in absolute silence.
“You’re to wait for King Alaryc in the foyer,” Raevi says, her voice quiet as we round the first landing of the stairs.
Her voice isn’t the only I hear. Others float up from the foyer below, as if there’s a dozen muted conversations happening at once. Castle staff? It’s hard to say—no single voice is distinct enough to recognize.
“Once the foyer clears, he’s requested you enter the throne room together,” Raevi continues with a small, soft smile.
“Is he already waiting below?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder.
“No.” She shakes her head. “We’re to let him know once you’ve arrived.”
Perfect.
Once they leave to retrieve Ryc, I’ll slip into the study on the ground floor—the one with the tall standing mirror. A line of black clad castle staff stream up the stairs. Their heads and chins dip as they pass, offering low greetings of Your Majesty, my queen, or Queen Vestaris.
Reluctant to speak, I offer a practiced smile.
I’ve a strong feeling I’ll be wearing it for the rest of today.
The last of the staff pass and Eve appears, a broad grin on her face. Our eyes lock, and the blue of her eye seems brighter, accented by the slip of silver lining along her lids. With a long, low whistle, she folds her arms across her chest as she leans against the banister.
“Sorry I’m late. Blame Cyran,” she says as her eyes roam over me.
“Is Cyran alright?” I ask, stopping beside her.
She nods. “Aye. He wanted to ensure I understood the protocols for today. He’s anxious. I’m not sure why. He didn’t strike me as the kind of fae to be nervous in a crowd.”
My eyes narrow.
“There’s a lot of people in that room, Ves. A lot of faces even I don’t recognize,” she explains.
“Erusian ladies and lords, I assume?” I ask, fighting the twisting knot in my stomach.
“All here to watch you become queen,” she says with a slow nod.
Laughing I say, “All eyes on me until they see you.”
Eve barks a laugh.
How could they not?
Eve… is dashing.
Clad in the Witherhorn family color, she dons a well-tailored button down shirt and well-fitting slacks. Her collar left open, the band of Malbolge runes around her throat sits exposed.
A demon mark on display without shame.
A touch of demonic pride wells in my chest.
She may not be contracted to me, but Fate would have it a contracted fae would become my closest friend in all of this. I may not be fond of the hells, but I will not deny all parts of who I am.
Eve’s head tilts and a few of her loose braids decorated with an abundance of crystalline beads and clasps swing with the motion. Her eyes narrow as she studies me. She looks nothing like a guard—save for the daggers strapped to her chest and thigh—and everything like a gallant vagabond.
“Perhaps I won’t run off with Ryc,” I laugh. “We could make for the door.”
She laughs, a sanguine smirk appearing on her lips. “I don’t steal from this king.”
She pulls herself from the banister as half a dozen questions spring into my head. Turning, she offers me her arm. As I take it she says, “If you want to hear why, your book will tell the story better than me.”
At her mention of the book I’m reminded of her request and guilt is quick to strike.
“I never asked,” I say quietly. “Did you get what you wanted from the sophont?”
Her smile fades as she sighs. “I did. Thank you. Mikael is lyrical in his storytelling.”
“Mikael?”
“He has a name,” she says, chuckling. “The book. Mikael Crissop. Lived in Lightvale before the Dividing War apparently.”
It’s a human soul and not a demon’s?
My heel catches on my dress as we take our first step. In a blur, Eve swings around, steadying me by my waist.
“Fall tomorrow, not today,” she says, her eyes wide.
“You could ferry me,” I retort, under my breath.
She bursts into wild laughter. “I suppose I could,” she quips. “But what’s the point? You’re nearly there.”
“I’d rather not break my neck,” I retort and she gives me an impish grin.
“As keen as you are to stand on the other side of the veil, I’m not going to let that happen,” she teases as we continue in a slow descent.
As we approach the next landing, more of the foyer below comes into view and my steps slow further.
“Good gods,” I say with a breathy laugh.
“Yeah.” Eve drags the word. “This is all Lilith.”
We cross the landing, stopping along the banister. Peering down, the whole of the grand foyer is revealed—and it’s transformed.
Streaming black and silver banners hang from the vaulted ceiling. They billow in an unfelt breeze, the Witherhorn family crest flashes silver at the end of a swaying ribbon of shadow. The family crest… it’s a silver raven clutching a sprig of ivy in its claws.
Nektos… touches all things it seems.
The floor below buzzes with castle staff, an abundance of guests standing throughout the foyer and more streaming through the open entry doors. It is a sea of black suits and dresses and cloaks and hats. There’s laughter, and smiles, and people stopping to admire Lilith’s work.
I’ve never seen Castle Erus so… full. Busy.
Any other day the foyer lies mostly empty. A few guards, perhaps a couple passing staff… never this. They are the sources of the sound I heard above. Muted conversations, voices kept low as they take in the same decorative wonders and congregate around a few tall tables, chatting.
Towering arches of near-black roses, verdant ferns, and bright moss line the silver-edged, black runner stretching from the doors through the foyer.
And near the center of the space, a black marble, five-tiered fountain—a godsdamned fountain—stands.
It, too, has been decorated with the same flowers and ferns as the rest of the space.
The gentle sound of the flowing crystalline water is mostly lost to the voices.
And there… in the basin—flashes of color.
Jewelfish.
The same from the arboretum.
“It’s too much,” I say, swallowing against my pounding heart.
“I tried to tell Lilith…” Eve trails off, sighing. “But she wants Erus to know you.”
I grimace.
Ryc wants the same.
“Where am I supposed to meet Ryc?” I ask over my shoulder, trying not to sound as nervous as I feel.
Raevi said something about the foyer earlier, but I’ll be damned if I can remember exactly what now.
I shouldn’t be nervous.
None of this should matter.
These people, this title, the whole ceremony shouldn’t matter to me. But it does matter. Because it matters to Ryc.
And that… well that leaves me a nervous mess.
I don’t want to disappoint.
And for the first time it’s not out of fear of punishment—I can endure whispers, scathing looks, and accusations. But Ryc doesn’t deserve the scorn of his people on my account. Nektos hasn’t given him a choice in this matter.
Raevi’s brown eyes meet mine. “In the foyer below, Your Majesty.”
Raevi’s use of the title tightens the already massive knot in my stomach.
I return my attention to the crowd and shake my head. “No, I’ll wait here.”
I don’t want to take another step.
I don’t want to wait among those people.
Already a few have taken notice of me and their eyes and faces lift with delight. What they see and the truth I know couldn’t be further apart.
“As you wish, Your Majesty,” Raevi returns quietly.
Raevi and the two others lay out the train of my dress, unnecessarily careful of its placement. It streams over the white marble landing like a dark river behind me. With quick curtsies they retreat up the stairs, likely to help Oraphia with moving.
I’m going to have to mentally brace myself for a day filled with random people addressing me the same way. I heave a small sigh. Right now, these are my last few moments of anonymity and I’m going to relish them. The whole of Erus doesn’t know who I am.
That changes after today.
And I need to be ready for that.
The people below, for the time being, are too enamored by their surroundings, savoring their glasses of bubbling wine, and involved in their conversations to notice the demon perched above.
“Waiting here sounds good to me,” Eve says as she unwinds her arm from my grasp and pitches herself onto the banister, leaning on her forearms. “I recognize a lot of these people. Doubt they’d recognize me though.”
Glancing at Eve, a wry smile spreads on her face but her eyes remain forward.
“Do you miss it?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
She lived for nearly a century as a thief. The last decade of temple life must have been a drastic change—safer and slower paced, I’d imagine.
An ice blue eye slides in my direction.
“Yes… and no.” She mulls over her answer. “I miss the sense of belonging that came with the guild. They became my family. I don’t miss Tiarsus or the games he played.”
She stops herself and with a tight sigh, pulls herself upright. There’s more she wants to say, but doesn’t. Turning, she leans a hip against the banister and folds her arms across her chest.
“Today isn’t about me,” she says in Malbolge. “I should be asking you questions. Like… are you ready for all this?” she swings her head toward the open foyer.
I scoff a dry laugh. “Yes… and no,” I answer in kind.
She flattens her lips in a tight line as she nods, but it quickly becomes a playful smile. “You could always run,” she teases. “The doors are wide open. Not a soul would notice you slipping through the crowd. As long as you change first.”
My laughter grows. “I don’t want to run.”
Her brows fly high. “Is that a demon speaking truth?”
“A rare occurrence, but it does happen,” I laugh.
“And look where it landed her,” she counters, grinning. “Sovereign fucking Queen.”
I can’t help but smile in return.
“Not at all how I saw my escape from the hells going,” I muse.
She barks a sharp ‘ha’. “Yeah, your life wouldn’t be as interesting if you didn’t have me.”
“I’m glad you’re prideful enough for the both of us,” I retort, laughing.
A chord of horns calls attention below and the conversations fall silent. A herald calls out, instructing guests to move into the throne room, and I heave a long, long sigh.
“Time’s up,” Eve says, pulling herself from the banister. “The window to escape your Fate is quickly closing.”
My eyes dart toward the open door.
Bright sunlight streams into the foyer from the courtyard.
I shake my head. “I think I’m going to stay here, Eve.”
She claps me on the arm as she moves toward the stairs. “Glad to hear it,” she says with a genuine smile.