Chapter 31 Charming, Yet Cruel
Charming, Yet Cruel
“Nightcastors—conniving tricksters, the lot of them. Trust one, and you deserve what follows.”
— Marker Dane, Lord of Lawship
I woke in a comfort I had never known before. The mattress was soft and plush, my head cushioned by a real pillow. A clean white comforter had been draped over my body.
The bedroom was as grand as Princess Clayvarie’s—dark oak bed, intricate violet wallpaper veined with stone, and arched windows facing the dreary skies above the roaring sea and distant capital.
My clothes clung to me, reeking of mildew.
Knock, knock, knock.
I sat up, sliding my eyes across the room. My bag rested in the corner next to a silver armoire.
Knock, knock, knock.
Crossing the expansive space, I snatched up Singer before swinging the door open.
Riven.
The weight in my shoulders dropped as his eyes met mine.
Of course he found me. Who else would have shown up at my door the moment I opened my eyes? It was as if he had listened for the first creak of the bed frame.
“I never showed up for training, or your tour,” I began, shame creeping up my chest.
I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t gone, or why I hadn’t just told him I wasn’t ready to come back to the House of Sterling.
“It’s okay.”
“Word must travel fast around here,” I said.
Riven stood raffish in his brotherhood uniform, while I needed a bath. The knots from sleeping in rain-soaked hair would be a nightmare to comb out.
He shifted his muscled arms behind him, suddenly at attention. “I’ve been sent to inform you that your presence is required in the council chambers at the House of Sterling this afternoon, my lady.”
The title rolled off his tongue as though I’d been branded a stranger, his words pricking like a rosebush. Charming, yet cruel.
I would've preferred a slap across the face. Depending on the circumstances, I may have even liked it. But this was no game. This was a new line being drawn.
“Is that what I am to you now? Some lady you deliver missives to, like a fucking messenger pigeon?”
“Elora,” he whispered. That was the voice I had begun to grow fond of. My heart desperately begged to cling to that, to be agreeable and yield, just like I had for men in the past.
But that had only ever left me bedded and broken.
People owed me real conversations and understanding, whether I kissed their ass or not.
My nostrils flared. “Which is it you wish to call me? Lady, like some stranger? Or Elora, like the person you pretended to want?”
He retreated a step, settling back into the cold version of himself—the Oathkeeper.
Pushing him away wasn’t my intention. Gods, why could other people operate normally in relationships? My mother had once screamed at me that I was the problem, but I would do anything to be someone worth caring about.
I had not touched another person outside of a mattress in so long, it felt like walking for the first time as I reached for Riven’s arm.
He looked at my hand resting on his bicep, then at the bed behind me. “You make it nearly impossible to maintain my honor.”
To hell with his honor.
“I don’t want it,” I said under my breath.
He placed his warm hand over mine, brushing a thumb along my palm, then briefly closed his eyes before letting go.
“I’ll return to escort you in an hour,” he said, not bothering with my name or a title. Regret spread across his face as he failed to meet my eye.
I closed the door before pressing my back against it and sliding to the floor. I would have preferred for him to yell rather than walk away.
Knock, knock, knock.
I jumped to my feet. I wouldn’t give him the chance to walk away this time.
Swinging open the door, my face fell.
Riven was not the one who stood before me, but some uppity woman.
“Yes?” My tone was icier than intended, but it had no effect on her.
Underneath an extravagant black hat, sun-kissed brown locks spilled from a twisted bun. The atrocity on her head was decorated with dark feathers, flowers, and black pearls. She wore a plum gown, with dark lace and a matching corset that complemented her bark-colored eyes.
She appraised me, pursing her lips.
“You certainly cannot wear that ever again.”
I gaped.
She pushed right past me, headed straight for the armoire. Beside the silver piece of furniture was a large mirror, its black edges curving around it like vines. I grimaced, unable to bear my reflection, and instead glared at the woman as she flung open the wardrobe.
“Who are you to be speaking to me like this?”
If she was older than me, it could not have been by much, and she certainly was not above me in this house.
She sorted through the dresses, hastily gathering options.
“The only person your brother trusts to teach you proper etiquette. My name is Lady Jocelynn Wrenavia, but more importantly,” she said, dropping four wildly extravagant, bright-colored gowns across the unmade bed, “you will need the tailor master later. One of these should work for today. I am told it is a private meeting you are to attend.”
I slithered my gaze from the gowns on the bed to Lady Jocelynn.
“Get the fuck out of my room.”
She snorted, seating herself on a black armchair by the window. “Once you are not an embarrassment to your name or this kingdom, I will gladly return to my own activities.”
Lady Jocelynn crossed a leg over her knee, face painted with persistence. She expected me to bite.
“Were you warned that I am some beast in need of taming?”
I didn’t step any closer to the gowns, as I would not be putting one on. For starters, they were hideous. I would love nothing more than to dress in finery like a proper princess, but the first expensive thing I wore would not be someone else's peacockish apparel.
Secondly, I had no idea how to get the pile of atrocities onto my body.
Third, I had been dressing myself since I could walk and didn’t plan on breaking that streak anytime soon.
She did not shy away from eye contact. “I was warned you would not like me.”
“I don't,” I confirmed.
I stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind me. She could put the dresses on herself, or burn them for all I cared.
The hallway was just as dark as the room, yet cool and comforting. Gentle light trickled in through slender panes, and the stone architecture twisted like the forest along the walls.
If they wanted me to act like a princess so badly, then so be it.
“Take me to my brother,” I barked at the first Blademan in sight.
Lady Jocelynn followed, her shoes aggressively clicking on the floor behind me. The guard glanced her way, then shook his head before walking in the opposite direction.
He’d blatantly ignored my order.
Turning on my heels, I faced Lady Jocelynn.
“I am not—”
Shadows filled my mouth, squeezing my throat tight and cutting off my words. Rage filled me as I struggled for air. She was Dark Natured. A Nightcastor, like Beck.
“Is it not exhausting?” she asked. “Carrying on like a juvenile? War is brewing and there are men with a great deal of money and resources who are going to make decisions soon. You have the chance to be a part of those decisions. If you are to represent our kind and this kingdom, you must present yourself respectably. Everything you say, do, and wear should exhibit who you are and what you stand for. You are dirty, reek of mildew, and look horrendous. Are you going to keep acting like an adolescent, or are you going to bathe and get dressed like a lady?”
Her hand relaxed and the shadows loosened, but still remained near my throat. I considered using my own Nature on her, curious how she would like it.
As my anger died down, shame replaced it. She was right. I’d known since I met Clarke that this would be coming. I could not keep spiraling, or my new life would be no better than my previous one.
Women could be so vicious. The idea of being vulnerable with anyone, especially someone who’d stuffed shadows down my throat, seemed ludicrous. Yet I found myself relaxing. She was just another woman. Dark Natured and trying her best to manage it, like me.
“I don’t know how to put one of those contraptions on, and I prefer to wear clothing that is my own. And when I do purchase a dress, I’d like it to be a darker color. They look better on me.” My gift to her was honesty.
Lady Jocelynn adjusted her hat, shadows falling away.
“I can help you get one of the dresses on, or I can find a simpler one from my closet while you bathe. It will take the tailor master time to design something more suited to your tastes, but I’m sure he will create something to your liking.”
Our energy shifted.
“I’ll borrow something for today.”
“I shall return to your room shortly, Lady Elorengail.”
She started to walk away, but I was not done. “Lady Jocelynn.”
She stopped in her tracks. “Yes?”
“I go by Elora. You should also know, if you ever put a hand or shadow on me again, I will drown you in a tub of my Nature. Are we clear?”
“As long as you never storm the halls dressed like a soggy rag again, sure.”
She clicked her heels down the hall, and while she attempted to hide her shit-eating grin, I caught it anyway.
Who had bet against her, for her to be so delighted at my compliance?
A few short hours later, Riven returned as promised. Silence lingered between us as he ushered me out of the manor. Other than my room, the stone hall, and the stairs leading right down to the entrance, I hadn’t managed to see much.
We rode on horseback to the House of Sterling.
Riven led us inside and up a wide, stone staircase.
At the end of the hall was the council room, recognizable from my dreams. The sizable rock of a round table sat in the center of muted stone floors.
A stunning view of the ocean and the city of Eiden was visible from every angle of the room.
We were the first to arrive. A cool sea breeze brushed the loose silver fabric of my gown across my thighs as I stood unsure of where to sit. I knew Xavian sat at the far side, facing the entrance, and Draven and Avan always sat to either side of him.