Chapter 31 Charming, Yet Cruel #2
The top half of my hair was braided into a bun, courtesy of Lady Jocelynn. Two silver pins in the shape of wings were placed into the bun to represent the Castivian crest.
Lady Jocelynn kept everything else plain. No makeup. No jewelry beyond the necklace from Sitara. The simple gown had soft, sheer sleeves that ran down my arm, and a dainty zipper in the back.
Representing the Dark Natured or not, I was proud like never before.
I felt pretty.
Not in the way men back in the Waywards stared on summer nights if I had a bit of cleavage showing, but pretty in the way that I could bear to look at myself in the mirror.
I shouldn’t need a dress to feel beautiful, but was it so bad if it made me feel that way?
Riven pulled out two chairs, both on the left side of the table. “The chairs don’t bite.” He gestured for me to sit next to him.
Cute of him to think I'd be sitting next to him after leaving me with Lady Jocelynn. Instead, I sat on the opposite side, making my disdain clear. He poorly attempted to match it, leaning back in his chair and lifting his brow. Taunting me.
Our silent war was interrupted by Xavian and the rest of his council pouring in, only pausing their conversation to acknowledge my presence with subtle nods before taking their seats.
Arthur Pos, the oldest of them, sat next to Riven.
Though we had never met, I knew enough from my dreams to not like him.
The redhead, Avan, took the seat between me and Xavian.
Across from Avan, Draven wore an airy, maroon tunic, with his long hair falling to the sides of his shoulders.
Draven was the first to speak, his voice rich and smoky. “It’s a pleasure, Lady Elorengail.”
“Princess Elora,” Xavian corrected him. My twin sat at the end of the table, the view of the stormy grey ocean behind his head of thick, inky curls.
“You’re not king yet,” Draven argued coolly.
My brother must have had some semblance of respect for Draven, as no daggers were drawn at the dispute. “I’ll be enacting the deed by nightfall.”
“The plan was to meet with the rest of the lords before claiming your title,” Arthur Pos reminded.
Riven had told me the meeting wasn’t until next week. Why wait?
Avan glanced between Xavian and Draven while spinning a silver coin on his thumb. Riven focused on me, but I tried my best to not pay him any mind.
“That was before my brother died,” Xavian tossed a scroll on the table. “And before the cunt queen sent this.”
The rest of the table jumped up, scrambling to grab it first. Riven was the champion, and quietly read it before tossing it to Avan, whose words fumbled out of his mouth the second he touched the parchment.
Xavian Steele,
Per Queen Delaina Lyonaire, heiress to Jadehill, Ruler of Drakington and the Castivian Territory, it is hereby declared that all creatures born with Dark Natured blood be sent by ship to Drakington, where they will be a pivotal part of the war efforts.
The Queen expects a swift response and diligence in clearing the lands of such kinds. If you prove yourself to be inadequate, a new Keeper of Castivian will be assigned.
Drakington also requests this quarter's tax payments as early as possible, as war does not pay for itself, and the Sapphires are a constant threat at our borders.
My stomach curled. Clarke wasn’t even cold in the ground, yet she’d wasted no time. I should have found her while I was within the walls of Lyonsreach and slit her throat myself.
Avan read on about further expectations and threats before finishing, setting the missive down and staring back at the rest of the council.
Arthur Pos adjusted his spectacles. “I agree with you, Your Grace. The sooner you declare these lands independent, the better.”
“I’m pleased you‘ve found sense during your swim.”
Arthur’s nose crinkled as he snatched the scroll from Avan and cleared his throat.
“I can have the legalities and crowning ceremony prepared for this afternoon.
We can all see the King's Mark, should anyone question the legitimacy of the deed. But there is another pressing matter to discuss that cannot wait…”
I tried to pay close attention, but Avan kept spinning that stupid, distracting coin. Just as Payn had.
Xavian waved his hand. “Go on, Pos.”
I shot a glare at Avan, whose coin was spinning even faster.
“You both need spouses and heirs. Immediately.”
The coin stopped.
“Who?” I blurted.
Riven’s eyes sharpened, and Xavian rubbed his forehead.
“Me?” I asked.
Draven gave me a knowing glance.
“Yes, you and your brother. You didn’t expect to have no further bloodline, did you?”
Arthur’s reality check stung like a burnbee.
Riven promptly pulled out a smoke and lit it right there at the table. Xavian held out his hand expectantly, lighting one as well.
“Ale, please!” Avan yelled. Staff flowed through the doors a moment later with goblets, glasses, and refreshments.
I downed my first before they finished circling the table and signaled for another.
“Goddamn, Princess. We’re not running out anytime soon,” Avan whispered.
“Give me a few hours and we’ll see about that.”
Xavian was silent until he finished his smoke, flicking the ash right onto the table. When it was finally burnt to the blunt end, he dropped the bud into an empty glass and steepled his hands.
“I will not force the princess to marry.”
The council stiffened.
“I will, however, do my duty and marry. I’d like to start communication with any Lestivian noble families who are not entirely entwined with Saffron.” Xavian’s voice was that of a leader who had trained for this his entire life.
“And Lestivian’s have sexy, thick accents, and thicker asses,” Avan added.
Draven let out a heavy sigh, tracing his finger along the rim of a glass of red wine.
The entire premise of the conversation was overwhelming, but of course Xavian was going to do the noble thing. That was what royals did.
As much as I hated to admit it, Arthur was right. Our bloodline ended with us. If we started a war to keep this land and defend the Dark Natured, it would be crucial to have heirs.
There was no guarantee we’d survive, but we could create something that outlives us.
Death no longer scared me.
This meant so much more.
“Your Grace, Whimcastor Hold has already offered their eldest son and heir as a match for the princess,” Draven pointed out.
“They are arguably our most populated hold in Castivian and our highest taxpayers. They would be valuable assets. If we turn down their offer, they may turn us away when we need men.”
Arthur Pos nodded in agreement.
Xavian’s voice silenced the room. “Whimcastor Hold will bow to their king, betrothal or not, or it will cease to exist. My sister is not a chess piece, nor livestock to be sold.”
My face paled. Never in my life had someone stood up for me in such a manner.
Arthur Pos shook his head. “We would be fools to turn away—”
“I’ll do it,” I interrupted.
Everyone turned to me, but the only eyes I could meet were Riven’s. He exhaled slowly, smoke brushing my face.
My desire to help did not change the desire I held for him, or whatever had sparked between us.
He burned his piece out on the table, leaning forward. “Has the wine affected your senses, Princess?”
I gathered myself, as Lady Jocelynn had advised, before saying something that would not represent myself well.
There were too many people suffering and dying for me to be picky about how I contributed, whether it pissed Riven off or not.
Maybe I was being impulsive, possibly desperate, to make something of myself in comparison to my brothers.
Or perhaps it was Lady Jocelynn’s speech that brought me clarity.
One thing I was positive about was how sick I was of being the victim.
Standing out of the way while people like Xavian made ties with Lestivia, Amzee and Zephy protected ships of the Dark Natured, and even Arthur Pos spent his time tending to our kingdom.
“If I wed the heir to Whimcastor Hold, will it help with the war?”
Avan coughed. “Uh, yeah. They forge our fucking weapons.”
Xavian kicked the top corner of Avan’s chair, sending him falling back.
“It could be beneficial, but nothing is guaranteed.” Xavian eyed every man sitting at the table one by one, daring them to speak again before I gave my answer.
Sitara and her village did not die for nothing. Beck did not lose Arielle for nothing. I did not leave the Waywards and cross the Sea of Blades for nothing. War required weapons and men, and if Whimcastor Hold had such resources, I would not be the one standing in the way.
“I’ll do it.”