XX | SHE IS BEAUTY
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And, hopefully, Melantha had no idea. But Celvene felt as though she wasn't going to be so lucky.
The energetic melodies that pounded against the ballroom were soft and strained now, and Celvene wondered how far she'd run. But it didn't matter, she deduced, as she veered to the right and cut a sharp corner.
Increasing her speed, the echoes of Melantha's footsteps grew louder, and Celvene smiled to herself.
Whatever the reason for Melantha's appearance, it couldn't be good—but Celvene couldn't let go of the hope, the dream that she wasn't here for a nefarious purpose.
That she did still have good inside her.
That Celvene's belief in Melantha's purity wasn't some unattainable, long-forgotten, childhood dream.
Even if she was at a ball she wasn't supposed to be at. In a kingdom she wasn't supposed to step foot in. It was a dream for a reason—a far-fetched one at that, but ignoring the amount of warnings blaring in her face, Celvene let herself cling onto that hope.
Finally, the footsteps faded. A few seconds later, Celvene caught up to where Melantha must have gone into: a room with the door cracked open. A sliver of amber light from the hall shone through the crack, though it wasn't enough for Celvene to see anything.
Of course, the thought of this not being Melantha crossed Celvene's mind. But how would Melantha have lost her while simultaneously pulling off a miracle in the form of switching her place with someone else?
Celvene had to trust her gut.
She unsheathed one of her flimsy daggers, strapped to her thighs beneath her dress, saving the other in case she needed to catch Melantha off guard.
Though their edges were dull—it seemed Celvene was cursed to always carry blunt knives—they were good enough.
She'd found them buried in the closet she'd found the dress.
Maybe they'd already been there. Or maybe Delythena had planted them for her.
She didn't know. She didn't particularly care.
The issue was... she was unsure whether she'd be willing to use them. Inching her way towards the door, she craned to hear something, anything. But the room remained still and quiet, a stark contrast to the soft music flooding the halls.
Keeping her grip steady and eyes sharp, Celvene slipped into the darkened room.
Not even a second later, she heard something rustle to her left.
Instead of allowing the source to grab her, she ducked, feeling a cold slap of air sail over her head.
The person missed her, and, remembering Khamisi's training, Celvene grabbed what she could see: their forearm.
Mustering as much strength as she could, she pushed forward, slamming the person into the wall.
Her dagger was raised to their throat in an instant, jammed in a crevice.
They gulped, the motion vibrating against Celvene's hands.
She couldn't remember where to pin the limbs, but it didn't seem to matter; whoever was under her grip wasn't struggling. Celvene's eyes narrowed, but in the shadow-shrouded room, she couldn't see the figure all too well.
"Who are you?" Celvene asked. The person was around Melantha's height, which was making it hard for Celvene to hold on well.
As if sensing her struggle, a small, white light flickered to life from beneath her. When she looked up, she was, indeed, met with the scowling face of Melantha. Streaks of muddled light escaped the cracks of her curled fist.
"What are you doing here, Celvene?" said Melantha, the grimace inscribed on her features reaching her scarlet eyes, crinkling them into slits. "You're out of my life for years, then pop back up out of nowhere and try to ruin everything I'm doing more than once. Why?"
Celvene stilled. Then, she breathed out an aggrieved sigh. "Listen to yourself."
"I do plenty of that."
"I don't know why you're here, but I have plans you seem intent on ruining. Not that you would kn—"
"I know plenty, grishka bea," Melantha replied.
"Are you cursing me out? Seriously?"
A scoff passed through Melantha's lips before they twitched into a frown. "No. Quite the opposite, actually. Were you going to tell me you're next in line for ruler of Aizasea?"
Celvene's hold loosened ever so slightly as her eyes widened, and Melantha capitalized on this; before she knew what had happened, Melantha had switched their positions so it was Celvene pinned against the wall.
A heavy feeling weighed against one of her wrists, and when she tried to rip it away from the wall, she was unsuccessful.
Magic. Melantha used one hand to keep Celvene's other arm chained to the wall.
Celvene's own dagger still weighed in the palm of her hand, but another knife had been produced, and Melantha pressed it to her throat.
But Celvene didn't struggle to break free. Instead, all she did was whisper, "How did you know?"
"Word spreads fast."
"But... You don't live here. How do you keep getting here?"
Melantha tilted her head, and her long, blonde strands of hair followed her movements.
Her eyebrows upturned, and the freckles dotting her pale skin shifted as she scrunched her nose.
"You're adorable when you're clueless. Do you think the other kingdoms haven't heard all about the little girl who pulled out the dead immortal's sword? "
"Excuse me?"
Melantha remained silent for a moment, as if weighing her decisions, then a glimmer set in the blue depths of her eyes.
Celvene didn't dare rip her gaze away, though she supposed she didn't have much else to do when her wrists were pinned against the wall and she didn't want to bash her head against Melantha's.
But with her proximity to Melantha... it was making it hard to stay still.
Something about switching positions suddenly made the situation a lot more tense—probably because she wasn't in control anymore.
Or it was something else Celvene wasn't going to admit.
An uncomfortable warmth welled under Celvene's skin, focused in her cheeks, to her displeasure.
She angled her head away and swallowed shakily.
"This whole war looming on the horizon is bigger than both of us, Celvene," Melantha said, and the light in her hand quivered. She didn't seem to mind their closeness at all. "You think you have a say in how it ends? Even if you're destined to become some queen?"
"Maybe I don't," Celvene hissed, "but then who are you? A soldier nobody knows, sent to the filthy alleys of Aizasea to carry out your king's dirty work. Your position isn't any better than mine. If anything, it's worse."
The pressure against Celvene's wrists tightened, though it still didn't hurt, and Melantha's nostrils flared. Celvene would be lying if a sick sense of satisfaction didn't creep its way into her heart, and she smirked. "Struck a sore spot, little sun?"
"Do not call me that," Melantha said, her voice carrying a dark note of discordant harmony. Celvene's smile slipped from her face, but she didn't frown. "If you have any sense, you will leave this castle and never return."
"And who exactly do you think you are, Melantha?
" Celvene said, mouth tightening into a thin line.
"You waltz into a castle you weren't invited to—my castle, may I add?
This is all when you apparently despise me.
I'm such an awful person. Maybe you hate me, and maybe I deserve it.
But don't act like our relationship was ever a one-way street. You weren't some saint either."
Melantha's jaw went taut, the sharp edges enough to cut the thick tension in the air. Something flashed in her eyes, and if Celvene were any more na?ve, she'd think it was sorrow. Yet her voice still carried a terrifying fury as she whispered, "You're in for a surprise."
"Cut the crap, Melantha, and be straight with me. What does that mean?"
"Do you think it's just me here? That I'm the only soldier infiltrating Aizasea?"
Celvene froze, a frown growing on her lips at last. The thought had crossed her mind, of course, given how Melantha had responded in the alleyway, but she'd never seen any soldiers except Melantha in Aizasea.
No one had looked suspicious. No one had looked out of place.
And she'd looked. Every person she passed in the castle, she'd stared at, studying and savoring every detail she could before affixing her attention to the walls in hopes that the cleaning supplies in her hands would make the diversion convincing enough for the subject to believe she was just really interested in cleaning the walls.
But... Looking at Melantha, it was impossible to tell she was a soldier. Her tattoo was completely concealed, likely with magic, and her clothing looked like it had been produced in Aizasea. If Celvene didn't know who she was, she'd assume she was nothing more than a beautiful traveler.
Melantha laughed, a mirthless, short chuckle. "I can see it on your face, grishka bea. There are dozens of us down there, dancing with your people, and no one's bat an eye. No one will, either. It's impressive your city has survived in such a one-sided fight for so long."
With that, Melantha let go of Celvene, though Celvene suspected she could've broken free of Melantha's hold with ease.
Melantha took a step back, curling her manicured fingers in.
One hand held the floating ball of light, which snuffed into a dimmer glow, while the other hand held a dagger.
Celvene's own dagger was still in her hand, and she grabbed the other from the slot on her leg.
Now, she took in Melantha's appearance as the soldier glanced towards a stained-glass window. She was wearing a tight-fitting sapphire blue dress, embroidered with golden threads. She hadn't taken her heels off.
"You can run in heels pretty well, huh?" said Celvene after a moment.
Melantha's eyebrows furrowed, her lips parting, before a slight scoff breathed through her ruby lips. "You were just talking about how awful I am and how you're some virtuous princess. Way to shift the tone."
"I was just trying to lighten the mood," Celvene muttered. "But I get it. You were always too serious. Why should I leave the castle? What are you planning to do?"
Melantha took another step back, and a smirk danced on her lips. "Where would the fun be in me telling you?"
"I know you're not evil, Melantha, even if you're trying to be. You're not some ruthless soldier who loves murdering innocent people and ruining cities. You're..." Celvene sighed. "That can't be you. That can't be the girl I remember."
"The girl you remember?" Melantha's gaze darkened, though she remained still.
The dagger twitched in her hand. "She's gone, Celvene.
She was ripped from the innocent and clueless, dripping with blood and begging for mercy.
Tainted by the lies of the poisoned and the venomous.
She did what she had to in order to survive.
She played her cards right, but there's a certain irony in how he deals hands. "
He?
She frowned. "I can help you, Melantha," Celvene said, outstretching a cautious hand. Melantha's words were dangerous, carrying an unspoken threat, but Celvene had made a promise to herself years ago.
Laughter laced with derision echoed throughout the room like the peal of a bell.
"I don't need your help. I haven't forgotten what happened to Isla. Have you seen her since the incident?"
Celvene froze.
Then a hot flush of rage wound itself around Celvene's body like an eager vine, rooting her to the earth.
All willingness to help Melantha vanished.
How could she dare to use that against Celvene?
She tried to move. Tried to strike Melantha.
But the anger was constricting. Tightening.
Bounding her to an unwanted restriction.
Her trembling hand curled into a fist, though the rest of her body remained frozen.
She'd carried so much guilt, cried herself to sleep under a crimson-stained tent, and uttered an oath that she'd never forgive herself for the hand she'd played in the fate of Isla. She'd vowed it wouldn't happen again.
"Qa imusa sipami kanci," Celvene hissed out, unable to stop herself from slipping into her native language, "milai qoapa."
Melantha's eyes narrowed. She understood what Celvene meant perfectly. After all, they hailed from the same kingdom.
"I may not have been able to save her," Celvene said, unwilling to allow her temper to control her quivering body.
She shook off the fragments of corrupted memories that seeped into her mind.
"But I can save you. I know you believe us.
.. Aizaseans to be some rot you'd wipe off your shoe, but you've been tricked, Melantha.
Manipulated. Would pure beings wreak the havoc and destruction Noriya has unleashed on Aizasea?
Have you seen our cities? Citizens are ravenous with hunger, wondering when they'll get their next sliver of bread.
They're moments away from death. And it's because we're forced to delegate resources to fuel a pointless war.
But I know you're different. You can change. "
Melantha's gaze grew cold, a sardonic grin warping her beautiful features.
"Power is such a finicky thing, don't you think?
It's something we all desire, and chase, and seek.
But in the end, it's merely an illusion.
A trick of the mind, a sleight of hand. The power you always believed you held never meant anything in the first place, because there's always someone who knows how to gain more power than you could ever dream of. "
"A soldier without her sword is a soldier without power," Celvene said. Melantha may have had a dagger, but Celvene had two. "You're speaking in riddles, and you're trying to intimidate me with words of poison, but you don't hold any power over me, Melantha. Where are your friends?"
"Power does not come from what you take, but from what you give to others and what you are willing to sacrifice.
" Melantha's hair, waves of golden starlight spun with silver, erupted to life, bathing the room in a myriad of pale hues.
She unlooped a pendant that had been tucked under her dress, and her tattoo sprung to life, bleeding into her skin.
She was back to being a deplorable soldier.
"You've given me just enough time for them to get into place," she said, her smile growing soft.
She took Celvene's hand in her own before planting a gentle kiss on it.
"I would suggest you don't play into your dreams of being a hero.
Not again. Heed my warning: leave the castle, and don't come back. It will lead to you getting hurt."
Celvene's face flushed hot, and before she could blink, Melantha had vanished. She was thrust back into a world of darkness, and the only sense that wasn't muted was her touch: the cold, bitter bite of the necklace that Melantha had pressed into her palm spread frost through her blood.
Celvene had known Melantha long enough to know that she should listen to her words.
But if she was going to be queen, a ruler of lands who'd always gone without proper authority, then she couldn't turn a blind eye to what had the potential to be devastating.
And even if she did give up grand dreams of being queen, she wouldn't be able to rest without knowing she at least tried to do something.
Something as little as helping citizens escape a burning castle—but she knew she had to prioritize herself first and others after.
If she didn't survive, then a rightful ruler would never inherit the throne.
A defiant crook would seize power and hold it for as long as Aizasea remained standing—which likely wouldn't be too long.
She rushed out of the room, daggers gripped in two unwilling hands as she ran.
If Melantha's words held truth, and there were dozens of other soldiers in the castle, Celvene's daggers were going to do little against a small army of ruthlessly trained soldiers.
But if she ran into trouble, she wasn't going down without a fight; she just hoped she'd be able to escape with her head still intact and maybe help a citizen or two while she was at it.
Coming to a halt, a dozen booms erupted from below Celvene in quick succession.
The explosions almost knocked her off her feet, shaking the porcelain tiles, but Celvene righted herself and kept going.
She sprinted down a flight of winding, twirling stairs, just to be met by three hulking soldiers standing at the bottom—or what Aizasea preferred to call them: beasts.
Their tattoos were out in all their glory, painted the same colors as Melantha's, and a snap cut the air as they each turned—a spell readied in each of their hands, sparking pale green.
Poison magic. Malevolent smiles twisted their lips, and insatiable hunger sprung into the dark depths of their eyes.
Their next words, a blur of stressed, dangerous syllables, had Celvene's heart racing:
"Isn't that the heiress?"
Celvene moved to rush back up the stairs, unwilling and definitely unable to fight three soldiers at once, but the trio moved without hesitation.
Celvene was grabbed from behind before she could take two steps, and though she reared her head back, smashing it into her assailant's nose, it did naught to help.
Before her hands were restrained, her dagger sank into something squishy, and a pained yelp soon followed it.
Celvene couldn't act any further as a quiet hiss pierced the frenzied air, and her vision was clouded by black.
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