XLII | MEY ELOI
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She was now Mey Eloi, a Khezzentian royal.
As an aspiring herald, it was her responsibility to visit Aizasea after repeated messages detailing the tragedies that had struck the city had arrived at her castle.
She had no other ideas; the royalty around Fellstride wasn't exactly budging any time soon, unless they followed the fates of Virion.
She just had to hope her youthful appearance and resemblance to the pictures of the Khezzintis rulers matched.
She'd be lying if she said her new disguise didn't make her uncomfortable.
She hadn't changed height, thankfully—that was a rather jarring experience.
But her hair was now cropped short and shaded brown, her skin was the color of warm chestnut, and she had black eyes.
Each time she'd looked in the mirror, it felt like soulless pits stared back at her.
She straightened out her tunic, thankful something wasn't disguised. Khamisi had been kind enough to buy her a new outfit, and though the fabric felt cheap and itchy, it was far better than the prison rags she'd been wearing for the past few days.
Her tunic and boots were black, whereas her pants were brown—to match Hylies's colors—along with a few simple pieces of jewelry.
To anyone on the street, she'd look normal, like a tourist or a new resident.
But to the castle, they'd know that visiting royals always kept a low profile in order to avoid suspicion.
The last thing they wanted was to get robbed.
She approached the castle, and though the moon had set, she knew the guards would be there to allow her in.
They kept guards stationed around the kingdom at all times, and though it might be a bit darker than usual, they wouldn't deny a visit from arriving royalty.
All Celvene had to do was bluff convincingly enough to get inside.
She squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and stepped forward once again. Ahead were the gates to the castle.
Two guards stood rigid, heavy weapons sitting in their hands. The low light from the lanterns on either side of them provided an amber glow, and the light reached obsidian towers on either side of the gates. She cleared her throat once she decided she was close enough to the guards.
"Hello," she said, forcing her voice to sound timid and small. She spoke in as heavy of a Khezzintian accent as she could manage, but she wasn't well versed in their culture or language, so her accent would've made any native turn their nose up.
Both guards shifted in place, and their grips on their weapons relaxed upon seeing such a tiny girl standing at the castle gates—surely she couldn't be a threat.
"Hello," one said.
"What business?" the other said. They weren't one for pleasantries, but if they weren't arresting Celvene on sight, something had to be working.
"I am a visiting royal from Khezzintis," said Celvene, bunching the hem of her tunic in her hands.
She forced them to tremble, and even under the dim flicker of gaslight, she could see the surly guard direct their gaze towards her hands.
"My name is Mey Eloi. I... I'm not sure if I'm in the right place, you see.
I've never been here before, as my father has kept me sheltered, especially after the news of your king's.
.. untimely passing. I was able to convince him to send me here after receiving many letters from your castle about the awful attacks from Noriya.
It touched my heart dearly. My condolences. I hope the city is recovering well."
Even the ill-tempered guard loosened up upon hearing this, and their voice softened. "Oh, I see. But I'm afraid we can't let you in. We aren't supposed to be letting anyone in after the attacks in order to ensure safety. King's orders."
Celvene's jaw locked, but she turned the motion into a wide-eyed pout.
"Please? One of your scholars sent us the letters and said it was urgent.
I believe they're one of the king's advisors, as well, so I can't imagine they would ask for us to visit without good reason.
They seem to have a good head on their shoulders, based off the letters. "
She didn't know if Oriel would go along with this on the off chance they were questioned about it, but they'd seen Celvene while she was escaping the castle.
They'd know that it wasn't safe for her to return, and if they were being used as an excuse by a royal who didn't exist, then it had to be someone who knew them.
"Sorry, ma'am. We'd love to help you, but our hands are tied," the surly guard said.
The polite guard lowered his voice to a whisper, but Celvene could still hear every word he said. "Come now, Medas. Lighten up. We have the ball tomorrow. After all that's happened, we're going to be able to relax for a bit, so let's—"
A ball? Aleksandr is seriously hosting another ball?
Medas glanced up towards the guard's face, and their lip curled. "She's suspicious, don't you think? I know neither of us can prove it, but isn't it odd that she arrives in the dead of night stating she's royalty from another kingdom? How often do those kings and queens have children?"
"I left the moment my father received the letters," Celvene piped up, and though her heart was now racing, she plastered a wide smile onto her face. "I hardly stopped to rest, and knew I'd have to get to Aizasea as fast as possible."
"Did the scholar give you their name?" Medas asked, straightening their posture.
Shoot.
"I believe they said their name was Oriel Veylor, though the name slips my mind, admittedly."
"Do you have any of these letters on your person?"
Celvene was glad she'd forged fake letters between her and Oriel. She didn't know what their handwriting looked like, but she assumed they'd write like any scholar: pompous and fancy, with overexaggerated cursive.
She dug into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment, along with two coins.
They were Nusmi, but disguised to look like the currency from Khezzintis.
Her few history classes at the academy went grossly into depth about Fellstride's history, and she'd always thought the knowledge would never serve her.
She handed the letter to Medas. "I brought one. I have some Vryxela if that'd help sway you," she said with a wink.
The nameless guard stepped forward, rubbing the nape of his neck. His sheepish embarrassment was kind of adorable, Celvene had to admit, but it wasn't befitting of a royal guard. "Protocol calls that I have to search you if you're going to enter the castle. Sorry, miss."
"Oh, that's quite alright. I have nothing to hide." Celvene forced another grin on her face, and though the guard's hands were respectful as he patted her down, she had to swallow her discomfort.
"She's right," the guard confirmed, drawing away. "Seems like the only thing on her is that letter, along with a few coins. You travel light, don't you?"
"Well, I had more Vryxela, but the inns on the road are quite expensive. Few and far between, so I had to take what I could get. Most don't take my kingdom's currency anyways. It made it quite difficult to obtain shelter."
Medas, to her surprise, chuckled as their eyes scanned the parchment. "That's how they get you. Alright, Ms. Eloi. Enjoy your stay in Aizasea. I hope Scholar Veylor is kind to you."
The other guard smiled and grabbed the lever to his left, pushing it down. The gate creaked upwards, and Celvene's heartbeat slowed. Once the gate was open enough, she started through.
"Wait," said Celvene when she was halfway through the gate, and both guards craned their necks back towards her. "You mentioned something about a ball. Is... is that something I could be invited to?"
"We can't hand out invites, if that's what you're asking," the nameless guard said.
"But if you can get an invite from someone higher up than us, jump at the opportunity.
Aizasea's balls are amazing. Full of people from across Fellstride with the grandest dresses and most expensive wine.
They have a way of bringing the city together after events like yesterday's. "
"Is that why it's being hosted? Because of the battle?"
"That's what we think," Medas said, "but we have no way of proving it. All we know is that we're going to sneak a few glasses of wine. But don't tell anyone."
Professional, Celvene wanted to say, but bit her tongue. Their comrades had been slain in a bloody battle the night before, and both guards were focused on drinking and revelries. She had to wonder if this had carried over from Virion's rule, or if Aleksandr had grown even more lax.
"Oh, I won't," she said, throwing in a light giggle for extra measure as she batted her eyelashes.
"If you're requested by Scholar Veylor, we shouldn't keep you waiting, as much as we'd like to," the nameless guard said, and even beneath his helmet, Celvene could see the smirk on his lips.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a shiny piece of metal.
It was a visitor's badge. Apparently she hadn't earned the right to wear one before.
"You have a good time here, alright? Enjoy your stay. "
"If every guard is as cute as you two, I think I'll more than enjoy myself."
She didn't bother waiting for their response; that was conclusion enough, and she could hear them laughing anyway. She strode through the gate, rolling her eyes, and straightened out her tunic before clasping the visitor's badge onto the fabric.
Her disguise was still intact, so Khamisi hadn't been caught. And while it made her uncomfortable to have no means of protection on her, Celvene knew that this was the safer route, even if it felt like anything but.
Getting to Oriel's study was a simple enough task, even if it felt like some stares lingered on her illusioned form for a beat too long. But no one stopped her, thanks to the badge.
If someone was looking for trouble in the castle, most methods would involve sticking to the long shadows that lined the castle's floors.
The stained glass cascading colorful streams of illumination into the halls was the only light, because whoever kept the lanterns affixed to the walls didn't bother to make sure their permanent fire spells provided anything more than reading light.
A spy, or anything of the sort, would use stealth and wouldn't look as confident as Celvene was appearing, with her chin held high and an authoritative pep in her step.
She'd heard the assassin who killed Virion—Melantha, Celvene remembered with a frown—had done exactly that: she'd melted into the shadows, used any method of entering the castle that wasn't sauntering down the halls, and made sure her blades were in her hands at all times.
Celvene didn't even have a weapon to brandish; only a fool would have tried to enter the castle with anything on them. And scaling the walls around the castle wasn't an answer for anyone but a skilled climber or someone who knew advanced magic.
As she stood outside of Oriel's study, she had to wonder if they were even inside. But it was useless pondering whether or not they were; she rapped her knuckles against the door in a few quick knocks, and though it took a solid few seconds, a familiar voice responded with, "Come in."
Relief flooded her body. She wasn't going to be caught.
She opened the door and walked inside. The room was dark, save for the crackling of a fire in the fireplace and a hovering light orb next to Oriel's desk.
Oriel themselves had their nose stuck in a book, and didn't bother to raise their head as Celvene entered.
Celvene mustered a smile, but when Oriel's expression didn't shift, her heartbeat stuttered. Would they shun her and leave her for the wolves? Or worse, tell Aleksandr? That didn't seem like something they would do.
But she could never truly make out the inner workings of Oriel's mind.
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