Chapter 15 #2
Demis is large and wide, very square like a cow pen or a crate.
But Juris is tall and narrow with sharp metal spires jutting from the high points.
It looks like a giant manor with the most aggressive features of modern architecture.
The appearance of the castle severely juxtaposes with what lays just outside its gates.
The castle’s grounds make it look like a diamond in a pig pen.
The sea on the other side of it, beneath the steep rocky cliffs, provides a salty sea breeze almost strong enough to cover the smell of the city.
But not strong enough to wipe away the faces of its inhabitants.
No, those images will haunt me.
Cedric stands at the end of the rug runway, hands casually in his pockets. The sun shines upon his hair and flecks of red appear in his pitch-black locks. I involuntarily reach for the red streaks framing my own face, pinned up in the hairstyle the maid chose for today.
Picking up my train, I move slowly down the walkway, keeping my head down to avoid the gaze of the servants. Sweat beads roll down my neck and down either side of the twin plunging V’s of the gown. Only a thin layer of black mesh conceals the skin beneath.
Cedric turns to face the castle, putting his elbow out. Garreth and Avonde stand to his side, linked as well. I stop short of the end.
“Your arm rests upon mine,” Cedric whispers as the large doors open before us.
“I gathered,” I reply, nearly spitting the words out. He sighs with a hint of a groan from the back of his throat as he drops his hand back into his pocket, walking forward without me.
I move slowly a step behind him, looking back to Avonde, who shows no hint of knowing what was said, clearly invested in her conversation with Garreth.
The first thing I notice is the gold.
Everywhere to be seen is decked in so much gilded décor from the rugs to the vases and chandeliers. From the top of the twin grand staircases winding down each side of the room, a man with fiery red hair opens his arms up, laughing.
Rolan, I take it.
“Cedric, welcome!” he booms, descending the stairs in a trot. His crown is three times as large as what lies upon Cedric’s head and his face is tanned from the blazing sun above his land.
A long cape of gold, white and brown trails behind him as he approaches us. The slam of the doors behind us makes me jump, causing another boom of laughter from the king.
“What a splendid sight, but I must tease that you always were easy to frighten, dear Elivienne,” he says, taking my hand in his and raising it for a kiss. However, his mouth stops an inch from my skin, eyes darting to Cedric on my left.
“Right,” he says, releasing my hand and stepping back. The smile upon his face returns as he takes in all of us, our outfits of black and red standing out like a sore thumb in his warm palace.
“We were shocked upon receiving your invitation,” Cedric speaks up, motioning to Garreth. “You remember Garreth?”
Rolan nods and steps to the other two, kissing Avonde’s hand and pointing down the large hall to our left.
“The banquet has just barely started, however we held off on the ceremonies until our guests arrived,” he begins, leading us down the hall.
Guards are posted every six feet and appear smaller than us, most likely humans.
The grips upon their staffs seem to loosen as we pass.
“You do not have to answer to anything he says,” Cedric bends to whisper, just barely audible.
“We won’t be long.” I give a small nod in understanding.
Taking a calming breath as we approach the banquet room, I remember my place in all of this.
To be Elivienne.
Twin doors with spiralling columns of gold and peridot gems in the center swing open by vampyr guards.
No humans here. Members of Rolan’s court rise as we enter, the room near silent.
The outfits of his people are far more conservative than those at Lux and suddenly I decide I am more exposed than I would like to be.
My pause at the entrance is interrupted by a hand at my back, guiding me forward.
I pick up my pace, moving fast from his touch.
Similar to Cedric’s Chalice Room, there are servants everywhere offering wine and blood.
Most of his court are seated at their respective tables as there appears to be an order to things here.
We all take our seats at the head of the room upon a dais. No plates are presented, only large servings of carafes and chalices. I know what is within them and my nostrils flare, reminding me I must feed at some point tonight.
“You may sit,” Rolan speaks to the room. His subjects all lower themselves at the order and begin pouring their glasses full. No cess are present either, I observe, save for the one we brought.
Avonde sits demurely at the end of the table, hands folded on her lap with no glass before her. Cess take a normal diet.
“What a treat it is to have my old friends in my new home after so many years,” Rolan announces casually while motioning to a waiter for a refill. The aromas of the blood hit my head like a thick cloud causing my body to tilt sideways. My fingers grab the edge of the table and strain.
“Are you unwell?”
I pull myself from the fog, looking past Cedric to Rolan, who now wears an expression of worry. His smile lines crinkle with concern.
“I am well, thank you, Your Majesty,” I say softly, eyes darting from his face every other second to avoid that stare.
Rolan turns his attention to his cup. “Truthfully, I was unsure you would attend today.” Cedric opens his mouth to speak but Rolan continues.
“Well, with not hearing from either of you for what was it, two years? We need this alliance to be ongoing more than ever, Cedric,” he adds, setting his cup down and nodding to the waiter for another refill.
More blood.
Cedric sips from his own and I fake a sip, trying to force myself despite the primal nature within me calling for it.
Turning his chair slightly to Rolan, Cedric replies, “Ah, yes, we were dealing with some logistics at court. I apologize for the delayed correspondence, but we are happy to be here now.”
The court in front of us keeps their conversations low, no doubt attempting to eavesdrop. Everyone looks of a young age, no more than thirty years old, save for a few aged ones here and there.
“Not to worry, dear friend. Kingdoms to run and whatnot. Besides, with the Bloodrite having been completed, nuptials are in order. Have you two sorted through the ceremonies and crownings yet? Save a seat for this tired king.” Rolan winks whilst laughing before he drinks heavily, leaning to his other side to include another man seated with us.
“Eventually.” Cedric grins. “But hopefully sooner rather than later. I believe we’ll have invitations soon if the weather holds up, but who knows?”
Nuptials? Soon?
A wave of fight or flight floods my body, sounding the alarms within my head. They can’t make me marry him. My heart thumps a furious beat beneath my chest as I inhale, pause and exhale. Repeat. Any attempt at calm is futile.
I am not marrying anyone. I belong to no one. I am not doing this.
“Elivienne?”
My mind snaps back once more.
“You poor thing. She looks flushed. Should I call my cess?” Rolan stands from his chair to reach for me but Cedric reaches me first, whipping to my side and grabbing my arms. His touch makes me jump, a feeling that burns my skin despite my numbed senses.
“That won’t be necessary. Avonde?” Cedric motions to the healer, calling her to my side.
“Do you have some available chambers that she may rest for a moment, sir?” Avonde helps to scoot my chair back, thankfully taking Cedric’s place on my arms to move me up.
A servant quickly helps us exit discreetly, leading us to a room up the stairs and down a hall just above the banquet.
“I think I just need to sit for a moment,” I say, lowering onto a bench at the foot of the bed.
“I’ll fetch you some water.” Avonde slips out of the room, leaving me alone in the grandeur of this spare chamber. With one of the largest and most luxurious of beds I have ever seen, going unused, I wonder how the king could treat his lack of guests better than his people.
My eyes drift down to my left hand. The hand where a ring should sit. A ring signifying the union of lovers. I once wished for that union to be between Sawyer and I but now things have changed. It was never real.
Is any of this real?
Real is that I am betrothed to a king. How could I be expected to kindle a relationship with not only a stranger, but a monster?
Sawyer implied he came to me – in whatever dream state I was in – with purpose and reason. Was he trying to save me when I was asleep? I don’t see how I could have ever organically chosen Cedric over Sawyer in any life. But I did. And I cannot remember how.
Avonde sweeps in with towels and a basin of water.
“Here you are, Liv.”
I take a wet towel and apply it to my forehead and wrists, cooling down literally and figuratively. “We were fond friends, I take it.”
“I wondered when you would ask.” Avonde sits down next to me, wringing out a damp towel. “We were friends far before you fell ill. In fact, I grew up with the rest of you at the castle. My mother and father served Lux faithfully before I ascended the ranks and completed my training.”
“How many years?”
Avonde laughs. “I sometimes forget how everything is lost to you.” She looks over at me and furrows her brow. “My apologies, I didn’t mean—”
“That’s okay, really. You alone are spearheading my healing. I consider you a friend, even now.”