22. Midnight #3
The human embodiment of resting bitch face shared a look with Aonia.
Nia sighed. “She’s insecure about her ‘stretch marks’,” she explained. She tilted her head at Flora. “Which is lovely, because if I hadn’t met her, I wouldn’t even know what the fuck that is.”
“I’m not—” Flora began, but Heron and Noec waved from down the hall. She forced a tense smile. “Just give me the damn dress.”
Inside, Flora fought valiantly with the voluminous mass of fabric, which fastened at the front with pearly buttons and tied at the back with corset-like ribbon. She spun around wildly, tangled in the white ribbon like a fly caught in a spiderweb.
When the dress was finally looking more like a dress than a mangled curtain, Flora grabbed her bag and slipped on her white tennis shoes, carefully tugging the skirt down to cover them.
The dress loosely ruffled at the sides, lined with white lace.
She looked in the mirror and sighed at the image of what she might look like as a well-decorated cake.
“Well, aren’t you... something,” Heron teased with a grin as she stepped outside. Likely also against their will, he and Noec had been dressed in similarly pompous clothes that were comically unfitting for their personalities. “Didn’t wager we’d ever see you in a dress,” Heron added.
Noec stiffened, with a sharp inhale and wide eyes.
“We have much to do today,” Aonia said as she led them to the dining hall. “And you won’t be doing it looking like hipsters.”
“Nia…” Flora sighed. “I don’t feel like you really grasp what a ‘hipster’ is.”
“No.” Aonia paused and glared back gravely. “I do.”
The dining hall had a long, narrow table, with Queen Levora and another woman waiting patiently as they entered. The petite silver-haired woman glanced back at them and smiled.
“Elia!” Heron beamed as he entered through the archway.
“Good morning, my love!” He rushed to her, laughing with a gleefulness that made his ferocious legacy seem absurd.
Elia rose from her chair slowly, and he gathered her into a gentle embrace.
She winced, cradling her left arm as he drew back.
Heron stammered an apology, but his voice strained to a halt as his eyes fell upon her bandaged hand.
Elia’s wrist was twisted in a way that it shouldn’t be, and she was… missing half of two fingers.
“Elia…” Heron murmured.
Elia’s smile held a certain sadness. “The Scytherax have overrun the village,” she began quietly.
“The Markeths have been gracious enough to find shelter for everyone in town until the chaos settles.” Her voice was fatigued, and her brow creased as she continued, “We lost Rachel, but he fought with honor. We… I wouldn’t have escaped without him.
Old Zet refused to evacuate.” She paused to steady herself as Heron placed a reassuring hand on her back.
“Most of them didn’t attack unless provoked.
But one… one knew me by name, and it wouldn’t let go.
It wanted—” She paused and blinked between him and Flora.
“I didn’t…” She breathed deeply, swallowing her emotion.
“We managed to get the others into the water in time to survive.”
Heron sighed, closing his eyes as both sadness and relief settled over him. He looked at her battered hand, and there was a guilty, crushing feeling in Flora’s chest.
“And you, what about you?” Heron muttered softly.
“I healed enough to keep running,” Elia replied.
Heron kissed her brow. Gently, he cupped her cheek and said, “Thank you. You brought the rest of our people to safety. Thank you.”
Before the somber air could fully settle, King Velo strode into the room with his characteristic exuberance.
“Sit down, everyone! Sit down!” he boomed, cutting through the tension like sunlight through the clouds.
Taking his seat between Levora, who sighed deeply and closed her eyes, and Aonia, who was watching Flora with a suspicious anticipation, Velo clapped his hands and sang, “Now, bring in those fabulous dishes!”
A line of waiters streamed into the room carrying meats, cheeses, and bread, stacks of bread and breaded bread items. They circled the table like vultures, each extending a plate in an unwarranted display of grandeur.
Flora glanced at Noec, her jaw slightly agape and her eyebrows raised in disbelief. Aonia smirked.
In a quick glance, Noec looked Flora up and down and began to chuckle at the sight of her.
Flora’s own amusement bubbled over, but a soft thwack of what felt like a piece of bread hitting her forehead brought her back to attention.
Aonia’s piercing glare pinned Flora in place.
Noec fought to keep his composure as his face turned bright red, and even Nia couldn’t help but huff a chuckle.
A sharp tap of the queen’s painted nail against the glass table stiffened the three of them.
By the time the grand parade had ended, Flora’s plate held only something reminiscent of a pancake and an off-colored deviled egg. She felt her anxiety begin to fizzle out as the unfamiliar faces streamed out of the room. She felt it disappear entirely when she met Elia’s warm and reassuring eyes.
“Sir! Sir!” a young uniformed man called urgently, bursting through the towering doors. He was breathless and wide-eyed as the queen’s glance flicked to him. “They’re here. They’re here in the city.”