Chapter 27 Rorin
Rorin
The court's been in chaos since Eveera let the council know her plan.
Staff running around, council members arguing in the halls, and what's left of our personal guards have abandoned us to train with the rest of our ranks. And I've been waiting — waiting each night for her to return to me, covered in dirt, sweat, and blood.
She won't offer up the details, but I know she's out there, trying to control them, and that I had to quickly get on board with it.
I need you to trust that I know what I am doing.
I am the queen of Obsidian; nothing will stand in the way of me being that.
Her words echo in my mind. Nothing will stand in her way — including me.
So to ease my nerves, I pace back and forth, wearing a hole in the stone of her dais and pleading with the gods that she'll come back in one piece.
My eyes lift to the stained glass ceiling.
There’s not much visibility tonight, not with how the clouds are blanketed thickly above the castle, making it difficult for me to watch for her and Vada.
Exhausted, I drag my fingers through my curls and slump down into her throne, the cold black rock surprisingly comfortable as I settle in.
"This is pathetic, Rorin." I snap — chastising myself.
At least she's out there being useful — what exactly do you have to offer?
Or do you like being nothing more than a puppet king?
My conscience adds, souring my already upset stomach.
My fingers thump along the stone, and I lay my head back, keeping my eyes trained on the cloudy night sky anyway.
As the clock ticks by, I hope to hear the familiar heavy beat of leathery wings, but all that comes is the elevated rhythmic thump of my heart.
"You're wasting your time." My chin snaps down, and a current of electricity crackles from the shadows.
"Max." I exhale. "How are you?"
He lets out a low laugh, the sound carrying well in the sparse throne room, as he steps into the garnet-hued light.
"You're not the only one who waits up to see if she comes back," I can see that.
I think to myself, taking note of the dark circles underneath his eyes.
"I wait. Armond waits. Yet neither of us helps ourselves to her throne. "
My brows fly to my forehead, "Max."
"Max—" He mocks, taking a few wide steps until he stands at the bottom of the dais.
His fingers dance with the energy of his Wield, and the hair on the back of my neck rises.
"We were content before you got here. All of us.
We were fine with how things were. We had our own issues, sure, our own battles to fight. We didn't need to join yours."
"Obsidian would've joined it no matter what," I say firmly, my palms clenching tight to keep my own Wield under control.
"You don't know that. Battles have been fought without reaching our doors before."
My head shakes, "I do. I have been fighting with Baelor – not to mention my father – for years before I came to Eveera, remember? I came to her as my last option — my only option, to save my kingdom."
"And yet here you sit — on our queen's throne instead of your own gilded seat." He sneers, and I bite down on my tongue. I can see how tired he is — he's not alone in that. It's the same haunted look Eveera carries now, the look that comes with having killed someone you love. "Funny, isn't it?"
"What?"
"Your kingdom didn't want you wearing their crown, so you took another. But—" Max moves back into the shadows, "we don't want you either, princeling, and I won't bow to a king I don't accept."
Now, it’s my turn to laugh. My palm rubs roughly along the edge of my jaw as I stand to my full height, looking down on Eveera's man. "You're angry? Fine. You blame me? Go right ahead, I blame myself too. Every night, I see their faces—" he flinches, but I keep going, descending a step.
"If the roles were reversed and it had been Bennett, or Will, or Millie," Max’s jaw ticks at the mention of her, and I steel myself, preparing to be struck down in my place.
"I don't know if I would forgive myself either.
But I don't need your forgiveness or your acceptance.
I only need you to stand by Eveera. To fight for and with her.
To protect Eveera with your life — despite me. "
His shoulders roll back as I finish my descent, putting us only a few feet apart.
"What matters is that we win this war — I won't have their deaths be in vain.
" Max huffs and turns away, stomping towards the exit.
"Oh, and Maxwell," I call, his feet skidding to a stop.
"I think I have more than proved these past few months, when I went night after night searching for my wife, that this was never about a crown. "
Knock! Knock!
"Rorin?" Millie answers sleepily, her hands coming up to rub at her eyes. I push her out of the way, peeking around the room for any overnight guests. "W-what are you?" She asks, more awake now that I've nearly knocked her over.
"Is Maxwell in here?"
She coughs awkwardly and waves me in, "uh— if he were, I'm pretty sure you would know. Or see for that matter."
"Yeah…" I mutter, spinning on the ball of my foot, "I need you to take me to Pruella." She opens her mouth to argue, but I keep going, "Max doesn't question Eveera on her demands of you, but considering he's not the biggest fan of me right now, I'm sure he'd question my demands."
Her lips flatten as she contemplates my words, her pupils dilating with both shock and confusion.
Finally, they lift, meeting mine after what felt like one too long.
"I indulge Eveera out of courtesy and friendship — I indulge you out of loyalty. She may be Max’s family, but you are mine, so it wouldn't really be his place to have an opinion on this, would it? "
Warmth burns in my chest, and I pull her into a short, tight hug. "Quickly, before he decides to have an opinion on it anyway."Millie rolls her eyes and grabs her robe off the chair, fastening it around her waist.
She leads me through the halls towards Pruella’s new room, and the closer we get, the more my Wield taunts my self-control. Millie rounds a corner and stops short, causing me to almost crash into her rigid form. "What is it?" I hiss.
Her blonde head swivels to the side, looking back at me with creased brows, "promise me that this will not result in the princess's death. I do not need that on my hands."
My eyes narrow, and I must take too long to answer because she turns fully around, both arms crossed disapprovingly over her chest. "Don't tell me you've grown attached," I ask, the words dripping with disgust.
"Hardly." She answers quickly, "but that doesn't mean I enjoy playing in innocent's blood."
I wouldn't say she's innocent. The bitter thought rests on my tongue, but I don't risk arguing further, worried that she'll change her mind and I'll lose my window of opportunity. Millicent takes a step forward, and when I follow suit, she turns back around to push me backwards.
"What are you doing?"
She shrugs, "well, you two haven't had the warmest of meetings — she'll be less inclined to let us in if she… sees you."
"I didn't really consider her having a choice,"
She sighs, shaking her head, "honestly, Rorin?"
I give her a sheepish grin and wave for her to knock on the door, while I step off to the side, where I won’t be immediately noticed.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
It takes a few moments before we hear the quiet padding of feet on the other side and then – Creaaakkkkkk!
"Lady Millicent?"
Millie smiles, and I suppress the urge to gag. "Princess."
"It's late…"
"Yes, I'm sorry for that, but we needed to speak with you."
From this angle, I'm not able to see the fear enter her eyes, but I can hear it when she hesitantly asks, "we?"
Taking that as my cue, I step out from the shadows. The princess shrinks back when she notices me, “no.” She whimpers, her head shaking back and forth.
"Pruella— please."
“He tried to kill me!" She screeches, throwing her hand out towards me.
I feel the weight of my friend's glare, but ignore it. The princess tries to shut the door, and my palm slaps against the wood, forcing it to stay open. “We need to talk.” She sucks in a sharp breath and holds it. “You certainly had plenty to say not too long ago; maybe you’re all talked out. Fine – I’ll talk, you listen.
” Pushing past her, I let myself into the room.
Millie clicks the door closed, and Pruella takes up a spot behind her dressing chair, keeping a significant distance between us. "The queen has already made it quite obvious to you about our plans for using you as bait to lure your father and mine behind these walls. It's a… frightening thought."
"It's suicide." She notes.
My fingers scrape against my scalp, "the point is—" I grit, "she's got her mind set. Which means I need you to be as cooperative as possible both before and during."
She pulls her shawl tightly around her shoulders, her stringy auburn hair falling in her face. “What exactly am I expected to do?”
"I need to know what to expect. I can anticipate the military's moves, and I can anticipate my father's behaviors. But, I don't truly know what to expect from your father in a setting that doesn't start and end with a blade."
"And what's in it for me?"
I swallow thickly, the words leaving my lips bitter. "I'll make sure you leave this court with your head still attached to your neck."
She sighs, mulling over my offer.
Finally, she bobs her head in reluctant agreement, and then we spend the next half hour listening to her detailing what makes Baelor tick, but I can't help but feel that half of those answers were superficial, and I left her room feeling still unprepared and dissatisfied.
Millie was quiet as we walked back to her room, waiting until we were outside her door again to turn and ask, "did you mean it?"
"What?"
Her head tilts at me, "did you mean it when you said you'd let her out of here alive?"
“If she does what she's supposed to — then I'll honor what I said." Her mouth turns down into a frown, unsure of my answer, and I can see her trying to work out if I’m being honest.
"Just whatever you do — remember that you wouldn't want others to hold you responsible for the sins of your parents."
My teeth grind together, and I dip my chin, "you're so sure she's innocent?"
"No, but I was forced to spend an unconscionable amount of time with her. Part of that time, she tended to overshare.” Millie reaches over and pats my chest, giving me a soft smile, “just… keep that in mind, Ror."
When Eveera finally decided to return from her trip to the outer lands, she slipped wordlessly through the passageway into the room. She paid me no attention initially, choosing to drag herself into the bathroom before any greetings could be exchanged.
The steam from the shower drifts its way into the room, and I slide out from underneath the covers. I scoop up the pile of muddy leathers she shucked off into my arms and set them out for the staff to launder.
"You didn't have to do that."
I turn sharply at her raspy voice and see her leaning up against the doorway, her towel wrapped tightly around her body.
"Just laundry — nothing monumental." She nods and pads over to the wardrobe, while I slip back into bed.
As I settle in, my eyes flick over to her at the exact moment her towel drops.
I drop an arm over my face, trying to bury the groan rumbling in my throat. “Oh my gods…”
She tosses back her side of the blankets, and I move my poor excuse of a blindfold. Eveera is clad in her black nightgown, the material clinging to her damp skin, highlighting every curve and angle of her body. Needing a distraction, I clear my throat, “a-hem, are we going to discuss—"
"You're lingering stares? We probably should; they're becoming a bit obsessive." She interrupts, flopping over onto her right side, and putting out the lamp next to her.
I reach over and put mine out as well. I've been twitchy for the past few days — feeling on edge with this renewed distance. The time she’s spent out in the outer lands, Wielding with Vada and doing… whatever it is she's doing out there, has replaced the wall I thought we had finally broken down.
"Eveera."
"Mmm?"
I flip over onto my side and reach for her bicep, pushing her onto her back.
"You told me to trust that you know what you were doing as queen," her breath hitches, and I can feel the seal growing colder as she starts to ice me out, "but I told you not to let me suffer your absence any longer.
I've not overstepped with your escapades despite my clear aversion to you going out alone—"
"I am not alone, I'm with Vada…"
"Stop interrupting me." Her lips clamp shut, and I bring my thumb and pointer finger up to grip her chin, keeping her attention on me. "You may want to do this all alone, and I do not doubt that you can do this all alone. But you don't have to. Include me and I—"
Eveera scoffs, pulling her chin out of my hold, "oh?
Like you included me in your little rendezvous with the princess hostage?
" A wicked look drifts into her eye, and she rolls over again, pushing herself up onto her elbow.
"What? Did you think that because I was out, trying to control this new…
development in my Wield that I wouldn't know about your activities here at court? "
"I only went to her to find out her father's edge. I'm your counterpart here in this court — I figured I would have to make myself useful while you were out. Can't let them think I'm simply a puppet now, can I?"
"And did you? Find out exactly what makes her dear old father tick?"
She’s goading me, and I can only muster a hum in reply. I swallow down the bite in my words and redirect the conversation back to her, "I see tonight you didn't try to fry our brains — does that mean you finally figured things out?"
Her eyes narrow, and she lies back down, keeping her focus on the canopy above us. "It was more productive than previous attempts."
I nod, "I gathered some valuable information."
We sit there for a moment before both of us breathe out, "we'll see if it works." I stretch my fingers across the bedding, searching for hers. I graze the tops of them, and our hands lace together, sleep pulling us quickly under.
I've no idea how either of our plans is going to work, but I do know that if she doesn't find a way to let me in again quickly… that both of them will fail and all of our fates will be sealed while death patiently waits for us.