Chapter 32
Alora
The clink of silverware meeting the fine china join a cacophony of shrill scraping as I glance around the expansive dining table in front of me. Ladies and Lords of the court feast in their richly colored garments.
The swath of maroon and red is almost choking. Everywhere I look, I see the same complacency written on their faces. They gulp down their wine and liquor, consume their food as if they hadn’t just witnessed someone being executed.
They smile and whisper in hushed tones of excitement and merriment, meanwhile I’m still reliving the moment Zedriel’s body dropped to the ground. The way his limbs splayed outward, unnaturally turned.
I try to trace over the woman’s features seated directly across from me through blurry eyes. She wipes a drop of wine that falls from her mouth with her porcelain hand, her ruby lipstick smearing across her thin lips as she throws back her head in a haughty laugh.
Suddenly I feel more alone than ever. I’m surrounded by callousness wrapped in richness, indifference draped in opulence. It’s ugliness that is obscured by beautiful women and the grandeur of rooms.
The tingling returns to my fingers as I flex them beneath the tablecloth.
I let go of the breath I’d been holding. I swallow down the scream that seems to crack my chest open so I don’t alert King Euron, who sits to my left with his back turned to me.
Digging my nails into my palm, I look around the room again, eager to find Kassiel’s dark form. Panic ebbs under my skin when I can’t locate him.
I’ve worried my lip so much while sitting here as the moments tick by that blood tinges my tongue.
King Euron bellows with laughter and I see a few patrons raise their glass to salute him. I force myself to grab my untouched wine glass and raise it in his honor as well, attempting to blend in.
My body threatens to shake as I watch a server dab at spilled wine on the haughty lady’s dress with a gray napkin, once again I am reminded of the ashen color of Zedriel’s face as he lay there long after the crowd cleared.
If I had to guess, his form is still abandoned in the courtyard left as a message to others, left to be trampled over.
Suddenly the doors on the far end of the room are pulled open. Two men walk towards the king, clothed similarly in their onyx trousers and waistcoat.
Kassiel.
A very slight sigh of relief slips from my lips and I pray no one notices.
The two saunter across the room, passing onlookers, nonchalantly. It’s unsettling to watch Kassiel slip into his Devourer persona so easily. He looks just as indifferent and cold as the rest of the group. As if he’s unbothered by the soul he claimed nearly a clockhour ago.
The Nightmare walks slightly behind him, studying the back of Kassiel’s head. His eyes are like a viper, sinister and intense. If I was closer, I would imagine the blue hue of them to be full of venom.
His eyes snap in my direction, not quite landing on me, but instead, trained on King Euron.
It’s odd, watching The Nightmare look at someone with such poisonous devotion.
King Euron’s eyes slowly trail to the men who are nearly upon us.
His smile turns up when Kassiel and the wicked man behind him kneel at his feet.
“Rise.” The timbre of his voice reverberates across the great hall.
The men do so quickly, so as not to keep the king waiting.
King Euron gestures his hand towards the two seats that remain, across from me, next to the lady who’s spilt more wine on her dress while the drips leave a trail of stain on her skin.
It’s reassuring when they both turn and begin to make the journey to their seats. They walk behind my chair, the heat from Kassiel, the call from his soul, momentarily making my skin pebble.
Moments pass before he takes his spot. He doesn’t acknowledge it as he sits himself, and gods I know why he doesn’t, but I hope he too can feel the call of my soul to his.
“So, Lady Orlah,” the king begins, jerking my thoughts back into focus, “how does being in such a place feel, being in the presence of greatness?”
I shift my body to face him and consider my words. I calm my hands as I settle my gaze on his square jawline, the golden beard hair neatly combed. I lift my eyes to his crystal blue, their vibrance intense, as he waits for me to answer.
“My King, I am at a loss for words. Truly.” I offer a placating smile, making it a point to bring my hand up to my neckline and trace along the silvery stitches of my gown.
He grins at me rakishly, his upper lip pulling.
“It would honor me if you would try, my starlight.”
The crowd falls silent, eyes staring at me in an array of emotions—jealousy, curiosity, bitterness all settle on me.
I hate being put on the spot, I always have. But if I’m to become his soul focus, I have to shove down any apprehension.
I blink, slowly, playfully before looking up to the ceiling in the grand room. The golden filigree and makeshift charms of stars that dangle and sway glint in the flamelight of candles.
It should be dazzling, but instead if you look closer, it just appears gaudy. Overdone and cheap.
“Well, your Grace,” I pause, giving my words enough space to draw in more curious eyes, “I don’t believe I’ve witnessed a greater party, let alone such a court that would rival others in wealth and magnificence.”
I bow my head in an attempt to appear as though I’m humbling myself.
Swallowing I continue, “The people of Noxia are truly fortunate to have a king that would welcome all for such a lush banquet. We’ve been honored by your food and entertainment—”
I trail off at the last part. Imagining Kassiel as the method of entertainment that most of these people have become accustomed to, makes me want to hurl.
King Euron crooks his head to the side and levels me with a stare that’s impossible to break away from. My throat dries and I close my mouth in an attempt to regain some composure.
The silence seems to pulse, as if the room I’m in is alive and I’m merely an intruder.
I force myself to speak again, the words feel wrong as they tumble out of my mouth. “It’s really comforting to know our king treasures those with different magics—that our people will always revere you as the great uniter.”
The lie tastes like ash on my tongue.
His grin turns feral as he smiles so broadly his teeth are exposed. His eyes remain on me, his gaze lingering far too long in places that feel too exposed.
A flush spreads across my chest and creeps up my neck.
“You’re Majesty!” a shrill voice from across the table begins, “you’ve become her undoing! Quit teasing her before she bursts into flames right here from the attention!”
Laughter erupts and I’m thankful for the interruption. His eyes finally peel away from me and I wish I could drop the false smile, but I keep it there, plastered—daring not to let it chip away.
I turn back towards my place setting, eager to look upon something that doesn’t threaten to break me.
The sound of the bustling of dishes at the end of the table mixes with the continued gossip and clamor.
I sneak a look towards Kassiel, focusing my attention on the woman to his left but watching his still form out of my peripheral. He’s unmoving, motionless as his body lingers in his seat, a stoney sentinel.
My eyes shift quickly away and wander in the direction of The Nightmare. He’s languid, relaxed in his seat like a cat basking in front of a fire. The difference in their posture is striking, though they could be nearly mirror images down to the buttoned vests and the fasteners that adorn them.
I can’t help but watch him as he interacts with the others around him. He chats freely, preening in the attention that the court offers him.
Though he’s animated in conversation, he has an air of something aloof. The vacantness of his eyes mix with the flatness of his words.
Being this close to him makes one feel like they’re locked in a room with a fire serpent that’s ready to strike.
Suddenly, his gaze slips to mine and whatever bravado of a smile he had slips away.
I hold my breath, wondering for a moment if my iludreer has slipped. I mentally reach within myself and feel along the walls of my magic, ensuring they haven’t cracked. My essence thrums and I’m reassured by the now familiar pulse that flows within.
He’s just a creep, that’s all, Alora.
I mentally reassure myself; my magic is strong and unwavering.
The Nightmare continues to watch me, unabashedly. I slowly move my hand to my napkin and smooth it under the table, unwilling to focus on what this asshole is thinking about.
He seems to notice the gesture because he begins to move forward in his seat, leaning over the edge of the table. His hands come up and he rests his chin on them, never looking away from me in the process.
His voice grates against my skin as he begins to speak, “Tell me, Kassiel. What do you think of our king’s newest pet? Lady Orlah, is that right?”
I clear my throat and answer him, if only to convince the king further that I’m not intimidated to be by his side, though I’m actually quivering internally. “Yes, sire, that is correct.”
King Euron has turned his head in our direction once again.
“Well go on Kassiel,” the king demands, “what do you think of this fine specimen?”
I cringe at the prospect of Kassiel having to open up like this to the king and worse, Orlin.
I know it’s not me he’s critiquing, but instead Lady Orlah and the persona of her, but it feels too intimate nonetheless.
Bracing myself for his answer, I begin to wring my napkin in my lap, unable to still my hands.
“She is perhaps the brightest star among those in the room,” he starts, “but I’m still questioning how sharp her wits may be.”
It feels as if I’ve been slapped.
“What do you mean?” King Euron speaks louder now, gaining the attention of those in the far corners of the room.
Kassiel doesn’t waver. He turns his head to me and we lock eyes across the table.