Page 22 of Of Nightmares & Fire
“Don’t look so sad, Princess. You are about to meet your future husband after all. The highest point in a woman’s life.” Pravin says contemptuously. I ignore him just as I always have, but he continues pushing. “It's too bad that your mother couldn’t give your father a son… all of this could have been avoided.” I pause, looking sidelong at him with disdain coating my tongue.
“Yes, Pravin, it is such a shame that my mother’s life was ripped away from her before my father was able to pump her full of his vile seed to create a male spawn he could mold into something more sinister than himself.” His brows hitch as he balks. “Pick up your jaw, Pravin. You act like you have never heard a woman usehervoice before.”
I can feel his eyes on me as we walk, but he says no more as I walk ahead of him. I don’t like coming to this wing of the castle. This side holds all of the most opulent rooms, one of which I try to avoid altogether—the throne room. Not to mention that I try to keep as much distance as possible between myself and my father. It's been that way my whole life. At first it was his doing. He didn’t care to see me, as I have heard most fathers do for their children. He would check in with my caretakers and send Pravin to make sure that I was studying and learning to be a lady fit to be queen. Other than that, it was dinners a couple nights a week andpunishments when I needed them. Lessons increased as I got older and my mind started developing thoughts of its own. Colette and her mother have a lot to do with that. That’s also when the worst of the nightmares started.
Cole’s mother gifted me the necklace—an heirloom from my mother. She said my mother told her a long time ago she would know when the right time was to gift it to me. I almost never take it off. I swear, even though my father hates magick, I feel as though the pendant is imbued with it. When I do take it off, the nightmares seem to be so much worse.Or maybe it's all in my head…
Absent-mindedly my fingers roll over the intricate carvings on the pendant before I take a deep breath and let it out in a heavy sigh. Coming to a stop at the closed doors, I take in the massive entry more than I have before. Something about today feels like the end of life as I know it. Maybe it's a good thing that I feel as though I'm dying. If I felt otherwise, what would it say about me? So, like the dying woman I am, I pay attention to the more beautiful things this life has given me, if only for a moment. These doors are some of the last pieces of artwork left from the previous ruler. The carvings in the deep red wood are like a story. Each one melding into the next like the pages of a book.
I wish I knew if they had meaning or if the royals before my father just had the taste for beautiful things. Right at eye level, there are two ravens, one black and one white. They embrace like doves. Lovers. This thought, something that I will never have, causes emotion to build in the back of my throat. I never wishedfor love, but now that the chance is being taken from me, it seems like I am grieving someone I needed more than the air I breathe. The Neer believe that our souls are like the wick of a candle. Just like a candle needs fire to burn, our life never truly starts until we have met our match. Only then do both souls ignite and the twin flames burn.
I’m looking down at my feet, still deep in thought, when Pravin opens the doors.
“Astraea Casimir, Princess of Eathian.” The court master announces loudly, making me jump out of my own head. Lifting my chin, my eyes trail into the room of snakes, each one of them as beautiful as they are deadly. Pravin offers me his hand, and I look down at it, then lift my gaze to meet his before walking past him in open disrespect. The low growl from him is not missed by me; though it was low enough no one else heard, the sound of it brings me a moment of triumph, and my lip curls at the corner in response.
Striding into the room on sure feet, I greet my father, and he embraces me like the prized child I know I never was. Someone who he cares for very deeply, but I smell the stench of lies with every touch and kind word he says. He seats me at the center of the table, and the men there take their seats all around. Though the seating for us is smaller, the room is filled with bodies, and all their eyes rest on me. The table is filled with an abundance of colors and decadent exotic foods. More than enough to feed all of the poor families I saw living in squalor. It makes my stomach recoil.
“Well, they weren't lying when they spoke of her beauty.” I hear one of the suitors say. My eyes clash with liquid gold. Beautiful and dangerous, and the corner of his lips quirk up as though he could read the thought as though it were displayed on my face.
“Ruaan, respectfully, shut the fuck up.” Benat, one of the only familiar faces I see, says under his breath, but the wicked glint in his eye tells me it was more out of jealousy than anything else. Taking a deep breath, I roll my eyes, blocking out all of the hushed conversations around me.
Still standing, I pick up the delicate wine glass my father is allowing for the celebration. I reluctantly lift it to make the entry toast that is mandatory, but the doors open once again.
“Mavros and Kyros Kazhal appointed Heirs of Diemos.” My wine glass slips from my hand. Shattering and spilling wine all over the table in front of me as my eyes clash with the deep umbra of Kyros’ stare.
Chapter eighteen
Astraea
Theheavywooddoorcloses, and I feel like fire has caught in my cheeks. Everything is unfolding in slow motion, but at the same time it feels too fast to comprehend. I look down at the spilled wine at the same moment that Cadoc begins guiding me away from the table, one hand on my elbow and the other low on my back.
“Careful, Princess. I don’t want you to get hurt.” He says, and a low whistle echoes through the great hall. My attention leaves the staff attending to the spill as it’s pulled to the man the whistle belongs to. Mavros’ eyebrows jump up, looking between me and my father, thento Cadoc.
“What aroyalmess.” His eyes narrow on me knowingly. “I hope you can accept our apologies. We seem to have been given somemisconstruedinformation.” He continues shifting his eyes from me to my father. Kyros stands at his side, but his gaze never leaves me. I don’t think he has yet to blink.
“Why are there two of you from Diemos? Who is the suitor for my daughter’s hand?” My father asks blatantly. Kyros doesn’t move, but Mavros smiles wide. I only barely register the movement behind them and notice that it’s Zinya making her way into the room and through the crowd of people; sitting at one of the tables, she watches.
“I am,” Mavros says at the same time that Kyros growls the same words. Mavros’ head whips in his brother's direction. His confusion mirroring my own. Kyros continues to stare at me as the tension in the room becomes so thick I feel I may choke on it.
“So you will go through the trialsagainsteach other then?” My father presses.
“No—” Mavros starts, but Kyros speaks over him.
“Yes.” The brothers look at one another then. A silent conversation seems to be had within their gazes before finally Mavros looks back at me.
“I guess it appears, we will…” His chin raises, and the muscle along his jaw feathers. He glances out of the corner of his eye to Kyros, but Kyros ignores him. Instead, he moves across the room and pulls out the one chair left at the royal table. Sitting without another word. Mavros scoffs, shaking his head.
“I don't suppose we can get a place for me to sit? Or would the princess like toshare?” He grins, and I narrow my eyes on him. His dual meaning is not missed. Some staff rush around the table, putting a place setting out next to Kyros, and the other men all keep a wary eye on each other. As though at any moment, any one of them could turn on the other. All but Kyros. His onyx eyes have not strayed from me save for the moment with his brother. He has yet to even acknowledge the king. I don’t know if I should be embarrassed or concerned at this point. Concern wins out because I can feel my father vibrating with anger. They are both pushing him. He is not a man of patience and does not handle disrespect well.
I clear my throat; still standing, I reach for another glass of wine on the table to make the opening announcement. The start of the courting affairs, just as I have been trained, but when my fingers are about to reach the glass, my father whips his hand in front of mine, blocking my attempt.
“Perhaps we keep your mind unmuddled, dear. You have already made quite the mess of things without a sip.” My father whispers, not so quietly. A few of the men snicker, but out of the corner of my eye I see Kyros’ fist ball on the table, and even Mavros levels a glare in my father’s direction. The simple show of abhorrence catches me off guard.
“Surely it would be highly inappropriate for a princess to partake in overindulgence; you never know what kind ofwildthings might happen…” Mavros chides. None of the others pay him any mind, but I see my father’s eyes narrow in his direction. Heat floods mycheeks nonetheless, thinking of the things I saw him doing on the night he is referring to, but I need to get my father’s attention off Mavros. I may have lied to them, but they were kind to me when I was out of my element. They don't deserve my father to rain down hell on them for the mere fact that they were in my presence when I ran away.
“Of course, father.” I recede, sitting back in my chair.
“As all of you know, we are gathered here for the courting of my daughter. Your betrothal would secure a very powerful alliance with Eathian. Which, as you know, has the largest, most skilled horde of soldiers in the realm.” My father drawls on, and Mavros covers his scoff with a cough. My eyes flick to his, and hewinks.This man is going to get himself killed.
