Chapter 22

I pace the floor. Today has to be perfect. The sun had set a few hours ago and the Larcaste royals would be here soon. Leander would be coming up for the day too. He needed to be here to go over a few things with the Crete generals.

Only a few days free and I'm facing the Crete royals. It's not like I'm under prepared, I love the queen and haven't met her husband, but I've only ever heard good things.

Of course there have been rumors of him sneaking out of the palace regularly and many, many, attempts in his life, but that happens to every royal.

I'm in my third outfit of the day, wearing a flattering violet dress that I run my hands down, both smoothing the fabric and reassuring myself. I'm ready. I have to be.

My words are carefully selected. I'll act arrogant, self-important, like I own everyone one of them. It makes me want to cry.

It's despicable to think that one person could own another, but that's just how things are, how they will always be.

Problems for another day, thought. For now, I have to appear as nothing less than perfection to Jezebel Larcaste.

She has always seen me as some sort of figure to look up to. I'm like her living god, at least I used to be.

My breaths fall in heavy pants, my eye twitching. Perfect. I have to be perfect. No in likes an imperfect monster.

Jezebel Larcaste would see nothing but my very best because Jezebel Larcaste deserves the best.

Jezebel has always been so full of life. Her eyes twinkle like they've been stuffed with the brightest sun and she smiles as if filled with the purest, most lovely, love. Jezebel has one of those laughs that lights the room and fills it with only the most bewitching melody and a demeanor that leaves you feeling light. She's absolute magic.

I open a cap of lipstick, smearing the navy blue shade across my downward-turned lips just as my door bangs open.

Absolutely no manners around here, "Leander, how pleasant." I smile and smack my lips together, reaching for my crown and securing it around my tight braids. I look in the mirror.

Perfection stares back at me. Every line of my face is placed nicely, ever contour sculpted and made to look just right. I look cold. I'm dark and cold and everything I wish I didn't have to be, but everything I know I have to be to survive the toll Jezebel Larcaste takes when she sweeps in, shrouded in storms and halos.

I turn to the intruder and almost laugh at how ridiculous he looks. The bright red and awful yellow don't go with him. With his blonde hair, hardly any clothing looks like it fits with him, but this brings that to a whole new level.

The only store he looks born to wear is his classic set of fighting leathers he usually goes with.

The lines of the suit are all wrong and the mix of clothes is abhorrent. I struggle to keep the laugh in, only a smile escaping me.

He looks at me. Up and down. Just as I had done to him, "who died?"

"Only your sense of fashion."

He raises a joking hand, running it down the arm of the suit, "what? You don't like it?"

I sigh, tired. I want so badly to be able to laughs and joke and be light, but Jezebel Larcaste will be here momentarily.

The last time I had seen Jezebel she was invisible and blended with the wall, watching in horror as I was dragged away from Ravenna Nivirah's body, covered in blood and looking like a wild animal.

I can only imagine what I looked liked, soaked in blood, eyes crazed and wild, clawing at a dead, mangled body that had only barely resembled a person.

I only stopped in my haze of grief and desperation for a moment to look at Jezebels face. A lone tear had streaked down her pale cheek as her knees had wobbled.

I've never hated myself more.

I manage to keep my cool as my gaze lingers on Leander's face before I analyze him again, "were you dressed by a homeless blind man going def and on deaths doorstep."

He laughs, running a hand through his blonde, soft, hair, snorting as he speaks, "hardly. It's the royal colors of Crete. I thought you would appreciate it."

"Was the designer drunk, high?"

"Flame sake. Don't be so serious. Laugh a little. Besides, I would think it's you who needs the outfit change."

My chin high, I check that my shoulders are straight enough, high enough, good enough.

I let out a big puff of air. Just get through today, Evelyn. An Aculiac. That's what you are. You can do anything.

"I wear my colors."

He shrugs loosely, "wouldn't hurt to change it up." You wouldn't think of the man before me as an army general or a person capable of doing lethal damage.

He looks so innocent, so very pure. I wish I could protect that childlike demeanor, bring him up in my arms and never let go, never let reality taint him.

He slides his hands into his pockets, even the casual jokester boy, "where is Aaliyah?"

My eye twitches. Flame damn him, "General Keita should be here-"

I'm cut off as the door swings open again. Aaliyah enters without preamble. She strides towards me, already talking, quickly, too, "sorry I'm late. I was caught up with General Richards. He came to do a sweep before the Larcastes shadow port in."

I nod in her direction, "good to see you looking respectable."

Her faces tightens in displeasure, "why would I dress inappropriately? I know how important-"Her eyes land on Leander and she cuts off before launching into another quick, apt worded speech, "Leander." her words come out sharply, "this is unacceptable. You embarrass us all in- in, that atrocity."

My lips tick up ever so slightly as Leander's eyes practically bulge as he sets back on his heels, a hand pressed to his chest is over exaggerated shock, "hey, hey, hey. Let's not be nasty. That one hit me in the chest. Like a blow. Aaliyah, my sweet, beautiful, stunning little lady, where have you dashed off to?"

Aaliyah slaps him across the face in annoyance, "stop that. We have important guests. Make a good impression." She goes up to him and straightens his bow tie as she reprimands him. Her words do nothing to slow him, if anything, they make him more enthusiastic.

He only smiles cheerfully in response, "important." He says as if the word is a foreign thing to him, a stranger he's just seeing in the crowd, "I know this is important. You two need to loosen up. It's a meeting. Not a war. Although a war is coming, so on second thought, maybe you two should be serious. I'll hang back and charm them. Flame knows Evelyn doesn't have a lick of charm in her." He turns to Aaliyah, "and you, you're pretty, but you'd first stab someone before you'd charm them."

My smile fades and Aaliyah looks mildly offended. His comment rolls off of me. It's not like I haven't heard that I look like a Hell monster and a demon forged from the coldest and darkest depths of Hell.

People were particularly focused on outward beauty and mine had been called into question many, many times.

But beauty can be taken away, stripped by a long life and to many scares to could. Beauty didn't matter to me, but being Varsillia dictates that I be beautiful, so I am.

I motion for the two to follow me as I start to walk to the door. In a few swift strides I am at the two large monstrosities of wood, carved with a steady hand and made by a master. What a waste of talent.

They flank my left and right, acting as my two most trusted court members.

I would be a fool to really trust them. Fondness won't get them anywhere if they cross me. We all have parts to play in this carefully plotted game of chess, though.

My heels click against the marble flooring. It's the only noise. Everything else is so eerily silent that it's- well, eery.

Members of the court line the walls of the halls leading up the court room. None of them speak and everyone of them looks the part of the cold, calculating, deadly Varsillian. They are beautiful, but they are empty shells, no life or joy to be seen.

They aren't the only threats, I remind myself. An angel is just as likely to strike as a demon.

After all, no one ever had expected the Valeron angel to burn the Vheima world to the ground.

I ignore the courtiers completely. They don't matter today. They know their roles and I know mine. Let's just hope they're good at playing the game.

By the time I reach the doors of the hall I am already ready to make my entrance, with my back straight and my head held high, a cruel smirk spread across an elegant face of nightmares. I gracefully walk to the ancient throne made of black marble, carved with ivy vines and willow trees, ancient dragons hanging on the vines.

I remember vividly how Arsetti Aculiac had told me that every Aculiac carved a vine in that throne. It had been a right of passage and one I had never been given the privilege of taking.

My father had forbidden it and now it just feels wrong to mark such a relic.

The main doors swing open yet again, the black marble making a noise as it clips the wall, the two princes of Crete walking in first and behind them are the two royal female twins bring up the rear.

Through the doors enter I see a small head, sharp and full of contrast next to another.

My breath halts, my heart squeezes, my face goes cold, my whole world comes to a stop as everything narrows to a point.

My chest constricts and I feel- I feel- I don't know. I feel an overwhelming sense of loneliness and desperation and pain.

The last time I had seen that face it had been a haze, but now I see features that she shared with Scarlett and I just- I want to cry.

But I don't, because Aculiacs don't cry. Not in public. Not when there are prying eyes and ears.

I take the initiative when the room falls deathly silent. Where whispers were, an eery calm follows.

My heart starts. Then stops. Then starts. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Though I'm sure the pleasure is all yours. I am fantastic, after all."

It was silent before, it sure as Hells is now. Rhoe Larcaste stiffens, but Jezebel laughs and it's like bells ringing faintly in the distance.

"The pleasure I believe belongs to those around us." Jezebel mock whispers- everyone in the room can hear her-before stepping forward, curtsying slightly, "they, after all, have been blessed with the sight of us."

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