Chapter 44

It's when the wind outside stops that I notice. I notice the smaller things after that. The waiters are perfect replicas of the people they once were and yet their eyes are so very different.

You wouldn't know something is wrong unless you were looking for it very carefully.

I notice that court members are starting to get drowsy hours before sun up. I notice that my own glass is a touch lighter in weight than it should be. It must be a slow acting poison, then.

In between the guard shift I see a few new guests slip into the party. The Varkeshains are good, a little too good, but I'm better. I always have been and I always will be. No amount of Thallium in my wine will change this. It must be an extremely high dosage if they think that it will affect me.

Thallium had killed me once and it would never kill me again.

It's almost like I can still feel as the poison has invaded my limbs and taken them hostage in its iron grip one by one. I had lost feeling in my fingers first. I knew in that moment that I needed to get out of the room and to the confines of my private quarters.

Then the Thallium had taken my hands, arms. The legs were next and by far the most traumatic. I had just fallen to the tiled floor. With no preamble, my legs had stopped being my legs.

"May I have this dance, my queen?" I'm snapped out of my thoughts, my eyes wandering slowly to the woman on her knee on the dias, but not before I do a twice over of the ceiling. When I look at her, I see Rory Nivirah on her knee, bowing to me after her sister died under my watch.

I sling my legs over the throne and stand, my gown kicking up as I take her hand. She kisses my pointer finger and I motion for her to rise. We walk down the three steps that lead up to the throne without a word.

I don't look back, but I imagine that Draven must be feeling something, at the very least. Regret. Self-loathing. Shame. I know these feelings all too well for it not to be personal.

We reach the floor and for the first time in my life, I blend in. I don't think a person around me notices who I am. It is the most freeing feeling in the world.

The song is slower and when we are both in position, we start into a slow waltz. One two three four, one two three four, one two three four. The easy rhythm calms my heart, my overwhelming thoughts.

Right now I am normal.

"How did my sister die?" She doesn't wait for my response as she plows ahead, "She wasn't suicidal and she certainly would have never considered death to be her only option, or her best one."

I don't falter in my steps. The speed of the dance picks up only a pace and we switch partners before I get a chance to respond to her question. Due to our alliance I suppose that I ought to just tell her the truth.

But truth is the gateway to a whole load of issues that I don't know if I can deal with from the Nivirahs right now.

I know of the person I dance with now, but I've never met them before. He seems so drunk that he most likely can't even see my face rightly. I give him credit for being able to stand on his feet through the dance henceforth though. His name is Malik Ibrahi-m. He has loose ties with the Hawthorns and that's really all he can put to claim with his name.

Another switch comes back around and I'm left with Rory Nivirah and her questions. "What is it that you do?" It is such a simple inquiry and I don't know how to answer it properly. What do I do as a queen or what do I do in my free time?

I give one of my looks that asks a question without really asking anything at all, "In your free time. What do you enjoy doing?"

It only takes a moment for me to put my answer together, "I suppose that sparring loosens my muscles. I also read the occasional spell book. I'm always looking to write out better spells for combat."

She laughs. I can tell she's been drinking, but not enough to lose sure footing or anything of the sort. She's laughing at me. The sound is melodic and rough. I can tell from the sound that it has been under used in her many years of life, "For fun. What do you do for fun?"

I frown at that, "Sparring is fun."

"But it doesn't sound like a passion. What drives you? What makes you happiest?"

"I don't have time nor the capacity for passion."

"That's dry." She covers her mouth in an exaggerated gasp, her throat sounding overused from too much talking through the night, "You're going dry, Evelyn."

Framiliars. She says my name like we've known each other our whole lives. She says my name like we've survived countless faults together and a million battles against the darkness that fights in my head. Her words pierce me because no one has ever said my name that way.

Leander says it as if we are friends that joke and do nothing more, Draven says it with a touch of venom- Aaliyah with sadness. Rory Nivirah says my name as if we have seen it all together, lived together, died together, shared breath, our life's-blood.

A crash rings through the room. I never answered her question and now I might never. I close my eyes for a brief moment before Rory touches my arm, talking to me through my haze, "It was just a knocked over tray. Don't be so jumpy."

Against my better judgment I lean into her ear, "Haley was murdered by the person I suspect was responsible for Charlotte Night. Be wary of the Cerce line."

Her eyes bulge and the drinking comes through as she loses control over her features. Her lips part and the skin near her eyes stretches as her eyes narrow, but I give her no time to further interrogate me as I walk back up to the dias and go to whisper into Dravens left ear, "They're here. Be on the ready."

Just as I say the words a crash comes through the hallway and the doors burst open- both sets- the back ones flooding with a small army dressed in black and ready to kill. At least a few dozen Varsillian bodies drop to the floor as the Thallium takes it's due course. The front throne room doors are blocked and I understand what they are about to do.

The full black bodysuits are for fire protection. They plan to lock us in here, burn us to death and kill those who are forced to funnel out the front and back entrances.

Shadow porting wards have been put up all over the room. It was supposed to be for the event's safety and now it's going to be the death of many.

Cursed ashes rain down from the ceiling, mixed with touches of blood. I grab Leander's hand and push some of my energy in. I'm wearing the bracelet I had gotten from Lunata in my storage room.

It takes only a moment more for the panic to set in and for the battle to begin. Varsillians pull daggers, swords, whatever weapons they have on hand. The sober ones who understand what's about to happen rush over to the Varkeshians. Pools of blood are left in their wake.

The fire starts. It's been no more than thirty seconds since this began and the curtains have already caught. People are burning and screaming and the chaos is at its peak. I make my way to the back entrance. No one else can see the people positioned there.

In theory, I could use my power to stop the fire and I wonder for a split second why no one else is working to counteract it. The Thallium. It was targeting water and fire elementals. I suspect that the House of Night will suffer many losses tonight.

My blade hits the first Varkeshian and they swarm me, trying to take me out, to catch my gown and make me fall flat on my face. Two are dead. Five are dead. Ten are dead. Twenty five are dead. One of the blades slices my neck. It doesn't hit bone or anything major, just brushes my skin and leaves a welt of blood.

Leander is trying to put the fire out, cutting off the Oxygen that feeds it, but it doesn't work. Where fires go out, new fires start and the flames still consume. I drop my sword and I throw my hands out.

At least fifty more bodies snap to the ground dead. The crack of their bones and the small of their rotting flesh eats at my senses as a new wave of them come out of the door. I let them enter the room.

So much blood stains the walls, my hands, my dress. Ruby red.

The world is ruby red.

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