Chapter II

ELOISE

It was shocking seeing Westin hit him. Westin had all the muscle mass of a ball of yarn, and Lord Laroux loomed over everyone like a giant. For a moment, no one stirred. Time skidded to a halt. A silence engulfed the front yard of the palace. Lord Laroux's family's eyes were wide with shock, and some clasped their hands over their mouths. But no one made a sound. Even the guards were still as statues, standing in the snow with their blades drawn, just waiting for someone to issue an order. My father's hand was covering his mouth and it looked like he was struggling to hold back laughter. Knowing him, it would only be a matter of time until that dam broke. But my mother didn't look half as amused. She was giving Lord Laroux the same killing stare that Westin was giving him. It was clear to me that if Westin hadn't hit him, Mother would have. I knew that Mother and Westin loved Aunt Evie dearly. The mention of her name never failed to curve their lips into a frown. But it never made them violent before that day.

Cold gusts hit my face like a sharp knife. It picked up the snow and tossed it around, giving birth to a white mist. The mist seeped into my boots and melted into icy water that froze my feet. But the silence was so cold that the winter felt warm.

The wind whistled. Branches creaked as they swayed and cried as they bumped into each other. But the silence was so intense that it drowned out all other sounds.

It was Lady Esmeralda Laroux who broke the silence. She wore a dress of yellow fabric with a black fur coat around it. Her hood was drawn over her head and her golden hair spilled out of it. Her body shook with rage as did her voice. Her venomous eyes bore down on Westin. She radiated an intense hatred and I was surprised when it didn't melt the snow.

"You have no right!" Her words were a snake's hiss. "My queen, I demand you discipline your brother!"

"My lord uncle had every right!" Will spat, his voice was quicker and sharper than any arrow. Then he turned his attention to Lord Laroux. "Say her name again, I dare you! Taste her name on your forked tongue and tell me how it tastes after what you did to her!" My brother's voice rose, spit flew from his mouth. He knew Aunt Evie very well. He loved her the same way he loved Mother.

Lord Laroux opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off before he could utter a word.

"You audacious cuck!" Harold Laroux roared at Will. Harold was Ayden Laroux's eldest son and the heir to Highedge. He wore a yellow tunic with black trimming. His golden hair shone in the sunlight like a thorny crown. As the heir of House Laroux, he was always quick to defend the honour of his name. "My lord father did no wrong. If it wasn't for what he did, you would not sit on your throne today!" Harold drew his sword and pointed it at Will. The light sparkled on the steel. Will did not back away, instead, his hand fell to his hilt.

"Enough!" Lord Laroux's voice boomed like thunder, all the bickering came to a halt, but the air was still thick with tension. "I should not have spoken her name, I apologise. I was wrong to tear open old wounds. Harold, put your damn sword away! You know better than to bear arms against your prince."

Harold's face turned red and he looked down at his feet. He slid his sword back into his sheathe.

"You too, boy." Father grumbled as he hit Will on the back of his head. "Cousin's don't fight."

Mother's stare cut like daggers, but she hastily put on a neighbourly smile. "We too are at fault, Lord Laroux. I pray we can start this visit over and forget this?" She held out a hand and Lord Laroux shook it. But that did not remove any of the animosity from the air. Westin's raging eyes were still piercing Lord Laroux. Will and Harlod's were locked in a silent war. And Lady Laroux was still looking at Westin as if she wanted to kill him. If it wasn't for the guards, she may have tried.

"This is what happens when the north and the south meet." Will whispered into my ear, disengaging from his menacing staring contest.

The silence after was as loud as it was awkward. And when at last it was broken, it was Lady Haresse who shattered it.

"Shall I have the servants prepare the table? No doubt the Laroux's have had a long journey."
I felt relieved when the commander spoke. Quitness had never been so uncomfortable.

"Yes, please do. And see to it that the guests are escorted to their rooms." Mother said. The friendly smile on her face wasn't enough to melt the ice in her voice.

"As you will, your grace." The commander dignified Mother with a bow, her hand still glued to her hilt. She marched into the palace and the Larouxs followed, and their guards trailed behind.

"I should assist with setting the table," Edwin told us. He turned and scurried off into the castle. His long strides told us he was eager to flee from the tense silence. Their footsteps rang on the marble floors and the sound poured out into the yard. Now only the true-born Revelians remained in the courtyard. We all stood there in cold quietness, stewing in the aftermath of the fight. None of us dared to move. It seemed like the snow would bury us before we stirred. All of us were thinking the same thing, but it was Will who put it into words.

"You shouldn't have let him get away with it." He scowled at Mother. His voice was harsh, there was no love in his words.

"He did not mean to offend us." Mother spoke slowly and steadily. Forgiveness was simply a courtesy the queen must follow, I could tell she was just as put off as all of us.

Will's eyes filled with venom. "I wasn't talking about what he said." Those words left his mouth and filled the air around us, making it colder than any winter ever could. Mother made no comment. Her eyebrows slowly rose up and the colour drained from her skin. She opened her mouth to say something, but decided against it. She uttered no word, turned around, and marched away. Westin followed.

Will did not need to elaborate any further. His glib response made it very clear what he was talking about. The memory bubbled to the surface of my mind. The words spoken by Lord Laroux all those years ago were still fresh: "Your Grace, the traitor is dead." He reached into a bag and pulled out a severed head. He held it by its long hair. Its once-green eyes were as grey and lifeless as pebbles. It was the head of Princess Evie Revelian. My Mother jolted up from the throne and stared at Lord Laroux. Her eyes swam with horror, fear, anger, and a whole barrage of other unnamable emotions. Lord Laroux threw the head and it rolled across the throne room, landing at Mother's feet. The memory always gave me chills.

"Why did Mother not reprimand him?" I asked Will. I was not as close with Aunt Evie as he was, so the question wasn't one I asked very often.

Will let out a cold laugh. "I've turned that question over and over again in my head countless times, sister. I've lost many hours of sleep trying to find the answer."

I tilted my head forward and raised my eyebrows. "Did you ever find the answer?"

A wistful sigh passed through Will's lips. He ambled over to a bench and wiped the snow off of it, revealing its rose-gold surface. He took a seat and rested his sad head in his hands. The memory of Evie always made him sad.

"The queen is bound by politics. That's the only answer I've been able to unearth. Lord Laroux is a powerful member of nobility. He is beloved by countless members of the Noble Court, his influence stretching from Mage's Respite all the way to Southern Pass. When Lord Laroux brought Mother the head of her sister, he ended the Southern Rebellion. If he was executed there would have been another, more threatening rebellion on our hands. We may not have won that war if it had come to pass."

My lips curved into a frown. I took a seat next to my brother and put a loving hand on his shoulder. I wanted to say something to cheer him up, but I could think of none.

"And now," He continued. "Our mother honours him by making him her Blademaster. The Rite of Crowning will be held tomorrow. Then the snake will spend the rest of his days slithering in our castle, living here as a member of the Royal Court."

I put on my best smile in an effort to lift his spirits. "Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. You can't strangle your enemies if they aren't close." Will and I were all too familiar with those words. Mother was quite fond of saying them. In fact, she had them embroidered on a pillow.

"I suppose you're right." A smile broke on Will's face. It had all the seeming of a beautiful flower blossoming through cracks in a paved road.

The dining hall was packed with at least half of the Noble Court. Lord and ladies from all reaches of Soren had rode to Carleone to witness the Rite of Crowning, of course they had come too late to witness the hostilities earlier on. And as the night grew older, more of them showed up.

The golden light shone from a hundred gilded chandeliers that dangled from the ceiling of the massive dining room. The hall was ripe with the sound of roaring laughter and music. Dozens of minstrels were spread out, each one equipped with different instruments and lovely voices to match. The gentle sounds of harps, lutes, vieilles and flutes floated through the drunken air.

The most decorated lords and ladies sat at the Royal Table. In the centre sat my mother and father, Vanessa and Edwin Revelian. Vanessa had a queenly smile on her face, the one that she put on for political meetings. Edwin looked simply bored. At Vanessa's right, the Royal Councillors were seated. Among them, was Westin the Spellmaster. Westin's head rested listlessly on his fist, he looked like he was about to fall asleep. I could not help but notice that the Spymaster's seat was empty. To the left of Edwin were the honoured guests: Lord and lady Laroux. Ayden Laroux was stoic and alert, his wife's eyes scanned the nobles in the room.

Will and I, along with the Laroux children, all sat at the High Table. It was a miserable place to be. The arguments between Will and Harold dragged on for hours until their wine had hushed them into a deep sleep. After that, I was left with the two quietest children I ever met; Christian and Samantha Laroux. Granted, they were only three and four years of age. But all my attempts to talk to them were answered with silence or one-worded responses.

"More wine, m'lady?" The serving boy hovered the pitcher over my glass, waiting to be told to pour. The boy had long, frizzy brown hair that fell to his thighs. His eyes looked like sapphires and his figure looked like a twig. I glanced at my brother and cousin. The giant steak on Will's plate had taken the role of a pillow for his drunken slumber. Harold was lying in his chair as limp as a corpse, he looked like he was about to tumble onto the floor. Right before they slipped out of consciousness, the wine had turned them into blithering buffoons who argued like toddlers. Lady Haresse always told me that proper ladies mustn't overdrink. But seeing the way these two acted after a few glasses was a better warning than any Lady Haresse could have given.

"I'm quite alright, thank you." I said politely.

"Maybe I can bring you a full chamberpot and you can turn it into wine whenever you see fit." His lips curled into a playful smirk.

My eyes widened and I blinked in disbelief. Even as a joke, servants never talked to nobility like this. But I welcomed it. A smile sprouted on my face and I expelled an airy laugh. "A spell like that would hurt like hell. I rather drink piss."

"Princess!" He gasped. "That's not very ladylike of you!" He sounded offended. But his voice was so thick with exaggeration that I could tell he was messing around.

I laughed, smiling from ear to ear. After my laughter calmed down, I asked, "What's your name?"

"Felix LaFontaine." He said in his most formal voice. He leaned forward in a bow, the wine splashed around in his jug as he did so and a few drops were spat out.

"Well, Felix," I tasted his name. "Would you like to take a seat?" I got up and tilted Harold's chair. The boy slid off and hit the ground with a thud.

Felix's eyebrows shot up and he shook his head a thousand times. "No, m'lady. I could never. I'm just a serving boy. I belong at your table the same way a raven belongs in the ocean."

"The raven will learn to swim." I shot him an impish smile.

"M'lady, I cannot." He frowned. His blue eyes were contrite. "The members of the Noble Court are snakes. This room is a vipers den. What do you think will happen to you if they see you sitting with a commoner?"

"Pfft," I scoffed, waving my hand dismissively. "I'm a Revelian. The Noble Court can eat my shit. If someone looks at us the wrong way, I can have them sacrificed by the Druids."

Felix pressed his lips together. "Are you certain you want me to sit with you? You are the princess. If you have me sit with you, it will be on the tongues of everyone from peasant to noble."

My hand felt my dress. The silk flowed like water and felt just as soft. It was a dress that commoners could only dream of, and it always made me feel so isolated. I loved being a Revelian; the political game was roaring fun and my name gave me a massive head start. But all my friends are nobles and it's all they ever talk about. Sometimes I just wanted to have a friend who didn't play the game.

"I am your princess," I said, wearing a happy grin. "And I am telling you to take a seat."

"As you will, m'lady." He put on an exaggerated fancy-pants voice and flattered me with a bow, then sat down at the High Table.


-=+=-

Vicious Eyes and Malicious White Lies
-Wesley Lancaster-

Dedicated to my close friends and I, whom the characters are based off of.

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