26 | ACT I, SCENE XXVI

P R E V I O U S L Y

"Your - your Graces?" the attendant declared. "It's Lord Emmerson. He's come back from his hunt."

ARCTON FORTRESS, RIMEBAY, VERTGATE.

EDWINA

"DAMN IT," I LET OUT a low sigh, glaring at the attendant, who quickly bowed his head, not letting me see his red face.

Very slowly, Tristan looked at me, hesitant. I was still reeling from the tsunami of sensations of being held in his arms, of feeling his touch on me. His mere touch set up drizzles of liquid heat shooting down my spine, flaring into explosive volcanoes at the points of contact. The storm god's eyes were very dark, very blue, and very unreadable as they stared into mine with a similar expression of utmost longing and pure yearning.

Holy lord, for a second there... I thought he would kiss me.

I was very conscious of the red flush heating up my cheeks, slowly creeping up from wherever his hands made contact with my shoulders. Quietly, I untangled my arms from around his marbled neck, reluctantly withdrawing myself. Tristan himself let out a frustrated sigh and slowly pulled back from me. The scent of cinnamon and musk retreated as I took a few steps back, separating myself from him.

"Tell Lord Emmerson that we are waiting for him," I croaked to the attendant, my voice hitched and breathless. The man scurried away as fast as his legs could carry him.

Tristan and I broke apart, taking steps backward in opposite directions when I realized I was breathing very heavily from the intense intimacy. My throat ran dry as I opened my lips to speak.

"I'll... see you around," he interjected first, his voice very strange.

"Alright," I answered quietly, turning away to face the doors as Tristan strolled away to the incoming mass of people waiting outside to enter the room. They must have heard the attendant's tales, no doubt.

I tried to smooth out my flustered self, cursing him under my breath. His voice kept on ringing in my ears again and again.

"The way you keep on hurting me, woman, it doesn't make you any different from the rest. You're just more of the same."

Tristan's words had cut into me like sharp knives, wounding me right where I was most vulnerable. I couldn't explain to myself why they hurt so much, why they seemed to strike me right in my heart. I just couldn't understand why I let myself be affected so by him.

Eric marched in, his face now returned to its always calm demeanor. He'd gotten a change of clothes, and a small smile quirked up as he saw me standing at the far end. More people fanned out behind him, a literal procession as everyone entered the hall again. Tristan, Eric and I stood up on the raised steps, waiting for the hall to fill up.

Philip dragged in the Rotavelles too, setting them up in a corner. Justaline knocked him aside with her elbow and glared at us, while Emerick fixed a steely, angry gaze at me alone.

"Get lost," he spat, skin flashing.

A whooshing metallic sound resonated in my ears as everyone around me drew their swords, angry and bitter. I was no stranger to insults, I had received a fair share of them since the day I had first set foot in the rebel states during my Trials.

I wrapped my fingers around Emerick's neck and coolly looked glared at him.

"The next time you call me a bitch, Lord Rotavelle, I will carve you out like a piece of meat and leave you to the hounds," I whispered calmly in his ear, wordlessly sharpening my blade on a stray flint.

The hall fell silent at my naked threat, savage and harsh.

"Call in Lord Emmerson," Eric broke the silence, motioning to the doors. He shot me an annoyed frown as the men opened the gates.

A young man smartly in brown hunting leathers entered the room, an elk swung over his shoulder. His black hair was streaked with threads of pepper grey, yet his eyes were a deep amber, just like that of his sister, Rosalva. Vivian Emmerson's gaze was sharp as it roamed over the hall and finally rested on the remains of his charred Fortress. The god of medicine took a moment to compose his expression and dryly took in the handiwork of the Rotavelles in his absence.

"Your Graces," he said curtly, dropping to his knee. The elk slipped from his arms and he passed it to a fat cook waving a ladle.

"Lord Emmerson," Eric said, getting up as he signaled to the man to do the same. Vivian stood up upright, unfastening his riding gloves as he coolly regarded us without a flinch.

"Perhaps you'd like to explain all of this?" Tristan motioned around the room, where all the soldiers, immortals and remaining men had gathered.

"I can," Vivian said.

"What are you waiting for, then?" I asked. His eyes flicked to me, but no hint of emotion passed over his composed face.

"Very well. I was on a hunt with my children, Lunette and Edmund. Rosalva has no taste for such... activities, so she stayed back at Rimebay to look over our patients. The day you and your wife came," he looked at Eric, "she was all alone. Suddenly, Rotavelle soldiers were at the gates-"

"-and she let them in-" Eric said angrily.

"Eric, hear him out," Tristan frowned. "You told Rosalva to let them in?"

"Naturally," Vivian said curtly. "She was all alone, and Emerick threatened to take the city if she didn't oblige. As we mentally communicated, I promised her I would be back as soon as possible. But of course, it would take some time and they would have harmed my wife, so yes... I told her to let them in and capture the LeVanes."

"And why had you not stationed your own men at Arcton to be there when such emergencies occurred?" I asked him. "Such pathetic security is no excuse for negligence."

"Because I had not anticipated it. My men were with me. My mistake," Vivian told us dryly. "I am an Emmerson of Rimebay. We have no taste for... the distasteful activities the rest of you Houses partake in." For the first time, a tinge of emotion colored his words. "Unlike the Tremaynes, Valmonts, Everlys and Rotavelles, House Rimebay has been and always will be a peaceful House. Weave trust with trust," he concluded, referring to the words of House Emmerson.

"So you let them in because there was no other way?" Tristan turned to him.

"Obviously, your Grace," Vivian agreed. "I have no wishes to align my House with either of your politics. We have always kept our peace with you. House Emmerson has nothing in common with the other gods, and I would prefer it remain that way," he stated simply.

"You forget," Eric pointed out. "You claim to be different, but you do have something in common with the rest of us."

"Which is?" his amber eyes glowed.

"Do you remember that night, Vivian Emmerson? That night they disappeared? My mother, Erida, and your parents, Atherton and Cymbeline? That night, fifty years ago? When those gods took a trip to Vezort Island and never came back?" Eric whispered, his voice softer than silk.

It was an incident which had pained us all, to say the very least. Three gods, eliminated and lost, just like that. They must still be trapped on the island, but there was only one minor problem.

No one wanted to get into the island... because they were scared of never making it out.

"-it was purely an act of self defense?" Tristan was still questioning Vivian.

"Of course. The Emmersons of Rimebay still owe their allegiance to the Monarchs of Endollon," Vivian told us.

"And what can you do to assure us of that?" I asked.

"Whatever you ask," the god of medicine said.

The three of us looked at each other for a silent, hard moment. It was hard to put him to death for a crime that was clearly out of his hands.

"Very well..." Tristan finally concluded. "You will not be punished because this was purely an act of self defense."

An audible ring of sighs went around the hall as everyone exhaled a breath they didn't even know they were holding. What they definitely did not want to know was what would happen if all three Monarchs decided to punish an offender at once.

"However," my eyebrow raised, "the cost for the repairs of your Fortress will not be borne by us. Get the money from the Rotavelles, or use your own as penance for your negligence."

"And pray to the stars that this isn't repeated, Emmerson," Eric growled from the corner.

"...if it pleases you," Vivian said after a moment, his eyes harder than stone. "Do I have your permission to leave?" he snapped.

"Not yet," Eric stopped him. "No one leaves before we sort out this mess with the Rotavelles."

"It's not a mess!" Emerick yelled. "Edwina Tremayne got a crown that wasn't even hers!"

"And who are you to decide that the crown wasn't hers?" Eric interjected.

"And you decide to lure her into her death by involving four large families of Endollon?" Tristan hissed. "Very subtle."

"Shut up, all of you!" I snapped. "For once, can we talk about something that doesn't involve my death?"

"That will unfortunately continue to remain a topic until we deal with these fools," Eric sighed. "No, no, no. This cannot be done. This feud ends right now, do you understand? You," he said to Emerick, "you will stop trying to kill my cousin at every chance you get. And you, Edwina," he glared at me. "You stop threatening everyone within a ten mile radius of you, understood?"

"Guess what?" I tugged him aside angrily. "I am not your bitch."

"You-"

"You don't give orders to me, Eric. I am a Queen. My king is my husband and my husband is my king. You are not my husband. You are not my king. So you do not have any right to give me orders. Understood?"

"This is not the way we end feuds, Eric," Tristan said dryly, ruffling his hair to one side in a way that made me want to pull it out of his head and kiss him senseless. "The best way to make alliances is not by setting castles on fire and burning the city. The best way of making alliances-"

"-is marriage," finished Emerick with a greedy smile.

• • • • •

Guess who Emerick is suggesting for a marriage proposal? :D see ya all next time! Do vote please, it will be highly appreciated!