32 | ACT II, SCENE IV

P R E V I O U S L Y

Then I blew out the candle, donned my cloak, and left the room. Headed for the second room at the end of the third corridor.

DILSTON CASTLE, KNAVESMIRE, DRACNESSE.

[TRIGGER WARNING: VIOLENCE!]

EDWINA

AFTER A WEEK OF CATCHING up with my duties and pushing through meetings and responsibilities, I finally got time to be here.

To come home to Dracnesse.

I opened my eyes after teleporting to Dracnesse. Standing before me were tall, long turrets rising above the dark burgundy towers. The huge gates were opening as the watchers saw me teleport right outside the walls of Dilston Castle.

"Our Queen is here!" someone shouted.

Tall and grand, it had a foundation in the shape of an octagon, the eight fold shape flanked on all corners by turreted columns reaching to the sky. The smell of burnt ash in the air from the volcano lying underneath. The power I controlled over fire kept the lava burning inside in check, because I could absorb all the heat from it and use it if I needed for my own purposes.

A welcome party came out to greet me, and they immediately ushered me into the foyer where three men were waiting to welcome me back on my arrival.

The first was my father, Lucius Tremayne, with a worried face and even more worried eyes. The second was a dark haired main with gold flecked eyes. He was my closest advisor and clever minister, Francis. The last was a large, strong looking man with the features of a hawk. He was my spymaster, Hullard.

"I heard what happened at Rimebay, are you alright?" my father was worriedly turning over my wrists. I laughed and rubbed them together, the marks left by the chains were gone long.

"What has been going on in Dracnesse while I was away?" I inquired.

"Lots of things," Hullard muttered.

"Which might be cleared up by this," Francis produced a tightly scrolled letter, as if he were offering a red rose to his significant other.

I briskly took the letter and unrolled it, scanning it quickly.

"The fuck is the meaning of this?"

"It's very clear, Edwina," my father sighed. "Deimos has been taking loans from us, he is coming here today with another-"

"Excuse me," I interrupted curtly, "how many times have you lent him money?"

"Er... seventeen?" Hullard said tentatively.

"Let me guess. He returned the money you lent to him?" my voice dripped with sarcasm.

It stated that the Everlys wanted some more gold from us. It just wasn't fair, it absolutely wasn't. Both the Everlys and the Tremaynes had won equal sides of the river Derwent, which turned objects dipped in it to gold. Just because Deimos had wasted his half did not mean that we were obliged to surrender ours to him.

"He never returned a single penny," Francis said smoothly.

All three of them flinched as I slammed a hard fist on the table.

A crack ran down the middle as I raised my eyes to theirs.

"Is this what my Council has come to in my absence? To a bunch of cowards who let themselves be robbed out of fear? I left Dracnesse for twenty years for my Trials, damn it - is this what we have come to?"

"You don't get it," my father tried to reason, "Deimos is the god of terror, Edwina. They have an army larger than ours too. It is better not to cross him-"

"-they're here," Hullard peeked through the door. I caught sight of Deimos Everly and his two wretched sons standing outside, before it was slammed back shut.

"Leave, all of you. I will deal with that thief," I hissed. Not a single man moved from his place.

"We can't leave you alone with three dangerous men," my father began to protest, ignoring the fire in my eyes.

"Leave. Before I throw you out. Else you will find another Queen to serve," I growled in a voice that brooked no argument.

• • • • •

The three Everlys stepped in as my father, Hullard and Francis stepped out.

"Good day," Deimos snarled, slamming the door behind him. Alaric and Aeneas Everly loomed behind him,  swords gleaming in the folds of their robes. Their witch of a sister, Drusilla, was thankfully absent.

"Good day," I said frigidly, seating myself. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your charming visit?"

"We need more money," Alaric interjected rudely with a demanding gaze. Deimos gave his son a blow on the head for speaking before him and I shot them both a filthy glare.

"Well, let me try to phrase what my son so rudely spat out-" he said smoothly, helping himself up. "The thing is, we've run out of money and need more for Normount to function."

"May I ask you how many times you have returned our loans to us?" I snapped harshly, getting up. My chair scraped the floor. "I'm very sorry, but there will be no more gold for you until you return what you took back from us."

"You should do as he says," Aeneas grunted, coming round to me. "Tell you what, lend me a good amount of gold and I'll even let you have a night with me," he chuckled. The atrocious bastard slipped a hand around my waist, trying to smooth talk me further.

"Careful there, Aeneas. You might want to take that hand off me unless you want to lose it," I spat.

"Fuck off," he hissed angrily, his face white as cruel and cold snow as his hand twisted mine.

"I said no," I slammed him in the chest.

His lavender eyes gleamed like shining coals and Deimos and Alaric too shot me angry, demanding glares.

"You better do what we say," Aeneas brusquely whispered into my ear as I pushed his hand off me. Infuriated, I reached out to draw my knife before he slammed me to the ground.

Taken aback, my body knocked past the oak chairs as he attacked me in a growl. I ignored the violent pounding at the back of my neck from where a wooden splinter punctured me, instead I pulled it out forcefully, aiming for Aeneas.

Suddenly, Alaric pushed my head back down, pulling the splinter out of my hand and instead sticking it straight into my wrist. Blood spurted out in a red fountain, as I tried to hoist the two very heavy gods almost sitting on top of me as Deimos bent down to me and pulled out his knife.

"The gold, Edwina," he snarled. "Do it, and we'll get out of here."

"You better do what he says, pretty woman. Else it does not end well for you," Aeneas laughed maliciously at my plight.

"As if," I croaked hoarsely, as he wrapped his hands around my throat, rings glinting on his long fingers.

"Just like your husband, then. I should have let him taste more of my whip. It would clearly have done me some good," Deimos sneered, above my head with his knife.

How dare he hurt Tristan.

His words flamed a sudden flare of black temper in me, and I violently grabbed hold of Alaric's wrist, deftly pulling it back. A smile escaped me as I heard bones crack. Aeneas reached to hurt me once more, plunging a dagger down, and I rolled over.

I pulled out my sword as I saw Aeneas slice through Deimos's wrist instead, in the very spot I had been seconds ago. The three of them whirled themselves at me as I tore the top off the table and they pulled out their swords. I knew I could not defeat Alaric and Aeneas in a fight, no matter how skilled I was. They were the gods of war.

Alaric roared and lunged at me, his sword whizzing in the air as I flung the table top right at him. It flew with a resonating crash, taking him with it, and I dashed to him and pulled out my knives. Aeneas growled and turned me over as I unsheathed Seraphine and kicked him in the groin as he cut a deep gash on my neck. Deimos twisted my ankle as I made to get up, and I fell on top of all three of them, groping at my legs.

My hand moved and I plunged it right into Deimos's neck. Blood gurgled out again and blinded the other two as I nearly avoided it. Then I tore at his nearly severed wrist, twisting it backwards as his face gritted in pain.

"No gold for you," I spat, getting up and nicking the tip of my sword at his throat. "It was a wrist the first time, Deimos. Next time, it'll be your arm." His white face was coated with a deadly sheen of venomous anger at being so awfully bested by someone who wasn't a man.

My wounds ached, yet they had already closed, only the blood remained.

"And the next time you raise a hand to the King, I will personally deliver your death sentence."

I wiped my hands on the silk of his cloak, glaring him right in the eye.

"I hope you realise the hell you've just invited on yourself. I will hurt you for this."

Then I delicately picked up my skirts, stepped over them, closed my eyes, and disappeared.

• • • • •

HARTINGTON CASTLE, ALNWICK, STORMHOLT.

"Fight back, Llewellyn! Or are you afraid I'll scar that pretty face of yours?"

I stopped, hearing Tristan's voice from the courtyard below. I'd come back to my chamber, cleaned up, and was free for the rest of the afternoon. From below, I heard the clash of steel on steel, grunts and panting. I looked down.

I saw Tristan, facing off against his younger brother Llewellyn, and my younger brother Aidon. He had a sword in both his hands, and with dexterous skill wielded them both, blades dangerously flying in the air around him.

The three gods were sparring but I quickly realized that Tristan had an upper hand, being ambidextrous.

Interesting.

I leaned over the parapet, put my hand under my chin, observing the three.

My husband moved with the grace and swiftness of a panther, his black shirt uncrumpled and spotless. It made me hot just by looking, for I could clearly see each and every hot damned inch of the eight perfectly defined squares of lean, gleaming muscle under the black cotton.

It was a deadly dance, lethal. It was something. I was in love with the way he fought. It was like water. Ruthless, violent, yet calming at the same time. A work of art.

My brother, Aidon, was a bit more muscular, making his moments slower. Llewellyn, however - something felt off about him. His clothes were nearly in tatters.

"Up, left, up, down, right - keep your eyes on my sword, Aidon!"

"You said right!" Aidon protested, as Tristan's sword went left. Llewellyn lunged at him from the other side.

"Keep your eyes open. My voice lied, my hand didn't!" Tristan snarled, avoiding a kick from Llewellyn and letting loose a string of curses. "Get up!" he shouted, as his brother slowly got to his feet, dragging them.

Something was clearly wrong with Llewellyn, who seemed down today. The young god was almost always bursting with excitement, today he just looked sad. I watched as he let himself he pushed down without any resistance.

Llewellyn tried to attack, and Tristan swiftly took a step back, his fist flying out, connecting with Llewellyn's nose.

Bone cracked loudly, resonating in the courtyard. I saw that the angry taunts of the High King of Endollon had brought out many to watch. Apollo was haughtily watching his sons from his study. Many attendants had stopped their chores. Celinette was quietly observing her sons from the opposite side, silvery hair flying in the wind. Yet her face was twisted with worry.

"Goddamn, Llewellyn, that was like taking candy from a child!" Tristan shouted crossly as Llewellyn tried to stem the bleeding of his nose. "Hells, that was easier than taking candy from a child!" he bellowed.

"Shut the fuck up!" his brother growled angrily, eyes flashing.

"Llewellyn!" Celinette said, horrified, from the balcony, "language!"

"Leave them be, wife," Apollo shouted at her.

I was now seriously worried. Tristan seemed to have lost his temper for some reason, and was taking it out on his poor brother. My eyes still refused to believe what they saw. I knew Valmont cared a lot for him. I myself was very fond of Llewellyn, for he was easy to love. He looked up to me as an elder sister, as someone who could take Elodie's place.

"Perhaps you might consider going easy on him? You're not supposed to kill him! He's your brother, not your enemy!" I shouted down to Tristan with anger lingering in my voice.

In that moment, he turned around. His eyes made contact with mine, shaking his head angrily, before Aidon's sword blocked his view. My husband's palm sliced open as he pulled down the blade with bare hands and a slight grimace. My lips burst in protest as I saw the blood trickle down his white palm.

"First blood," Aidon grinned.

"Does it physically hurt you to keep your damn mouth shut, woman?" Tristan yelled from below, eyes blazing, his voice almost a growl. "Damn it, Llewellyn. FIGHT BACK!"

One slash of his sword sent both Llewellyn and Aidon flying straight to the ground as Tristan picked up the four swords. Two of his opponents and two of his own. When he prowled with the weapons in his hand, I caught a slight smile on his lips.

Then it struck me what he was trying to do.

He was trying to provoke Llewellyn into speaking out!

The younger brother had been acting strangely since the news of Vanessa's marriage. Tristan was trying thoroughly to provoke and shake him up so that Llewellyn confided his problems to him.

That was a brutal method, and Tristan was a cruel teacher, his taunts wickedly efficient.

I let out a sigh of relief.

Tristan was an asshole, but he had one redeeming quality. He loved his family with all his heart. I knew he hated showing affection, but I saw it. I knew he loved his younger brother a lot, that he would never do anything to harm him. Of course.

Not including Apollo, of course. Apollo was mainly seen lurking in corners of Hartington with murderous glares, and it looked like neither father nor son gave two shits about the other. I wondered if Tristan was one of the people in the world who hated Apollo as much as I did.

He pressed the tip of the sword to his brother's throat, careful not to hurt him.

"Get up, Llewellyn," he barked. "Enough of this nonsense."

"Son, stop!" Celinette scolded. "You'll hurt him!"

I teleported to her side and calmed her fluttering hands. The moon goddess was clearly agitated and in distress seeing her sons fighting.

"Tristan won't hurt him, aunt Celinette. He's just trying to make Llewellyn angry enough so that he blurts out what is wrong with him," I reassured.

"I did try to make him talk. He didn't open up to me," she exclaimed sadly. "Oh, Edwina," she sighed. "I was so worried there for a moment."

"Llewellyn Valmont, I told you to get the fuck up!" Tristan bellowed, this time barely containing the restrained anger.

"Yield," Llewellyn said softly, holding up two fingers of his right hand. A collective gasp ran around as everyone stood shocked.

Valmonts never yielded.

Ever.

They prided themselves on their strength. Even their sigil was a lion. The mighty House was known for having the strongest military, even their words were threateningly dangerous. Live by the sword, die by the sword.

"Valmonts do not yield, son!" Apollo exclaimed with fire in his eyes.

"Yield? Yield? What do you fucking mean by yield? We have never yielded!" Tristan shouted at the top of his lungs, loud enough that those living ten miles away could have heard him.

"Mind your language, young man!" Celinette scolded.

"Shut the hell up, both of you! Just the way you kept your mouth shut when Eric agreed to marry his sister to that beast Favian!" Llewellyn finally screamed, slamming his fists on the grass, livid with rage.

Ah. That was it.

He shut his mouth at once, realizing he'd let the cat out of the bag. His brother had caught on it already, though.

"Vanessa is the problem, is it?" Tristan asked smoothly, finally dropping his swords to the ground. A little smile of satisfaction lit his face before it was replaced with a frown of concern. He dropped to his knees beside his younger brother as I teleported myself next to them in the courtyard. Aidon looked at me with a grin.

"Your husband fights like a man possessed," he said to me with a mischievous smile, then grabbed me by waist. "That dress looks great, Edwina. I bet it'd look even better on Tristan's floor," he chortled.

"Are you hitting on him... for me?" I wondered in shock, handing him a playful box on the ear.

"About time someone did it for you, since you clearly lack the talents of the subtle art of seduction, sweet sister," Aidon grinned, and his chartreuse green eyes lit up in enjoyment.

I clicked my tongue disapprovingly, impatiently making him stand and whine as I fixed his tattered sleeve.

"Go and change out of these rags!" I reprimanded him. Aidon eagerly gave me a mock salute and left, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Tristan was talking to his younger brother in a low voice, examining his injuries. Llewellyn's knees and elbows were badly bruised and bleeding, yet the skin had already begun to close.

"It hurts," he winced, as his elder brother poked his nose to make sure all bones were intact.

"You better stay still then," Tristan growled with a glare at him. Yet I saw the careful set of his blue eyes as his long fingers gently tended to his younger brother's wounds.

It touched my heart.

An attendant got iced water and Tristan snatched it off the tray, making sure Llewellyn drank all of it, still talking to him in that low voice with a caring hand on his shoulder.

"Being smitten by another goddess is no excuse to starve yourself to death!" he chided him. "Vanessa is not yours, Llewellyn-"

"-but I like her!" the younger Valmont wailed. "I - I think I love her! When Eric decided to marry her away to Favian, you didn't even say a single word!" he complained.

"That is because Vanessa is not his real sister, Llewellyn," I scolded, affectionately putting a hand on his shoulder. "She is Eric's sister. Eric's family. Neither I nor your brother have a say in it. You think I want that sweet little goddess married to that bastard? No! But can I do anything about it? No!" I answered my own question, sitting beside him. "Look, Llewellyn. If you love someone, you tell them. You fight for them. But there are some things you can't control. Like this. It was Eric's choice to marry Vanessa off to Favian, not you. I assure you he didn't do it to spite you. It was done to end the rivalries with the Rotavelles," I explained further. "This is how politics work."

"And instead of telling someone about it, you chose to keep it within you and stay sad the whole day!" Tristan scolded him further, helping him up. "Go, clean up yourself and leave the worrying to me."

Llewellyn's eyes turned a light grey, very pale, shining with sudden hope.

"Will you-"

"I will try my level best to stop Vanessa from being sold off like that," Tristan reassured him with a slight smile, shoving him towards the steps.

Llewellyn almost tripped, and I caught him. I fixed the button on his shirt and turned his collar the right way up, before sending him on his way.

"You shouldn't give him false hope," I accused Tristan after his younger brother left. "You cannot change Eric's decision; the least you could do is save your brother some heartbreak."

He gave me a frigid look that only started off the burning in my muscles again. I realized he was staring off into the distance at a leaf; and I took the distraction to observe his face.

Then I remembered Deimos and the whip he had mentioned.

"Valmont," I uttered, causing him to look at me with his mesmerizing, deep eyes.

"Yes?"

"Are... you - did Deimos-"

"Did Deimos what?" he asked suddenly, getting up. His jaw clenched at once at the mention of the terrible god's name. I studied his face for a second more, wishing to memorize and imprint all his alluring features into my brain.

"Nothing," I concluded, shutting my mouth. It wouldn't do to let my concern show. I closed my fists around the folds of my cloak.

"Woman?" he suddenly asked, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

"What?" my tone was annoyed and irritated.

His hand suddenly moved to my shoulder. I blinked at his sudden, welcome touch. Shockingly, he unclasped the cloak from around my shoulders, and swept my hair to the right side of my neck. My blood pooled to the spot where his fingers left burning trails in my skin.

"Where did you get this?" he demanded in a vicious tone.

I craned my neck to look at what he was pointing at. A spot of blood still decorated my throat. I recalled the splinter of wood that had been buried at the back of my neck not barely two hours ago. Damn the blood, I'd missed it while scrubbing myself raw.

"Nowhere," I angrily swatted his hand away and grabbed the cloak from him.

"That's my cloak," he muttered darkly, and I glanced at it.

It was the cloak he'd cloaked me in on our wedding day.

"You gave it to me. It's mine," I snapped, snuggling myself into the blue velvet. As goddess of fire, I rarely used cloaks.

But this one... well, I liked it a lot. It was pure and softer than sin, with a blood chilling blue hue, but what I loved about it was his scent.

Yes.

The goddamned Valmont's cloak smelled just like him. Rich and powerful, of wild musk and cinnamon. It crept into my blood and drove me crazy, but I loved it. I had absolutely no intention of returning it. I was halfway down the corridor, when I realized that the original owner of the cloak was following me around.

"Yes, Valmont? Why are you pattering behind me like a homeless penguin?"

Tristan gave innocently undid the cufflinks on his sleeves and helpfully held out his hands to me.

"Can you... ah - fix these for me, woman?"

"No." A smile threatened to make an appearance on my face at his eagerness.

"But you did it for Llewellyn and Aidon," his voice came out in a deadly whine, and I internally rubbed my palms with glee.

"So? Jealous, are you?" I jested.

"Me?" he scoffed. "Jealous? Not at all," he said dryly. "And I'm not a homeless penguin. This is my castle. Everybody likes my castle," Tristan puffed his chest out proudly, and I burst out laughing suddenly, unable to control myself.

He stared at me, blinking with wide eyes as I descended into fits of helpless laughter.

"Did I say something wrong?" he inquired, peering at me with big blue eyes.

"Nothing at all," I stifled another laugh.

Shooting him a convincingly murderous glare, I slid the cufflink into the sleeve of his shirt and buttoned it. He looked at his hands as if he had won some sort of prize.

"Stop smiling like that, Valmont. It's terrifying."

"Shut up."

"No," I pressed further, my mood favorably improved. I was trying not to think of how adorable he looked when he whined, and when his hair stuck up on tufts all over his head. "I did something for you, it's only fair you do something for me in return," I teased, marching towards our chambers with him in tow.

A sudden crash made me turn around and I saw him, red faced and cursing under his breath.

Oh lord, the man had walked into a pillar.

"Like?" he asked, and the tips of his ears slowly turned a light pink and he sheepishly grinned at me. I wanted to tug the mischievous god down by the ear and kiss him full on the mouth.

"Like..." I pretended to think, looking at him through my thick, long lashes. A wish had been playing about the edges of my mind since a long time, I only wondered if he'd give in. "Teach me how to fight with my left hand!"

In an instant, his face returned back to its grim demeanor, and his eyes turned dark, sizzling again with angry fury.

"Never," Tristan spat, turning on his heel and walking away, not looking back to notice me or my crestfallen face.

• • • • •

Ahh, every time our couple starts to make some progress, one of them quickly flips it off. Arrrgh!! It's frustrating to me too, I assure you. But it's not going to be this easy, hmm ;) This chapter was on a lighter note, I tried a cute Tredwina moment. Though they both are too stubborn :(