44 | ACT II, SCENE XVI

P R E V I O U S L Y

"It's not like I expected you to care, anyway. I'll be perfectly happy with my drinks," Tristan whispered in my ear, walking right past me and vanishing into air.

HEXHAM PALACE, SKELDERGATE, ALLINGTON.

EDWINA

THE ROTAVELLES WERE ALL THINGS green.

Green eyes, green pastures, green fields, green jealousy.

But their souls were blacker than night. Far in contrast to the black unicorn on the white background of their flags.

White unicorns, black flags, black hearts, black sheep.

Gold in peace, steel in war, their words were. Words as fickle as wanton winds.

I'd never understood why my father seemed overly protective of keeping me away from them. True, they were a difficult lot, but what kind of Queen had no enemies?

And yet, my father's obsession with keeping me away from them was...  unusually strange. It had risen to peak after my Trials. He used to constantly be at my heels to keep me apart from the enemies who would see me killed because they knew I would become Queen, taking up their own spot.

Well, well, well... see where we stand now.

"Ah, your Grace, there you are!" Emerick boomed from the stairs, gliding down to greet me, a courteous smile plastered onto his face. He'd dressed all in green, and my voice itched to tell him that he looked like a capsicum stuck in a salad.

"Lord Rotavelle," I nodded my head as he bowed courteously. His facade shone so strongly through the cracks, we both knew that he was a horrible actor. But then, two could play at this game.

"You did not arrive with your husband?" Emerick's sister and wife, Justaline, asked with fake interest.

"He... does not know that I am here," I replied murderously.

"Oh," she cackled, and in her voice I could hear the quiet beginnings of gossip.

The glaring absence of a loving couple everyone expected to find had raised more than a few eyebrows. Tristan would most probably have no idea I was here. He would have arrived early at Allington, it was his own brother who was getting married after all. I told myself I didn't know why I came, but deep down, I knew exactly why I was here.

For him.

"Your presence lends itself beautifully to the elegance of Skeldergate, your Grace," Emerick continued with a sickly smile sweeter than honey.

"Why, thank you," I tried to keep myself from laughing at the ridiculous lie.

This man who had blindfolded me, had me tied and chained to a post and threatened to kill me and my family not less than a month ago.

"Such soft fabric," Justaline tinkled artificially, rubbing the sleeves of my dress with interested fingers, feeling the silk. "Did you get this made especially for the occasion?"

"Llewellyn is my brother in law and very dear to me. I believed a new dress was in order, Lady Rotavelle," I forced myself to smile at her, and her jaded eyes brightened in a daze at once.

"Of course, of course," she said, spotting someone in the crowd around us. "Excuse us?" she added uncertainly, and I nodded as they both left and I looked around the wedding hall.

The ceremonies hadn't begun yet, I supposed they would start in an hour or so. I had been here since quite some time, having met so many of the gods and goddesses that I was fed up of the honeyed conversations. Ambassadors, immortals, mortals ... the list didn't end. The Rotavelles were not as politically connected as the Valmonts, so it was a relatively smaller affair. Yet extravagant. Very. The entire hall was decked in blue, white and black, and the curtains and hangings were gold. Obviously. The Valmont and Rotavelle colors.

And nowhere in the crowd had I spotted that head full of messy black hair in waves. Or the sight of the crown studded with sapphires the colour of midnight.

Oh Tristan, I sighed. I miss you so much.

"Wine, your Grace?" a passing server asked me.

"No, thank you."

It was important to keep a clear head at such events as these, especially for conversations with the more elite guests. Because when my tongue loosened with wine... well, no one liked the deadly truths that rolled out of my lips.

"Ah, afraid of getting drunk and passing out in front of so many people, Edwina?" asked a smug, leering voice from behind me.

I turned around to find Favian Rotavelle, dressed head to toe in black and white, his hair neatly tied back and green eyes mocking, dripping with venom.

"If I were you, Rotavelle, I'd worry more about not howling like a constipated duck every time a woman knees your balls."

He grimaced slightly, annoyed as the memory of our fight before my coronation came to mind, making a corner of my lips pull up. Favian's eyes wandered down my dress, resting at the top of my hips where my dress pleated down to a leg hugging flare of silk.

"Lovely legs," he said, and a shot of anger flashed through me. "I wonder what time do they open for your husband?"

"Long past your bedtime, cousin."

"Ah. Rumor says that you both are... not the most compatible, you know?" he asked quickly, licking his lips, then stepping up behind me. He smelt like a dark forest, full of green truths that swallowed the brightness of the light. "Now now, if I were your husband, I'd have you bent over for me in no time, ready and willing to-"

"Don't flatter yourself, darling. I have heels longer than you wish your dick was," I blew Favian a kiss over my shoulder, watching him turn redder than a beet. "Can I get you some ice for the burn?" I sweetly smiled.

He knitted his brows in a deadly frown, eyes turning blacker than black.

"The only thing I want you to get," he hissed, "is lost."

"Congratulations, Favian!" trilled a high pitched, female voice beside me. "Looks like you've replaced the hobby for spreading your legs in exchange for spreading rumors!"

I turned to my left, almost smiling to see a woman with delicate ecru skin and ombre hair. Honey highlights framed her face in soft curls. Happiness literally played about the edges of her pine green eyes, and she winked at me as I winked back at her.

Favian grunted, giving me a smirk as he walked away.

"I don't believe we've met?" I asked the woman, and her expression softened, taking me in. Her lips were a flaming rouge red, just enough to make her look classy.

"No, I believe. I'm Halette Rotavelle. Daughter of Leander and Sarette, offsprings of Emerick," she said with a twinkle, offering her hand as I shook it with a firm grasp.

Ah. Halette Rotavelle.

She and her husband were the only immortal couple who had no children. Her offsprings, if she had any, would have been one of my cousins, taking part in the Trials alongside us. In a way, it made her old enough to be my aunt. Yet they were the Rotavelles I knew the least about, mainly due to the fact that they never took part in their House's quarrels.

"I am-"

"I know who you are, your Grace," she said with a grin as I regarded her coolly. "Sorry for interrupting, of course, but you have many admirers." She cheekily tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, bracelets jangling.

"I see."

"You don't believe me, do you?" she asked quizzically.

"Well," I carefully strung my words together. "My mouth has a habit of running away with me at times."

Halette Rotavelle chuckled good naturedly, running a hand through the waves of her hair chestnut hair. They'd been styled to a loose chignon, apparently she did care about making an impression.

"That is what makes people admire you, you know, Edwina? The fierce warrior goddess who isn't afraid to speak her mind or whip out her sword to protect the ones she loves. Your people worship you."

"That's high praise coming from a descendant of Emerick," I observed.

"True, that," she laughed merrily. "Won't you have some have wine?" Halette grabbed a glass of bubbly and pressed it in my hands, grinning as she raised her own glass. She appeared to be on her third drink or so already, accounting to her tipsiness.

"I swear to god, you Rotavelles are all intent on getting me drunk."

"We all have our flaws," she smiled, pretending to look surprised and then breaking into a fit of laughter. "But the champagne is really good, you know. I can almost feel the grapes exploding on my tongue!"

Hmm.

I suspiciously looked at the golden liquid in the tall, crystal flute. It looked divine, tiny golden bubbles fizzing on the surface like pearls, beckoning me to taste the shimmering champagne. I unwillingly raised the glass to my lips.

Her eyebrow raised perceptively as I tilted the glass. Yet my lips did not meet the liquid.

It almost seemed too... suspicious.

"You first," I ordered, handing out the drink to her. My voice was unwavering, firm and steady, not the voice of the princess of Dracnesse, but the Queen Regnant of Endollon.

The colour fled from Halette Rotavelle's face in an instant.

She must have tampered with my drink.

That explained her eagerness.

"Go on," I demanded, pressing the cold glass into her unwilling palm. Her hand shook as it clutched the flute of the champagne glass. "Drink it. Right now."

Hesitating, she slowly curled her fingers around the stem, painted nails in sharp contrast. Her eyes had lost their green to give way to complete black. Ever so slowly, the rim met her lips but she stopped right there.

Ah, I was going to catch her red handed.

She wanted not to tip it down her throat but I glared into her eyes with temper.

"Halette Rotavelle, that was an order. Now drink the fucking champagne before I make you."

Her lips pursed once more and a muscle twitched up one corner of her face. Nearly fumbling, she boldly raised the glass.

The liquid tipped down her throat.

I stared, surprised. If she'd spiked my drink, she'd have felt the effects of it too. But there was nothing out of place. I looked at her closely as she drained nearly half the drink in one go, observing for any concealing smiles or lying frowns.

Nothing happened. She looked as hale and hearty as ever.

My suspicion slowly melted into relief and  squeezed out a small smile to meet the one in her eyes as she handed the glass back to me. I reached out to take it.

"Wait!" Halette grabbed the glass and set it down, handing me one filled with clear water.

"Water?" I asked darkly. "Why would I want water?"

"I feel like it solves all problems. Want to clear your face? Drink water. Want to lose weight? Drink water-"

"-tired of your man? Drown him," I laughed, raising the glass as we clinked them, and Halette chuckled happily, draining her glass in a long sip. I set down my own glass, still not drinking the clear liquid.

"Are you even real? I think you are an angel dropped from heaven," a man's voice breathed down our necks and Halette lightly slapped his cheek, laughing.

"No, idiot. I'm a ghost that died five centuries ago, just like that horrible pickup line," she teased, and the man bowed to me.

"Your Grace," he said in a rich voice.

Another of the Rotavelles. Olive green eyes, lightly tanned skin and coffee brown hair combed to one side. The deep shine of intellect glimmered in his smart eyes, as he looked me up and down, seizing me in an instant.

"Allow me to introduce my brother and husband, Vincent. God of sciences," Halette said graciously, and I extended my hand as he kissed my knuckles.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, my Lord," I said politely, and he smiled.

"The rumors of your beauty do you no justice, Queen Regnant," Vincent said smoothly.

I gave him a disarming smile as he looked at Halette, balancing two more drinks in one hand.

"Ready for another round of awkward conversation and unmet familial expectations?" he grinned.

"No, but you got us alcohol, so I will be," she chortled, and all three of us laughed in unison.

• • • • •

TRISTAN

"I do believe you handled the Rimebay incident very well. Excellent judgement," someone observed.

"Thank you," I pointedly replied.

"Everything going well at Stormholt?"

"Never been better," I said dryly. "Excuse me, my Lord."

"Of course, your Grace."

I meandered through the crowd, meeting many people who stopped me to talk, but I was a world away, somewhere else, only half interested in the conversation. This was the part of being King that I hated. It was the sort of thing Eric was good at. Not me.

The competition here was not waged with steel and blood and knives, but with silk and poetry, and I hated those.

I was afraid my smiles were showing cracks and finally grabbed a glass of sparkling water from a server to keep myself busy for a moment.

My eyes traveled over the hall, uninterested in the pretentious people milling about. I just wished I could leave. Yet I was a King, more than that, I was a brother, and it would deeply disappoint Llewellyn if I was absent at his own wedding.

In a silent corner, Vanessa sat on a bench, toying about sadly with an ice cube in her drink, sleek golden hair falling in an unkempt mess around her tear streaked face. She'd been sniffing when we entered. The amount of sorrow I felt for Nessa and Llewellyn was immense, because it hurt greatly seeing the one you love marry someone else.

Somewhere around the middle, I saw a tall woman talking to a couple of gods who I distinctly recognized as Vincent and Halette Rotavelle. She wasn't facing me, the crowds had obscured her body and even the back of her head.

The only thing I saw was that there were navy blue roses tucked in the confines of her flaming red hair, which cascaded down the proud shoulders in a wave of crimson. The crowds moved and I caught sight of the fair face, sea green eyes sparkling with mirth. They held the shine of sharp intelligence, carefully tucked beneath the merry smiles lighting up her beautiful eyes.

She was dressed in a jaw dropping ensemble, a gown that was darker than the blue sky, glimmering with golden beads like night stars. Her sleeves were alarmingly long, nearly a meter long and dropping to the floor in elegance.

She turned around and saw me.

I stepped forward and saw her.

It was her.

• • • • •

To all those people who were pissed at Edwina for not making it to the wedding, here you go. She always intended to go but she didn't want to tell that to Tristan :(