56 | ACT III, SCENE IV

P R E V I O U S L Y

Amphitrite was standing right in the doorway.

And behind her, his face just as white - my husband.

HARTINGTON CASTLE, ALNWICK, STORMHOLT.

TRISTAN

THE BOOKS IN MY HAND dropped to the floor.

Amphitrite shrieked loudly, her eyes darkening to cerulean as my fists opened and closed, red hot anger overtaking everything I had as I saw the scene unfurling in front of me.

Edwina and Eric.

No.

Eric wouldn't do this to me.

Edwina wouldn't do this to me.

Not after today morning.

Not after last night.

Clearly, I was a fool.

And she was an excellent actress.

They were both in the middle of the room. Every inch of his body was pressed against hers. The way I wanted to press my body against hers. He had his hands curled around her neck, lips molded around her mouth, as she moaned and tugged his hair, the way she tugged my hair.

Anger rose up in me, fury I had never felt before. I was further enraged by the fact that neither of them seemed to have noticed the insane thing they had just done, or that Amphitrite was shouting at the top of her voice, shouting her head off.

"How-"

I pulled Eric off, as he looked at me, eyes hazy with desire, my hands tightly gripping his shoulders, and I noticed, infuriated, that the top button of his shirt was open.

"-dare-"

I balled my wrists, using all my might and anger as I punched him right on the nose, hearing the satisfying crack.

"-you!"

He angrily fought back, landing a blow on my shoulder as I wrestled Eric to the ground.

"-how fucking dare you!" I snarled, every word a brutal blow as I aggressively punched his ribs, the crack sounding like a whip in the air, insanely mad as he tackled me to the ground.

"Valmont, get away!" Edwina spat, pressing her lips again to Eric's as I fought to rein in my anger. I pulled him off her, for her, and she comes and kisses him again!

"Eric LeVane, you cheater!" Amphitrite screamed hysterically, and she forcefully pushed Edwina off her husband, who was still mad and craving with lust.

"You little fucking bastard," I spat, picking up the half filled goblet off the table and hurling it at him. The glass crashed against his cheek, and the blood trickled down his temples, mingling with the sweet wine.

"Get out!" Eric snarled, as I threw another ceramic vase at him, crumbling it to splinters.

"He is my HUSBAND!" Amphitrite was shouting at Edwina, shaking her shoulders. Her hair was disheveled and her crown had fallen off as fire flickered in the depths of her eyes.

"AND YOU!" She shouted at Eric. "HOW DARE YOU CHEAT ON ME WITH MY SISTER, YOU, HOW DARE YOU FUCKING KISS MY SISTER!" Amphitrite continued, and she took the glass plate off a shelf, hurling it at him as three knives and a platter followed as well.

"Eric, do you have the slightest idea what you were fucking doing?" I demanded, breaking his already healed nose again, and he thrashed my shoulder as I bellowed angrily, and the ground began to shake as the sky darkened to black. "She is my wife, you bastard! HOW DARE YOU, ERIC!" I roared, as Amphitrite pulled him up, her palm almost joining with his cheek.

"We are going. Right now. ERIC LEVANE, YOU HAVE SO MUCH EXPLAINING TO DO!" she shouted, and they both left the room as he merely gave her an amused smile. The bastard blew Edwina a kiss as she smiled coyly at him, making my blood boil, and even from here I could hear Amphitrite shrieking at him. "AND NO MORE SEX FOR YOU! YOUR OWN WIFE IS PREGNANT AND YOU GO AROUND WHORING WITH OTHER WOMEN - YOU SEE - YOU JUST SEE!" Amphitrite screamed, as Eric hauled her out of the hall.

She turned back to a disheveled Edwina with fury gleaming in her eyes.

"I'll deal with you later, sister," she snapped, as the door closed behind her. There were stifled giggles from outside. I stormed open the doors which flew back with a loud bang, revealing the attendants standing there. They fearfully scurried away under the intensity of my burning glare.

And then, I turned to her.

• • • • •

EDWINA

Oh god. Oh god.

What had I done?

What had happened to me? I was married, for crying out loud!

I kissed another man. My sister's husband. And she and my husband both saw it.

Was I mad? On what account had I kissed Eric? Eric was like my elder brother, he was my friend. He loved Amphi. What the hell was wrong with me?

Amphitrite had seen it.

Tristan had seen it.

After all that had happened today morning in bed. After last night. After I woke up in his arms today morning.

I had fucked up everything.

His expression was smoothed completely, like a blank page, yet the eyes gleamed dangerously as they darkened. His hands had gripped the chair handle so tight I was surprised why it was still intact.

It broke.

Then he deftly turned on his heel, still shaking with anger. His black cloak billowed behind him as he stormed out of the room, and I followed him instantly, out of any words for once.

He didn't speak to me.

He didn't look at me.

He just walked.

We walked at a steady rate through the gilded corridors, calmly. To someone else we might have been taking a stroll, but only I knew how angry he was.

We reached Tristan's study, and he stiffly held the door open for me. His face was completely white and cold, the face of the dreaded High King of Endollon, not the caring man I knew to be my husband.

I stepped in.

So did he, closing the door behind us and slamming it shut with the click of an unseen lock. He leaned against the door with his arms crossed, every inch of his face taut with anger. A muscle twitched at his temple, and his knuckles cracked hard as he merely tightened his grip on the wood.

I knew that all we both had managed to cultivate between us in the last few months would now be gone.

Just because of my stupidity.

I still hadn't figured out how I had let it happen. It felt as if someone else had done it - someone else. Eric was a good man, yes, but Tristan was like the finest wine - seasoned.

So how, in the name of every deathless god, had I, Edwina Tremayne, gone and kissed another man?

We stayed that way for a few minutes, as he watched me. Gradually, Tristan's face returned to its original color, his fists unclenched, and I could hear him muttering to ten, settling his anger down, before he finally spoke.

"Would you mind explaining that fabulous scene I just chanced upon a few minutes ago, Edwina?"

I took a deep breath, involuntarily biting my lip and trying to pat back my hair, then settling the crown on top of it. What was I even supposed to say? The fault had been mine. It was inexplicable and irrevocable.

"I asked you a question, woman," Tristan said in a deadly still voice.

"I don't know. I don't know what came over me," I blurted out suddenly, and he merely looked at me, fingers tapping on the desk as he waited. Gods, how was I going to explain, it just happened. All of a sudden. "I - I just... I just felt like it-" I spoke, but immediately cringed when I realized how wrong it sounded. How very wrong.

"Really?" he spat, tone sarcastic. "Mind telling me how many men do you kiss everyday behind my back when you feel like it?"

"Look, I didn't mean it that way-"

"-Ah, is it?" he snapped.

"He kissed me first-"

"-if I recall, you are more than capable of defending yourself from unwanted admirers. And it didn't look like you didn't want it. You looked very much to be enjoying yourself."

"And I-"

"-and when I tried to pull you away, you only came back and kissed him again."

"Eric kissed me first," I repeated.

"Have you ever heard of a thing called free will?" Tristan demanded angrily, as I looked at him sullenly.

Gods, what had I done?

"And even after today morning. I thought we had something. And that thought, clearly, was wrong. You play men like instruments, Edwina. All you did, all you pretended you did, it was an act, wasn't it? We will always be Valmont and Tremayne, the way we have always been. I was trying, I thought you too were trying. I was a fool. Because what they say about you is right. You are manipulative. I will repeat to you again the thing I said to you on our wedding night: you are a deadly clever actress, Edwina Tremayne. You even had me fooled."

"Look, Valmont," I pleaded. "I don't know - it just came over me, all of a sudden, I swear to you, I didn't mean it. I didn't, I swear it on my life. I was trying to, I really was!" I said indignantly. "Because I can't hate you, I can't. In fact, I-"

"-save your lies for someone who cares," he snapped.

"I'm not lying, I swear it! It just... happened," I said sadly, twiddling with my thumbs. I had had one chance. One. And I blew it. And now he'd never talk to me again, never. And my life would go on blankly the way it always had been, devoid of him. I hated myself.

"How many more men?" Tristan asked quietly.

"What?" I gasped.

"How many others, woman? How many others have you been making out with behind my back?"

"I swear, it was just once," I implored. "I swear it on my mother!"

He waited for a moment, pausing at the mention of my mother. How could I make him understand?

"Fuck you, Edwina."

"Really?" I spat, my rough voice taunting him further, "you clearly don't have the balls to do so!"

For a minute, he didn't move. Then he clenched his white fists, and smoothed his face, barely concealing the fury blazing across his perfect features. What came out next was a voice deadlier than spilled silk.

"What did you just say?" his voice was dangerously low, frighteningly calmer than a sea before a storm.

"Fuck me then," I hissed, my tone was smoke. "If you're man enough to do it!" I raised my chin to look him squarely in his furious eyes, defiant and bold.

He took one step.

Then another.

And then another.

His alluring, strong body surrounded me on three sides as he rested his hands on the wall, effectively trapping me there with no place to go. It wasn't as if I wanted to go anywhere else.

He was cruelly, sensually deliberate, inching one hand up my waist, his touch searing all my nerves which were already wracked with sexual craving.

One crash, as all the papers and ink sitting on the mahogany desk were flung to the ground, leaving the surface bare.

And then, an explosion of longing in my chest as he rolled up his sleeves with a knowing glint in his eyes. Tristan deftly picked me up, ignoring my whines aching for release, and then arranged me over the desk, as if I were a piece of art and he was the curator of the museum.

I felt my body start rolling towards an exquisitely crafted ruin as he leaned over and hotly whispered in my ear, making me melt.

"Let's see if we can do something about those pretty red lips of yours, shall we?"

I was wrecked and strained with arousal, like spilled quicksilver, boiling and sizzling. My breath was catching at every turn as his hands traveled up my slender neck, then caressed my chin - his cruel, white hands, hands that killed men in a single sweep yet could reduce this goddess to a hot, hot mess.

"Yes... please," I croaked, my hands were everywhere - lost in the black silk of his messy hair, tugging him closer and closer by his shoulders, wanting to taste his lips - his ambrosia stained, heavenly, golden lips - hungrily tasting him in all his fierce glory.

And then, he drew back, the ferocity back in the set of his eyes.

"I can't kiss you like this. Can't kiss you when I'm still tasting him," Tristan Valmont spat out, and then coldly walked out of the study.

• • • • •

DILSTON CASTLE, KNAVESMIRE, DRACNESSE.

"Hey," Aidon said, wandering about with a stack of vellum and quills, giving orders to his spies. "You look down. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I said briskly, trying not to think of the absolutely horrid afternoon. He frowned again, commanding the men to go, then came to me, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"Tell me. Did someone hurt you?"

"You very well know that if someone hurt me, I'd be wiping my sword clean on my sleeves, not aimlessly wandering about," I said briskly, walking through my Castle, as the attendants saw me, dropping to their knees.

"But what happened? Your husband giving you trouble?"

It's the other way round.

"No," I said, finally stopping and facing him. "Get some sleep, Aidon. You're not going to yet any after your child is born. I have work," I said, patting his back and walking off without waiting for his reply.

Just like Amphitrite, Aidon's wife was pregnant too, in fact, the child would come any day now. She was my third Rotavelle cousin, sister to Favian and Celestina.

"I'm quite excited, you know," he bounced behind me. "Do you think it will be a boy? Or a girl? Or what powers will it have? Will it like me?" he proudly puffed his chest. I ruffled his hair, beckoning him to go.

"Go and cool down, Aidon," I said exasperatedly. "And don't worry. Just breathe. You're going to have a perfect child."

He got the cue, but his eyes still had a haunted look as he waved goodbye to me and I smiled sadly at him. I was fighting hard to control my emotions from sneaking out of my eyes, which was why I decided to get it off my mind with the important task at hand.

"Irina?" I called out, reaching her chamber, and her voice drifted out at once.

"Is that you, Edwina? Do come in."

I opened the door, stepping into the bright, cheery sunlit room. It reflected her personality. Aidon's wife was bright and snappy, unlike the rest of us all. Brooding in the darkness.

Irina was the youngest of the three Rotavelle siblings. The Rotavelles wanted her to marry Tristan, like all the fathers wanted their daughters to. She, however, met Aidon, fell in love with him, and they both eloped. The Rotavelles were furious, and they disowned her. Rayden and Therese brushed off all rights to their youngest daughter.

And Aidon had taken up complete responsibility for her, and they both stayed at Dilston Castle with my father. And me, occasionally. And now my brother was about to become a father himself. My sister was a mother.

And I, the eldest?

I was headed for the ditches.

Wouldn't mother have been proud, the voices taunted me from inside. Look at what you've done.

Irina had put her feet up, resting on an easy chair, knitting away tiny clothes of wool. Fabrics and sheets and sheets of cloth piled up on her pregnant belly, and she was talking with her ladies about which ones to use and which to discard.

"Hey," I said, and she looked up. Coffee brown hair, emerald green eyes. She had an endearing, homely face with a stubborn nose and sharp eyes, she gave me a warm smile, pushing back her curls of brown hair. I loved her curls. She said they got messy and hard to comb, but I still loved them. They framed her face perfectly.

She was goddess of jewels and wealth, while Aidon was the god of the forge. Perfect for each other, literally. He often joked about how suitable it was that she got married into the wealthiest House of Tremayne.

"What's up, cousin?" she asked, waving her ladies away who took the fabric and needles with them. "You look like you've been hit by something. That, or you've been crying in a corner, careful not to let the tears ruin your mascara."

"You idiot," I said warmly, sitting down next to her and cracking a strained smile. "I'm alright. And I don't use bloody mascara."

"Whatever," she shrugged nonchalantly, clearly not believing me, but her eyes flicked over me once more.

"How's the baby?" I asked, tentatively placing a hand on her stomach, and she turned slightly, rubbing it and giving me a wink.

"Baby is fine. More than fine. Kicking a lot," she grinned, making me finally laugh. It was easy to laugh with Irina. She was a close, close friend of mine. For the many long years between mother's death and my coronation, she'd been the only goddess in Dilston Castle besides me. It was hard not to like the smart woman: she was the sort of woman who stabbed men without blinking an eye but still looked adorable knitting baby sweaters

"That's cute," I said, impressed, and helped her up as she leaned over the window. "Are you taking your medicines on time?"

"Yes. Double checking with Amphitrite as well, asked her what she used to do when she had Verona."

"Good," I muttered.

Amphitrite. Amphitrite had been so bloody angry.

Of course she'd be angry. I kissed my younger sister's husband in front of her. Now I also had to go and apologize to her.

"What's up, Edwina?" Irina asked softly, taking my hand. "Something is wrong. Will you have some wine?"

"No."

"Well then, something is seriously wrong with you. What happened?"

She sat down as I lingered near the window, running my fingers through her luxuriant curls as Irina worriedly looked at me. I tried to hold back my tears, and I triumphant smile escaped me.

"I - I need help, Irina," my voice broke slightly.

"What kind of help? Whatever you need, I'll try my best."

I sighed, biting back my lips and looking out of the window, down the red stone slopes of the volcano under us. That volcano thrummed with fire underneath, fire that was directly bound to me. If I ever perished, it would explode and burn down the rest of Dilston Castle as well.

Irina was the only person I knew for sure hated the Rotavelles as much as I did. Her own Rotavelle parents had disowned her for running away to marry the one she loved.

She was the only person who knew the way to get into Skeldergate, the Rotavelle capital - her old, native home.

Because I needed the Felonwood.

And also because I had to get Halette and Vincent out of there.

She warned me about the drink. About the trap. She saved us. How could I let it pass like that? I could not bear the thought of them both having to suffer on my account. The family would have beaten up both of them, considering the sensitive details they divulged. I owed them my life.

"I need to get into Hexham Palace. Undetected. I need you to tell me how to get in."

Irina said nothing, opening a box at her side and picking up a fistful of precious gems, running them through her hands. She threw away the ones she didn't want like defective stones, picking up a huge, cherry red ruby and examined it in the light.

"You know how much I hate the Rotavelles, Edwina. I want to help you. But why do you need to get in?"

She pressed an emerald into a metal strip, her clever fingers indenting and working it into an intricate bracelet.

"I - need Felonwood. For some use. And I need to rescue Vincent and Halette Rotavelle. They warned me beforehand that the Black Wedding was a trap. Emerick would have poisoned and killed me if not for these two."

Irina intelligently didn't ask me about what the use was, setting a diamond in the mesh of her bracelet in next.

"Halette and Vincent are my aunt and uncle. Few of the kinder ones, ones that actually cared for me. So yes, I will help. Felonwood is dried and pressed and always kept in Halette's mother, Sarette's, study. I will tell you how to get in without alerting a single guard. I've done it repeatedly many times in my childhood, over and over," she grinned at me. "I want you to know you have my full support."

"Thank you, Irina," I said, letting out a sigh of relief.

"So now," she said, grabbing a nail and another emerald, and I sat down beside her. "This is what you must do."

• • • • •

"Hmm... alright," I said finally, getting up. My mind reeled with so much information that I felt like a wine glass filled to the brim. One push, all gone.

"Are you sure you're going to be able to remember all that?" she raised an eyebrow, wary.

"Yes," I said confidently, then looked out of the window to watch the sky. "I suppose I should get started. Before I forget," I said, trying to sound amused. "Thanks a lot," I smiled.

"Where do you think you're going, Edwina?" Irina asked as I reached to open the door.

"Skeldergate?" I said, and she got up with surprising agility to stop me.

"I'm coming with you."

"Absolutely not!" I said firmly. "You're in the ninth month of your pregnancy, for crying out!"

She grabbed my wrist, preventing me from opening the door.

"You are going to save members of my family at a risk to your own life. I will not let you do it alone."

"Look," I said, determined. "My life is never at risk. If needed, I can burn the whole place down before they realise what hit them," but she had already placed her hands on her hips, glaring at me, and gathering daggers and knives.

"No. Have you forgotten that Tristan put the whole Rotavelle kingdom under wards? As a punishment for the Black Wedding? You can't use your powers when in there!"

"I'll be fine, Irina! I swear - I've got all my swords and blades. I can fight my way out of the Palace if it comes to that!'

"No."

"No," I protested, but she didn't let go. "There is no question of letting you do this. Aidon will kill me if anything happens to you or the child."

"Edwina. Stop trying to resist! I'm not going to listen. I am coming with you. And if you don't let me, I'll chain you to the door and bore you to death with tales of misery. And you can't hurt a pregnant woman just to escape, can you?" Irina asked with a gleam in her eyes.

• • • • •

Who here likes Irina? *raises hand*

She's suggesting a death trap, y'all. Getting into a dangerous place where Emerick Rotavelle lives and you can't use your powers? It's really not a good idea, ya know!