69 | ACT IV, SCENE VIII

P R E V I O U S L Y

Angry and half in love and tremendously sorry, I walked away from him.

HARTINGTON CASTLE, ALNWICK, STORMHOLT.

EDWINA

I SAT INSIDE A CIRCLE of fire.

Red and deadly and angry, the flames were ten metres tall in some places, burning more intense and hotter than any fire I had ever known.

I cried.

I tried to drown my sorrows, but the bastards learnt to swim.

I had hit the point in my life where I just gave up. I fought. I tried. But nothing fit back into place. The demons screamed louder, threatening to eat away the rest of me. And this time, I didn't hold them back.

But I knew I would never hold back the love I had for Tristan Valmont.

Because he had his hooks in me so deep that I could never shake him off. My heart was filled to the full with all I felt for him, and I knew that one day, if I managed to still be alive, I'd still hope and try and wish that he would love the wretched creature that was me again. After all this was over, perhaps he'd forgive me. Even try to love me.

And perhaps, I'd be long gone from Endollon by then. Reunited with my mother. No more pain, no more fights. I wondered if he would think about me.

I knew it had pained him to let me go. I knew he didn't want to let me go.

How did I become this, I wondered. I used to be strong. Strong enough to earn what I deserved and brave enough to face my destiny. I was not this cracked thing that wept in corners at the slightest provocation. No, I wasn't.

I was the Tremayne Phoenix.

They could betray me, hurt me, set me aflame and watch me burn. But they would not, could not, destroy the fire that burned in me. Because I, like Endollon, was born from blood and steel, and I, like the Tremayne phoenix, would rise up and eat alive the very flames that burnt me to ashes.

It could fall down. I could lose that spark. But I had to make sure, absolutely make sure that I rose as the whole damn fire.

I could not sit, waiting for some knight in shining armour to come and save my life. I had to save myself.

Cosmo had three rings. One to each of the worlds. I would find them. I'd get the rings and go to Seattoria and destroy the Titans. I'd find myself a place to belong in. Not this wretched country. I would burn the whole of Endollon down with my fires if it came to that. Or I would draw out its heat and freeze it to death, even if the strain of using so much power would kill me.

But I would not, absolutely not, give my life for the murder of my sister's triplets when the Trial took place tomorrow morning.

I fingered the slim Bloodstone dagger in my hand. If they already took me for a murderer, it wouldn't hurt to actually become a murderer. I had the dagger. I had my sword. I had my Hellfyre. I had my bow and arrows. And I had my hands. Both my hands.

I had my crown. And I had no intention of letting anyone take it away from me. My wrist bore Cosmo's mark, the six pointed star that caught the shimmering light of the hot flames. I had my people. I had Dracnesse. I had Dilston Castle, fire made brick, and the heat in it flowed in tandem with my own. I could lay cities to waste.

The night passed.

The tears and water in my veins turned to acid and vinegar.

I would not be some damsel in distress, loved once for my beauty and then cast away to weep. I would be wild, insane and brazen. Difficult to find and impossible to forget.

I got up with a purpose.

I hated my life to the very point that I wanted revenge on existence itself.

• • • • •

I was packing up.

Only Ava and one of my handmaidens stayed, the rest dismissed by me with orders to let no one enter.

The worry of departure ate me alive.

Although his possessions were still there, mine were gone - and it was as if the room had faded in colour. No longer the haven of joy it had once been, it was a cesspit now: filled with memories of a happier past. Lost keys were strewn on the floor, along with unwritten letters and their broken seals.

It hurt me, all of it.

No matter how far I went away from this castle, a small part of me would always stay here, residing in the heart of this castle, residing in the depths of this room. Tristan and I had lived within these walls, we had spoken and fought and loved within these walls. But that had been another day. Today was different, and yesterday would never come back again.

I pulled open the last drawer in the corner of the room containing our weapons. We used to fight together. We knew each other. We had each other's back with every fight, close to such a point that I knew not which knives were his and which were mine. How many hours we had spent together on that polished hardwood floor, herding each other, goading and pushing and growing with each other.

That was all over now.

I turned in the lock of the last catch of my trunk and stood up to look around. The room was now stripped bare of any possessions I called mine. Except for tonight's dress and jewelry and my weapons, everything was packed. The heavy luggage stood ready, strapped and locked. My drawers in the tables gaped, where my mess and his would often be stuffed together, drawing arguments and fights. The rosewood cupboards he'd made for me were now empty, void of all the velvet and silk that was now folded into my trunks.

Those castle towers and those rolling hills were mine no more. They belonged to him. They belonged to the past.

I motioned for all the handmaidens to leave, all but Ava, who nervously looked at me with a sad light in her sorrowful eyes. I picked my whetstone off the desk and sat down with Hellfyre, my hands moving the flint over the metal and sharpening it.

I hadn't seen him since yesterday.

The morning had dawned as a glorious, brilliant blue. The castle had been humming with the sounds of people busy at work. Celestina crooned in the halls, making white lilacs and red roses blossom while she directed the men to arrange all her hefty pots and vases.

I had finished clearing up my belongings around noon. By two, all my papers and documents were neatly stacked into piles. By three, there remained absolutely no evidence that I had ever lived in the Castle. The afternoon dragged on as my hand moved of its own mind across my sword, sharpening it to perfection.

The sun began its journey downward as the hourglass filled up to six in the evening. The planets must have begun to move into position, because at twelve midnight, the six planets would realign in the perfect hexagon, like every one hundred years.

And after enduring the evening, I could finally leave.

"You must get dressed for the Ball, your Grace," Ava softly touched my shoulder, making me look into the tears in her gentle eyes. She hastily wiped them away as I put down my sword and got up, surveying the dress the seamstresses had stitched for the occasion.

The pretty thing had an empire waist and sleeves that dropped to the floor, a sweet concoction in sea green that brought out the colour of my eyes. Moonstones were sewn into the fabric, making it shine like emerald waters in the night. Strings upon strings of jade green necklaces and earrings were supposed to be worn along with it.

Yet this dress was for the other woman. For the woman who needed colors and vivacity in her wild life, who had happiness and joy and satisfaction. This was for the Edwina that had been.

The Edwina who was, was different.

"You don't like it," Ava said quietly.

"No."

She had the sense enough to not ask why, but looked at me with a questioning eye.

"Madame DeVilliers will sulk."

"Let her," I finished. The seamstress was moody and she often had her fits.

"Ava," I said suddenly, my mind whirring. "Get my black dress."

"Again?" she asked, eyeing the black clothes I was still wearing, and I gave her a wary smile.

"Not any black dress, Ava. Get the black dress."

• • • • •

I looked like I could have come straight from Hell.

I was the woman in the mirror and the woman in the mirror was me.

I was wearing the black dress.

It was off shouldered black silk, raw and pure. Down my waist and near my ankles, the black turned to dark crimson, like blood pooling around my feet. Rhinestones glittered on the bodice and diamonds on my neck. My hair was swept up, leaving the back of my white neck bare in the moonlight.

I picked up the first of my daggers and secured inside the strands of my red hair, leaving only the ornamental rubies of the hilt visible. The rest of the knives went around my ankles and under my sleeves. I took my jet black leather whip and coiled it around my wrist.

Then I placed my crown in place and smiled as I watched the rubies sparkle in the gold. The red lips curled up in a bitter smile, the eyes under the dark, long lashes glittered like poison water.

A knock sounded at the door. It was a single rap, with such detachedness and impatience that I didn't need to figure who it was. I knew.

The skirts swished around my ankles as I took my own sweet time to get up. Another knock, this time louder and impatient. I deliberately walked slowly and opened the door. The hitch that rose up in my throat I managed to gulp down just in time.

There went my heart.

Tristan waited coldly in the doorway, looking as suave as the devil, dressed in his customary black slashed with dark blue. His cape angled off a shoulder, his boots clicked on the floor, his head was a mess of ruffled black waves. There was a slight tilt to his lips, and he frowned darkly, but those blue eyes didn't look at me once.

We'd have to play this farce to the end - to put on a show of being together one last night.

Before I left him forever.

For a single second, I saw pain and hurt flash in his eyes, his gaze staring right into mine.

Come with me, he seemed to say. I'll keep you safe.

I could not reply, I could not even look at him.

I love you, I tried to speak. Yet I couldn't.

The second passed as the cold frigidity returned to his eyes, once again making him detached. He only held out a hand with his eyes on the door, looking the other way.

I love you, I wanted to say. I love you and I care for you, and that is why I need to leave you before I hurt you even more. I don't want to break your heart again.

Say it, I tried to tell myself. Say it before you leave him, say it so that he knows.

I wasn't strong enough to speak.

I could only slip my hand into his.

It was cold. Not the warm and comforting touch. He would have slipped a hand around my waist and pulled me to him, pressing his lips to mine with urgency and whispering a sarcastic retort in my ear. Today, however, his movements were mechanical and stiff, as if wishing he were anywhere but not at my side. Well, I couldn't blame him, considering what he had seen the other day. For him, I did not exist anymore. Only in memories.

Memories were the worst form of torture.

We slowly climbed down the stairs. There were flowers in various corners, arranged in tasteful blossoms. The melodious sound of the lutes drifted up, along with the fragrance of the orchids.

Celinette was adding the finishing touches here and there, dressed in a gown of flowing silver with diamonds in her open hair.

"You look good, son," she said, a plump smirk up her lips as her eyes dragged down my dress. I saw a look of admiration there, quickly replaced by anger and hatred.

So that was how they were doing it today. Well, that worked just fine for me.

"Thank you," Tristan said coldly, stepping past them. Not a single word out of place, not a single word more than needed. Even when he'd been downing bottle after bottle of whiskey to numb the pain, he'd somehow been able to show up sober, dressed in tendrils of smoky midnight so dark that it slashed my heart with lines of pain.

Hartington Castle lent itself beautifully to the occasion.

Lights had begun to shine in the great lawns as dusk approached, shimmering with hundreds and hundreds of candles. Cymbeline and her band of musicians were setting up their instruments in the minstrels' gallery, where she was furiously directing the men while trying to fix her hair.

Then the people began to come.

• • • • •

It was the most painful evening either of us had ever spent.

It was a blur of blank conversation and laughter, dull and lifeless. All faces appeared to look alike, or maybe it was just the wine. Cymbeline went on crooning out melody after melody to accompany her tedious waltz. The guests kept on coming and coming on and on, reserving fixed smiles for Tristan and the occasional insult for me.

Neither of us spoke a single word in return, to each other or to the guests.

I was a statue, and the person beside me was ice.

Tristan was so white that he looked terrifying. He had once again slipped on a cold mask that betrayed no emotion. Even when he smiled, the light refused to reach his eyes. His smile was not the smile I knew, his eyes were not the eyes I knew. Once every now and then, pain would flicker over his features, betraying his misery, locked in his own private hell. I, and only I knew the immense amount of pain hiding behind every word he spoke.

Such was the miserable sham, the sham we had to endure and put up for the guests, until the clock struck midnight.

"I do hope you remember the... event for tomorrow afternoon," Amphitrite said from one side.

"Your Trial," Eric hissed in my ear, his face that of an exultant devil. My sister was hanging on his arm in light blue. "I pray you enjoy your last night alive, cousin. Tomorrow, I will seek justice for my dead children," he vowed, locking grey eyes right into mine. "Murderers must be punished..."

"I know people like you," my sister said. "It isn't my first time dealing with people like you."

"Oh, really," I spat, opening my mouth for the first time today evening. "Dealt with murdering lunatics like me before? Maybe I'll invite them to tea so that we can discuss targets over tea and biscuits!"

"You won't be having tea, not anymore," Eric said with a sense of finality. "Because by this time tomorrow, I will have had your life."

"Spineless, cowardly, conscienceless, horrid beast you are," Amphi whispered, her periwinkle eyes darkening. "You will do the world a favor by dying!"

I angrily turned to her, my hands aglow with flame as Eric turned it to crackling steam.

"You know what, Amphitrite Tremayne? The person who coined the term bitch clearly never met you!"

She merely howled with laughter and shoved me in the chest. I steeled myself before falling and got up with fire in my eyes, resisting the urge to punch her straight, or use my whip.

"Tomorrow, we shall see," I snapped.

"Sleep well, Edwina Tremayne," Eric smirked, as they both began to walk away, leaving me in the grass. "You're going to die tomorrow."

"Why don't you go and fuck yourself?" I hissed, slamming a fist straight in his chest. He scowled darkly at me and sauntered away.

Alone, I walked around the Ball, my last few hours at Alnwick.

Vanessa, in gold and cherry red, hair sleek and straightened, was hovering near Llewellyn. He scowled and his gaze turned hard as she saw me and groaned, turning to him with an upturned nose.

"Here she comes. Our disgraced Queen Regnant."

"You will stay quiet, Vanessa, or it will be you who is disgraced," I growled. Llewellyn protectively pulled her behind him and stood up to me with a hand on his sword hilt.

"Get away from her," the grey in his eyes turned to coal black.

"God knows why Tristan invited a murderer to the Ball. What if she kills someone tonight? Or breaks the guest right like she did with Halette?" she taunted, and my whip began to crack and splutter, drawing both their attention.

"Oh, yes, you're right," I hissed. "I am a murderer. I wish I had enough poison for the all of you. I would gladly give my life to watch you swallow it!"

I spotted Celestina lingering around in a slinky pink dress, a martini in hand. Her cheeks were flushed from one drink too many. Aeneas Everly sulked around her, dressed in robes of dark purple, dragging her to the appetizers.

So it was those two? I would have never guessed.

Eros and Erida were arm in arm and very much in love. Father didn't dare look at me, choosing to go and talk to the hideous Fayette, who looked like a peacock in her dress. Fayette, the goddess who took the form of the woman the man found most beautiful. I often wondered who she appeared as to him? To Tristan? I guess I would never know. Beside Fayette, hovered her brother and husband, Deimos glowering at anyone who came too near, especially shooting burning glares at my father.

Aidon saw me, dressed in dark green - his eyes indescribably dark today. Dustin was bawling his head off, and my brother handed him to Irina, clearly unable to handle the crying infant. The baby began to drool on her light green gown.

"Come on, Aidon. I'm sure you can find better company than her," she said, dragging my brother away.

In a secluded corner in the dark, I found Drusilla and Alaric perched on a single loveseat. She was draped all over her brother's lap, her blood red dress hitched up, leaving her long, shapely legs bare. In between sips of the red wine in the dimmed lights, they kissed each other passionately. She wrapped her arms around Alaric as he pressed kisses down her white neck. The glass crashed to the floor as he slowly began to tug at Drusilla's dress, pulling off miles of endless silk.

Somewhere in a dark corner, I saw Tristan sitting alone with a glass of scotch filled to the brim. His eyes were lost, like an abyss of darkness that seemed to go on forever. The sight nearly drove me to tears.

And beside him, I saw Lunette.

It looked like she was trying to get him to dance with her, with him firmly refusing and turning her down. She looked like a shining star, dressing in golden gauze and nets, gold shimmering from her ears and falling to her shoulders like teardrops.

Then I saw something that made my blood run cold.

A flash of glimmering black in the crowd. Something that was as fluid as blood and shone like glass. Another flash, near the ivory statue, blade tracing an arc in the air.

It was a Bloodstone knife.

Someone in the crowd had a Bloodstone knife!

I whipped my head around, looking into the crowd, at the people dancing - someone had a Bloodstone dagger. Instead, I saw Halette and Vincent talking to Celinette. A sour look on her face formed as she saw me and she started to lead them away.

"Very dangerous, who knows what was she up to-"

"You're very kind, Lady Valmont," I spat. "The pennies littering the bottom of the Derwentwater reflect more personality than sycophants like you."

She looked at me with utter shock and I strode away, surprised to hear a familiar voice at my shoulder.

"Edwina, wait," Halette called out. She was in a strapless green number that matched the colour of her eyes, with pearls all around. "Listen!"

"Get away from me," I cut her off, with no mood to talk to people who left me when it suited them and came back when it suited them.

"-but-"

"-no." I said firmly.

Amphitrite was talking with Verona now. Her daughter was in light grey, making her eyes stand out, with her golden hair softly falling in ringlets around her shoulder. She saw me, making her face contort in anger. Verona. My sweet, sweet niece. I would spare her my cruel jabs, I decided. I loved her like she was my own. I walked out of her way to avoid my tongue from lashing out, when I caught sight of Lunette's brother, Edmund. The god of animals and wild beasts. He was scratching his leopard behind his ear. The animal gave a satisfied growl and flopped down as Edmund absentmindedly patted it. It gave a cheeky grin and licked his hand and he laughed warmly at it.

There, there it was again, the flash of steel.

It was right behind Amphitrite!

I had to do something before there was a knife in her back!

She saw me, and scowled, sparks flying from her eyes. My sister turned and started walking towards the exit. I kept a safe distance behind her.

The person had a knife.

I was pretty sure it must be the same one who tried to kill her children. Why would anyone want to kill Amphitrite?

I followed her out as she swayed slightly, a bit tipsy from the wine. A direct confrontation was unavoidable, and yet, in front of everyone else, there would just be a ruckus, allowing the person with the knife to escape. I decided to see where she went, and where the hooded figure followed her to. Once safely out of the Hartington lawns, it would be safe.

Over and out, past the gates, she walked. I noticed a slight stain on her sleeves, the colour of wine. She must be going to Ellesmere. To change, possibly. Because the Ball showed no sign of stopping, and besides, there was still half an hour left to midnight. At twelve, the planets would realign and the fireworks would go off. Before that, no one would leave.

The person followed her as the night air hit my cheeks. Here, outside, it was cool and peaceful, a few sounds of the piano coming from inside the wall, but otherwise, relatively quiet. Foliage and shrubbery grew along the wall to one side. The hooded person was hidden in the leaves, knife drawn as he or she followed my sister. She was walking, and I waited till I got close enough to the person.

At the same moment the lethal knife was drawn, the whip uncoiled from my wrist and I threw it with precision, catching the person at the ankle. A loud 'crack' resonated in the air as leather hit flesh, but my sister was further away and didn't notice.

"Where do you think you are going?" I demanded, sprinting lightly to the fallen person who fumbled for a moment, and I caught the slightest angle of a sharp nose in the moonlight, familiar somehow.

I had seen that nose today. I tried to remember where.

The person did not answer, started to get up as I reached into my hair and flung my dagger at him. He ducked, drawing out a sharp sword, and I saw the gleam of Ekrite. I had only knives, he was armed with a sword.

We fell upon each other at the same time.

"Stay away from her!" I hissed, as he caught me in a headlock, pinning me against the ground and choking my neck. Lights danced in front of my eyes as I struggled to breathe or try to summon my fire. Desperately, I broke free, but the man was surprisingly strong, moving with the grace of water.

I heard footfalls. People approaching.

Another throw of my knife, it hit his shoulder as I bent to retrieve another dagger from around my ankles. It was a mistake, for the next time, someone knocked me over. I struggled in the hard grasp, knocking off my heels and getting up barefoot, my knife piercing his neck as his sword moved over my back. My body was suddenly jerked backward before I made another strike, hands dragging it away from the hooded figure, more footsteps, a thud, sounds of scuffle as the leather of their clothes began to sizzle with fire.

"You didn't tell me she was armed," a male voice said.

"She has her daggers everywhere. Seriously, you fool, can't you take a woman down?" a female asked, even this was a familiar person, but the hands clasped around my throat began to choke me harder, cutting off supply to my brain and making it hard to think.

"Piece of work she is," growled another man, how many were there? Three sets - four, maybe - of hands held me back as I kicked and bit the hand covering my mouth, tasting blood. There was a female grunt, a howl of pain, yet a surprisingly strong grip on me that held when others faltered.

"There, that's better," the woman said.

I grunted and kicked her squarely in the gut but the man behind me swiftly jolted back my hands, and the sound of my bone breaking resounded like a whip in the air.

I tried again, and again, and again.

But they were more than four, I was just one.

Over and over I tried, until I was down to my very last dagger. Even when I tried to gather my power to summon the flames, I was deftly deflected, tossed off and knocked down. I tried harder, and faster, but could only get as far as a handful of Hellfyre before every ounce of my strength was drained. Ears ringing, nose bleeding I finally managed to gather enough to get one final hit, before the man caught my wrists firmly, twisting and immobilizing them.

"Is this what you wanted, Edwina? I'm sure your mother would have been delighted to see you like this," the female purred softly.

And then, her white fingers picked up the black Bloodstone knife and thrust it right into my side.

• • • • •

Bet you didn't see that coming.

Y'all, any guesses who did this? This is literally the turning point of this book - everything, and I mean, EVERYTHING goes downhill after this. The person who did this to Edwina has started off a catastrophic explosion. An avalanche.

ALSO DID ANYONE NOTICE THE TYRION REFERENCE??

Deimos is a bitch, I agree. But I've always had a headcanon about him and Fayette: he is the only male who has ever seen her true form because he finds her the most beautiful. He's evil and cunning and mean, but he's a faithful lover, you have to give it to him. He's never had any affairs. Yep, all these gods are evil bastards but they've all got good and bad inside them.

One of the paragraphs here was inspired by Nikita Gill's poetry. Guys, literally- go read her poems. They're just amazing.

Also, who finds baby Dustin incredibly cute? Aidon is a hopeless father, lol - the poor man has no clue how to raise a baby.