“I—I didn’t do that,” he stutters. “It was her! It is her,” he says, face paling and eyes wide as he points a single finger up at me. “S—she has the touch of ruin! I saw it! I felt it!The Nought shall bear the crown of fate.She’s the nought and you’ve given her a crown!”
The guests fall into a deafening silence, real fear splashing across their faces as their eyes find me.
Something flashes in Morin’seyes. It’s fear yet not fear of me, rather fear of her plans being disrupted. The sound of someone laughing heartily breaks through the tension. A laugh that’s become familiar to me.Sitri’s.
“You all don’t actually believe that, do you? She doesn’t even have a crown, Soothsayer.”
“Not a literal crown—m—metaphorical. She’s been given a position of power,” he shouts anxiously to the attendees.
“She has no power,” Sitri snaps. “Unless you consider the ability to annoy me a power.”
A few quiet laughs emit from around the room.
“S-she will beckon the end—“
“I promise you, she’s harmless. Anyone who believes she isn’t I encourage you to come and speak five words to her,” he says raising his voice to address the room. “It won’t take long to see the only one she poses a danger to is herself.” He chuckles and Morin laughs with him this time, coaxing out more laughter from around the table.
My cheeks burn hotter.
“It’s her! I saw it!” the Soothsayer says, voice rising in agitation. “She’s been sent here to destroy us!”
“The noughts have no such plan,” Morin says calmly. “That was evident when we took out half their soldiers on the battlefield.” Morin rises from her seat and gestures to the Masks standing guard at the door. “Remove him.”
“Wait, you’re not listening--” he says frantically.
“We’re not sullying our alliance because of old, paranoid sayings. This nought is no threat to us.”
“The signs are clear! She will bring ruin.” He fights weakly against the Masks pulling him toward the door. “THE NOUGHT SHALL BEAR THE CROWN OF FATE,” he screams. “THE MAGI’S FALL, THE FLOODS DEB—“ His words cut off with the slamming of the door behind him.
The guests quiet again until Sitri, who’s taken to looking up at me as if estimating me, breaks through the tension by chuckling again, stirring up another round of laughter. He bounds up the steps two at a time and takes his seat beside me. Once the room has returned to its normal volume, I sense his eyes searing into the side of my face.
What happened?He voices the words in my head because he doesn’t want to be seen speaking to me. I ignore him, eyes scanning the chamber without seeing anyone or anything.
Pet?
When I don’t oblige him with a response, he says it again out loud.
“I don’t know,” I snap, refusing to meet his gaze. His chair screeches against the floor as he slumps back into it with a sigh. The minutes pass painstakingly slowly as plates are emptied and refilled. Feasting, laughing, occasionally gawking. I no longer even have a glass to busy myself in.
A middle-aged woman with long, dark curly hair and bright green eyes makes her way up the steps. Age lines her face until she beams and the wrinkles seem to fade. Sitri who’d taken to staring off into the distance with a palm under his chin, sits up straight.
She does a little hop, her exuberance falling off her in waves, and reaches out. I’m shocked when Sitri does the same, taking her hands into his own as his brows wrinkle in confusion. “Sitri, look at you.” She leans over the table and presses a kiss to each of his cheeks before steadying her hands across his shoulders as if to get a better look at him.
“Delyah…I didn’t even know you were here.” He surveys the room. I follow his gaze out to the unnerving stare of Morin. “W—what are you doing here?”
Delyah huffs in feigned offense. “You think I would miss your wedding?”
“Well, considering…” Sitri waves a hand and I interpret those two words to their core. Considering he’s marrying a nought. Considering this isn’t reallyreal.
“Look at you,” she says again. “Your mother would be so proud.” She beams, trailing her hands back up to cup his face. Sitri jerks his head and scoffs softly.
Delyah frowns before turning her gaze on me. She bats at his hand. “Aren’t you going to introduce me? I promise he was raised better than this. He forgets himself.”
Sitri shifts with bemusement. “Um, Delyah, this is…Syra. Syra this is my aunt Delyah.”
The next thing I know she’s cupping my face and pressing a kiss to each of my cheeks too. “Absolutely beautiful,” she says, pleased. “You will balance him out perfectly, I think. And straighten him out too.” She casts an admonishing look at Sitri. Heat flames at my face. She’s making this feel…very real. Sitri seems as embarrassed by it as I do—if not more. She finally frees me and straightens as she turns her attention back to him.
“Firebranded,” she says in awe.
