Apparently, she has resigned herself to looking regal and inserting unhelpful exclamations here and there. At least I’m not being forced to sit through one of her never-ending tales of her childhood or how she and the king fell in love.
Paola perks up at the queen’s attention. “Could you even imagine Prince Beau learning to fight at such a delicate age?” She shakes her head. “Who then shall we align forces with? Do we have good relations with the Obscure Court?”
The Obscure Court doesn’t have good relations with anyone. They don’t care for anything other than their small slice of land and their own meandering existence. Their powerful king, blessed with gifts even greater than my own father’s, keeps everyone away from their borders.
“I think there are other means to gain their alliance.” Basilus eagerly ignores the woman, though she watches him with large hopeful eyes.
My blood runs cold.
“Oh?” The queen beams up at her son.
“Prince Dalziel seems quite interested in our very own princess. Wouldn’t you agree, Merrick?”
I blink. “We perhaps had a small conversation regarding Violence, but I don’t think he was much interested in anything serious.” Small lies to keep my sister from the hands of those who’d do her harm. Sometimes I wonder if she is safer out there gathering souls than in here where Fae like Basilus can wield her like she’s nothing more than his possession.
“Nonsense!” he purrs, his tongue running across his teeth. Every move he makes reminds me of a snake. “He was still talking about her as he left. I promised him we’d make arrangements for them to meet.
My heartbeat pounds in my ears. Anger bubbles in my veins. What else can I expect from him? I knew he’d push for this. What is all this for? To prove to Father that he could be worthy of the crown himself? My teeth grind together.
This is some plan to undermine me. If Basilus can make the arrangements to secure our alliance with the Court of Wind then he might gain favor amongst the people and from Father. His mother is already favored above my own. How much would it take for me to be stripped of my crown?
“I had not realized he was so intrigued by our sister.”
“Oh, she is a lovely thing,” Regina says, bobbing her head. Arius grins, taking a moment to lean into her and whisper into her ear. I try to ignore his pretty words and how he tells her that her beauty is far greater.
“Marrying her off isn’t such a bad idea. Basilus, my boy, you are too smart.” Queen Lairis sets her empty teacup on the saucer that sits on her small end table.
“It’s something to be considered. I will bring it up in my next meeting with Father.” Best not to let Basilus get credit if I can avoid it.
He frowns only for a short moment then shrugs it off and walks around his mother to sit on the edge of the bed. His cheeks are rosy from standing so close to the hearth for so long. “Look at us, solving our kingdom’s problems over tea.” His dark eyes flick to Paola’s. “And with such lucky company to be a part of it.”
“I’m so happy to be—don’t slouch—” The Queen snaps her fingers at Arius, who rights himself quickly. “So happy to be a part of it. Poor Melic has been out of sorts lately, and even my visits have not put him to ease.” She smiles prettily at the girls, lowering her voice to a whisper. “When you are wives, you’ll learn all about keeping your husbands relaxed. You’ll find that they hold all their tension in their cocks.”
I manage not to cringe, but I can’t help the way I close my eyes trying to think of anything other than Lairis’s mouth wrapped around my father’s... bile burns at the base of my throat.
“Mother!” Basilus growls.
The queen only smiles coolly. It is no secret that she is Father’s favored because of her eagerness torid him of his tension. She speaks of it often, proud of her role in this house. Another reason why I dread these visits.
“I am only saying,” she continues, “that even I am not able to put his troubles at ease as of late. He grows more worrisome by the day.”
“I, too, have noticed.” I nod along.
“You know...” Queen Lairis sits forward, her braid falling into her cleavage as she tips toward me. “If Violence marries into the Court of Wind, then she might be spared from your father’s wrath. She might not be my own, but she is a daughter of the court nonetheless.”
I’m not stupid enough to not notice how they work so hard to convince me to send her away. I’m sure there are other alternative motives here; however, they do have a point. Protecting Violence from our father is at the top of my priority list. Right after keeping my crown.
Swallowing down another taste of tea, this one tasting much more bitter than the rest, I attempt to end this discussion with, “I will heavily consider this conversation.”
8
Violence
Steam waftsfrom petite teacups and the Warlock Birkin passes them out one by one. I’m seated on the world’s tiniest fucking loveseat, my knee knocking against Cameron’s every now and then.
It’s a weird home. It reminds me of my great aunt’s house. The crazy aunt my father doesn’t like people to know about. Pale shades of pink and blue accent the wallpaper. Pictures are hung haphazardly with images ranging from scenic stills of nature to animals dressed up in bow ties. Fake flowers bush out from the corners of the room while at least a dozen cats drift from space to space.
One leaps from the floor to the love seat. Its soft fur brushes against my arm, and I stiffen from the animal’s abrupt contact. My nose tickles when I think about the amount of loose hair floating in the air.
