A Betrayal of Storms by Ben Alderson

Chapter 12

We stood before double doors, Althea by my side, and Erix following steps behind like a shadow dressed in silver metal and worn leather. As we waited for the doors to open I fussed with the smooth silk of my tunic, flattening out non-existent creases. I had never dressed in such finery, and I was far from confident in it. I felt more like a fool, an imposter just trying to fit in but failing miserably at it.

It didn't help that Erix's gaze had hardly left me. Whenever I looked to him, he was looking at me. If I passed the shimmering reflection in windows or mirrors, as we paraded towards our destination, his focus was on me.

Perhaps he could see through the cracks of this forced illusion. In the small glimpses I had risked, it was hard to read his emotions. He was stern with an expression straight and void of his usual grin.

Eroan had almost cried as he studied me in front of the mirror back in the room. His nimble hands brushed over the outfit's blend of a storm grey silk tunic, charcoal leather belting and the tufts of white fur that rested over both my shoulders which draped into a deep navy cloak that trailed behind me. The boots he had laced came up to my knees, hiding the form-fitting leggings that matched the same stormcloud hue of my tunic.

This clothing was a far reach from the worn and usually ripped options that sat crumpled in a drawer back home. The dull and moody tones that Eroan had dressed me in made the darks of my hair and eyes stand out. Eroan had explained his choosing was very much inspired by the fashion of the Icethorn Court, a colour palette taken from the snow-tipped mountains and storm pregnant skies of the court. Even the silvered arm braces blended into the outfit, separated from my long-sleeved tunic by the hem of fur beneath it. The colours were a statement. I had realised when Althea had come for me dressed in an elegant gown of rust browns and deep, burnt orange. She, as the others I had seen during our walk, all looked like they belonged in the court entrapped by an eternal autumn. Whereas I would have survived during the gale of winter winds, or just the storm of strangers I was about to find myself surrounded by. It was clear that I was dressed to embody the court of my mother.

Right up until we stood before the doors, listening to the muffled chatter of countless fey beyond it, I had to stop myself from turning and fleeing back to Father.

But it was too late now.

"Remind me again of what I have to do if it all becomes too much?" I asked, looking out the corner of my eye at Althea. Her poppy-red hair was scraped back from her face, showing the sharp bladed curves of her jaw. A thin, circlet of brass wiring which glittered from the dark rubies carefully placed around it held her hair from her face, not a strand out of place; unlike mine which seemed to fall over one eye no matter how many times I pushed it out of the way.

"You will quickly come to know that someone of our prestige never has the opportunity to escape an awkward conversation," Althea said, raising her chin as she stared ahead. "But for now, Erix will remove you from the festivities if required. At least until the council meeting begins after the fanfare. There is no getting out of that I am afraid."

I nodded, swallowing audibly as I waited for the doors to finally open. Clenching my hands into fists, I felt nothing but nerves; they filled my lungs with each shuddering inhale.

"I have no idea what I am supposed to say, let alone do," I admitted. "What if they ask me questions that I cannot answer? Really, I am starting to think this is a bad idea. I could just-"

"No one is going to ask you anything," Althea interrupted, releasing a sigh of frustration. "You are the heir to the Icethorn Court, they will only speak to you when you address them. If you would rather not engage in conversation, then simply keep your mouth closed."