Algernon Black

(Chapter 89) The Pouty Princess

A week passed of Devane and Jared's stay in Lorencia, and as they were to head out the following day, a party was hosted for them. One Devane would have been thrilled to miss if it didn't break all courtesy to do so. His only form of entertainment came from watching Jared get pulled into dance after dance with one of the various women of the court who were all enthralled by his red hair. It made him stick out like a sore thumb, against the majority white and grey hair, and Devane gazed on fondly. The only other thing he found amusing was the pouty princess, who came late to the party just to keep up a low-level appearance of botherment in the corner.

"It must be frustrating to see her so easily cheerful," Devane remarked to Omry, artfully making his way to stand beside her. "When she acts in a completely different manner around you," He added, watching as the older sister was the pinnacle of a princess and host, conversing charmingly with every guest and laughing at every poor joke.

Omry didn't even look at the advisor but stared straight ahead as she had all night. "It's almost as annoying as dealing with prying old men."

Devane pretended not to be insulated, but his jaw ticked. He had heard of the youngest princess's less than agreeable attitude, and how it lacked compared to her enchanting sister. But he'd also heard her beauty was so intense it made all her faults null and void, to her sister's utter chagrin. It was that comparison that bled into a one sided competition between the princesses and showed in a very visible tension the advisor had picked up on.

"Did my father call you here because he wants me or my sister to marry your prince?" Omry implored, her voice as dry as her interest in the idea.

"I would never subject you to such a cruel fate," Devane whole heartily swore. "Or him for that matter." The insult made the princess's eyes narrow, though she knew it was mostly warranted.

"You both share that same inherent misery whenever around the nobility," Devane observed, staring out at the crowd he didn't find too favorable himself. "Though Loy hides it better."

"I thought your prince thrived off attention," Omry said, thinking back to all that had been said of the psychotic prince.

"He puts up with it," Devane admitted. "With a cheerful disguise, not so different from the coldness you wear to get through events like these."

Omry remained quiet, eyeing the advisor sideways.

"But his patience ran out when he was fourteen," Devane said, looking over the girl who was probably only a year or two older than that. "And so began his random run-aways. A habit that continues to this day, which leaves me left dealing with the scorned princesses."

Omry looked at the advisor now with a tick in her jaw.

"I wonder what you'll do," Devane said, almost smiling at the princess's protruding lower lip that showed her annoyance similar to the way Selice would. "When you've finally had enough of them."

"Not run," Omry said, leering over the guests and family alike, dancing and laughing and in the same sentence judging and criticizing every action of every one. She had never wanted the spotlight that had been so unfairly thrust upon her as an infant born without the right genitalia where everything about her was picked apart to the most minute detail. It had driven her sister crazy in a sense, all that pressure to be perfect, while her brother, on the other hand, could do no wrong, especially because he was never asked to do anything. He had everything done or given to him, and even that was applauded as if he had ended a war. Omry eyed her brother enviously, for that freedom, and looked out the glass french doors to see her falcon perched on a ledge. Harrio's white feathers blew in the cold wind but its body remained as immovable as a statue.

Devane looked at the girl's oversized pet as well. "If that thing grows any bigger, you won't have to run," The advisor noted, turning to look at the princess's blazing dark red eyes, "You could fly."

Omry locked eyes with her falcon. It always knew when to come to her. If it was good training or good timing, she never knew. More than anything she felt it was a connection they shared. Her entire life she had let him roam free, and Harrio always came back to her. She always wondered why that was, but as she got older she felt as if he hadn't come back to her, but had come to get her. Not yet, Omry thought and as if Harrio had read her mind, he flapped his wings before taking flight back into the sky, where he streaked a blaze of white across a moonless night.

Jared found Devane after a hasty escape from his latest dance partner. He promptly approached Devane and the princess to what he assumed was the beautiful young girl's dismay as she immediately left. He brushed aside his disappointment by grabbing a glowing ivy filled drunk.

Devane watched him swallow as his lips started slightly glowing now. "Enjoying yourself?"

"I'm not particularly hating my time here," Jared shrugged. "But I do wish we could hurry things up. We've still got the jacket to track."

"I remembered," Devane replied. "So much so that I've already gotten the coordinates for it."

"When did you do that?" Jared nearly yelled back.

"A few hours ago," Devane answered. "And with it when we'll head out tomorrow morning in its direction."

"Thank you." Jared beamed, the ivy drink seeming to even stain his cheeks as they flowed with vibrant color. "Truly Devane, thank you."

The advisor only nodded his head back, not allowing his true satisfaction to show upon his face. Not in the ways Jared's so evidently and charmingly did.