A Storm of Flames and Deceit

1. Blind Sided

He chuckles kindly, his laugh Helion's. "He won't truly accept the tittle of High Lord until you agree to be his High Lady," he tells me as if it were so obvious.

I roll my eyes. "I thought the events from a month ago thoroughly established that he was a one man show," I remind him.

"Tsk tsk," Lucien taunts, tossing me my sword. "A blind spot like that can get you killed. You have to perceive it all to have any chance at fighting the smart fight."

I roll my eyes, twirling my sword between my fingers. I had gotten proficient in my months of training, though I dread how much of it was inherited from my father. I hate to be anything like him.

But he's in the wind. As is my mother. As are Eris' brothers. As are the mortal queens.

So yeah, I suppose I can't afford to be blind when they could come at me from all sides. "Alright, Lucien," I set my stance, squaring my body to his. "Let's fight the smart fight, then."

...

I arrived back from training late today, deigning to take an excessively long bath to ease my aching muscles. Cressida always tells me she loses time in the water, and strangely, I agree. If I'm not careful, I could stay underwater for too long and forget to come up for a breath.

Cressida was the first person I actively told about my true life before the lie. When Beron died, the agreement that prevented Eris or I of speaking about the truth of our agreement was dissolved, and I told Cress everything. I told her thing I probably shouldn't have. I told her things that she promised would stay between us. I told her how I fell for Eris despite myself. I told her what line he drew between us.

I told her everything.

I thought she would be mad that I lied to her, but instead she just hugged me, cried with me, laughed with me as I told her things I've never told anyone before. I confided in her about things I had never truly processed, and in return, she did the same. We shared our traumas until we both fell asleep, her snoring softly beside me.

As I get out of the tub, I dry off with a soft towel, piling my curls into it as I slip a long sweater on, my stomach growling. I suppose training had worked me into quite an appetite.

But as I advance into the kitchen, I freeze, lingering behind the doorway, peaking in. Eris sits inside, his back to me, oblivious as he eats a small, bland dish of chicken and rice, staring blankly out the window. My stomach twists, and suddenly, I feel sick. I feel sick because watching him eat alone is terribly painful, and it makes me feel sick with myself- which is stupid, right? I haven't a reason to feel guilty, certainly not while Eris is doing something as casual as eating alone. And yet...

My heart aches in my chest.

"You can join me if you wish," Eris says, not bothering to look over his shoulder. I notice him put a crystal glass of a dark brown liquid to his lips, taking a sizable sip. It's then when I smell the alcohol in the air, sharp as longing. "You needn't just stand there in the doorway, pitying me as much as you must think I pity myself."

I scoff. Clearly, his drunkenness has reverted him back to his usual rude self where he has been so quietly apologetic for these past months. "I was hungry," I reply, walking swiftly towards the cupboards. "Not everything is about you."

"News to me," he chuckles, eating a bite of chicken.

"And for the record," I sputter, sitting down at the other end of the table with my cheese and crackers. "I don't pity you."

He rolls his eyes drunkenly, leaning back in his seat. This is the most I've truly interacted with him since I slapped him for his broken apology. "Sure, you do," he replies. "Why else would you be eating dinner with me?"

In truth, I'm unsure, but I know I don't pity him. I just can't stand to see him so hollow, his flame winked out. Still, I correct my posture, shrugging. "This is the kitchen table, no? I have to eat somewhere," I tell him proudly. "I wouldn't call it eating dinner with you."

"Alright," he nods dorkishly, barely concealing his smirk as his head dips and he stares at his rice. I roll my eyes, taking a sip of my water. "You wanna know something funny?"

I slowly set my drink down, shutting my eyes. "Not really."

"So as you know, I'm going to the Night Court tomorrow," he continues on anyway, undeterred. "And everytime I go- without fail- they ask about you. Half of it is fear I'm sure- though they definitely like you. But it was Cassian who asked the other day if you were pregnant."

I nearly spit out my water, my eyes widening. "And what did you tell him?" I ask casually, disgusted with how easy it is to fall back into the rhythm of conversation with him.

He smiles then, slipping his finger around the brim of his glass- which is infuriating, by the way. It's infuriated that his finger can still do so much to me despite never having touched me. Despite us not talking in months. "I didn't say anything," he replies. "I just let them think what they will."

I raise a brow. "And what's funny about that?" He's on dangerously thin ice.

"Nothing yet," he replies, his smile so deadly. This is why I never should've sat down. Now... now I'm ensnared. "I just wondered how funny it would be if you accompanied me tomorrow, far from pregnant. I thought the looks on their faces might amuse you too."

Despite myself, I snort, concealing it with a cough. "It might," I reply casually. "Too bad I'm not sure I could even fake liking you in front of them."

"Sure you could!" He replies enthusiastically. "You're doing it right now!"

I roll my eyes. "Why do you even want me to go so bad?"

The question sobers him a bit, and I can see the tension in his shoulders as he plays with his food. "I don't know what you want me to say," he replies after a while. "I need you. I want you. You are shepherd of my heart, the guardian of my affections, the keeper of my spirit," he rambled, the insignificant wave of his hand. "It doesn't matter what I say. You won't believe it after I betrayed your trust."

My breath has the nerve to lodge in my throat, even as he tells me I have no reason to believe him, even as he reminds me of his betrayal. "Why won't you take your coronation?" I ask suddenly because it's easier than grasping the twist of feelings in my gut. "Lucien says the nobles grow wary everyday you hold it off. He thinks that, as it is, you've only had so much grace because of the inter-court support you've garnered. Because you won the power fair and square. He also thinks, soon, that won't be enough."

Eris narrows his eyes. "So much of what Lucien thinks," he sips his drink unhappily. "You two have been spending quite a bit of time together recently."

I raise a brow. "Jealous?"

"Yes," he replies honestly. Instant.

I'm unprepared for it, so all I can manage is a scoff as I slide to my feet, arranging to leave the kitchen altogether when he catches my wrist in his fingers. The first time we've touched in months sends heat down my veins, returning sparks onto his fingertips. "Please consider joining me tomorrow," he says quietly, his eyes baring into mine so hard I have to look away. "It's a waste not to have you there. You have a true proclivity for diplomacy. A gift."

I swallow, staring at the wall, shutting my eyes. "I'll think about it," I say quietly, tucking my hand to my chest as I walk away, his touch lingering on my skin.