Little Saint Bride [Death and the Maiden, #1]

Chapter Thirty One: Dragon's Breath

The next room is much more like I imagined; Chronus has a family tree, inked in silver and gold, marking the entrance to the throne room, as if to remind his guests of who they're about to complain to. I step through the door to a huge chamber, patterned tiles continuing, and a crystal chandelier dipping low from the ceiling. It's extravagant enough without the suits of armour (white and gold armour, I might add) standing at the edges of the room. 

What should be the throne room for audiences with Chronus  is in fact his party pad; souls, all wearing necklaces like Mercer's, mill around the edges. Servants, clad in simple white robes, bring around trays of canapes and offering bubbly drinks. Merry laughter bursts throughout the room, with occasional stifles of giggles and exclamations.  At least thirty people are stood around, mingling with one another, chatting carefree whilst somewhere, those unfortunate souls like me toil in a mine. 

And in the middle is the biggest mingler. His eyes light up as he listens to a joke from where he's sat jauntily on his throne, his posture relaxed. Curling vines on a golden crown sit atop his yellow corn hair, trimmed and primped like an adonis. Today, he's not wearing armour; he's adopted the white fashion, and bears it in the form of a toga, tied with golden clasps. His face, when he catches another mingler's eye, turns towards them in delicate feline features of a predator disguised.

He has the face of a conman.

'If you hang on, I'll request an audience with his ma--'

I shove the guard at the door aside, growling audibly. Mercer yelps my name, and I see Hadrian sigh-- he knows me well enough that he simply folds his arms and watches to see what happens. 

I barge through the crowd, striding past groups of chatterers and hearing them gasp in my wake. I must look a sight to them; muddy, bedraggled and wearing colours that aren't white. My hair streams at my shoulders, and I can feel my nose starting to run, it's so warm in here. 

Thankfully, there's enough disrupted chatter for me to sniff without anyone noticing. 

But the chatter dies once I face the man on the golden throne, and I take satisfaction in the temporary surprise that his features show. 

But then it's gone, and the conman is back, ready to bluff. 

'Nerissa...was it?' Chronus' smile is eerie. 'We didn't have a proper chance to get introduced, thanks to my brother. How very rude of him, not to introduce me to his concubine.'

Titters run through the crowd like birds scattering in flight.

'Oh, but I suppose you two were a little preoccupied last time,' the Elysian King grins even further, and I realise that I may have taken him by surprise, but he's loving this new twist in the game.

It's just another knife for him to sink into his opponent. 

I try not to shiver.

There's audible whispering now, and I feel my insides shrivel.

Shut up, you mean bastard! I want to scream. You're twisting things! It isn't like that!

Hadrian is watching me from the corner of the room; I see him, standing in Chronus' blind spot, so that I can take this one by myself, exactly how I'd wanted. I can get out of this myself. 

Chronus is getting to me because he knows I'm squirming. He's distracting everyone from the real reason I'm here by playing with me-- playing with my emotions for Hadrian. He loves it. He's watching his very own theatrical performance if I give in and start denying his accusations.

I take a deep breath. Accept and move on.

'Yes...' I set my tone into a nonchalant drawl, and force a smirk as I survey the room. Several people catch my eye and look away quickly, taken aback. Then, I focus back on Chronus, feeling my heart pounding in my chest. 'We were busy. And, we've been even busier...winning our bet, of course.'