Blood of the Hunt

Blood of the Hunt - Chapter 14

The Seelie crown glittered in Arynessa's hands, and she looked down at it with an inscrutable expression, her heart conflicted. What she intended to do today would either be the beginning of her reign or the beginning of her downfall, and she could not yet tell which would come to pass. Every facet of every jewel set into the crown was perfectly cut and clear, a living reflection of what stirred in her heart for the people she had sworn to protect and rule. Could they not see that she cared only for what was in their best interest?

The ancient Fey who had crafted the pair of crowns for their people had ensured that those who strove to wear them would be unable to hide what lay beneath their twisting words and veiled intentions. In Rayce's hands, the gleaming surface had dulled and shifted its appearance until it had resembled little more than scrap metal. The Fey had used and abused him for too long to earn his love and loyalty. But her... Couldn't they see that she wanted to save them from the fate her mother had sealed when she had helped Sebastian Morgenstern betray the Nephilim?

Arynessa sighed and set her birthright atop the sweeping crown-braided hairstyle she had decided on for the day. Wisps of lavender-colour hair had already escaped, or had failed to be captured in her initial attempt. One of Sera's dresses wrapped around her body like a second skin, its black skirt falling much shorter than she was accustomed to seeing on herself, and she resisted the urge to tug at the bottom. She felt a pang of guilt for what had surely befallen Kaelie in her place during that final night in the Seelie Court. There were no handmaidens in Morgenstern Manor to see to her needs. There was only...

"You should have just let me help you," Aspen criticized from her perch on the window sill, taking a break from looking out over the grounds. "I'm sure you can rock the wind-blown look, but still...."

"I require neither your assistance nor your opinions, Nephilim child," the Seelie Queen answered, not bothering to hide the annoyance in her voice as she slipped her feet into a pair of heels on loan from Sera with a severe warning that nothing had better happen to them. "And nor do I require you to continue to intrude upon my private chambers."

"Yeah, well, uncle Alec 'requires' you to still be alive when all of this is over, so get used to it." Aspen flicked a ladybug off her leg and watched it fly back out through the open window into the late-August heat.

"Ever have the Queensguards remained outside her chambers-"

"And how's that working out for you guys?" Aspen snorted. "Look, it's gonna be one of us inside and one of us outside, so unless you want me to go switch places with Hunter, and I would be more than happy to, you're just going to have to deal with it."

The Queen's eyes flashed at the impertinence of the Herondale girl. It seemed to be a flaw that ran in the family, no doubt strengthened in this one by the addition of her mother's stubbornness. "You-"

The door creaked open and Hunter poked his head in, the colour draining from his face a bit when he saw the two staring daggers at each other. "Uh, hey, um... your majesty?" He tried hard not to openly stare at the very different appearance of the Seelie Queen in Sera's clothes. "You've got a visitor."

The Queen smiled in response and nodded. "Send him in." Finally.

Cassius stepped lightly through the doorway and Aspen's mouth dropped open. Sera was always asking him to wear a bit more around the house, but this... He was significantly more dressed than she had ever seen him before, and the effect was slightly terrifying.

A leather half-harness covered the right side of his chest, curving down diagonally to leave his left shoulder bare and his remaining wing free. A triple row of straps were buckled snugly under his left arm to secure the armoured side to his body, while another ran from the centre of his chest over his collar bone and down his back to fasten near his wing. His hands were covered by the strange, flexible gloves lined with whatever metal it was that allowed him to safely handle the twin torahk-na coiled at his hips. Supple black leather boots encased his normally bare feet and he wore his customary low-cut pants to match. He, too, had braided his hair for the occasion, but it hung in a single, white length down his back. His grey eyes turned down and he bowed slightly.