Nephele
"And that doesn't scare you?" I whisper absently, my hands shaking in his.
He shakes his head. "The only thing that scares me about that is other people finding out. All the more ways you can protect yourself will never make me fear you," he replies.
"It terrifies me," I whisper, too afraid to look at him. "If I were normal... if I were weak... he never would've locked me away. I know it's not my fault, but I hate it."
I make the mistake of glancing at him, and I can hardly stand the look on his face. "He never would've been kind to you- no matter what your power," he tells me the hard truth. "But this way... this way you have the means to take him down yourself. This way, you have the means for justice. Never regret being the strongest person in the room."
I bite down on my lip, looking away.
"Be my High Lady," he asks so suddenly that my attention turns back to him. To his amber gaze. "You don't have to say yes. You don't have to forgive me. You don't have to agree to a thing if you agree to this. I just want... no, I need you. Autumn needs you. It needs not only the strength in your bones, but the strength in your mind, in your heart. I can't do it without you."
"Eris..."
"We were a team, and I wrecked that. I know I did. I'm sorry I did- even if I'm not sorry for trying to protect you from my father," he powers on, his hand still in mine. "But Autumn needs something it's never had before. It doesn't need another Beron- it needs a High Lady. It needs you."
"You're not another Beron," I mutter quietly. "You're not your father."
"I'm trying not to be," he replies honestly.
"I'm serious, Eris," I rip my hand from his, crossing my arms angrily. "You view yourself in such darkness. You never see the good. I didn't know your father very well, but as far as I can tell, the only thing you got from him was your amber eyes and your stubbornness. The rest is all you, so stop acting like you're some villain who has been fated by nature to turn sinister. You don't have a cruel bone in your body."
He stares at me for a while, his eyes raking over my face, wide and surprised. His mouth falling open a step, his body sagging against his chair. "Don't look at me like that," I mumble grumpily.
"Like what?"
"Like I'm the first good and last good thing that will walk into your life," I reply sourly.
He stares at me a bit longer, blinking. "Be my High Lady," he repeats.
"If I say yes will you get coronated as soon as we can get a ceremony planned?" I reply. "Will you start working over the nobles with me?"
"I'll set the ceremony for the middle of next week," he vows, and I purse my lips.
"One more thing," I reply.
"Anything."
"Come with me the next time I go to Summer Court," I tell him. "Tarquin needs a drinking buddy."
A stupid grin spreads across his face, and I roll my eyes. "Come on," I hop of the counter, shoving him off the stool. "We have a coronation ceremony to plan."
...
The weekend is then filled with sleepless nights, hasty letters to florists and vendors and builders to prepare the palace for the coronation. Considering that Eris and I seldom reside there, the space needed some work. Eris got to work on putting up new wards, and he left me in charge of directing the architects around the High Chambers. I wonder if it was hard for him to see his father's room without wanting to burn it to the ground. I'll admit, the urge is tempting.
That is probably why I elect to change absolutely everything, from the flooring to the walls to the bed frame. I have them donate the old mattress in favor of a new one that doesn't have the lingering indentation of the man who abused my husband his whole life.
By the time I'm finished, the room is positively gorgeous, a blend of maroon and plum and orange and gold, the once dark room opened up by the architects with the windows both Eris and I love. The floors are cherry oak, and candles are sprinkled across the room, burning a sweet aroma of cinnamon sugar.
It still fascinates me how efficiently the architects work, so trained in the art of manipulating magic in order transform spaces in less than a day. As it is, I'm so exhausted by the time they finish I send them off to work on the ballroom without me as I collapse atop our new bed.
A few minutes later, there's a thwomp beside me, and I don't need to look to see that it's Eris. "I've read nearly every book in Autumn's library," he says grandly. "And I think I just recited every ward I've ever read to protect this place."
"All of that when someone like me can just decide to rip through them like a fallen leaf," I tease.
"Good thing there's no one like you," he turns his head over at me, winking. I roll my eyes before my gaze rakes over his body, his tie loose around his throat, his sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. "I like what you've done with the place."
"I didn't change it too much, did I?"
"I can barely tell it was once my father's room," he smiles. "It's perfect."
"Are we going to be living here after coronation?" I ask, not sure how I want him to answer.
"Yes and no," he replies. "We'll be spending a lot more time here from now on- certainly. But a High Lord and High Lady don't necessarily live at their palace. Many just live there when they are entertaining diplomats or holding court. We will still be living by the falls- that is, if that's where you want to live." He looks to me, as if in question. "Or would you rather live here, at the palace?"
I consider. " I don't mind it here as much as I thought I would- I think it being less... crowded might help," I reply. "But the treehouse... I don't know. The treehouse is..."
"Home," he offers.
I nod. "I never wanted a big palace or a life waited on by servants, not a moment's privacy, more space than I know what to do with," I reply. "I'd still rather something more quaint- even if we're to be High Lord and High Lady."
"I agree," he replies. "I always thought the palace was so beautiful growing up, but it's just so... unlivable. It's too big and decorative. There's nothing... warm about it." Not to mention the memories I'm sure it brings back for him.
"So we have a list of those who will be attending coronation?" I ask him, changing the subject. That has been his realm of organizing considering my deep hatred of reading mail.
He nods. "Obviously Night and Day are coming," he replies. "I'm assuming Summer will be coming as per your invitation, and Lucien says he thinks Tamlin is coming." That sounds pretty good. We didn't expect Dawn or Winter. They are generally so introverted that they only come to one outing a year which was our wedding. Still, they send diplomats in the place of their High Lords. This sort of turnout will not be overlooked by the nobles.
"And is Lucien coming?" I ask. He is still exiled from the land.
Eris nods. "What do you think of our first act as ruling High Pair being to pardon his exile?"
"I think it sends the exact message we want to send to the nobles. To the people," I reply proudly. "You are not your father. Things are gonna start changing around here."
"You spoke to Cherkov about our formalwear?" He changes the subject, and I nod. He always felt such a need to micromanage when it comes to clothing.
"He will be sending it tomorrow morning, steamed and pressed," I reply. "The caterer?"
"A local townsmen with deep roots in autumn. Five courses- with the option of standard or vegetarian," he replies. "The band?"
"Booked and ready for sound check tomorrow morning," I respond. "The High Priestess?"
"Ran through dress rehearsals with my mother this morning," he tells me, smiling at me from across the sheets. "If this High Pair thing doesn't work out, we could be event planners."
"Let's hope it works out then," I chuckle. "Being High Lady seems far less exhausting than doing this for the rest of my life."
"Do you want to go home then?" He asks sensitively.
"Please," I reply, voice hoarse, exhausted. He chuckles, reaching out his hand to me, letting me do the honors, groaning when we arrive.
"You were right," he replies, his fingers still laced in mine. "It is relentlessly frustrating that you winnowed through seven hours worth of my wards so easily."
I snort, glancing over at him. "Don't be too hard on yourself," I pat his cheek in condescension, forgetting myself, my hand lingering. His lips part slightly as he looks at me, his gaze flashing between my eyes and mouth.
Clearing my throat, I pull my hand away awkwardly, getting up from my bed. Of all the places in this damn house I could've winnowed.
"Neph?" His voice is soft, gentle. I can't even imagine what his face must look like right now as I refuse to look at him.
"We have a big day tomorrow," I swallow, staring at the wall, afraid that if I look at him, I'll break. "You should go. We should both get some rest."
"Neph, I-"
"Go," I say, a bit too sharply, turning over my shoulder to catch him flinch. "Please," I whisper it, voice cracking with desperation.
He looks over me a minute longer, a battle fought in the amber of his eyes, stilling into nothing when he nods, pushing off my bed and leaving my room. I don't realize my lip is quivering until a moment later. Then, I feel the cold leak of a tear sliding down my cheek.
I don't sleep a wink that night.