A long time ago Emberlee's Fairy Godmother had shown her how to pass a message through a Mirror, and she had adamantly warned to not let her flesh touch the Mirror while she did so. The night before the Victory Banquet for the General and the Army, Emberlee got to witness why she'd been so resolute. She'd been as prepared for the Banquet tomorrow as possible, every detail planned and all the pieces set in their places. Even with the Empress trying to put sticks in her wheelspoke, the planning had gone off and all they needed to do was enjoy tomorrow, and the last appointment she could have was due to knock at the door and enter without waiting.
As she had agreed to meet with him tonight, she shouldn't have felt as unsettled as she did but Emberlee found herself pacing in her room. The Imperial Crown Princess' chambers allowed her to look out over the public gardens on the grounds, the balcony as furnished as the room itself but even it couldn't provide comfort despite the breeze. In the next fifty hours, she was going to vacillate from celebrating her Father to bidding him farewell so she could set out to Adaba. Tomorrow should have been a chance to enjoy each other's presence, but instead, it was a bittersweet amalgamation.
Her slippers were silent on the rugs, her pacing a consistent stride from balcony to door, vanity to bed, and back again. She weaved around the sitting couch; ignoring her reflection mimicking her movements. She was going over the itinerary for the next day as she turned from the balcony to pace back inside when a piece of fabric snapped across her face, muffling her ability to scream. It wasn't a garrotte, and her assailant seemed more intent on abducting her than killing her, but every instinct in Emberlee knew this was another assassination attempt. Only this time they were trying to make her disappear without a trace. Emberlee bit down on the fabric gagging her, pushed back against her attacker's body, and stabbed Need into his abdomen with a slight squish sound. The hands holding the gag fell away and Emberlee spat the fabric out even as she spun out of reach, trying to face her attacker even as she went to bellow for Sir Ludwig. But the assassin tackled her instead of reacting to his wound, the impact of a tackle driving the air from her lungs. Need was trapped between them, the assassin wasting no time incapacitating her by slamming her head against the ground repeatedly.
Blinding pain flashed across her eyes, her body going limp despite he efforts to remain conscious and fighting. She was carefully silenced by what felt like a leather strap belted around her face, and a matching tether bound her wrists behind her back even as she tried to force her body to move. Her head was starting to clear as the assassin finally took a moment to dress his wound quickly, going so far as to resettle the rumpled carpet and remove the traces of his blood from the scene. And he never took his eyes off of her, though the assassin didn't seem to understand where her sword went. Her body felt weirdly disjointed, still slow to do what her head was screaming, so she had to be very careful in her next moves. Their struggle had taken them into her room properly, so he'd have to pick her up and carry her out. With her hands belted behind her back she couldn't call Need in her defence, so Emberlee carefully got to her knee to try something rash. The assassin came closer to her, almost expecting Emberlee to try and run into him, so he moved with her attack.
But she wasn't trying to knock him over to escape.
Her attacker was very well trained, so she'd anticipated no ability to predict her attack; she wanted him to step back for her because that gave her room to bring her leg up between them and kick his solar plexus; pushing him back against the Mirror even as she fell painfully onto her arms.
A knock at the door preceded Prince Damien's belated entrance, though Emberlee ignored him to stare
at where the assassin had been. Her Mirror was painted red with blood, but on the wrong side of the reflection, as if the man's body had been splattered the moment he made contact with it.
The Imperial Prince was no fool; he was in a defensive posture, had his knife ready against another attack, and spotted the blood-bathed Mirror. In any other instance, Emberlee knew Damien would have called for the Knights but that bloodied Mirror was hard to explain. Instead, he looked at her and quietly asked, "All clear?" his body language did not relax until she nodded in confirmation. And then he rushed over, helping her sit up and removing the painful straps from wrist and mouth. "Are you alright?" he fussed, hands doing a careful sweep of her body for bleeding wounds but finding only a goose egg on her head and various contusions elsewhere.
"I have a concussion, "at least she wasn't slurring. "And I'm going to have the most interesting bruises for tomorrow."
He surprised her by hugging her to him as if he could wrap her in his arms and keep her safe. "I'm sorry your life is constantly at risk because of me."
The concussion was still affecting her, Emberlee surprised herself by offering comforting truths, "Don't apologize, Damien, the moment I decided to marry you I accepted this. Besides, even if I'd simply gone back to Ortega this would still be happening; I exist and Clara cannot tolerate that. At least here with you, I don't have to face it alone." It was the pragmatic truth, but for some reason, Prince Damien went from hugging her lightly to pressing a kiss to her bruised lips.
It wasn't salacious, but endearingly sweet, "Tell me what happened, I'll have the Knight sweep the grounds to track how he got in," he insisted, as practical as she was.
So she told him everything, but when they looked at the once bloodied Mirror they saw it was again clear. And Emberlee's reflection gave her a wink. "Tell them I saw someone near my balcony, let the employee think the attempt failed before it could start. They wanted me gone without a trace but now it's their assassin that has vanished."
"Is there anyone besides the Empress who'd benefit from you suddenly disappearing?" He brought her to the couch in her room but she didn't have to answer because they both knew it.
Her political enemies wanted her diminished, not dead. She was still too useful alive and taking action, the only one this would have suited was Clara. "I'm more useful as a pain in the ass they can deal with than risking an even more antagonistic replacement," her head hurt but she was starting to feel less dazed.
Damien pressed a kiss to her forehead and then went to fetch Sir Ludwig and the Guards. To their evident surprise, Sir Ludwig went straight to Emberlee and knelt in front of her as customary, though he left the eye patch on this time. "Mistress, command me," Ludwig abased and Emberlee couldn't suppress her grim smile.
"Someone tried to abduct me from the balcony, they're gone now but I want to know how they reached me," Nothing said was a lie, though she knew the implications drawn would be that the assailant got away.
More importantly, both the Prince and the other Knights saw how she controlled Sir Ludwig. He had been a well-trained taught before disgracing himself, and now those skills were hers as he began inspecting the small traces from the attack. No body, no blood, only the two leather straps left behind that had bound her. Not even the fabric gag had remained as the assassin had cleared the evidence before she'd killed him, and yet Ludwig followed minuscule traces out onto the balcony, and then over the railing to follow. On the grounds below she could hear the cacophonous stir of the night's activities burying any trace of Ludwig's trail. It would have been impossible to follow them had the assassin gotten her properly subdued.
Prince Damien was still looking agitated, though he tried to hide the shaking in his hands, so Emberlee told the other Knights to stand guard outside, giving them a modicum of privacy. He'd apologized to her for putting her life at risk, and he seemed more bothered by it than she was. But that made sense; his mother had died to an assassin's blade. All the logical arguments in the world wouldn't undo the trauma, even if he wasn't in love with her. They were partners, and losing her would be its own devastation to someone already damaged; the way losing Aubin after Mother's death had been for her.
"Come," she took one of Prince Damien's trembling hands, leading him over to her bed and sitting him on it. "You're going to lay down with me so that you can hear my heartbeat. When that's calmed you down we can have that important conversation you were so eager to have." Her pyjamas were no different than his, darkly coloured but lightweight vest and trousers, though her slippers were mismatched to the outfit in their soft leather and fur. She let the slippers fall, got into a comfortable position on the bed while Prince Damien watched her almost incredulously, and finally gestured for him to join her.
"You were the one attacked today, shouldn't I be comforting you?" He still moved to carefully lay down next to her as he asked.
"I wouldn't know what to do if you did," she answered honestly. "Now lay your head on my chest so you can hear my heartbeat."
For some reason that made Prince Damien's ears go red. "You're comfortable with this level of intimacy."
"I'm not," she corrected, "but this is an opportunity to soothe you, and start getting accustomed to sharing a bed. But if it's too uncomfortable for you we can stay like this instead." She didn't mention how strange it already felt for her.
"I'm fine here," Prince Damien didn't look anymore at ease, but Emberlee let it be. "Are you alright?"
"As alright as I can be," she gave an honest reply, not needing eye contact to force it. "I have no serious injuries, and my assailant was thoroughly dealt with."
"And yet I think you brought me here as much to comfort me as it was to comfort yourself," he was on his side facing her, clearly studying her reactions. "It's alright to be scared Emberlee, someone tried to hurt you."
Now she met his gaze, emotion making her incautious, "I'm not just scared, I'm angry." Gods damned Fairy honesty, she hadn't wanted to admit that.
"So am I," he admitted, as compelled to honesty as she was.
His worry felt real, the concern supported by her eye contact so maybe he wasn't plotting behind her back with his Father. "I have no intention of dying," she warned him regardless of his motivators.
And to her surprise, he laughed, "Only you could say it with such certainty that I'm put at ease by it; you truly believe you have control over when you die."
"I know I can die at any moment, but I can control how I live so my death is meaningful," All living things die, not even Fairies are invulnerable. "What was it you wanted to discuss Damien?" Their eye contact didn't have the painful pressure the stare down with Oberon had caused, Emberlee felt like she could break it at any moment easily. They weren't trying to force truths out of each other as a measure of willpower, instead, they lay on their sides facing each other and talked.
He'd truly wanted nothing more sinister than to see they were both equally prepared and seemed a little perturbed at how thoroughly Emberlee had prepared mentally for various contingencies. "You even have a plan for what to do if your Father is assassinated?" he seemed surprised.
"It'd require some adjusting depending on how, when, and who did it, but yes," this. Shouldn't surprise him when he had just as many backup plans as she did.
"And what would you do if I were assassinated? "he pressed, as if not anticipating her answer.
"Kill them all and burn Stussica to the ground to set an example," She was still locked in the burden of honesty but he laughed like it was a joke. She might not infatuated with Damien, but he needed to understand, "You're mine, so any attack on you will not be tolerated. Xutia defended her borders with blood, and Adaba with magic; I require neither to seek retribution if what is mine is endangered."
"And I thought that was a dragon's trait alone," Prince Damien smiled, pleased with her possessiveness. "But I would expect no less of you my magnificently malevolent Fairy."
"Go to sleep," she tried to command but he wasn't one of her darlings to be Charmed. She finally broke eye contact and lay on her back once more, determined to ignore him despite having brought him here herself.
And maybe he'd been a little correct in thinking that she'd brought him to her bed so she wouldn't have to be in this room alone for the night. Now that there was silence and a chance to think, Emberlee's heart uselessly raced as her mind played it over and over again. She couldn't turn her back to the balcony, the moment she couldn't see the opening it felt like another fabric gag would snap across her mouth, choking her. The sides of her mouth had cracked slightly when the assassin had used the leather strap, and her wrists were likewise chafed, and Emberlee's head still echoed with pain. She was lucky the rugs of her room were so decadent, or else he might have cracked her head open. She was also lucky to still be hale and here. Now she was the one shaking and she couldn't get it to stop, hot tears leaking out beyond her control.
She was scared, angry, and tired, and trying to hold it all together as if none of it affected her at all. It was not the time to be acting all emotional, but Emberlee could only prevent further humiliation by covering her mouth to smother any potential sound from escaping. But either it wasn't as silent as she needed it to be or else Prince Damien wasn't as asleep as she'd believed, because he pulled her into a comforting embrace without a word. If he'd made any kind of asinine criticism of it after her earlier statements, she'd have stabbed him with the sword he gave her, so it was a good thing he merely held her until the wave of unwanted emotions passed. And to her lasting embarrassment, she fell asleep before moving away.
Morning brought a tender head, an empty bed, and thankfully no lingering shame to contend with. It had already happened, being ashamed of it now would just be suffering twice. Prince Damien had probably returned to his room after her somnolence, so she was spared any company until she decided to pull the bell chord and summon Leah. Soon enough she'd have to eat and begin preparations for Father's Banquet tonight, but first, she stood in front of the Mirror and inspected her reflection.
Her lips looked as cracked as they felt, but her hair hid the lump on her head so there was no other sign of the struggle; her wrists could be hidden by jewelry. There was no trace of the blood she'd seen painting the reflection either, but she had felt something last night that had been overlooked until now.
I can use this Mirror now, can't I? She asked her Fairy self, already throwing the answer.
It's been anointed in blood and power, Cinderella confined.
But not Méabh's, She hadn't determined what exactly this meant, but for now, she'd have to focus on the task at hand.
She'd claimed the Mirror and could feel it connect to the one she'd anointed outside the Emperor's office and the one in distant Ortega. The night might have given her trauma, but it'd also given her a way home.
Locking the door to the bathroom offered Emberlee a sense of security, enough for her to enjoy her bath. Modern plumbing meant she required no servants to fill or heat it, and she'd long ago grown accustomed to tending her needs. She preferred herb-infused baths over florals or oils, and her hair was clean if tangled. She didn't linger, pragmatic enough to realize Leah would need time to prepare her hair and makeup after she ate.
Thankfully her day followed the internal schedule she'd set, breakfast done in her room before allowing Leah as long as she desired to dress Emberlee up for the Banquet; ironically Emberlee was finally getting to wear the dress she'd made for Vivian's debut. The bruises around her wrists were nearly unnoticeable under the careful administration of tinted makeup to disguise them, and Leah left her hair down to provide a darker accent compared to the sky-blue dress and silver chains. The silver and gemstones of the dress were all from Ortega directly, tastefully showcasing her March's resources, and the colours of her outfit were unapologetically Ortegan as well. Only the engagement ring on her finger and the relic in her ear were from Prince Damien; the heavily decorated dress requiring very little accessorizing.
Considering the fates of her last two formal gowns had been dismal, she wondered what catastrophe would befall this one.
The Banquet was scheduled to start after teatime, toasts and accolades given at the start. Mostly she wanted the heroes of the war to get the acknowledgement they deserved before the night devolved into revelry, but she'd also deliberately planned so that Empress Clara wouldn't be able to interfere. Current social trends called for a meal to be held first, allowing guests to watch at the end. So Emberlee inverted the schedule. Guests would arrive to lines of servers holding trays filled with drinks, the usual celebration Hall set for standing only. The Emperor had agreed to make a speech after Father and the Officers all received direct adulation, the masses of soldiers and Knights that had served to receive celebrations throughout the Nation as well. Then they'd be led out into the public gardens for their meals. She'd again discarded current trends calling for long tables set facing each other, where distance from the Imperial seats indicated social standing; she'd arranged the tables in a wide spiral with the center tables raised enough to suit the Imperial family's rank but leaving no attending guest at a far distance. It also allowed her to intersperse her allies along with her Father's Majors and Lieutenants so that no section of the table was entirely free to scheme or plot, and put the Imperial family in a position to be able to see, and be seen by all, but not easily approached without a rapt audience. And as an added security measure, Imperial Guards and Knights were stationed amongst the spiral.
It had felt strange to have to plan for her seat with the Imperial family instead of amongst the guests, but she countered that by including her Father at the table as the guest of honour. Their table was circular, and she'd been as deliberate in her seating as she had been in everything else. Father sat to Emperor Andrion's right, as he was the Bloodied Right Hand of the Empire. Empress Clara sat to the left of the Emperor, and Emberlee had put herself in the seat next to her. Visually it was a subtle indication that they were now politically equal, and kept her as a physical buffer between Clara and Damien. Imperial Princess Vivian was between Emberlee's Father and Prince Damien, as far removed from her Mother's influence as Emberlee could manage. Oberon sat at the closest curl of the spiral tables, charming Grand Duke Martellaro's family with ease. Arch Duke Erding was also on the inner curve, closer to their grandson Prince Damien's seat. The new Grand Duke DeKorte was being carefully monitored by Uncle Albert, who was sitting with Igraine Abeita's family as her date. Grandfather was with Duke Monske, and her Vassal Lords were keeping a tab on the further spirals.
It wasn't perfect, but it was such an unexpected approach to the Banquet that it'd deter many schemes, at least Emberlee sincerely hoped it would. After the meal was served and eaten, she'd had tables laid throughout the gardens holding desserts and drinks, encouraging a stroll along with the decadents. The Celebration Hall inside would have music for dancing, but it was not an official Ball so some of the pressures were off of it being the focus.
Emberlee's final bit of plotting for the night had been hours of research and negotiation with the Emperor on how to reward the officers. As expected, Emperor Andrion was determined to award Father his own March in the new DeKorte Dukedom. Since Father had removed himself as Mihal's Heir, and couldn't take on Ortega's Marquis title, he'd earned a rank of Count for being General but had no lands. By granting him this, Emperor Andrion was planning to start a new Noble family, once again forcing her Father to take a new wife and provide a Heir. Politically it made absolute sense, but she'd fought hard to have the Emperor reconsider. He'd agreed with her plans to grant the Majors Viscount titles in support of the March, and to use the Lieutenants to fill in the Baron positions in all of the new territories, but he would not be deterred from making her Father the Head of a new Family. She'd even gone to Father directly to try and have him argue against it too, until he told her that he'd agreed to it already. He would take Monske's older granddaughter as his wife, the ten-year age difference making a child more likely.
So Emberlee walked into the Victory Banquet with her head held high, Imperial Crown Prince Damien in a white suit with matching silver chains almost her living accessory at her side. And when Emperor Andrion declared that Father would no longer be Count Matthias Mihal, but Marquis Matthias Bergerac, Head of a new Noble family, she was able to cheer proudly without flinching. She'd needed to expand her political support, and both her Uncle and her Father were being sacrificed to achieve it, willingly or not it was a burden Emberlee had to shoulder.
At least her Father was going to have three Majors there as Viscounts to support him, and a majority of his Lieutenants as Barons as well. It'd make the establishment of the new territories easier, even for conquered peoples, as they all knew how to work together. And Emberlee had shamelessly pushed to have some of Father's new lands border the territory now owned by the Piiklani's in Stussica, giving him friendly support in the area, and opening a port up for her to eventually connect her planned naval business into. As Countess Gemini Piiklani said, money can convince people to accept changes they don't like, and she knew Father would endeavour to properly care for his people.
Thankfully Emberlee's unorthodox approach to a celebratory Banquet was met with surprised enjoyment, the awarding being done immediately allowed for the meal to be eaten uninterrupted by speeches and toasting. And despite the risk of allowing guests to walk and drink, no reports of unfortunate incidents reached her ears.
The food had been delicious, the wines were perfectly paired to each plate, and the weather cooperated by revealing an immaculately starry right sky after the sunset. She had the opportunity to greet and socialize with her growing political supporters, danced with Oberon, Uncle, and Father, and was finally escorted by the equally exhausted seeming Prince Damien. It had been a complete success by anyone's standards, and the warm tingle of good wine had kept Emberlee's spirits up.
Right until they reached the door to her room.
And then it was like an icicle slid down her spine, the muscles of her body going rigid as her heart started to race. Despite all of the Guards, Knights, protections, and Need, she'd almost died in there last night. Her discipline pushed for her to act like it didn't matter, but some untamed instinct in her remained rooted to the spot in fear. Prince Damien lifted her hand, revealing that Need had been summoned by her emotions, and kissed her knuckles as if the blade wasn't an inch from his face.
Emberlee took a controlled breath in and let Need disappear, rashly deciding to take the Prince's implied offer to be a distraction. She stepped closer to him, her hand still caught in his, and tried to kiss him like it was described in the books she'd read but wouldn't admit to. It wasn't as easy as theorized, her attempts a little clumsy from lack of experience, but Prince Damien still ended up kissing her until her heart raced from something other than fear.
"Wicked Fairy," Prince Damien teased as he collected his composure and put a little space between them.
"Tempestuous lizard," she teased right back, surprised at how breathless she felt.
"If you need help falling asleep tonight," he switched to being serious on her again, their affectionate display making the Knights discreetly retreat for privacy, "the door between our rooms isn't locked."
She didn't have the cruelty required to tell him that if it were that bad, she could step through the Mirror and sleep in her bed back in Ortega. That'd be far more comforting than even his broad shoulders in bed next to her like a meat shield. "If I need you Damien, I'll come and find you," she stepped into the room she'd been so afraid of moments ago.
The room was empty, all the items she'd need on her trip packed and ready for tomorrow's departure. and before fear could take over the more pleasant stirring of that kiss, Emberlee strode over to the balcony and defiantly stood on it despite her irrational panic. They had tried; they had failed. She would not cower. Of course, there was no assailant out there waiting for her, the Guards and Knights all on the highest alert. The assassin had only made it as far as he had with the Empress' help, but that didn't mean caution wasn't warranted.
So Emberlee called a raven to her, requesting its help to stand vigil while she slept, a perfect sentinel to alert her should anything untoward occur. It was astonishingly restful, or maybe Emberlee was just exhausted. Nothing disturbed her slumber, and the convoy towards Adaba set out the next morning without delays.
Being a legal adult allowed Emberlee various social freedoms she lacked for the original trip. She was able to travel in a closed carriage with Prince Damien and no chaperone, and most of High Society would see it as due course given that they were engaged. Only the most traditional types would criticize not waiting until after the wedding, even if they did nothing more disgraceful than travel together. If she were of mind to, she could now also visit various adults-only social sites, like the gambling halls popular in the Capital. Instead, Oberon, Damien, and Emberlee all agreed to make haste for the Adaban border.
The seemingly absent Morrigan returned to guard Oberon's carriage, and Emberlee shared Damien's Imperial carriage under the protection of a unit of Imperial Knights. Her maid Leah was replaced because the Empress insisted that Leah was still learning how to properly serve the future Imperial Crown Princess, so an experienced maid should attend to her on this trip. As it meant Leah was kept safe in Xutia instead of undergoing the travails of this journey, Emberlee allowed the obvious spy to play her maid. Like Sir Ludwig, it merely meant she could treat her as expendable. She was also paranoid enough to anticipate other spies in the ranks of the Knights, but the smaller convoy size allowed them to move too swiftly for frequent reporting and they seemed aided by the weather. Gone was the mud and rains of earlier months, and they were escaping some of the humid heat by heading South. And they'd escape the swarms of bugs this season always endured, reaching Ortega before Stormcrest.
Passing through the mountains separating Xutia and Adaba was going to be a first for Emberlee, and it gave her a rare opportunity to see Jimena's fate as they went through the Peaks' fort. Maybe she should tell Jimena that Gemini thanks her for the addition of Josson to her family. A matter she could decide en route, the only break to their rapid travels was a resupply at Ortega Manor.
She'd spent the time in the carriage pestering Oberon to help her practice the Adaban language she'd tried to master, Prince Damien already fluent in the language. It passed the time and kept boredom and rumination at bay. She wasn't certain what Adaba was going to be like, they'd kept their culture so secretive that she had few clues outside of their carefully curated reputations. Stussica was lazy but had so many soldiers in their army, and an active Navy, that it kept other Nations respectful. Adaba was known to be protected by Fairy Magic, but it was also commonly believed they were also subjugated by it. Which was closer to the truth than Emberlee had first believed.
Being at home again after everything that had happened felt almost surreal. The few servants that had
come from Stussica were all thoroughly converted to life here at the March, news of her engagement to the Imperial Crown Prince had reached them so a celebratory air lingered, and Emberlee was almost embarrassed to find that they'd converted the rooms near her into Damien's guest suite. Her people all obviously thought this was a fortuitous match for her, so Emberlee didn't begrudge them their frivolity, but neither could she simply indulge it completely. Father would return as Steward until after his own Marquisate had been set and she returned from Adaba, but after that, she'd need a Seneschal to mind Ortega on her behalf until after one of her future children could claim the title. Until then she'd be acting as both Imperial Crown Princess and Marchioness without making any outrageous conflicts of interest.
And somehow, after the night of Father's victory Banquet, Prince Damien had decided that he'd kiss her good night in the same manner he had then, even though she wasn't afraid. As it wasn't displeasing she didn't deter him, but it was a surprise at first, though she quickly adjusted. The one time Oberon had witnessed it, he'd had all manner of lascivious commentary, and would still occasionally give them innuendo-laden looks.
It left her equally breathless and agitated, and they were still due to go through the hardest part of the journey; the mountain.
Her March equipped them well, making the ascent as easy as it could be made to be. Trade caravans had to pass this way, so it was fairly passable regardless of the season, but the Mountains in Stormcrest would be fairly inhospitable even if it wasn't the desolation of Glacius. The humidity of the previous month gave way to rolling thunderstorms, a fairly real hazard as they climbed into the very clouds themselves. At the Peaks' Garrison, there was constant wind and sleet even in the hottest summer, making it uncomfortable to simply exist and survive there for any length of time.
Like returning home, seeing Jimena was a strange experience considering all that had transpired after her incarceration. For a length of time, Emberlee had believed that this woman was her greatest threat, and yet now Emberlee was two assassination attempts later and able to reluctantly acknowledge that Jimena had been an obstacle but not her opponent. In comparison, Clara was a much more formidable adversary, unlikely to lose her composure like Jimena had and condemned herself. The last Emberlee had seen of Jimena had been at the Ivory Tower, but now Jimena was all but unrecognizable. It'd been almost five months since Josson had been born and she'd been banished, gone was the softly pampered Lady. Her face was gaunt, the weight from birthing a child and living a luxurious lifestyle all gone after endless work and penitent's rations. Her blonde hair looked dry and dingy, cut short and tucked into a kerchief, and her skin had gained an almost sallow tone not at all helped by the unbleached wool smock she wore to work in. And to Emberlee's surprise, there was a brand on her cheek scarring her face, M for murderer; an old punishment Xutia hadn't used in a generation or two. She hadn't pushed for the disfigurement, but by the hate-filled glare Jimena gave Prince Damien she figured who had insisted on it. Jimena had beaten Emberlee's back until it'd left scars, it was only fair she had to face the proof of her violent tendencies etched into her skin too.
Emberlee was pleased with Damien's viciousness on her behalf. He might be a manipulative dragon, but he was her manipulative dragon. An act of cruelty shouldn't have been romantic, but that was the reality of their relationship.
Of course, the downside to encountering Jimena was the opportunity it presented the woman. Here was both Emberlee and Damien and Jimena couldn't resist the inherent violence in her nature that'd driven her to murder her daughter. She'd stabbed Deirdre to death, but this time she attempted to poison Emberlee and Damien.
The Garrison tended towards military-style meals, simple and sturdy foods that could feed a large number of people well, but with the Crown Prince in residence, they were served proper plates. The first clue that something was wrong was that Jimena seemed happy to serve her plate. The second indicator was the lingering scent of something almost sour smelling on a meal lacking any citrus. And finally, Emberlee's silver fork went dark, indicating to any who looked that the meal had been tampered with.
Emberlee smiled as she held the poison indicating utensil aloft for all to see. "Jimena, you continue to be a cliché," she criticized even as Prince Damien's fork also went black.
"Ambitious," he added to her criticism of Jimena's attempt at treason.
Before she could attempt to flee or inflict further harm, both Sir Eloise and Sir Ludwig pinned her in place with drawn swords. Jimena's face was a riot of hate, fear, and consternation as she realized not a single person cared about her fate; a hard reality to face for a former Noble. She was accustomed to a certain deference being paid due to her rank, and that tolerance was all gone now. Sir Ludwig looked at her, a complete reversal from when he'd obeyed Jimena's orders, and Emberlee gave a curt nod that permitted him to swiftly lop off Jimena's head without hesitation. She'd tried to kill Prince Damien and Emberlee both, and Emberlee was all out of kindness to spare her once again.
Would it be tasteless to send the head to the Empress wrapped in a bow? Cinderella absently wondered.
Emberlee had been prepared for the overwhelming force being unleashed by the Empress, Jimena's futile and impotent rage was disappointing. Though it did make three direct assassination attempts survived on her part. The Garrison reacted as expected to such an event; apologies were issued, the mess was cleaned away, and new plates of food were provided.
At least Jimena hadn't soiled all the food, it was simple fare but Emberlee found she had quite the appetite. The maid she'd been assigned by Empress Clara seemed a bit woozy for the whole ordeal; the matronly woman seemed to realize what her fate would be if she displeased Emberlee, especially when no one remarked on Jimena's death. It'd probably be quite the interesting report Empress Clara was going to receive after this, and Emberlee enjoyed the fantasy of the look on Clara's face knowing her old comrade was gone entirely.
A weight she hadn't even realized she'd been carrying lifted, Jimena's death freeing Emberlee from having to worry about further retaliation. Jimena, Deirdre, and Ainsley were all dead and she'd ensured Josson was better off than he would have been. Those still living under the Piiklani name were all in good favour with Ortega, so she could finally let go of worrying about the issue. It was such a liberating experience that she felt strangely elated, almost celebratory. When Damien gave her the anticipated kiss goodnight, he was the one who ended up pressed against the door.
After that, they left the familiar parameters of Xutia behind and officially entered Adaba.
Oberon and the Morrigan took the lead, taking them down the Adaban side of the Peaks and into Baugh
Pity and Emberlee could feel the difference between Xutia and Adaba. Xutia was like sitting in a room with a beautiful vase full of freshly picked flowers, while Adaba was more like standing in the middle of a field full of wildflowers. It felt infernally like the difference between gasping for air and taking a deep breath. Prince Damien didn't seem as affected by it as Emberlee was, and Oberon was all but glowing with the difference.
The area called Baugh Pity was loosely similar to Xutia, allowing Emberlee to feel vaguely comfortable, but that quickly fell away once they reached the Portal. Emberlee had once believed that Adaba used its many rivers to transport goods and people quickly, but it was a function of Portals; akin to stepping through a Mirror but on a large scale. Wagons and carriages passed through it to the destination depending on which Portal was used. For the average Adaban, it probably had a prohibitive cost, but the convoy with Oberon was all but rushed through without delay.
And like entering Adaba proper, Emberlee could feel the transition between the Portals. Baugh Pity felt like a stiff breeze, but the Capital of Bipedee felt like being immersed in a fog bank. She could feel it almost cocoon around her. "Marchioness?" Prince Damien carefully caught her attention, whatever conversation they'd been having before forgotten in the onslaught of unanticipated sensations.
"Of course you felt that Cinderella," Oberon laughed, drawing both their attentions to him, "I don't even know why am so surprised, you do the most astonishing things as if they were instinct."
"What're you talking about?" Prince Damien almost sounded angry.
"Describe it for your poor, unaware Prince," Oberon taunted her.
"It's like the first swim on a hot summer's day, and the comfort of hot soup on winter's coldest, all at once." Her voice was thick and she had trouble focusing, "But it's also like the sweet winter wine; a little is a treat but too much will make you dreadfully sick."
"Can you see it now?" Oberon asked even as he opened the carriage curtain for her to look.
Everything glowed.
Oberon had a literal sheen of teal over him but more than that the Capital was a riot of technicolour. Most individuals glowed with singular hues, intensity, depth and saturation all fluctuating wildly. Now she could see the truths hidden in Xutia; Oberon was teal but a different colour coiled around it, a blindingly white that seemed painful to behold. Méabh. Prince Damien was more like the ruddy glow of hot embers, a burning red that refused to go out despite emitting no light, and Bipedee broiled with the colours of all the living within it. Whatever answer Oberon had been expecting it wasn't Emberlee vomiting out of the carriage window as the kaleidoscope proved to make her sick in a way a carriage ride couldn't.
But it wasn't just the colours and lights, Emberlee could feel an influx of sensations she had no words for, an overwhelming onslaught she could barely endure. And she didn't understand any of it, Cinderella's presence the only comfort to be found; a safe harbour in the storm. Need flickered in and out of existence, called by her distress but no danger to defend against. She was either going to endure it and survive, or lose her mind and erupt into destructive madness. She ignored the men in the carriage with her, and rejected the strange lights and colours, not eliminating them but holding them at bay so that they wouldn't overwhelm her. The sensations she couldn't block out by closing her eyes she let wash over and away from her like the coast endlessly resisting the dance of the tide. She would be touched by it, changed by it even, and yet remain endlessly herself; she existed and Méabh's power would not consume her.
"What colour do I glow to you?" Emberlee's voice was hoarse as she leaned heavily against Damien's supporting frame. Whatever conversation had occurred between Oberon and Damien while she adjusted was lost to her.
"The calm dark of midnight," Oberon answered, seeing inordinately pleased with himself.
"Air and darkness to balance all that light and illusion?" she tried to demand harshly but still felt too weak to stay upright unassisted.
"You're more right than you realize," Oberon laughed again but then sat back so Emberlee could have a moment of blessed silence.
Internally she could feel that Adaba was Home and yet not. Cinderella didn't seem upset at the incongruity, she was as much a part of Emberlee now as she'd ever been a Fairy in Adaba. "I will say again," she spoke to the Fairy in her soul and the carriage, "I am not here to be claimed."
"You're both here as Méabh's guests," Oberon seemed to find a serious vein he'd lacked earlier.
"So as host will she come out to greet us?" Damien took the lead while Emberlee recovered.
"Be grateful she won't," as serious Oberon felt concerning.
A capital full of Fairy Magic, the very air saturated with power and illusions, and Emberlee could feel the rage and contempt emanating from the men in the carriage with her. All while the Fairy in her soul enjoyed a sense of homecoming.
"I have arrived, now we'll see what disaster that may bring," Emberlee aimed for a teasing tone but sounded all too serious. And neither man argued with her.