The night droned on after all the excessive preparation. All the nobility, titles, and pomp drove Cetlali's nervousness to new limits. It was rather tiring sitting up at the high-table, the largest, most ornate table, above all the rest.
Her belated and hateful realization was that far too many people could stare at her up there.
The garish beacon encasing her did not help.
An orphan, a steward, dressed like an Empress and feeling like a jester. She was conscientious to a painful extent as she sat between Ezren and Caran, of all people. Cetlali couldn't tolerate the tension. Not with the mess of feelings she had tucked inside the damned dress. It was squishing her anxiety about like thickening, bleak gray rain clouds fit to burst.
Caran was mostly pleasant company, thankfully, and wanted to hear about her travels and how she was faring with the changes. He updated her on Zeger, as they had been exchanging missives for some consistent time
now, and filled her in on all the interesting news of his own life. It was a lot since he was popular, charming, and beloved. Ezren, however, was altogether disagreeable. She spent the entire meal, all seven courses, managing a tenuous balancing act of one-sided conversations with both Caran and Ezren. But not together, no, because, for whatever horrible reason, they still refused to talk to each other.
Cetlali had tried to be amicable. Especially after she leaned over and saw Athua squished between Eraughn and the Financier Elect. She was handling it like an absolute peach with the very essence of Empress-like propriety. She made Rocha look like a garden troll.
Athua was the type that held the attention and adoration of every single person in every room she entered. The jealousy on Rocha's face during those times was enough to keep Cetlali's bitter little heart beating on pettiness alone. If Athua could muster a convincing laugh at Jonatan's haughty self aggrandizing, she could handle Ezren's iciness and Caran's attempts at getting a rise out of his father. By the end of the
meal, Cetlali was exhausted and thought Athua was a witch — or an extrovert.
When the meal finished and drinks flowed, the attendees pushed the tables out of the center of the hall. Musicians and singers came in with many instruments to set themselves up for playing. Since the first time she left Athua's rooms, Cetlali felt thrilled, remembering all the promises of frivolity with her friends. She hazarded a glance at the sisters. They both seemed equal amounts relieved by the signal to the end of the meal and the chance at some true revelry. Much to Cetlali's dismay, Ezren retired early and demanded her company. She had wanted to cry and beg. The harsh gleam in his eyes made her button up her mouth and follow with her usual obedience.
Lovou trailed after her, quiet until they were in the hall. He closed the distance between them, stepping up right behind her shoulder.
She looked up at him with a confused frown and a silent question in her eyes about his proximity. Xocthl was walking behind them, looking smug and knowing as per usual. His
response was a curt scowl before he fell back a few steps. Fortuitous, because the second after, Ezren grabbed onto Cetlali's opposite elbow.
He tugged her to him, tucking her hand around his arm, settling her at his side, their bodies flush against one another.
She remained quiet as they walked back to the Vassour Elect's Complex. A distance far too long to spend even in a comfortable silence. Let alone one made uncomfortable with the way Ezren seethed. Cetlali held herself rigid as a corpse, especially in the damned dress. Her body felt painfully jarred every single time his arm or leg or shoulder or fingers brushed against her.
They reached his solar and Xocthl stationed herself outside the door with Lovou on the inside. Ezren let his grasp slip from Cetlali when the door shut. She could have laughed with relief. Instead, she sat in the chair he guided her to and waited. He poured a glass of wine for each of them in an eerie, familiar ritual and sat down. He slid a glass over to her before settling back in his chair and gazing at her.
She wouldn't shift under his gaze, not anymore. Instead, she tried to drink the largest gulp of wine possible without looking like a miserable glutton. Restraining her grimace for the taste, she placed it back on the table. She hoped the food she couldn't eat earlier wouldn't feel slighted. She'd get drunker faster on an empty stomach and it was a desperate need.
"You and I have much to discuss." Ezren's tone was barbed, despite its cadence.
She nodded and swallowed. It was
wretched how quick the wine went sour in her stomach, which didn't help her in the slightest.
She didn't want to do what he wanted right at the moment. She wanted to go to sleep and wake up in a sennight.
"Yes, Vassour Elect," she replied with a bland emptiness. The faintest sound of shifting metal came from behind her. She dropped her head because she couldn't fight the horrified look on her face when she remembered Lovou was still in the room. She felt ripped open,
vulnerable. It revolted her that Ezren might be so bold as to do this in front of him. She couldn't believe the confidence Ezren had in Lovou. Ezren had to fear what rumors would spread about them if he revealed what happened during their discussions.
"Tonight I will let you rest." Her head popped up to stare at Ezren. Though she was careful to school her features, he didn't miss her shock like she hoped. His eyebrows raised with dubious amusement. "The day was busy. Our journey was long, and we even encountered a rather raucous band of brigands. Do not forget that you went throughout our entire trip without having to worry about seeking atonement. That is proof enough that I am a benevolent man."
"Yes, of course Ezren. I'd never think otherwise," she replied, distant as she swallowed back the nerves heavy on her tongue.
"Forgive me, Vassour Elect, you are too right, as always. It has been a long day."
"Too long to return to the hall for dancing?"
Ezren asked with a biting disinterest.
"What?" She couldn't even try to disguise her reaction to that. It was altogether unexpected.
He grinned, but it wasn't very kind looking.
"You may return to the feast if you wish. Don't think I didn't notice how excited you looked when the musicians were setting up."
Her smile came out meek, trying not to feel angry at herself for allowing such a slip. "Yes, I was curious to see dancing in Epoubodaz.
We've never been able to stay until the end of feasts when we were here on business."
"Now that we live here, you'd like to enjoy some frivolity. Is that it?" His tone went hard. It confused her with its abruptness. "Perhaps parade around in that dress in front of Ovar Tate and see what happens?"
Cetlali's eyes were wide. She heard the shifting metal again and wanted to cry for all she was worth. She couldn't understand what
Ezren was getting at. He'd bought her the damned dress. She didn't ask for it and didn't even like it. She never wanted people to look at her, digest her, consume her like some embellished cake. Her rage broiled, and she wanted to snarl back at him. She bit at her lips and looked her tear-swollen eyes towards her lap, trying not to sob in rage.
"I heard a curious thing about your busy day." Ezren's voice was icy as a glacier and contained a similar, weighty horror beneath the depths. "Why don't you tell me what occurred?"
She took a deep, stilling breath and spoke towards her lap. "Ovar approached us — me, Vae Athua, my attendants, and Lovou."
Swallowing, she pressed on, "He greeted me, called me changeling." She said the word, one she used to hate, a word barred because Ezren virtually forbade it. Only one person succeeded in calling her that, but no one else. She still didn't know why exactly — why Lovou did it, nor why she allowed it.
"I told him not to call me that and he said I had gotten brave." She looked up at Ezren and watched his gaze narrow on her, assessing, always assessing. She bore her gaze into his and made sure he understood the implications of Ovar's words. "He said he looked forward to seeing how else I had grown. Vae Athua stepped in, reminded him who he served, let him know she didn't require him, and said Eraughn might. He winked at me, so I spit on his boot, then Vae Athua —,"
"So you provoked him." Ezren's interruption was emphatic.
"He threatened me!" She hissed back.
Ezren's fist collided with the table lightning quick, and her entire body jolted with the boom that followed like a crash of thunder. The blood drained from her, or perhaps evaporated, leaving her skin ashen. She felt cold. Terror consumed her because of the look on Ezren's face. "I don't understand his obsession with you, but your behavior towards him is indeed
unhelpful." His snarl was menacing. "You entice him with your willfulness."
"He seeks me out! Every single time!"
Cetlali's words were a tenuous snarl as she fought the urge to scream and gnash her teeth,
"I have done nothing to lead him to believe I desire his attention —,"
Ezren roared, "And that is the exact reason he craves it! You goad him with your attitude!"
She gaped at him. Furious, confused, horrified.
He continued, listing out her sins as if he'd been there himself. "You spit on him, sneer at him, reject him, and disrespect him in front of the entire courtyard and you don't expect him to desire you more?"
Cetlali looked at him with unabashed vexation. "No!" she insisted with vehemence.
The notion had to be absurd. Otherwise, they expected her reciprocation with nothing in return but pain and terror. That made her
existence and choice inconsequential compared to someone else's desires. That entitlement to her made her burn.
Dazed with impotent rage, she ignored Ezren's umbrage and continued. "I have told him no. Nicely. Politely. Officially and otherwise! I have told him I am not for his consumption." She swallowed and looked up to see a mounting fury on Ezren's face. She needed something to appease him. The words came out fine, despite how sick they made her feel. "I have told him who I belong to!"
The words struck a soothing cord in the chilling man. Something rolled through his body as the glare he directed at her lessened.
"He doesn't listen!" Cetlali insisted, eyes frantic. She searched for what more she could say to make him see it was Ovar who deserved the blame for this. Ezren wouldn't accept him as the villain unless it was a personal affront.
"Will you not lecture him for spitting on Lovou, his own brother, in front of the future Empress?
Twice?" She almost begged him. "When he
disrespects us, your most faithful retainers, he disrespects you."
Ezren's jaw clenched. Emerald eyes blazed to Lovou, who remained silent and still behind Cetlali, which was a great relief. She felt bad for bringing him into all of it, but it couldn't matter.
Ezren had to understand just how rudderless Ovar Tate truly was.
"I see that, Cetlali, which is why we are having this discussion." He cleared his throat and sipped some wine, his disinterest sudden and acute. "I expect you to be at my side for most of our time in the Citadel. However, I am sure there will be times where you will be without my protection."
Cetlali hesitated to observe him. It sounded as if he was working up to something she intuited she wouldn't like.
"Because of Ovar's immediate disrespect upon our arrival, I do not believe he is trustworthy despite my tenure here, not with you in such proximity. Not for some time." He
leveled her with a sharp stare. She nodded her head to show she was understanding, even when she knew she wasn't. There were always layers to what Ezren deigned to reveal.
"Because of that, I believe it is wise to designate you with a personal guard. I've decided on who."
She knew he enjoyed making people
uncomfortable or anxious. He was testing her to see how long she could last under his gaze.
She folded herself into a genteel pose and waited for a beat as he watched her.
"Lovou."
"What!?"
Cetlali wasn't sure who yelled it louder, her or Lovou. Her head whipped around. Her skin felt together parched and drenched in sweat.
Once again, she remembered with great horror that he was still present there in the room. Now she knew he was also paying attention, which was not something he admitted too often. Eyes wide and mouth hanging open, Lovou was as
unabashed and shocked as she was. Then she remembered they weren't the only ones present.
They weren't even the ones making
conversation. She looked back at Ezren with urgency.
"Why? I thought you intended for him to be your guard?" Cetlali pushed. She wanted to regain the attention Ezren had given Lovou's suspicious gawping — insofar as nothing rattled the man. Ezren turned back to her, more appraising, meticulous as he adjusted his resplendent attire.
"Lovou is the only one who would not hesitate if Ovar made an attempt at you." His glare was sharp. Cetlali stared at him, breathless. "It's also quite possible he's the only person Ovar has enough sense to fear."
"Ovar doesn't fear anyone," Cetlali replied, sounding agonized.
"He certainly doesn't hesitate because of our deep brotherly bond," Lovou spat.
She turned to look at him with something desperate and confused playing out on her features. Her tone became pained and despondent as she asked him, "What happens when he realizes he gets the added benefit of killing you and getting to me?" In response, Lovou's mismatched grey eyes went explosive with expression despite the menacing stillness with which he held himself.
Ezren interrupted their side conversation as if they weren't having it. "This is a temporary situation," he insisted. "Since you cannot seem to control yourself, Lovou will be at your side if I am not there to ensure that you keep yourself in check."
"But —,"
"This is not Cazar Shcomou, Cetlali," Ezren hissed. "If you will not use the intelligence I gave you to keep yourself safe, then I will take matters into my own hands." His words were like a poison in her veins.
"Yes, Vassour Elect," Cetlali replied, absent, and tense with the effort not to shudder.
"Lovou..." Ezren demanded, staring right at Cetlali as he spoke.
"Yes, Vassour Elect?" Lovou replied without hesitation.
"Escort Cetlali either to her rooms or back to the feast. Her decision," Ezren stated, his eyes still on Cetlali's in a challenge. He did not mean the next words for her in the slightest,
"The rest of the night is yours."
"Yes, Vassour Elect," Lovou echoed.
Cetlali sighed out harsh through her nose, but said nothing.
Ezren continued, "Make your choices, Cetlali, but use wisdom to make them. I need you to understand that you are a reflection upon our clan. Do not shame me."
Cetlali nodded, trying to hide the distinct air of hurt rumbling in her chest.
"Go," Ezren barked.
She flinched, standing and giving a bow before she turned to leave. Lovou stood at the door, a towering silhouette in the dimness, looking like a shadow king. Perhaps one that fell on a rough time and didn't have a blade sharp enough to shave. It was an all around absurd thought though, as Lovou was never without sharpened blades.
She almost smiled at him out of habit, but Ezren's voice cut through the room.
"Cetlali..."
Her eyes widened at the tone. She couldn't move. Her gaze was stuck on Lovou. He stared back at her, impassive at first with his usual frown in place. She knew what was coming, but he didn't. Lovou's head tilted to the side. His gaze was slow to morph into something like
concern. Unfortunately, he caught the way her hands trembled.
"Bid me goodnight..." Ezren's tone was a soft and chilling demand.
Cetlali's brow crumpled, fighting the urge to sob. She realized she played that embarrassing emotion on her face for Lovou to see. He stood tall in all his absent glory, face blank. Only one thing had changed. His hand was gripping the pommel of his sword with a clenched fist.
Cetlali turned and folded her face into something more serene as she faced Ezren, hurrying to his side as he stood. She stared at him for a beat and murmured, "Goodnight, Vassour Elect." She almost turned to go, but he grabbed her hands in a steely grip before leaning forward to press his lips against the corner of her mouth. He pulled back, eyes gleaming with a bleary heat. She feared he had imbibed more at the feast than she realized.
He'd not seemed to touch the stuff, not even allowing her to take a glass of ale. She had to sneak. Yet he, brazen as the dawn, just kissed
her, in front of Lovou, no less. He was either intoxicated or possessed.
Ezren grinned as his gaze flitted over her features. His voice was soft. "Until tomorrow night."
She nodded. Her hands were still in his grip until he dropped them. Her turn was rigid, but she walked away with a single-minded determination to keep herself from running and screaming.
The path opened. She was out in the hallway, trying not to gulp in air or allow herself to crumble apart. The door slammed behind her with a bang and she gasped and jumped away. Xocthl was swift enough to catch her.
But her focus concentrated over Cetlali's head, where her eyes were full of concern and tinged with anger.
Lovou stormed past the two of them down the hallway like a demon straight out of hell.
Cetlali reached out a useless hand, his name on her tongue, but left unspoken. She didn't think
he'd stop, and she wasn't sure she wanted him to. Her sigh came out halfhearted. She looked up and realized Xocthl was staring after Lovou, too.
She turned to take Cetlali in. "What in all the fuck was that about?" She asked.
Cetlali couldn't help the nervous peal of giggles at her abruptness. With a restrained, twitching smile, she said, "A nightmare."
Xocthl rose an eyebrow at her in doubt,
"You two certainly have a strange reaction to nightmares."
She shuddered and wrapped her arms around her herself. She shrugged. "Like we get to choose how we react to nightmares?"
Xocthl weighed that question in her mind for a moment. Eyes flitting around the ceiling until her lips turned down. She gave an agreeing shrug.
Cetlali frowned hard at an empty hallway.
Huffing, she turned to Xocthl, steadfast and determined to not let everyone ruin her entire damn night. Especially when she finally had the chance to enjoy herself, to a certain restrained, unembarrassing extent. "Xocthl, would you be willing to take me back to my rooms and then escort me to the hall for the rest of the feast?"
Xocthl nodded, "Sure." They started walking, and she had a question come up after a few steps. "Why your rooms first?"
Cetlali's hand pressed against her lower abdomen. The pain in her gut swelled to a searing ache because of all the discord. She laced her tone with the desperate need to be rid of the dress. "I need to change."
Xocthl shrugged. "It's a shame, but I understand why."
"Why?" she replied, wary with little patience seeping into the tinge of her tone.
"Why it's a shame or why I understand you'd want to change?" Xocthl gave her a sleek smile.
Cetlali rolled her eyes, a begrudging smile playing on her lips. "Both?"
Xocthl grinned. "It's a shame because you look positively ravishing." Cetlali hid her smile from Xocthl and chuckled, despite her unease with compliments. "Now, now, it's only fair. I'm honest here. Plus, that door isn't all that thick, and Ezren sure flaunts his gravitas. So it's not like it's a damn secret how good you look."
Cetlali huffed, exasperated. She shook her head with a tremulous chuckle at Xocthl,
"Stop..."
"But I can understand why you'd want to change because, as beautiful as it is, that dress on your person is like damned quicksand. Once someone looks, they'll never want to stop.
You've never seemed like one to enjoy that sort of attention. Nor do you even seem comfortable in it. Which ruins the whole concept if you're
decent enough to look for it." She replied in her usual casual lilt.
Cetlali scowled at her good-naturedly. "Stop being so observant. It's positively infuriating having to hear you be right all the time."
"What good am I if I can't be right all the time?" Xocthl sounded like she might begin pouting at any moment.
"You're pretty handy with a sword and that dagger of yours," Cetlali chuckled, trying to feign calm with a gentle tone. "I hear you also broke a Pleasure House. So handy there, too."
Xocthl grinned at her, all bright and dashing with her wide smile and crooked nose, "See, I don't mind it so much when you're right all the time." Xocthl put out her arm for Cetlali.
After a hard bark of laughter, she rolled her eyes and grinned. She took Xocthl's arm, quite thankful for the moment. At the very least, Xocthl wouldn't lose herself to whatever it was in the Citadel that turned everyone into vicious,
moody shits. She was a welcome relief. Cetlali just would never be the one to tell her that.
They'd never hear the end of it.