He watches the future queen twirl around the ballroom, lightheaded from staring too long. She goes from hand to hand, passed about like a valuable, beautiful commodity. Her gown flows about her, chiffon tendrils gliding through the air, opening around her like the petals of a golden sunflower. It was Carlos de Narro first, then his father, and then a Leis diplomat. After that, it's a man from the Silva's cadet branch, Flores, and then one of her distant Rubio cousins.
Eden keeps waiting for her to be eventually passed around to Ramon.
She never does.
Now that he's looking around, scanning the crowd, he can't see that head of red hair anywhere. Eden's attention had gone to Alejandro Lopez and the Tondan for a moment in time, and Ramon disappeared into thin air.
Eden puts a hand on Carlos de Narro's shoulder when he stalks by, raking his dark hair away from his face.
"Don Carlos," he begins. "Have you seen Don Ramon?"
"Who?" Carlos glances back, caught mid-step.
"Don Ramon of House Borja. Have you seen him?" At Carlos's continued silence, Eden sighs. "Er... Red hair. Green- no, dark eyes. Freckles. Tall. About my height." He raises an eyebrow. "Have you seen him, Don Carlos?"
"I might've," Carlos replies. "It's hard to tell when she's here." He points with a ruddy thumb at Rosalinda. "I've never seen someone so..."
Eden keeps his eyes on her. "Yes. I know what you mean."
Carlos smiles. "It's a shame she's marrying the king. What I would give just to have her marry me instead."
"She's your cousin. And anyway, I don't think that would make you any less insatiable."
"No." Carlos laughs. "It wouldn't. Oh, and by the way, my Wilshorian friend..." He dips toward Eden, still smiling. "Maybe it's best for someone of your... identity... to refrain from dancing with a woman of high Edeiran nobility."
Eden's cheeks flush. "My identity?"
Carlos holds up his hands. "Look, I'm not saying it to offend you. I'm telling you this for your own good. You understand, right?"
Eden stares for a moment too long. Then, with a quick bow of his head, he says, "Perfectly, Don Carlos."
Carlos flashes him a quick grin before dissolving back into the crowd. Eden breathes in deep, clenching and unclenching his fists. He looks back to Rosalinda de Silva, who's now been passed into her father's arms. They laugh and talk together, not quite following the steps to the lively dance they're attempting. The resemblance between them is undeniable. They've got the same brown curls, the same carefree smiles. Even their hairlines are oddly similar.
Mateo de Silva leans in to his daughter's ear. Rosalinda smiles and cups her father's cheek, her full lips spreading into the most brilliant of smiles.
Eden's gloved hand goes to his own cheek. What must it be like, he wonders, to share a relationship like that with one's father? To trust them implicitly? To love them and be loved in return?
Something nasty swells in his chest. It knots and writhes until he finds himself scowling at the dark-haired pair of Silvas, fingernails digging into the skin of his own face.
"Señor Tudor!"
Eden's hand falls back to his side, schooling his scowl away.
"Arroyo," he greets. "Why did you leave your station?" Eden notes the clammy pallor of Arroyo's skin and the width of his green eyes. "What happened?"
It all comes out on one breath. "Alejandro Lopez. He's gone mad. I turned away for one moment, and now he's bleeding from his nose and eyes-"
"Bleeding?" Eden grasps at his pistol. "Take me."
Together, they hurry towards the gaping doors that lead out of the grand ballroom.
"You and you," Eden says, pointing at the Sentinels poised at the opening, "stay close to Doña Rosalinda. Don't take your eyes off her for a second. I'll be a few minutes."
"Yes, Señor," they chorus.
In the hallway beyond, Eden jogs to Arroyo's side. "Tell me everything."
Arroyo looks sideways at him, gulping. "It's as I told you, Señor. He came storming out of the palace, demanding that his indio partner be killed for insolence. He wanted to do it himself if we wouldn't. Then I..." He tugs at his collar.
"Tell me," Eden prompts. "You're not going to get in any trouble, Arroyo."
After a moment, Arroyo continues, "I came into the palace to get a glimpse of the festivities. I knew I shouldn't have looked away, I know that. But I did. I heard a scuffle, but I only assumed he was sharing his rage with the coachmen outside. When I turned back to return to my post, he was lying on the ground, bleeding. The coachmen say they saw him fight with an indio boy... and then there was some girl in a cloak... and then they saw the Head Sentinel..."
Eden gapes. "What?"
"I'm sorry!" Arroyo exclaims. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have looked away, I'm an idiot, demote me-"
They cross out into the night. Eden descends the steps quickly, attention trained on Alejandro Lopez, who sits on the cobblestone, rocking back and forth like a child. Blood flows from his eyes, ears and nose, trailing over his skin.
"Snows and sands," Eden murmurs. He rushes over. A group of Sentinels stand guard against the fallen socialite, coachmen lingering around, stepping on their smouldering cigars. He surveys the scene; a smattering of blood covers the cobblestone in one spot. He bends, pulling off his glove to touch it. It rolls off his fingers, still wet. "Is this his?"
Arroyo comes to his side, wringing his hands sheepishly. "The men say that the indio boy was there before. He ran, but he was injured. Lopez has been there," he says, pointing, "since I found him."
Eden addresses the coachmen. "You all saw the Head Sentinel?"
"They saw-" Arroyo begins.
"Let them speak for themselves," Eden interjects. He takes a step towards them, four men huddled in a group together, smelling strongly of smoke. "Who did you see?"
One of them clears his throat, ingrown hairs lining his jaw. "I saw a boy with glowing eyes and dark hair."
Eden nods, gulping. "Yes, that was Valentine. What of the girl?"
"She was in a cloak," the coachman responds. "I... we... didn't see much of her, apart from her hands."
"They were delicate, weren't they?"
The man blinks. His eyes are watery. "Yes. They were."
"And then Alejandro Lopez was a bleeding, snivelling mess. Is that right?"
The man and his friends just stare at him.
"Alright," Eden calls, holding up a hand. He turns to Arroyo and the other five Sentinels stationed around Lopez. "This party is over. I want the palace on lockdown. Doña Rosalinda needs to be escorted to safety. Get Lopez to a doctor, and when he's coherent, interrogate him. I want round-the-clock watch on him. Do you all understand me?"
"Yes, Señor," they chorus.
"Good," Eden breathes. "Arroyo. You're coming with me. We're breaking up this celebration now."
Eden doesn't waste another moment. He climbs the steps back into the palace, feet pounding on the marble floors.
Val told him that whatever happened at the hospice wasn't supernatural. Eden knew, even then, that Val was lying. So why does his chest feel like it's about to explode? Why does that knowledge hurt him more than a physical blow?
So, Eden thinks bitterly, you want to keep secrets?
"Fine," he grits out, quiet enough that Arroyo doesn't hear him over the sound of their movement. "Let's keep secrets."
*
Much, much later, when everything is quiet in Solaris Palace, Eden slumps against a wall, pausing in his watch if only for a moment. He recalls the past two hours: breaking up the party, escorting Doña Rosalinda and her father to their quarters in the residential wing, taking up guard at the future queen's door.
Then, of course, the long watch afterwards.
Eden rubs at his temples and glances down the hallway. Windows line the wall he's facing, fogged over from the rain. It beats on the glass, the humidity from outside creeping inwards. Eden's hair is plastered to his forehead in what he's sure is a mockery of the style he had it in earlier tonight. His clothing sticks to his skin. He feels like a tree, rooted here for eternity.
Beyond the expanse of the windows, the corridor is empty. The floors shine in the meagre moonlight, made of perfect, polished marble. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling in intervals. Frescoes decorate the walls, telling stories of the gods in every image. In one, a cloaked woman sits in front of a shimmering tapestry, using her deft fingers to thread strings into the cloth. In another, eight figures edged in real diamonds descend upon the mortals of this earth, the humans falling to their knees. Still more show scenes of carnage, blood made mineral by large, opulent rubies. Only one thing is constant in all of them: crisscrossing lines made of tiny, sparkling jewels that seem to be lit from within, overlaying and twining with every person, every god, every plant and animal.
It's the weave that Val's so familiar with, Eden knows. And more than that, Eden knows that this will be the closest he, himself, will ever get to seeing it.
He lets out a quiet curse. He's done so well keeping his thoughts away from Valentine until now. Why did he lie? What was he hoping to do- protect Eden as best he could?
"I'm not that frightened boy anymore," he says, though no one can hear him. "You know that, so why-"
The door to his left creaks. Eden stands to attention, heart bumping against his ribcage.
"Doña Rosalinda."
She peeks out from the chink between the door and its frame, brown curls hanging loose about her face.
"I can't believe you're still awake," she whispers.
"I have to keep watch. That's my job." He looks over her, afraid he'll see something he shouldn't- but not even a shoulder is revealed. Her whole body is tucked behind the door save for her face. "You should be sleeping."
She looks to the side, chewing on her lower lip. With a sigh, she steps out from behind the door and into the hallway, trailing over to his right side. She gives him a solemn glance before sliding down the wall until she sits on the floor, pulling her nightdress over her ankles.
"I haven't been able to sleep all that well since I got the news," she admits.
Eden stares at the top of her dark head. "I can only imagine."
"I haven't felt safe this whole time. On the train here, all I could think about was that someone out there wanted to kill me. At the party, I wondered whether someone would jump out of the crowd and stab me. The strange thing is," she says, looking up at him with her big, dark eyes, "I never once felt at peace until I took your arm."
Eden looks down the length of the hallway before sliding down the wall to join the future queen on the floor.
"I'm flattered," he tells her. "You know- when I first heard of you, I thought you'd stick your nose up at me when we first met. I was convinced of it, actually. So many people have done it before."
Rosalinda tilts her head, smiling a small smile. "I know you were offended earlier. I may be sheltered, but I don't think Wilshorians are all that different from Edeirans. We're all human."
"We're all human," echoes Eden.
"A few of the maids back at the manor in Covigo are Wilshorians. They've always been so kind to me. Mother always hated them. She wanted them gone. But they..." She shrugs. "They were my friends."
"Were?"
"I don't know that I'll ever return."
Eden knots his fingers together in his lap. He's quite aware of the heat that's building in the space between their arms, close enough to be indecent.
Rosalinda asks, "Will I ever see you again?"
Eden's lips part. "In passing, maybe."
"That's a shame."
"Why?"
"You reminded me of my friends," she explains. "Though it might just be the blond hair."
Eden finds himself grinning. "You want to be friends."
"Is that too much to ask?"
"I think people would find it inappropriate. A Wilshorian cavorting with their future queen?"
"But you're a Wilshorian that's Head Sentinel substitute. That has to count for something."
"Oh, they found that inappropriate too. They just couldn't say anything because a Casillis decreed it. As disgraced as that House might be, it's one of the oldest."
"Well..." She tucks her hair behind her ear. "I still need someone to guard me, don't I?"
"You think I'm the only one guarding you right now? There are Sentinels at the end of this wing, ready to die for you if need to be. You'll never have a moment alone, trust me. You don't need me."
Rosalinda draws away, as if stung. She presses her back to the wall, pouting like a child. When Eden continues keeping his silence, she leans forward and heaves a groan.
"Father will be leaving after the wedding. I may not be alone now, but in a month, I'd much rather have one friend than none. I get it if you don't want to see me again, but-"
"You really believe I don't want to see you again?"
"Well, yes."
"Doña Rosalinda, you're a wonderful girl. I'd very much like to see you again, if only to avoid offending a future monarch. Despite that..."
"If you do want to see me again, then prove it." She dusts herself off and springs to her feet, one finger pointing his way. "Visit me here, at the palace, tomorrow at noon. Father will be off meeting with his cousins from House Narro. As your future queen, I decree it. Do you understand, Eden Tudor?"
Eden rises. Her imperious expression wavers now that he towers over her.
"Do you understand?" she repeats, voice smaller than before.
He inclines his head, sweeping into a bow. "I understand, Reina Rosalinda."
"Good," she breathes.
He looks up, and for a moment, they lock eyes. Hers are glittering.
The moment ends as quickly as it began. She slips back into her chamber, shutting the door behind her with a quiet click.
And in spite of himself, in spite of it all, his grin returns.