"Lady Eris."
The voice stopped me cold. It wasn't Asher's voice, though I'd expected him to make a beeline straight for me after the Report. No, Asher I could have handled.
I turned, only to find a very different Royal staring me down. She wore a pristine, polished dress of soft cream with long, fitted sleeves. It had green vines and bright flowers embroidered into the massive, flared skirt.
The Queen of Illéa gave me a tight lipped smile as I met her gaze.
"Could I speak with you for a moment?"
What was I to do other than obey?
I'd been in the middle of getting my ass chewed out. Lauren had dragged me into a far corner of the studio as soon as the Report had ended. Luna had hurried along behind us. Everyone else was loitering, casual as they sipped at drinks. Celebrating the success of the first Selection Report.
Luna reached for my hand as I started to leave, trailing after the Queen. I didn't look back, but gave her a squeeze as I left, more for her benefit than my own.
No doubt the both of them assumed that they wouldn't be seeing me again.
That thought saddened me. Still, I also couldn't help the thrill that rippled through me at the idea of the Queen sending me right home.
Of course, she might also send me straight to fucking prison.
We left the studio, and then we left the palace all together. She set a brisk pace, as did the Guards keeping up with us. One on either side, following sharply behind me. I wondered if they followed her everywhere or if she'd ordered their protection because of me.
We left through a set of double glass doors and descended into the gardens. The night was brisk, and the air chilly. The sting of the breeze through my thin dress left me on alert, at the very least.
She seemed to have a destination in mind as she strode with purpose down the stone paths. Passed flower gardens and tree groves and courtyards of stone.
I watched the sky as I followed he, aimless. The glint of her silver crown in my peripheral vision was enough to lead me.
The sun hadn't yet set. Our way was lit by streaks of deep purple and molten gold. The thick clouds turning to royal blue as the sun slipped away. Only the brightest of the stars had managed to push through the mess of colour.
Finally, the Queen came to rest in a courtyard. Enclosed on all sides by tall hedges, it was blocked entirely from view of anybody passing. A stone water fountain dominated the space, standing higher than the surrounding hedges. The spraying water was the only sound in the quiet space, the peace soon disturbed by the clicking of our shoes.
The Guards didn't enter the courtyard at all. They instead took up a vigil out of sight, guarding the only opening, I assumed. Far enough away for us to pretend we had privacy. Close enough, however, to let me know that they could be there in an instant if I thought about stepping out of line.
There was a wide circle of stone benches around the perimeter of the courtyard. The Queen moved to occupy one furthest from the entrance. She smoothed out her dress, sat primly, back straight, head high, watching me. The huge folds of her skirt offered no room for me on the bench, especially since she'd made a point to sit right in the middle of it.
A dangerous game, it seemed.
Not like with Asher, where it was an obvious kind of conflict, full of fire and brazen arrogance.
No, this would be different. This had to be careful, quiet, a subtle sort of pull and push, a tipping of the scale one way or the other. There would be no shouting, no lashing out. This was about small gestures, careful comments and clever maneuvers.
The power was already with her. Her very status held the game in her favour. There was no resisting. Obvious resisting wouldn't get a rise out of her like it did Asher. I would have to move with the tide, and hope to swim rather than sink.
She'd made her first move by sitting in the middle of the bench; politeness would dictate that I sit beside her. The little space available would mean I'd either have to ask to sit, or squeeze into the edges she provided me with.
Of course, she'd overestimated me. Her mistake for thinking I was polite.
I turned and walked to the fountain. Took a seat on it's wide stone ledge. Leaned over and dipped my fingers into the cool water. Completely content as I reached down and twirled some of the underwater plants. I didn't bother to glance over at the Queen.
"Lady Eris." Her voice was almost stern, but not quite there.
"Hmm?" I looked over, smiling.
"Won't you join me?" She gestured to the bench she sat on.
"I'm quite happy here, Your Majesty." Nothing but respect in my voice. I turned back to the water and spotted the small fish darting around beneath the glassy surface.
I heard her sigh. Her skirts ruffled with the motion of her standing, and then her heels clacked as she moved to stand before me. She didn't choose to sit.
I laughed inwardly. Still didn't look at her.
"Do you know why I asked to speak with you, Lady Eris?"
"Not exactly, Your Majesty."
"Could you hazard a guess?"
"It could be a number of things, Your Majesty."
"And therein lies the problem, don't you think?"
Finally, I looked up at her. She stood staring out at the receding light, hands folded in front of her, jaw set. Her pale skin shone inky blue, and the faded red of her hair was darkening to brown as the sun swept the light away.
I didn't reply, but stared at her expectantly.
"I rarely lose my temper, Lady Eris. Never have much of a reason to. I would consider myself to be a measured individual. My temper was decidedly more explosive in my youth." This personal information surprised me a little, but I didn't comment. "Can you imagine my surprise when I watched you tonight, on national television nonetheless, and felt nothing short of pure, undiluted rage?"
My insides turned cold with dread. She still wasn't looking at me.
"I have to admit, that's a little surprising." I mused. Her shoulders tightened. "Considering all the other incidents, that interview seemed subtle in comparison."
"Those other incidents weren't broadcast to all of Illéa." She spat. Finally, it looked like I was getting under her skin. A tomato red blush had started to leech upwards from her chest. Her cheeks had turned splotchy with the colour.
"I didn't say anything outlandish."
"No, I noticed you were careful not to actually say anything out loud. But you made it quite clear your position on the palace and my son."
"So you're angry at me for not saying anything?"
"I'm angry at you-!" She made an effort to quiet her voice. "I'm angry at you for behaving in such a scandalous, horrendous and provocative manner."
"The interview lasted for little more than a minute." I sighed, looking back to the water.
"A minute that hundreds of thousands of people were watching!" She surged forward, and the motion made me glance up again. She stopped shy of her flared skirts touching my knees. "Have you no shame?"
"Me?" I turned a smile up at her, "Plenty. For that interview? None."
"Why are you here, Lady Eris?" She demanded, hands balling at her sides.
I should tell her. Tell her that I wanted to go home. That I'd asked Asher to send me home the moment I'd gotten here. She'd be more than happy to overrule his decision and have me on a flight back to Dakota this evening. I wanted to, even opened my mouth to, and then she cut over me.
"Let me guess," She seethed, "For the money, is that it? We offer you a chance that every girl in the country hoped for. We took you in, a Seven, and an orphan at that. You sit there in the clothes we put on your back! Sending home the money we're generous enough to give you! And yet you have the audacity to throw it back in our faces with every breath you breathe!"
The words hit me like a slap. Not because they struck home, not because they were true, but because I was so fucking infuriated by them.
"How dare you," I said, with a cold calm. Her eyes flared wide as I stood with deliberate slowness. "How dare you stand there and condescend me. Everything I have I worked for, and fought for, and earned with blood and sweat. You sit in your marble palace in your pretty dresses and have the audacity to speak to me as if I'm not the one that hasn't struggled for everything I have in this world!"
She reeled backwards. The last words were shouts, and I had no doubt the Guards would have heard. Would be relaying those words on to everyone that would listen as soon as they were off duty.
The Queen and I stood staring at each other. Her chest was heaving, her eyes narrowed, her whole face scarlet with fury.
"You're insolent, and rude, and downright hateful." She breathed, enraged. "I made a promise at the beginning of this Selection. I swore that I would welcome you girls with open arms. Into my home and into my heart. I wanted to make the process as easy as I could for every one of you."
"How noble." I barked.
For a moment, I thought she'd slap me. But she looked away and took a breath, and after a moment she shook her head. She was done with me.
"Tonight, I'll demand my son send you home, Lady Eris." She said it to startle me, she didn't expect me to cut her a smirk.
"By all means."
"If he refuses, I'll press the matter. I'll speak with my husband too, and if he agrees that you're not to stay, then we shall overrule my son and send you home." The blue of her gaze was chilly as a winter's night as she looked me over, "In the meantime, you are not to seek out my daughter. I don't want you saying goodbye. She'll do much better without your influence."
Queen America turned on her heel and strolled away.
***
"Eris?"
The sharp tone had me glancing up in fright, only to find Rolan stood in the opening to the courtyard.
"Fuck, Eris." He rushed towards me, dropping down onto his haunches so we were face to face, "What the hell are you doing out here, huh? You're practically blue!"
His big hands went to my shoulders, checking to make sure I was alright. At the feel of my chilly skin beneath the thin layers of my dress, he let loose a string of colourful curses.
Rolan yanked me up and rubbed at the length of my arms roughly, trying to generate heat through friction. After a moment of that he thought better of it, pulling back to shrug out of his jacket and drape it over my shoulders. It was comically large on my frame.
"I've been looking everywhere for you." He told me, breathless. "Dinner came and went. There's rumours going round that you shouted at the bloody Queen. Then Princess Amber threw a fit in the middle of dinner, shouting and crying. Or so I heard, something about not being able to be your friend anymore."
At that, a choked, heavy sob broke out of me. He seemed startled, pulling back to stare, his murky green eyes heavy with genuine worry. I wondered if he'd been drinking. He was usually stiff as a board until he'd had a few beers, but his eyes were clear, and his hands steady on my shoulders.
"What happened?"
"I don't get to say goodbye to Amber." My voice broke.
"You're leaving?"
"I don't know. She said she'd demand my dismissal to Asher. But if he says no, then she'll go to the King. If he says I'm to go, then they'll overrule Asher."
"Those bastards." He growled. I tried to laugh, but it came out weak and pathetic.
He looked at me, swept my frame from head to toe, and took a long moment to gauge the strength of my gaze. When he was done with his assessment, he sighed heavily and wrapped his thick arms around me.
If I wasn't so surprised, I would have pulled away.
The warmth of him seeped into my shivering body. His hands slid inside the jacket to wrap around my waist. I let him tuck me into his chest, pushing my cheek into his shoulder, breathing him in, sinking into his body. The solid bulk of him was more comforting than I thought it could be.
He held me like I was made of glass. Like if he squeezed too tight, I'd disappear into a cloud of angry orange smoke. One hand cradled my head, the other rubbed comforting circles into my waist.
I couldn't shed any tears, not right now. Not with him. I'd leave that until later. When I was on my own and my door locked, with the covers pulled up over my head so nobody could hear my sobbing.
"Let's sit down." He moved us to one of the stone benches, but didn't let me go. Wrapping me in one of his arms instead. I slipped my arms into the sleeves of his jacket, trying to catch the last embers of warmth he'd left behind inside it.
I settled deep into his side as we sat, my head on his shoulder and his arm curled around my back, holding me close.
"Do you want to go?"
"Yes." I told him, voice firm. "But not like this. Not without telling Amber goodbye, or telling her she can write to me, and call if she wants. I just... She's so lonely already, Rolan."
"I can't believe they'd do that to her." He shook his head, the low light of the moon caught strands of bronze in his dark, reddish hair. "To you."
"It's what they are." I shrugged, "I'm not surprised."
"Will Asher send you home if his mother pressures him?"
"Who knows? He's got his own agenda entirely. He doesn't give a shit about anything anyone says."
"I hate how he treats you, Eris." Rolan turned his head to stare at me, sharp jaw clenched into a thin, cutting edge. "I hate that he doesn't see how fucking brilliant you are."
My eyes flicked up to meet his, finding them feverish with intent. "Rolan..."
"I'm serious."
A quiet chuckle, "I know you are. But... You could get into so much trouble. It's best to not even think of things like that."
He smiled, huffing an exasperated breath. "That's out of my hands, I'm afraid, and it's your fault."
"You're ridiculous." I rolled my eyes.
"No." His other hand caught my chin, tilted my face up until our gazes were angled just right. His fingers on my waist were drawing me steadily closer, harder against him. "I'm not. I can't believe that asshole doesn't even see what a prize he has. He's not even aware of what he's managed to find. I'd give you the damn world on a platter, Eris."
"I don't think that's strictly legal." I murmured. I tried to look away, trying to break the tension, trying to distract that calm, lethal focus in his eyes.
"Good think I'm not a Prince then, isn't it?" He grinned.
There was no stopping him, no protesting. Though I'm not sure I would have bothered to protest, if he'd given me a choice in the decision. I knew he would try, but I didn't expect the movement to be so blindingly fierce.
In the time it took me to glance at him, he'd lowered his head and pressed his lips to mine.
Before I could make a noise, his hand clutched the back of my head, trapping our faces together. His lips moved on mine, insistent, hard, aggressive with intensity. His breath was hot on my mouth, and his hands were hot on my skin.
I moved to brace my hand on his arm, the one reaching to grip my face. I almost tugged it down. Almost curled my fingers around his bicep ready to push him away. But as he felt the pressure of my fingers on his skin, he released a breathless gasp into my mouth.
He hadn't expected me to react positively. He'd expected me to shove him away, or lash out in violence. At the quiet, soft touch of my hand on his arm, he'd assumed I'd accepted his embrace. The sound that escaped him, one of shock and hope, left me completely powerless.
All at once, I was kissing him back.
My lips were no longer crushed by his, my body no longer bent uncomfortably backward with the force of him.
Instead, I wrapped an arm around his wide shoulders and used the leverage to pull me tight against his side. My lips were aggressive, just as demanding as we fought for the scorching air between us. His lips parted, and our tongues met enthusiastically. He made a noise, a rough, guttural growl that had my stomach tightening in response.
It wasn't enough. I needed more.
With a low moan that was more a signal of my surrender than a sign of my arousal, I unfolded myself from his side. He grabbed at a fistful of my skirts, protesting the distance I'd put between us. He opened his mouth to vocalise that protest, but I'd already put my fingers against his lips to cut off the words.
Biting my lip around a smirk, I hiked my skirts up to my knees and moved to straddle him. His mouth dropped open. His green eyes became almost entirely black as his pupils swelled wide. His big hands, rough at the fingertips, dragged up my calves, over the backs of my knees and settled on my thighs as I sat in his lap.
My knees were at his hips. My ass on his thighs. My arms around his neck, my fingers in his hair, my breasts pressed tight against his hard chest.
It was the touch I'd been desperately craving this last week. The comfort never offered by anyone in the palace.
But Rolan was offering it now. Willingly, gladly, and like the selfish prick I was, I took everything he offered.
My eyes still on his as he tipped his chin up to look at me, I lowered my mouth. Parted my lips. The smile he gave was soft as he accepted the invitation. That fire grew quickly, the position we were tangled in serving only to lend kindling to that fire. We were breathing heavily into each other's mouths, my fingers fisted in his hair.
I ground myself down onto him.
The movement, that friction, wrenched a strangled groan right out his throat. His hands tightened on my thighs. His hips jerked up, almost involuntarily, to prolong the sensation that friction offered.
Happily, I did that work without complaint. Rocking myself against him, begrudging the few thin layers of clothing between us. My toes curled as his hands inched up my thighs, over my ass, to grip my hips. Pressing me down hard against the spot that was growing firm beneath my rough, desperate movements.
He wrenched his lips away, and just when I thought he'd come to his senses, he flattened his mouth against my chest. My breath left me in a rush as his tongue traveled the length of my throat. His teeth then grazed the spot below my ear.
I don't know how long we continued, how long we rutted against one another on that stone bench. Pulling, yanking, tugging on each other. Kissing desperately in the cold.
If it hadn't been for the sharp sting of his teeth on my skin, I might have allowed things to go further. As it were, he nipped on the swell of my breast, exposed by my dress. The shudder that washed over me was both exhilaration and arousal, but fear followed.
Fear that if we were caught, that small prick of pain would be the least of my worries. The blotchy purple marks I'd left on Rolan's throat would not be the only souvenir he'd receive for this.
With a choked gasp, I yanked my head away from him. Rolan's lips left my jaw and he didn't move to put them back there. His eyes were wide and half concealed with the choppy locks of reddish hair I'd yanked out of it's pristine style. My face was stuck in a grimace. Almost apologetic, but more fearful. He seemed to understand the conclusion I'd come to.
With a huff, he pressed his forehead to the hollow beneath my throat, his cheek cushioned against my chest. His hands, no longer bruising my hips, rubbed comfortingly at my back as he wrapped his arms around me.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't apologise." He shook his head, "One of us had to come to our senses eventually."
"It's not that I don't want to." I was still a little breathless.
"It's that we'll probably both be executed if we're found like this."
"Exactly." He pulled away and smiled up at me softly, if a little rueful. I brushed the tresses stuck to his forehead with sweat into a more respectable style. I failed miserably.
Pressing my lips to his briefly, gently, I hoped I managed to convey the apology better. He seemed happier, anyway.
"In order for us to move," He grinned, "You're going to have to get off me."
"Oh."
Blushing violently, I scrambled off his lap and smoothed down the folds of my dress. It was wrinkled from being hiked up around my thighs. With a chuckle, he stood too and tried his best to straighten his own attire. Nothing to be done about his ruined hair though.
Thankfully, the maids had used some sort of advanced spray for my make up. It wouldn't smudge or fade until I used a certain type of cream to get it off. So my lipstick wasn't all over his mouth, giving us away. Though there was no miracle spray to get rid of our flushed cheeks and guilty expressions.
"Perhaps..." Rolan glanced down at me and offered a half smile. "We can continue another time."
"It's a date." I grinned. Laughing, he looked me over once more, checking for any giveaway signs, and nodded his approval. With that, we left the stone courtyard. He offered me his arm, and I took it.
The further we got from that place, the more fearful I became. How astoundingly stupid of me! To pull a stunt like that right out in the open! Forget the consequences to me, they would be dire enough, but for Rolan too!
Perhaps they'd have arrested us, but more likely than not I'd be sent home in shame, which is exactly where I needed to be. But it would ruin Rolan's career, he'd be thrown out of the palace, his job, maybe even thrown in jail for treason. For what? A quick rut in a garden with a complete stranger.
I would tell him, immediately, that this couldn't happen again. That the risk was too great.
But we were already at the foot of the white steps that led up to the glass doors of the palace. They were flung open like a great, gaping maw. That absolute blackness of the corridor frightened me for a moment.
What if we'd already been seen? What if they were waiting to arrest us? What if there'd been cameras, or a Guard had followed us out? News could have already spread.
But no one was waiting in the corridor when we stepped into it.
"Rolan-"
"Keep it." He murmured.
I turned a frown on him, but he was looking at the jacket I was wearing. Of course, it was his. He offered a small smile. Now that he'd drawn attention to it, I wanted desperately to give it back. It was a sure-fire way of letting everyone know that our relationship was more intimate than allowed.
"You could get into trouble." I was already moving to shrug it off.
"Don't." He stopped me with hands on my wrists. "If anyone sees, they won't mention it. If they spread rumours, it'll only be me catering to the needs of a Selection girl."
From his hard gaze and raised eyebrows, it was clear he wouldn't let me take it off. He offered his elbow again and I relented. Letting him guide me through the dark corridors and up towards my room.
"It'll only be one more damaging rumour for me." I rolled my eyes, "It isn't like I could get into more trouble."
"Please don't tempt fate." He muttered, shaking his head.
I glanced at him sideways, "I wouldn't take you as a superstitious man."
"I wasn't one before I met you."
I laughed. He smiled down at me, eyes softening. The stern grooves of his forehead smoothed out in reaction to the sound.
We rounded a corner, and I was still smiling. Grinning not just for the joke, but for the light humour he offered when I clearly needed it. Despite his cold exterior, Rolan knew that tonight had been hard. He'd given me the comfort without asking if I required it. Put everything on the line to give me that support.
Rolan looked away from me, and that hard mask fell into place with a vengeance. His eyebrows flattened, his lips thinned, his eyes narrowed in irritation. His hands clenched into fists.
My head jerked round, fearing his reaction, only for my stomach to plummet in fear.
The Prince of Illéa was waiting outside my door.
***
Thanks for reading! Xo