Heathens burn me.
You know the stories you hear of ugly or deformed people who meet witches or their fairy godmothers, and then they end up getting a whole transformation from fugly to drop-dead gorgeous? And then when their family or friends or just people in general see how beautiful they've become and are speechless, and they don't know what in the world they're supposed to do now?
Well, that's exactly how I feel looking at Clarice right now - not that she was fugly, heathens I couldn't even see her most of the time with her cloak and dark suit. But seeing her in the mint green gown that fits perfectly around her chest and waist, and then opening up over her hips...It's not like the big ballgowns I have no doubt others are wearing. It only has a few layers surrounding her legs, shimmering in the moonlight when she walks.
It's...she's...and her lips...gods save me from idiocy. I look to her eyes before she can catch me looking at her lips even though I'm pretty sure she already caught me. I've seen her eyes before but lined in the lace mask, they looked different. A glance at Garrison and the others and I know I'm not the only one amazed at her transformation. Malen's mouth is practically hitting the ground, and Alister and Bernard's eyes are popping out of their heads. Garrison's the only one who looks mildly surprised at Clarice.
"When did you get boobs?" All our heads snap to Gabriel. Clarice may be dressed in a gown and looks less threatening without blades on every inch of her, but she's still the Ebony. She'll still kick his ass.
Before I can tell Gabriel to shut up, Henry smacks him in the back of the head.
"Told you," Katarina whispers from behind Clarice. I'm not sure what that means, but from the tightening in Clarice's jaw I can tell I shouldn't get involved.
"Anyways, if you're all done gawking and staring at the boobs which I've had since I was thirteen-" Gabe's mouth snaps shut "-then we should head to this so-called party." An awkward silence breaks out. I'm not sure whether to laugh at my friends because they're shifting on their feet uncomfortably, or laugh at how uncomfortable Clarice is.
Gabriel mumbles something, but I'm not close enough to hear it. Whatever it was, it must've been bad because both Henry and Ethan slap him this time, and Osiris looks like he's debating knocking Gabriel out. Before Clarice decapitates Gabriel, I gently - because I don't want to lose my head - hook my arm into hers and begin walking away.
"Come darling, we have people to con," I say with as much courage as I can muster which down right next to nothing.
Thankfully, she gives little resistance and lets me pull her away from the reach of Gabriel's three brain cells. "Try anything, and I'll cut off your favorite part," she warns.
My nerves are racking up with each step closer to the western end of the King's Garden, and when my nerves are getting to me, I become a smart ass who can't keep his mouth shut. "My favorite part of me or my favorite part of you, because in that case, it's all too tempting."
"Your favorite part of me is based on my change in clothing," she retorts evenly.
I refrain from telling her that my favorite part of her is actually her mouth, and it's not because she painted her lips. I liked her unwavering ability to use it even when I couldn't see it, and that just seems so weird and creepy, so I don't say that and let her have her perverse thoughts about me, instead.
"But to be clear," she continues. "If you do something stupid, then I'll ensure that you'll lose your ability to have an heir. Capiche?"
Malen leans toward me as they all make quick work of joining us. "I believe she's referring to your favorite part of you." I shove his head away.
I feel her slowly relax as Garrison, Osiris, and Alister take their spots walking in front of us, Ethan at her side, Malen at mine, and the rest forming three lines behind us. Everywhere we go there's some kind of formation Garrison has them in. When we're going hunting, they form two circles around me. Riding through town means what I call "Cupid's Arrow," because six of them form a circle around me while three of them line up at the head of the circle, and the other three at the rear. Garrison loves making up formations for them to surround me in, but this time he didn't really have a choice.
After cleaning up for tonight, I found all twelve of them eating away at sweet bread and tarts in my receiving room. Vlad was the one to fill me in on the changes in which Clarice and her brother are now implementing. I was as angry as them at first, but then he kept explaining their reasons and I mellowed out. They had a similar reaction from what I could tell. They wanted to set something on fire not for the reasons that two people waltzed into the castle and are making our heads spin, but because it's actually a good idea.
They're right, again, but it still makes me mad that she didn't tell me about any of it three days ago. I'm happy that they're taking protecting me and my family seriously, but they could at least give a heads up before flipping our world on its side. I was going to yell at her for it just now, but I'm distracted at the moment, and it doesn't seem like the right time to do so.
"I wasn't going to hurt him." Clarice says through her teeth.
I blink in confusion for a second before realizing that she's referring to Gabe's earlier risky statement. A small smile rises on my cheeks at her obvious lie. She was going to sock him.
I tap her hand still on my arm. "Let us not say things we don't mean, Lily." She scowls sidelong at me. Whether from the name or the idea that I knew she was lying, I'm not sure, but if I'm being weirdly honest, I kind of like her scowl. It's so at odds with the delicacy of the mask she's wearing.
Lily is the name we settled on calling her since we couldn't use Clarice or her actual name. Though, to be fair, it was her idea, and she came up with it pretty quickly, so who's to say that isn't her real name? Her brother did look at her strangely when she suggested it. It's like they had that silent conversation that I usually have with her, only I couldn't read what they were saying. Looking at her now, Lily doesn't seem to suit her. Of course I'm sure that everyone else will believe her, but since I know who she really is and how she acts, Lily seems to be the complete opposite of that.
Letting my thoughts slip away, we turn the corner of the western wall. The sound of soft music fills my ears, accompanied by distant conversations. The willow behind the crowd has lights circling its branches, lighting up the leaves. It reminds me so much of Grandmother Adeline and how her love lit a warmth inside me that I haven't felt in a long time. If only the fireflies were the ones to make the browning leaves shine gold.
As we draw closer to the crowd I can see all their heads slowly turn to us. I'm used to being stared at, being the Crown Prince and all, but these stares are different. They're not just looking at me and the guards, but now Clarice/Lily. Their eyes drift from me, to our linked arms, and then twice over her. Katarina and Thomas did a really nice job finding matching attire for us is such little timing. I was hesitant to put on the lighter shade of green jacket with gold stitching and appliques. Thomas said that it made me look soft and apporachable. I made it clear that I didn't want be approached by anyone. I'm not entirely sure how he did it, but here we are. I think it's because of the wool lining the jacket. During colder nights like this, wool is a saviour. Makes me wonder how Clarice isn't even the least bit chilly, but I suppose the velvet fabric helps.
I can feel myself tensing as we get closer. Normally, I can put on a smile and fake my way through the night, but the possibility of the plan failing really has me on edge. The amount of times I've snuck out or pulled a prank on a servant, or Aracely, or one of the guys, I had this adrenaline rush and didn't feel worried about the consequences. But this plan and the amount of details that went into this...well, nothing I've ever done has prepared me for this. And what's my mother going to say when she finds out?
Fauna's hand tightens on my arm, drawing my attention. "Darius you look like you're walking to the execution block. Relax." Despite her soft tone, Clarice's words aren't doing much help. "Look, just imagine that I'm just another one of your girlfriends. Remember the backstory we talked about earlier?" I nod. "Well act as if it really happened. Act as if you think I'm the most beautiful girl in the world and you love me so much that you can't imagine living without me."
The second part sounds easy. I mean did you not hear what I was thinking two minutes ago? The first part about the acting, well that is going to take the best of my acting skills. I glance at Malen beside me and find him smirking.
Yeah, laugh all you want. You'd probably be pissing yourself if you were in my shoes right now, asshole.
As we get close to the edge of the crowd Garrison falls back, taking his place behind my shoulder and Vladimir comes up behind Clarice's. The rest of them drift off to take their spots among the other castle guards closest to the crowd, and Thomas and Katarina flank Garrison and Vlad. It's moments like this that make me think I'm more of a badass than I am. Wouldn't you if people moved seamlessly and theatrically around you?
In need of some drinks, I steer us to the wine table lined in half a dozen bowls, each with a different concoction. I have no idea where my father gets the amount of variety, nor who is in charge of making such things. All I know is that they always taste so damn good.
I pick up a glass, filling it with a red colored liquid and then hand it to Clarice. If I'm going to be attempting to pull this off, I'm going to need something to keep my mind from racing. She takes it with an unnervingly believable, sweet smile that has me pausing for a moment, and takes a sip. Pouring myself the same drink, I watch as she skims the crowd of people in which I can still feel staring.
Don't you have something more interesting to stare at!
Not Really, says my conscious.
Still feeling like my chest is caving in, I step around her and turn my back to the gossip enthralled people. She lifts a delicate brow but says nothing, her eyes skimming past my shoulders with narrowed eyes. "I'm not sure if I want to know what's going through your head right now." I say in a semi-low voice. I drain half of my glass.
"Oh, you know." She shrugs a casual shoulder. "The usual."
"And that is?"
Her simple smile curves further into something mischievous and takes a step closer to me, her eyes pointedly darting over my own attire. It's a part of the act, I tell myself. Go with it. Cause the heavens know I don't need an act to make googly eyes. That dress is still a curse I'd rather not lose my favorite part over.
"Who my competition is," she replies all too sweetly. Her free hand drifts to my jacket collar and I try not to shudder at her touch. The most touching we've done before this is when she's punching, kicking, or twisting my limbs until I yield during training. This is an entirely different kind of touching, and Gods I can't tell if this is fun or terrifying.
The wine must be kicking in though because my hands don't shake nor does my chest feel so tingly in a bad way anymore. That, and the fact that a smile actually graces my face, or that I have the stupidest confidence to ask, "Who could ever compare to my Waterlily?"
"Tramp." Her eyes narrow again, only it's her challenging look.
"Just for reference..." I step dangerously close to her, keeping my eyes on hers for safety reasons. "Would this be considered doing something stupid?" I watch her eyes track my hand as I raise it to a curled strand that had fallen forward earlier and tuck back behind her ear. Her hair is indescribably soft. It takes a large amount of effort to not let my fingers linger on it for longer than the simple movement requires. I don't think she even breathes until my hand falls back to my side. I don't even think that I breathe.
"There's a rather large difference between my hair and my unmentionables, Darius." Behind her Kat smothers a snort with the back of her hand. Clarice is getting a kick out of my poor attempt to unsettle her, but I've learned to not give up so easily thanks to her stubborn behavior.
With the close proximity I put us both into, it doesn't take more than a bend of my waist to bring my mouth close to her ear. This close to her I can smell something sweet tangled around her. Cinnamon, I think.
"And what happens if my lips replace my hands?" I whisper so low that only she can hear. She tilts her head to answer but stops when my free hand traces the small strap to her dress over her collarbone.
I am playing a dangerous, dangerous game. And I might just like it.
"Go ahead." She turns her head toward mine fully, and at this angle there's no more than a breath's distance separating our lips from touching. "After all-" her voice hums with something scorching and lucid, turning my stomach into knots "-I'm sure your hands can offer more pleasure than your lips."
I blink.
"However, I can't say the same for my tongue."
My eyes drop to her mouth. A buzzing warm sensation takes root in my hips, a feeling I'm not even the slightest bit familiar with. It curls and rolls like a snake coiling in on itself as her bottom lip finds its way between her teeth and slowly slips out of them.
I should step back or at least lean away and restore the very appropriate distance between us, but even when her lip is free and there's nothing left but that teasing smile of hers, I can't seem to do it.
"Forgive my intrusion, my Prince," I sensed Gregory walking to us a while ago, no doubt Clarice did too. I was hoping this little...display would make him change his mind, but as always, Gregory is blind to such things. "I was wondering if I may ask of your most stunning companion's name?"
Clarice's eyes never left my face as he spoke, and it's only because she raises an expectant brow that I finally get a hold of my body and straighten my spine. My feet, however, stay firmly put.
Gregory's a handful. He's basically Vandaria's gossip King. If you've heard a rumor, legend, or prophecy, Gregory knows it. He somehow manages to get invited or sneak into every party at the castle and always comes to sniff around the court. Ever since I've turned of age to marry, Gregory has been on my ass like bees on honey. It's annoying, and I'm this close to telling him to go shove his nose up someone else's ass. Sadly my mother would kill me if I ever did say such a thing. I can hear her disapproval now.
Turning nothing but my head in his direction, I plaster on the fakest smile I've ever summoned onto my face. That feeling in my hips doesn't quite dissapear all the way, but I ignore it. "You may, Gregory."
He smiles that ridiculous too wide smile of his that shows off all of his teeth. It's the smile of my nightmares, as are his dark eyes and too pale skin. He always dresses in finely made clothing, but that doesn't do much to hide his gangly form. If his hair weren't so dark than he'd be the spitting image of a fucking Skinwalker.
"Lily," Clarice provides, bowing her head slightly. Her kind behavior is entirely unsettling.
"Lily." Here we go. "The flower symbolizing chastity and virtue. How suiting for you, Darius."
I have to bite my tongue to keep me from retorting back. Clarice, it seems, doesn't have such control. "Yes, well the flower does mean devotion. So I'd say it suits him perfectly in my experience."
Now I have to bite my tongue to keep me from laughing. Clarice putting her arm around my waist and pinching playfully doesn't help either. Again, the touching is new and...strange, even after the near lip touching.
"You let her speak so freely with such a snake like tongue, Darius." The corners of her mouth pinch with the effort to not repeat her earlier comment.
I think her reckless behavior is beginning to rub off on me because I step closer to her and say, "I rather like her tongue. Though I do prefer it be close to my own, if you know what I mean."
"Unfortunately, I do." His nose scrunches with clear disdain. I think that's the first time I've seen him be disgusted by a piece of what he so happily searches for. "If you'll excuse me." He at least bows to me before walking off, a tight line for a smile.
"You bring out the worst in me, darling." I tell her, straining to keep myself from bursting out in laughter.
"No, I simply pave the way for you to speak your mind freely."
*****
It's been two hours of listening to people talk with the bothersome court manners. Clarice, of course, had no trouble adjusting to it, but I did miss her "snake-like tongue" as Gregory put it. It'd make these dull conversations go by far quicker and with a lot more interesting subjects.
Usually people are drunk as shit by now, but I can tell their all sipping carefully to stay sober. Nothing keeps them from drinking like new gossip, and thanks to Gregory, there's plenty going around. They all lean in as a group when Clarice and I are speaking alone or I go to whisper something in her ear or her mine. Her whispers are usually more threats while mine are ones telling her that she's frowning too much. I've been leaning toward her ear more often in the past half an hour just to watch as people nearby go instantly quiet and - not so subtly - walk closer. The last time I did it a lady fell on her back trying to eavesdrop. When I helped her up and Clarice asked her if she was alright, she turned as redder than an apple. She's been standing far from us since.
We haven't yet spoken to Eleanor and I'm not sure I want to either. I mean my mother did set all this up so that I would get to know her and talk to her, but I'm so tired of my life being planned out for me and there's nothing I can say to change it. My mother knows how trapped I feel in court, and I love her to death for at least allowing me the choice of who I marry. If only she could learn to stop pushing me into another girl's arms every other day.
Clarice sets her empty glass on a tray a servant had been walking by with. It was her fourth one and I'm kind of surprised she didn't grab another. "You can't avoid her all night, Darius," she says, glancing over to Eleanor and the two noblewomen she converses with.
"No, but that doesn't mean I have to be the one to start the conversation."
It's not that I don't like Eleanor, I mean I've only met her once when we were children and she was a soft person then. It's just that I have no doubt my mother invited the Lord here for this sole purpose. No doubt the Lord told his daughter the reason for coming and that this was her chance to bring honor to her family. I didn't really think of the consequences our little scheme might bring to her. I mean if she goes back to her father telling him of how I showed up with another girl on my arm and that she didn't really have a chance, then what would that do to her? Or more importantly, what would the Lord accuse my mother of doing?
He could claim that the Queen manipulated them so that Eleanor and the Lord would realize that they never stood a chance in court. But then again, the Lord is in a high position in court already, so I doubt that he'd be mad about the situation. Not to mention the rumors about my habits ought to cover up some of the mess.
"If you keep staring, people will begin to question your intentions." I didn't even realize that I started staring at Eleanor.
"Sorry."
Clarice doesn't shame me or make a retort as I expected her to, but rather she gives me a knowing smile and takes my hand in hers. In between her calluses her hands are surprisingly soft. "Would you like to start the conversation, or should I?"
I bite my lip not wanting to admit that I'd rather not go up to Eleanor. Clarice understands the look I give her, and nods before walking towards Eleanor. I'm kind of surprised that she's offering to do this. All night it's been don't do this and don't do that or I'll murder you in your sleep. The holding hands and standing closely and whispers are an act - not that they're hard to do after three glasses of wine, but they're new. I'm not used to the nice Clarice, and a part of me kind of wants the Ebony back.
The two noblewomen from the House Madrelle of Pright take notice of our approach and say their farewells to Eleanor. I recoginze the middle-aged sisters, Joanna and Chryse. Both are Ladies in Wait to my mother and likely here on her insistence that they enjoy themselves rather than watch over her. I watch them leave, likely heading to update my mother on everything I'm doing wrong.
"Lady Eleanor, it's an honor." Clarice curtsies to Eleanor who smiles sweetly at her.
"The pleasure is mine..."
"Lily," Clarice provides for the umpteenth time. Her name is likely doing sprints through people's ears, and yet each and every one of them ask.
Eleanor's brow rises elegantly. "Like the flower?"
"Yes, my Lady."
"Oh, please. That title is for mother, call me Eleanor."
Clarice lowers her head once more, an action she's also repeated several times tonight. I can tell she hates it. She rolls her neck after every conversation. Makes me chuckle every time to know that the Ebony is plagued with a delicate neck. "Of course, Eleanor."
Hesitantly, I step up behind Clarice and pray to the Gods that this conversation isn't awkward. "Eleanor, it's nice to see you again."
"As is it to see you, Prince Darius." Her curtsy is low and smooth.
"I see you've met Lily."
She glances at Clarice, not a single muscle in her face ticking or shifting. A Lady well trained into her position. Or a doll well groomed to sit pristinely on display. "Yes, she's very charming. I can see why you've brought her tonight."
I smile at Clarice who blushes in turn, but her eyes tell me that she also took note of the Lady's formal jab into my side.
"How's your mother fairing? I hear she's due to give birth within the coming cycles or so," Eleanor inquiries.
I nod. "She's quite well. She complains every day about how she wishes the babe would stop kicking her in the ribs."
"I'm glad to hear she's healthy. Any news on the gender of the child?"
"It seems my mother has asked the healers to keep that little fact a secret until she's given birth. But she wishes for a girl and my father a boy."
"And you?"
"I'm indecisive on the subject I'm afraid." Actually, I'd prefer a baby sister if I'm to be honest. I mean don't get me wrong, a baby brother would be good news for the crown, but I can't stop imagining the smile on my mother's face if it ended up being a girl. Her and my father have trying to have a child now for the past seventeen years. But Eleanor, nor anyone else who have also aske the same courtly manned questions needs to know the gender, especially my father.
I'm about to ask Eleanor about her mother, when Garrison walks up on the other side of Clarice. "Beg your pardon, Prince, but I request a moment of your time to speak."
"Very well." I try not to make it too obvious that I'm more than happy to leave this conversation. Clarice's stare says I've failed. "I hope you don't mind keeping Eleanor company while I speak to Garrison," I say to her.
"Of course not." Her voice states joy, but her dead eyes state that she's threatening me again. "Go on." She smiles encouragingly before turning back to Eleanor and asking her about her mother. Great minds think alike.
I follow Garrison through the crowd, glancing back once at Clarice and Eleanor to make sure Clarice isn't ripping of the Lady's head. Thankfully, they're laughing and don't seem to be near utter doom. Still, I should hurry this up. Garrison leads me away from the crowd enough to where people can see us, but not hear us.
"Ren caught a man trying to sneak into your room thirty minutes ago."
"What?" I mean it's not the first, but, "Why am I just being told this when it happened thirty minutes ago?"
"Because there was complication."
"What happened?"
"The man ingested a poison that killed him instantly. So we can't interrogate him."
"Shit."
There have been attempts at getting into my rooms before, but one of my personal guard or a castle guard have always caught then before they managed to enter my rooms. Not to mention that those attempts were usually due to girls trying to get into my bed. So the fact that someone not only succeeded in getting into my rooms but poisoned themselves before being interrogated, is a big complication.
"You wouldn't happen to know why someone would be looking for something in your rooms, would you?"
I shake my head. "Other than the usual? No. Wait...they were looking for something?"
"Rex said he heard a crash and went to go see what it was, only to find the man had already emptied out your desk, turned out your sheets, and ransacked your sitting room," he lists with a tight voice.
"What could he possibly want?"
"I don't know, but he clearly didn't find it."
This doesn't make any sense. All the important issues went straight to my parents. The most valuable thing that was in my room besides the furniture, clothing, and sack of gold coins, is a letter I received from an anonymous Duchess of another kingdom, and it didn't say anything more than a few words.
It's in the heart that you will find the pieces to be mended. I highly doubt that's what they were looking for.
"Does my father know?"
Garrison nods his head and I sigh. Only Gods know what he'll make of this. "He was woken minutes after the man was dead. The Queen was notified as well."
"Good," I say even though I know for a fact my mother is already freaking out and yelling at someone. "Send word to them that me and the guests are unharmed and having a lovely time."
"Already done." Of course it is. Garrison always seems to be a step ahead of everyone else all the time. Well, almost everyone. It seems he finally found his match when Clarice came along. "The Queen also requested that you sleep elsewhere tonight," he says slowly.
I squint at him. He doesn't sound very joyful about it, which means I'm likely to hate it. "And where am I expected to sleep?"
His eyes drift back to the crowd and harden when he spots what he's looking for. I follow his gaze and instantly want to drag the blundering thief back from the underworld, just so I can kill him myself.
"Absolutely not." I whirl back on him.
"She said that if you wished to act on your own, then you should be prepared to accept what those actions may ask you to do." He gives me a look that says he agrees with the statement, just not the action taken.
"Argh," I groan up at the Gods. "Fine, but she's sleeping on the cot."
"Hey, look on the bright side, at least now people won't question that you and Clarice are together."
Glaring at Garrison's 'I told you so', I turn on my heal and walk back to the party. My mother always knew just how to punish me without laying a finger on me. She's yelled at me several times, mostly in the past year, but she's never raised a hand toward me. It's one of the reasons why I love and despise my mother. Leave it to her to hear that I've made my personal guard into my fake lover and end up punishing me that same night to teach me a lesson. Gods if I think my mother is mad about the change in plans, I can't begin to imagine what Clarice's father will do when he finds out. Flip a table? Destroy a room? Kill someone? I haven't even met the man, let alone seen him, and I still get shivers just thinking about him.
Weaving my way back to Clarice and Eleanor, I notice that they've moved closer to the wall at the very back of the crowd. Not only that, but Eleanor's face is right in Clarice's who is now pushed up against the wall.
Saints Clarice, what did you say.
Worried about Eleanor's life, I don't even notice that Clarice's hands are shaking and her eyes are glossy until I'm only a few feet away. I'm not sure if it's an act or real, but the stillness in the rest of her body makes me practically jump the next few steps.
"What's going on here?" I demand as I approach them. I keep my voice low enough so that the others don't hear, but loud enough for Eleanor to know I'm not necessarily in the brightest of moods. "Lily? What's wrong?"
"Oh she's alright," Eleanor says cheerfully. "I was telling her a scary story and didn't realize she couldn't handle it."
Ignoring Eleanor's bullshit explanation, I push her out of the way to stand in front of Clarice and place my hands on her shoulders. Her eyes are locked onto Eleanor's behind me. I have to turn her head toward me to get her to look away. All I've ever seen in her eyes are a persistent ferocity and strength that could never be broken. They can turn dark and cold in seconds, only softening just a tad to make those gold flakes floating within them gleam in the sunlight. When she glares they feel like hot coals. When you're arguing with her or locked in the sparring ring with her, they turn into reptilian slits. When she sizes you up, they constrict just enough to catch every detail. When she's deep into her anger they seem to stop moving entirely. And then when she's happy they dilate and widen slightly from their usual narrow set state.
I've seen shift in and out of those emotions, but none of them made me go still as I do now. They're too wide with fear and those gold flakes seem to shutter into the darker brown of her iris. They glisten with tears that gather at the bottom of her eyes, making her look doe-eyed rather than a dragon in its cage. To see that strength gone and replaced with pain...it makes my chest burn as if a flame came to life inside me, and it's no small spark.
I see when she snaps out of whatever trance Eleanor put her in, but a second later and she slips back into it. It wasn't an act before, and it's not entirely an act now, but at least some of the ferocity is back in her stare.
Without warning, a few of the tears that were gathering in her eyes slip out as she blinks, and the Ebony Nightingale cries.
I stand there like a fucking idiot for a few long seconds, just watching as the drops fall over her cheeks beneath the mask. I didn't think I'd ever see her cry, and it's kind of scaring me that she is. Enough so to make me hesitate to pull her into my chest, wrap my arms tightly around her, and place my cheek atop her head so that I can look to Alexander who has been standing in the shadows of the wall five feet from here the entire time. He nods once before walking off.
Clarice takes a deep breath, her body quivering with the slow exhale. I don't know what happened or if she's shaking to keep control of her anger or because her tears were only the surface of what she was really feeling, but I definitely don't like it, and I have no idea what to make of that either.
I lift my head from hers and look to Eleanor who's expression is still set in a disturbing mock of concern. "What did you say to her?" I ask again, this time not bothering to cover up my annoyance or keep my voice low.
"I told you, it was only a-"
"You may be a Lady, Eleanor, but you are a guest of the royal family nonetheless, and as such I strongly suggest you refrain from lying when asked a question by the Prince." I've never liked pulling my rank over others often, but I certainly enjoy it now.
"But I-"
"Enough. I've heard all your excuses and all your lies, Eleanor. You may fool others, but you cannot fool me, and you should refrain from harming Lily again or I'll have you punished in whatever manner I see fit." Not waiting for a response or looking to see who heard our outburst, I turn away from Eleanor and gently lead Clarice away from the crowd. Garrison and the others quickly surround us as they did before, and we walk off, not bothering with goodbyes.
No one says a thing as we make our way back to the tower, and if she notices the constant glances from us she doesn't let on. The second we turn the corner Clarice's whole manner changes. Her spine straightens, her eyes go dry, and her hand in which I'm holding is still slightly shaking, but I don't pay it much attention. I can tell that a part of her still wants to cry, but pointing it out would mean the likely loss of my hand.
We don't stop at the secret passage and instead enter the castle like normal people. Not that we're really considered normal. When we step inside Clarice goes back to the sad state in which she was in a minute ago. Her ability to switch emotions like nothing is impressive, and something I should learn. It may come in handy in the near future.
Releasing her hand, I do the riskiest thing I can think of at the moment and place my around her shoulders. She doesn't stiffen and rather lets her arms wrap around my waist. It would be considered sweet if he nails weren't making deep indentions into my skin. Another threat, I'm sure. We walk like that in silence down the halls of the castle, my friends who are silently judging and coming up with jokes to tell later, surrounding us. I do my best to ignore them.
I really don't want to ruin her night more, but it's just going to be even more awkward if I don't tell her what my mom told Garrison to tell me. "Someone broke into my room."
"What." Her face is still in sad mode, but her voice is as sharp as a blade.
"They were looking for something they didn't find and then poisoned themselves before a guard could catch him for questioning."
"What were they looking for?"
"No clue, but that's not the worst part."
"There's something worse?" Her eyes slowly lift to mine. I can't tell if I'm relieved or not to find that those slitted pupils are back.
"Well..." I pause for a moment trying to figure out how to tell this without her lashing out on me or anyone around us. I also advert my gaze like a coward. "My mother heard of our...relationship and decided that we should share a room."
"I see."
I look back at her, glad to find that she's returned to staring at the hall ahead. "You're unnaturally calm about this."
"Would you rather I scream here, or in our chambers."
Point taken.
This is not going to end well. I knew that the moment I saw Garrison look to Clarice, but seeing how calm she is now only makes me more nervous about it even more. Am I the only one who thinks my mother is crazy to prefer I sleep in the same room as a highly trained assassin, rather than my own chambers in which you can fortify with more guards?
As we reach the tower archway, Alister and Vladimir take posts just inside alongside two castle guards already there. Everyone else take posts on the steps leading to the seventh floor and Garrison and Malen guard Clarice's - now our - chamber doors. A warning glance from Garrison tells me to try not and push Clarice's buttons. Like I need a warning to know that. As soon as she walks through the door, her hand shoots out and I don't even see the two blades fly until they're lodged in the hickory storage cabinet across the room. My surprise is only paused by the question of where she got them.
I try sending Malen a 'help' look, but he seems to find the ground in need of inspecting. Traitor.