43 | ACT II, SCENE XV

P R E V I O U S L Y

I had a last view as the Dessari behind us burst in a huge flame of fire, a minute too late.

GARDENS OF VIOLL, STEFFITH.

TRISTAN

THE SKY WAS PINK AND the seagulls were singing.

Which meant it was nearly morning.

We barely made it out in time.

And we nearly died.

Clearly, whatever enchantment was on the Island had never intended for any person who entered it to leave it alive.

And we still didn't have the piece of the Logogram. Damn it. This nightmare would have to be repeated in another two weeks.

I got up suddenly, looking around. The Gardens of Violl. What were we doing here and why did Nyx teleport us to Steffith?

Edwina was sitting on the grassy earth, her head between her knees as she rocked to and fro.

“Woman?”

She looked up. A trickle of dried blood ran down her temple, her nose too was bleeding. Her beautiful hair was a tangle of leaves and twigs and sweat clung to it in rivulets. She was heaving, eyes closed, looking completely drained. I remembered the last flash of fire on the Island as we escaped, and it struck me that it had been her who did it. Even so exhausted, she'd managed one last burst of power - completely blowing up the land all around the entrance.

Why did she make me stand so much in awe of her with every passing moment?

“Hey,” I said, crouching down in front of her. Her face was pale, different from her usual rosy complexion, and she opened her eyes, which widened as she saw me. My hand automatically went to the strand of hair plastered across her face, and I tucked it behind her ear gently, thankful that she didn't protest. Her wounds seemed to be healing though - the colour returning to her with every passing second.

“Valmont,” she gasped slightly, drawing in a breath.

“Are you alright?” I moved her leg from under her, turning it to see the black leather torn near the ankle to reveal the mark of a wound almost closing up. “Damn, this needs to-”

“No, no,” she said, getting up. “I'm fine.”

“But your leg-”

“-is completely fine. See?” she gracefully twirled around on the foot which had been previously injured, setting my fears to rest. Then she bent down and touched her toes lithely, as I clapped like a retarded seal, and she gave a cheeky grin, bowing as I chuckled appreciatively.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, still concerned.

“Never been better,” she smiled, shaking out her hair from her braid as it cascaded down in a red waterfall till her waist, gleaming like burnished copper, beautiful even with the twigs trapped in it. “I just feel… drained. I thought - I thought my powers had failed me. And then, at last, it was too late. You saved us, Valmont. If your stupid brain hadn't worked, we'd have-”

“No, silly,” I said, holding my arms wide open.

She looked at me dubiously but then slowly settled herself into my neck. I gathered her and hugged my wife tight, gently caressing her hair.

“You saved us,” I whispered. “They would have followed us if you hadn't set them on fire. It is never too late.”

“Sorry to break up the little reunion,” another voice said from behind us. Nyx. Her raven black hair was wrenched out of its bun, flying around her oval face in all directions, and she looked a tad sleepy as she put down her bow. “We need to get these three inside,” she said, gesturing to the three gods.

“But - why are we in Steffith? And don't we need to tell Eric that we found-”

“It's best for now not to tell him,” I told Edwina. “It seems these three will need some time to recuperate. We can inform him as soon as Erida is awake.”

“Well,” she scratched her neck, “that sounds alright. And this-” she pointed to Helios and Nyx’s private mansion on the edge of the Gardens of Violl, “is where you intend to keep them till they recover?”

“Yes,” Nyx nodded, as servants already rushed out, gasping as they took in the scene and Nyx whispered some strict instructions to them. They gulped, nodding in understanding, and rushed away with the wounded and tortured gods after quickly bowing to Edwina and me.

Nyx suddenly gave a shriek, her hands raising to her temples which she rubbed frantically.

“What happened?” I asked.

“It's Helios,” she whispered, eyes wide, lips parted. “He and Eric are back already. Since two hours. They were about to return to Vezort looking for us.”

“Oh?”

“And that's not all,” she told us. “They… they found the piece.”

I did a double take, Edwina nearly tripped over the grass.

“What?” we asked together.

“Yes,” Nyx said with fear in her eyes. “They… found it buried under a Jade Oleander.”

“So Reynald was telling us the truth!” I exclaimed.

“They must have been there already before us. The bastard purposely sent us there so that we would fall in trouble,” Edwina realised with a roll of her eyes.

“And - where is the piece right now?”

“Eric has it,” the black haired goddess said. “It's in some sort of… box. Which needs to be unlocked.”

“Well, our main purpose is to destroy it so that the whole device can never be completed no matter who finds the other pieces,” I confirmed, wiping my sword on the soft heather.

“That it is,” Nyx agreed. “Let's meet up with Eric as soon as possible so that we can destroy it and put an end to this business for once and for all. And I'll inform you as soon as the three wake,” she added.

“Very well,” Edwina said, wiping off her sweat. “Now that that's settled, I really need a bath. And food. And sleep as well.”

“Come on,” I put an arm around her shoulder, “let's go.” She pulled off my hand, shocked eyes flashing with anger.

“Go where, Valmont?”

“Er - home?” I asked hesitantly.

She laughed bitterly, throwing back her head.

“Not even in my dreams!” she snapped, turning around on the spot as she disappeared.

I was left forlorn and standing in the dust, staring at the mark of her footsteps.

I really wanted her back.

• • • • •

DILSTON CASTLE, KNAVESMIRE, DRACNESSE.

EDWINA

“Here, child. Have a seat,” I gestured.

The girl who called herself Miriel slowly lowered herself into a couch opposite of me, sighing. A tiny white kitten rolled up next to her as she nervously raised her big, sad purple eyes to me.

“You - you called me, your Grace?” she stammered.

“Yes,” I replied. My hand went to pick up a glass of lemonade at my side. Often when interrogating criminals, I had them drink something mixed with truth potion to make questioning them easier.

The beverage at my side was poisoned with the same drug, intended for the little girl.

“Tell me about yourself, Miriel. Who are you?”

She timidly looked at me, delicate features crinkling into a frown on her young brow. The tiny body looked too small for the velvet of the couch she sat on, purple eyes nervously fluttering from the glass to me.

I set down the glass and sighed.

“Come here.”

She shuddered in fear.

“I won't hurt you, I promise,” I repeated sincerely, my voice gentler.

I never did this during an interrogation.

I was breaking my rules. But something, something in my head told me that she was exactly who she looked to be - a harmless, scared child.

Quietly, she got up, stumbling over the carpet and awkwardly shuffled over to me. Her golden hair was a tangle of curls, and the kitten followed her too. I held out my arms and she tumbled into them.

Miriel caved into me, her small body hugging mine, far too fragile. Trusting and sincere, she wrapped her fair palms around me.

“Are you my mother?” she whispered, taking me aback.

“No, love,” I said sadly. Her eyes filled with tears and she hugged me even tighter as I folded her into my embrace.

“You're the only person who said they'd never hurt me. You and the King,” she mumbled.

I melted and my heart sank right to my feet. Unable to speak, I securely wrapped my arms around her and pushed aside the glass of poisoned lemonade. It fell to the floor with a crash and I didn't even blink an eye.

“Can you tell me about yourself, love?” I softly asked her, careful not to scare the poor child. She slowly unwrapped her arms and looked at her palms, then cluelessly looked at me. There was clear confusion in her face, like a young bird who got disoriented after hitting a wall.

“I can't remember,” she hid her face in her hands. “I - I don't know. I can't remember. Lord Deimos… he - he used to hit me and the King found me and took me in,” she stuttered.

I was literally flushed with emotion, both at Miriel and at Tristan. She made me want to cry out of the injustice done to her, he made me want to cry with the kindness with which he treated others.

“Anything else, Miriel? Do you remember anything else?” I urged. She looked to be about ten years old, but there still remained the question of who or what she was. Mortal, human, goddess? And who were her parents?

“A mirror,” she said suddenly. Hopeful, I sat up, peering at her with curiosity.

“A mirror, you said? Were you looking at it?”

“No…” she looked down again. “It just came in my head. A mirror.”

Well then.

There was something about her. Something. She didn't know who she was, but something about her struck me as… odd. Unsettling. But something in me wanted to keep her close. Not to get information out of her, but to keep her safe. To let her not be hurt again.

“Can I stay in your Castle?” she nervously asked, tugging me down to her. I fondly smiled and caressed her hair.

“Of course.”

“Can my kitten stay too?” Miriel mumbled. I laughed and picked the white cat as it sleepily let out a meow of protest. “I think she likes the roses,” she whispered.

“Take her for a stroll in the garden,” I chuckled.

She slowly smiled at me and flung her arms back again around me, before running off with the kitten at her heels, mewing hungrily. An absent minded smile made its way up my face as I watched them both, content.

“Where the fuck is the Queen?” a voice boomed through the walls from the other side, along with the angry stomp of feet. The door opened and the god who was shouting burst in, spitting curses.

“Here, Deimos. You will address me with a bit more respect,” I hissed, taking in his dishevelled form. “What the hell happened to you?”  I demanded, taking in his appearance.

For he was completely disordered. The sleek purple cape always adorning him was gone, his eyes themselves were darker than mauve. His white fist was balled in temper, and he looked at me like a madman.

“My river,” Deimos croaked. “It's gone.”

I got up, shocked to suddenness.

“What the hell do you mean?”

“My half of the river. The Derwent. Someone destroyed it!” he snapped.

“Is this your idea of a damn joke, Everly?” I shouted. The loss of a whole half of the Derwentwater, the wealthiest river in Endollon, it was a tragedy worse than anything unimaginable!

“You tell me,” Deimos hissed. “Remember how you burned my Keep? You destroyed my river as well!”

“Keep yourself in check, Deimos!” I countered murderously. “You very well know that the river lies kilometres away from Raichester Keep!”

“As if!” he spat on the floor. “We both know you wanted my half of the river. You burned down my home. And now the river is gone. Do the fucking math!” Deimos croaked. “Where the hell did my half of the river go?”

“Looks like you either ate it or wore it,” muttered a voice out of this air. We both turned around, seething with anger and surprised at the sudden intrusion as a man took shape beside me.

Valmont.

Annoyed, he watched us both and we glared at him. A corner of his delicious lip twitched an inch as those mirthful eyes looked at me, trying to observe my reaction carefully. Then he raised a dark eyebrow, rolling his eyes at Deimos.

“Such a tragedy that your extravagant overspending beggered your family,” he muttered sarcastically, voice laced with heavy sarcasm.

“It's not my fault!” Deimos snapped harshly. “She burned my castle and evaporated my river!"

“I did not,” I hissed. He brusquely took two paces towards me and stood, his ears nearly blowing out steam. His hand moved towards my throat and mine towards the ready sword at my waist, but Tristan smoothly pulled him back and raised his lips to Deimos’s ear in a swift move.

“Remember,” he whispered. “You do remember what I said about the whips, don't you?”

All colour vanished from Deimos’s face, and he pulled down his hand, tightly clenching his fist, looking as if he was doing his best not to throttle me on the spot.

My mind chased in circles. Who could have possibly destroyed half the river? It was a holy force, bound by the blood of Uranus himself, and destroying such a mighty river could not have happened without cosmic intervention.

One of the gods must have done this, surely. There could be no other explanation.

But why? And what was I going to do with a completely bankrupt House Everly? The management of Endollon itself would collapse if one of its six kingdoms stopped functioning.

“The crown will grant you a commission,” I promised.

The god of terror slowly eased back from his stiffness, unwinding his pale finger as his eyes suspiciously flitted to me.

“You did it.”

“I think you heard the lady, Deimos,” Tristan growled menacingly. “She said no. No is a complete sentence in itself. It does not require her explanation.”

“She was lying about the commission, wasn't she?” he hissed.

“I am not,” I countered. “I hate you more than anything, Lord Everly. But I meant it when I said that the crown would lend you a loan for the time being. I promise I'll find out who did this.”

He suspiciously regarded Tristan and I as we stood side by side. A knife in Tristan's hand gleamed dangerously in the candlelight, ready to strike if he refused to comply.

“All right, then,” Deimos breathed out in a hiss, and made to move back. “I… thank you.”

“You're not welcome, Everly. This changes nothing,” Tristan muttered. “Now stop touching my wife and get the fuck out of her castle.”

His voice was quieter but deadly, the threat of punishment lying just barely concealed in the layers of bitterness. Something warm shone in the depths of his tone, something protective and caring, it was something about the way he called me wife.

His wife.

I stood there, still on the outside, but internally, my body trembled and quivered, and something bloomed and fluttered in my chest at the way he called me wife.

The door closed, leaving us both alone. All I wanted was for Valmont to leave too.

Because it was hard.

It felt like… torture. Because not being around him seemed to be like depriving my senses of beauty, because every time I saw him, my breath would catch in my throat. Being around his was harder, for I could do but nothing to control the flow of blood to my cheeks. It was maddening, maddeningly insane, this man made me forget everything about who I was, about what I was.

“Why are you here?” I croaked hoarsely.

He turned to me, perching himself atop a marble bench, drinking me in like a person having their first drop of water after being stranded in a desert for centuries.

I could have looked at those eyes forever.

“Come here,” he beckoned me to him with a pale, long finger.

“No,” I muttered hollowly, refusing to move. Because I knew that if I got any closer, I'd throw myself on him and beg him to hug me and care for me and kiss me again. It was funny, how my insides felt cold even though I was goddess of fire, but only his lips on me could fill me up with warmth.

“Stubborn as ever, you silly woman,” he laughed emptily, a sad and cracked sound.

“I'm serious,” I whispered. “Why are you here?”

He raised an eyebrow and then held out a roll of parchment held together with a gilded ribbon. Frowning, I took it and rolled it open.

It was an invitation to Llewellyn and Celestina's wedding taking place in three days.

“I… I don't understand. I don't belong to the Valmont family or the Rotavelle family. Why did you invite me?” I asked.

Tristan got up and deftly reached me in two long steps, expression curious with something on the tip of his lips.

“I - I always end up attending these events alone,” he muttered darkly. His pale hand again ruffled through his jet black hair, something I noticed he did whenever he felt a bit… unsure of things. “Will you, hmm, go with me to the wedding?”

Then he looked at me, then at his feet in an unsatisfied way, hotly talking to himself about ‘sounding like an over eager madman.’

“You… you really want me there?” I urged.

Tristan licked his lips in an alluring way, then glanced at me, amused, something in his eyes shining a deep ultramarine with a wicked grin.

“There are… a lot of places I want you, you know,” he grinned. “Would you like to hear?”

I hadn't realised I was smiling broadly like an idiot, because we both knew what he meant, and where he meant me to be. I hastily wiped off my smile.

“I'd rather spare my ears all that filth, Valmont,” I tried to control my smile as his own widened even more.

“Is that a yes, then?”

“Mmmm,” I bit down purposefully on my lip. I wanted to go so badly, but my ego stopped me, holding me back to be the woman who had given a word to never be around him again. I hated myself, because all I wanted to say was yes and all that came out of my lips was a-

“-no.”

It took Tristan a second to register my voice, for his face looked so shocked, trying to understand if what I'd said was even real. All the happy gleam went out of his eyes as they darkened in disappointment. It made my heart break so badly as I watched him stare at his palms, then at me.

Quietly, his smile dropped too. He picked up his riding gloves and got up, a sorrow dressed in black. I almost pulled him back to me, but my arms seemed to be frozen and my feet were rooted to the spot.

Please, I wanted to cry out. Don't go.

“It's not like I expected you to care, anyway. I'll be perfectly happy with my drinks,” Tristan whispered in my ear, walking right past me and vanishing into air.

• • • • •

If I were you, I'd be really worried about half the Derwent vanishing into thin air. Because frankly speaking, the more Edwina pisses Deimos off, the more there is a chance that he gets back to her in some way. And trust me - that'll be very hard to read.