3 | ACT I, SCENE III

P R E V I O U S L Y

"Fine then," Eric nodded to Lucius. "Let us begin."

CALCHESTER CITADEL, STEFFITH.

EDWINA

I HAD INHERITED MY MOTHER'S eyes, my father's temper, and my grandfather's gift for playing with the dead.

I had also, apparently, inherited a fascination of observing the minute, sangria stained bubbles floating on my gold rimmed flute of red wine.

I took another sip, curling a lock of hair around my right finger. The hue of the red, stray strand rivaled that of the fire streaked sky outside. Another man bumped into me as I grinned.

"That woman looks like a baked ham," Amphitrite muttered from beside me. I bit back a laugh as I saw one of the women, all cherry red hair and pale pink ribbons. Wisps of it floated around, trailing on the floor.

"That is not for us to judge, Amphi," I chided.

"Well, what else are we supposed to do all day?" she narrowed her sky blue eyes. I shrugged my shoulders, downing the last of the red. As I made my way around the cavernous hall, my sister trailed after me, excitedly speaking non stop.

Today was the day of revelation.

I was scared, yes. Because I wanted this so badly that I was scared to think about it. I wanted to be Queen like I needed oxygen to breathe. I knew I was capable enough, I knew I could do it. The only thing I needed were enough votes. Votes which I hoped I had received in plenty after my hard work in the rebel states.

The royal families were slowly arriving, and the balconies were filling up. The seats were three quarters occupied with the throngs of the people of Endollon, immortals and otherwise. There were so many people. People to watch the declaration of their country's three new monarchs.

Eric waltzed to my sister's side, dressed in dark grey today. They both were laughing at some joke he made. My cousin's stormy eyes lit up when he saw me, and turning lighter as he saw the empty wineglass in my hand.

"You're drunk," he stated as a matter of fact. I gave him a condescending smile and set it down on the tray, picking up a goblet of Merlot from a passing server.

"I'm not always drunk," I answered, cross.

"You are always drunk. You just don't look drunk because you always look like this, we've just gotten used to it," Amphitrite said with a laugh. "That was your fourth glass of alcohol," she reminded me.

I drained the new drink again, trying to cool the heat throbbing in my head. Goddamn, was I nervous.

"In fact, Amphi-" I put down the glass, "I'm conducting an experiment. If you hadn't already noticed-"

"Well, you do seem to be acting a bit strangely," she mused.

"-what kind of experiment?" Eric asked curiously.

"Well. Whenever men walk towards me, I don't move out of the way first. So far, I've collided with sixteen men," I replied merrily.

"Lords," he laughed, "you are impossible."

"It's amazing how many men I watched you run into because they expected you to move out of the way first," Amphitrite smiled indulgently, turning pink.

"Would you like another refreshing drink, Lady Tremayne?" a server asked.

My sister stopped him. "I think you've had enough. If you do get elected as Queen, your hangover will need to pass before the coronation, which I'm sure it will not."

I took another glass off the tray as they both looked at me unbelievably.

"Clearly, our idea of a refreshing drink differs, Amphi. This is water," I tilted the glass to her, then drank it. My mouth still felt so dry. I watched someone coming towards me.

One of my fourteen cousins. It was Favian Rotavelle.

He was stocky, the god of trees and fauna, with dark skin and striking green eyes, long brown hair tied back with a piece of twine. The air smelled like greenery around him. Quite a charmer with his looks. But sullen, with a long face. As always.

"Now watch this," I told Eric and Amphitrite. Favian's eyes twitched when he saw me standing right in his path, as I stood there expecting him to go around me.

He continued walking, and then stopped, waiting for me to clear out of his way.

"Yes, Favian? Anything you need? Tried flirting with the guards already?" I asked politely. He said nothing, watching me, waiting. The heel of his boot clicked on the floor, and a pine tree shot up, cracking through the marble.

"They were shockingly unreceptive," he said sullenly, meeting my eye with a bored glare.

Finally, I heard something that sounded like a cross between a snort and a grunt, and he stepped aside, annoyed that I hadn't jumped out of his manly path. I heard clapping behind me.

"That was hilarious to watch," my sister giggled. "His face!"

"I know," I said, toying about with a needle on the pine, rubbing it between my fingers to smell the fresh fragrance.

"Announcing the Lady Drusilla and the Lords Alaric and Aeneas of House Everly," the announcer boomed. In came three of our cousins, the contenders from House Everly.

The three siblings were dark haired with purple eyes, skin unnaturally white and bloodless. Drusilla, the goddess of ice and cold, was flanked by her two brothers - Alaric, god of weapons, and Aeneas, god of war. Bored, she looked around. They had beautiful, unearthly faces yet what lay under was... distasteful. The Everlys were hated by many due to their nature.

"Bow when you announce us, you dumb wit!" Alaric yelled at the boy, knocking him to the floor.

The attendant fell to the ground, and I heard the loud crack of bone and the shatter of glass as the tray fell from his hands and the wine spilled.

"Can't even keep your balance," he continued, and kicked the man in the ribs.

"My Lord!" the man winced in pain, as Alaric stepped back delicately to avoid stepping into the puddle of wine.

"You monster."

The words were out of my mouth before I knew, as I cornered him, and the clenched fist at my side opened.

I slapped Alaric.

My ring cut the flesh on his cheek, leaving a red mark. He raised his fingers to the thin cut, and they came away stained with red. The purple eyes deepened to a dark indigo.

"We still follow our rules here. Even sniveling gods like you aren't above them!"

Drusilla clenched my fist from where it hovered inches above his cheek.

"Stay away from my brother," she spoke coldly, fingernails digging into my skin. A bracelet of ice crept up my wrist as she gripped it in a death grip. "Do you have any idea how much my shoes cost? Twenty thousand gold. And my gown? Hundred thousand. The bastard spoiled them both. You pay me back, do you understand?" she threatened the fallen attendant.

At the same time, a tug at the fire pooling around the edges of my body drew it out, and a bright flame shot up at once, dancing merrily on my skin. The ice melted and dripped away to the ground with a soft hiss.

"I do wonder, Drusilla... when will you get tired of those games we play?" I asked sweetly, shaking off her hand.

"I'll see you burn for this, Edwina," Alaric sneered. "Don't touch her."

"Ah, quite sensitive about touching, are we not?" I asked curtly, and his hand went to the engraved sword at his side.

"Sniveling lord, am I? Let me see who is sniveling when I become the King!" he continued, the sneer still on his fox like face. He drew out his sword as I drew out my own. "Ah. You think you can use that sword of yours? Very fancy. But you're just a no name. Just a woman."

"This no name has beaten a thousand cocky lords like you," I spat at his feet. "And a man like you? Who treats others like they are the dirt under their feet? Good luck becoming King."

"Wonderfully misguided sense of entitlement you both have. Simply stunning," said a poisonously cold voice from behind us, harsh with anger.

I turned around to see the injured man being carried off, still clutching his foot. Someone was cleaning the wine stains on the floor and a huge crowd had gathered around. And there was someone tall standing right behind me.

Complete and perfect, jaw droppingly attractive, utter god at its finest.

Ah.

That face.

That deadly, wicked face that could stop you dead in your tracks.

Sensuous lips that could keep you up all night.

And it completely made my heart stop beating, because he was so damned bloody attractive that the sight of him always ignited furnaces under my skin.  The man who I hated so much simply due to the effect he had on me. Or any other woman, in fact. Or even men. It was no secret that all the gods had unsuccessfully tried to get their daughters married to the black tempered, powerful King of Stormholt.

The eldest of the cousins, Tristan Valmont.

He exhaled sharply, his proud white nose flaring. His eyes were dark blue, the deepest shade of blue, and the mess of his black hair shone in a tangle of waves. Silky black waves so soft they would have melted in your hands. Black in sharp contrast to the highly angled planes of the man's perfectly sculpted face.

Many called him the reincarnation of the dead Uranus. The Lord of the Skies come again.

The god of thunder, wind, lightning and storms, wielder of the Thunderbolt. Master of a throne he had won by overthrowing his own father.

Who also happened to be my uncle.

Our families had a history.

"Stop being a son of a bitch, Everly. And you, Tremayne," his voice deepened, laced with silk anger, "are you done staring?" he asked briskly with a scowl, taking a predatory step closer. "You both think it's perfectly fine to have a nice chit chat while-"

"We were not having a nice chit chat," Alaric argued.

The black haired god turned to me, and I watched the swell of the magnificent muscles of his neck stirring something carnal in me.

"I asked you a question," he demanded.

"I'm too smart to waste my breath in dealing with a devil like you," I hissed angrily, meeting his furious gaze.

"You all," Drusilla yawned, her eyes still tinged with anger, "I'm going. I have better things to do."

Alaric stood in front of me, waiting for me to move as I stood rooted to the spot, slamming a hand against his chest.

"Out of my way," Aeneas commanded.

"Mind explaining the attack on Dracnesse last night?" I demanded.

Dracnesse was the kingdom of the Tremaynes, my home. Yesterday night, black clad assassins had somehow sneaked in, but luckily I'd been awake, easily disposing of them. This had been going on since days, ever since I returned from my Trial a few days back.

Assassins from so many people, specifically meant to kill me. So that I wouldn't occupy one of the three spots as Monarch. Leaving it empty to allow their own children to get the chance.

"There was no attack," Alaric said disdainfully. "You're bluffing."

"I am not. Look me in the eye! They were Everly soldiers. They killed five of our men. My men. Good men. And the next time your motherless scum enter my territory, I'll chop off their fingers and send them to you, one at a time," I growled.

"Just get out of my way, you dumb wench," Alaric ordered.

"I will not, you little fox."

"And you, Valmont," Alaric said angrily, "keep your power to yourself. It seems to have gotten to your over sized head."

"At least I have something in my head. More than what I can say for you," Tristan said coolly, spinning a blade in his fingers. His prominent jaw curved gracefully around the strong neck, highlighting twining cords of muscle, his full, sensual lips pulled down in a scowl.

"And stop insulting me," Alaric's voice came out almost as a deadly whine.

"Insulting? I would call that describing," Valmont said smoothly. The black leather that hugged every inch of his marble sculpted body shimmered delectably in the light of the chandeliers.

"Describing?" the power blinded god of war spat out. "I have never been so insulted in my life!"

"You don't listen much, do you?" Valmont hissed, his blue eyes menacingly making contact with the purple ones. "Such a small ego you have, Everly."

"Ego?"

"You fox," Valmont hissed. "Get out of my sight," he ordered, before curling a hand around Alaric's neck and whispering something into his ear. "One day I will whip that smirk right off your smug face and hang it on my bedroom walls."

His hand freed, and I heard his boot click as Tristan shoved Alaric aside, his eyes hard and cold. Then he  turned to me, glaring at me.

"Oh, hurt your feelings, did I?" he asked detachedly, raking his mesmerizing gaze down every single inch of my body. A muscle ticked in his temple, "imagine the words I hold back."

"Not everyone likes overbearing devils who come down from hell, Valmont," I hissed, looking straight into his dark, empty eyes. The devilishly handsome face looked glorious even when angry.

To say that his eyes were thunder was like saying that the sky was blue. Just sufficient, yet it didn't even begin to describe the burning. The hue in them was a one which could crawl into your soul and make your blood dance. It was the blue of the sky when shards of lightning cracked it open at midnight.

"Bless your delusional heart," he said bitterly, "I didn't realize you were an expert on my life and how to live it. Please continue while I take notes. Or rather," he sheathed his dagger back into his black leather gloves, "-don't." Then he stepped aside and walked away without a single glance, hands curled tightly.

Bastard.

"Already preparing for your ascension as Queen?" someone beside me teased, and I laughed it away.

"Let's not jump to conclusions."

"Shouldn't you be a bit more excited for today? You're going to become the Queen!" another said excitedly.

"Let's not count our chickens before they hatch."

"Won't you have something to drink?" someone else inquired.

"I've already had too much to drink."

"That's because she's celebrating in advance for her coronation!" another chuckled.

"I'd say Edwina has a very good reason to celebrate," a voice boomed from behind us, honey dipped in absinthe.

Our great grandfather, Cosmo, King of the Gods. He was the god of creation and time.

"You could be wrong," I pointed out.

"I could be. But Endollon will never be wrong," his moss green eyes twinkled, and all our eyes fell to the large envelope in his hand, which contained the result.

The Result was a total sum - combining the amount of votes from the Monarch Trials with the scores from the Imperial Examinations. They were held whenever an entire generation of gods reached the age of hundred. And for us, it had been about more than just passing. It had been our life's dream to prove.

Was I nervous.

"Not to worry," Cosmo laughed, catching everyone in the moment of tension. "The people will have chosen the ones they deem the best. Keep your fingers crossed!" he grinned, waving the envelope at us, taunting my nerves.

Behind him, all the immortals of Endollon finally trooped in a straight line, faces expectant. Titania was at Cosmo's side. She was his sister, his wife. The Queen. The goddess of seasons, with skin like marble and the eyes of the ocean.

"Come, my children," she said, beckoning us to the circular table in the middle of the room, around which chairs were arranged in concentric circles. "It is time."

• • • • •

So, we're finally in home territory now - Steffith, the Capital of Endollon, the home of the elder gods. Endollon is divided into seven parts - six kingdoms and one capital. Anyone wondering about what's up between the Valmonts, Everlys and Tremaynes? The back story is coming soon! And the declaration of the monarchs as well ;) Who do you guys think will be selected? Comment below and let me know!

And as usual, votes and suggestions are always appreciated :)