“On that note, I’m out of here,” Quinn says, leaping up from the bed and crossing the room to Aerin. “It will be fine,” the Viper reassures her, planting a light kiss on Aerin’s cheek before slipping past Theo and out of the room.
Theo crosses to Aerin, placing his hands on her shoulders and rubbing them in a soothing motion.
“It’s just one dinner,” he assures her.
Aerin nods, adjusting the bodiceagain.
The dinner feels like her father parading her around, as if he’d bested her, tamed her. A display to show the entirety of Novhelm that she may have her fun, but at the end of the day she is what she’s always been: a girl in a cage.
Aerin carries no illusions about being good. In fact, she knows her personality is ruled by many negative emotions: jealousy, pettiness, rage, selfishness. But when she found herself daydreaming of not just usurping her father, but ending him, of driving a sword through his heart or blasting his head clean off, she wonders if her father has driven her to madness.
All the secrets. All the control. All the lies.
The things she’s discovered eat away at her, like she’s a moth-eaten rag, gilded in gold.
“I’ll go, if you need me there,” Theo offers. Aerin knows he seessomethingin her. Something wrong. Something he doesn’t like. The worry is cast over his features clear as day.
Aerin shoves it down. She shoves everything down.
Turning in his grip, she brushes his cheek with her hand. He truly is stunning, even in sweats. His hair hangs down his back. His cheeks are slightly flushed from the summer heat and lack of time in the water.
“No, it’s alright. We’ll be back tonight,” Aerin promises. She doesn’t kiss him, doesn’t hug him, but she looks in those green eyes and smiles faintly. “I can’t wait to be bonded-mates with you, Theo,” she finds herself saying. Theo’s eyes flutter shut, as if the admission sends a wave of pleasure through his body.
When they flare back open, he says, “Don’t say things like that when it’s already taking all of my self-control not to rip this dress off and ravage you right here.” He grins.
Aerin doesn’t feel joy, but she paints a smile on her face for him anyways.
Aerin and Malicewalk in silence. Khortland left ahead of them, off to schmooze Royals and nobles at pre-dinner drinks. When Aerin arrives, their status as Paramyrs will be formally announced. Her father will gush over the blessing while subtly reminding all the Fae in Valtara of the strength of the Tolvare line. They will eat. Then, it will be blessedly over.
Her side aches where the blood-bond lies, as it does so much of the time these days. A near-constant reminder of the turmoil between her and Malice.
As if he knows she’s thinking about him, he clears his throat. “I will be against the wall, directly across from you,” he informs her. He’s tense in the Royal Guard suit he hates.
“Malice,” Aerin tries, her voice thready and weak.
She pauses her strides, but Malice continues forward, pressing against her with his wing to keep her moving. It’s the most contact they’ve had in a week. Aerin shrugs him off.
“Your manipulations only get you so far, Princess,” Malice growls, tucking his wing tightly into his body.
Aerin wants to scream at him. Wants to make a raging scene. Wants to blast apart the window of the shop behind him.
“You are a bastard. A jealous, selfish, self-loathing, bastard.”
Aerin watches as everything tightens. The way he’s ready to snap: Aerin relishes in it. She craves it. If fighting with him is the only way to get him to move past this, she’ll argue with him for hours. She’ll take every cruel comment he can dish out, if only to hear what she knows in her bones to be true.
Malice seems ready to say something, but the Royal Village comes into view, alight with flames flickering in torches. Aerin pulls on her usual mask as Malice takes his place behind her. It only takes a second more for someone to recognize her. The guards keep the public on either side of a lined walkway. Creatures cheer for her. Cameras flash.
Aerin pushes everything down and keeps her strides even across the walkway. She doesn’t pause, doesn’t stutter. She paints her face with apathy until she reaches the doors of the formal hall where the dinner is being held. The large building is on the cliffside, the sound of the ocean churning below. Tall pillars tower up to the ceiling and ornate carvings grace the arched entrance. The space is usually reserved for balls, with its massive domed ceiling and intricately painted walls. Tonight, it holds over fifty of Valtara’s highest ranking Fae nobles.
Guards open the doors and the announcer to her left booms, “And now entering, third in line to the Tolvare Throne, Princess Aerin Tolvare.”
Sitting between Bruin and Khortland,Aerin is bored out of her mind. Khortland is flexing his well-practiced courtly manners as he engages the nobles seated around him.
The announcement went smoothly. They vowed to become bonded-mates. Her father beamed like he won a grand prize when he gave his approval. He then proceeded to announce he’d love for the binding to occur late summer, as if the staff could organize such a gaudy event in only a matter of months. It’s a threat Aerin sees right through. Aerin lets her eyes shoot daggers whenever they drift to where he sits at the head of the table.
It’s hard to ascertain where to look. There is her brother, who she’s barely mended fences with, her father who she loathes. On the other side of her father, across from Bruin, is Esalin, the Fae who pretended to be Aerin’s mother for over thirty years. Next to Esalin, Cisera.
Cisera looks regal in her own golden gown with its high neckline and long sleeves. She’s yet to dignify Aerin with a simple congratulations, let alone conversation. Aerin hasn’t spoken to her since she lost control in Aerin’s apartment building.
