A Storm of Flames and Deceit

II. Easy Trade

Eris

She was not as whole as her father promised. She looked well enough, but I could tell the extent of her healing was more like putting a scarf over a burn. She could hardly stomach an entire green bean, and she looked like she was freezing despite her conservative gown.
I feel the distinct urge to give her my coat- which I had already shrugged off before dinner, but I immediately decide against it. Having younger brothers, I've learned that the minute I make it clear I want something is the minute they pounce on it, deciding they want it too. I tried to lead them into being good men, but my only success was Lucien. And what good had that been? He thinks I'm a monster and scarcely talks to me. I suppose he's half right, and I can't blame him. If I could fly away from here, I certainly would too.
Mother steals glances at Nephele all night. She always could tell a good soul, and I can tell she's already growing fond for the sharp tongued beauty. She had always wanted a daughter, but she should know better.
This palace was not a place to show fondness or desire. This palace was a place to conceal everything, to hollow within oneself. This was no place for warmth.
Yet mother stared between me and the general's daughter, and hope shone in her blue eyes.
Foolish.
She had always hoped I'd marry for love. I never had the heart to tell her I'm not capable. I'm a Vansera. I burn everything I touch. I burn through men and women in the night it takes to bed them and forget their names the next morning. There wasn't a romantic bone in my body.
I'm not entirely convinced Nephele cared when she spoke to me- I get it. If I had been in captivity for so long, perhaps I might be as eager to take a roll in the sheets. And foolishly, I had been close to saying yes.
But I had to be smart about her. As beautiful as she was, she'd be my wife one day. She can't hate me just yet.
She really was beautiful, despite being unwell. She was tall like the shoot of lightning, though slim. Her face was quite alert, nearly grateful just for being out of shackles. Her eyes were a stormy gray and whispered ancient tales to me with her every blink of long dark lashes. Her beautiful brown skin was a bit grayish, but when she flushed, it took on a life I imagine it always has when she is completely healthy.
She smelled quite nice too, like lavender and rainwater. The storm swells outside, and she winces. Her powers were impressive indeed. How irresponsible of her father never to teach her how to control them. That would need fixing if we were to stop this storm. And then...
Then, I wasn't sure there was a limit to what her power could do.
The thought is equal parts terrifying and exciting, just like her.
Our fathers spoke of mush all night, Lev and Darian chiming in occasionally with witless comments. There was hardly anything for me to listen in on, nothing to plot, plan, or scheme. Pity.
I had already triggered a deflection of men into my own secret force, out from under the thumb of my father. When insurrection was called, I would be ready with my own army and allies to stand against father so that he may only have the mercy of the mother awaiting him.
Dinner was over before I could even register. I nearly slide Nephele's chair out for her, but I decide against being a gentleman. My brothers will see it, and I don't want them to see her. The longer I can hide her in plain sight, the better. She follows her mother quietly to her chambers without bothering to say goodbye- not that I blame her. I haven't spoken very kindly to her, but I suppose it's better if she gets used to it now.
To be fair, I had only called her skinny to express my dissatisfaction with her treatment. But I did not expect her to bite back. It's quite inspiring how her soul remains so unbroken. Refreshing, even.
If she's smart, she'll hide that soul away before someone snatches it.
"Eris!" My father calls me over to him and General Speirling. "Come have a drink with us while we discuss the terms of the marriage agreement."
It's actually surprising that either of them deigned to let me in on this, though I doubt my words will have much sway in what they decide. As it is, they didn't include Nephele in the negotiation- which isn't exactly surprising, though irritating.
I walk over to the men, pouring myself a deep glass of liquor. I don't exactly have great luck with marriage arrangements. Last time, I managed to have a whole court turn against me because I protected a girl from the wrath of my father and refused to out her. Just my luck.
I sit through General Speirling listing all the terms of his alliance, what he wants from my father in terms of offering asylum for what remains of his troops. Beyond that, he doesn't want much more for the incredibly low price he put on his daughter.
My father, however, wants the General to sign complete ownership of his daughter over to me the day we marry. Where I will own her body and spirit. Where I will be allowed to do anything I wish to her. I can hardly stop myself from squirming with discomfort, taking a deep sip of my liquor. I don't care what they sign into place, another human will never be owned by me. Something tells me Nephele wouldn't accept that happily either.
"May I make two requests?" I put in, selecting my words carefully. If I'm being forced to marry, I should like to try some negotiation, though if I don't make it sound beneficial to father, he won't vouch for it.
Father nods if only out of curiosity.
I clear my throat, looking at the General, trying to keep the iciness out of my voice. "I would appreciate if she looked to be of full health from here on," I say. "No bruises marring her skin. No circles under her eyes. Without the hand of the healer because it doesn't quite look the same," I glance at my father before continuing. "I think it might make the union look less questionable, especially if I am to introduce her to other courts along our tour." Father considers, but I know when I've won him over. He's always been concerned with appearance above all, and Prynthian can already tell that he beats my mother. They won't be happy if it appears that his heir beats his wife too.
He's not stupid. He knows all the High Lords and the High Lady are only at peace with him because they're hoping he might die soon. He doesn't need a reason for them to despise his bloodline because then he will truly be lost, opening himself up to true insurrection.
General Speirling looks less concerned. Clearly, he doesn't care if people know his cruelty, if they know him to be abusive, though he is just confined to this court as a war fugitive to the rest of Prynthian. He had hit his daughter quite plainly at dinner, without reverence. I'm convinced he only healed her so that I may see that she is beautiful under all his abuse and neglect. To drive the price of his bargain up.
"Alright," Father says, decided. "Another condition of the agreement. Your daughter belongs to my son as of tonight. He will deal with her in every regard as a sign of good faith in exchange for allowing you asylum."
The General clenches his jaw, but nods once. "The second thing?" He asks me.
This one I have less faith in. "I'd like to drop the consummation ceremony from the wedding."
The two men actually laugh at me- I can't remember the last time father laughed. It's bone chilling. "I didn't raise you shy, boy."
"Not shy," I answer. "Just private."
Father rolls his eyes. "If you're worried about Nephele fighting you," the General tells me. "I can assure you she is not all that strong, and I suspect she'll give in fairly easily."
My palms heat, but I will the flames away. My greatest weapon was hiding my temper. I breathe out. "Alright," I answer, painting a sleezy grin on my face. "Then, we are in agreement."
...
I've barely turned the corner when mother has looped her arm through mine, smiling brighter than the day. I haven't seen her smile like that in a good while.
"I arranged to have brunch with her tomorrow morning," she practically sings. I don't have to ask who she speaks of.
"Don't you think it perhaps premature to be so enamored but a girl who hardly said anything at dinner?" I raise a brow at her.
She waves me off. "I didn't raise you to be so pessimistic, my son," she says.
"No, you raised me to be cautious," I remind her with a fixing look. "I don't want you to get attached like you did Morrigan."
Mother winces a bit. She had been so excited to welcome her would be daughter in law. She had been so heart broken over what her father what Keir and my father had let become of her. And General Speirling is even worse than Keir.
"She is not Morrigan," mother says quietly.
"I hope you're right," I murmur.
"At least tell me you're excited for the engagement tour in three days," she changes the subject. "For the chance to leave to tour Prynthian."
"Less of a tour and more of a business trip," I mumble. Not that I longed for a tour. It wouldn't be authentic or productive, I imagine. We were better off on the political trip.
"Still," she drops her voice. "You will say hi to Lucien for me, won't you?"
I nod. "Of course, I will."
She nods, smiling bitterly. I can tell there is one other person on my tour that she might want me to say hi to, but I won't speak his name when father could be anywhere. It was bold enough for mother to speak Lucien's name, but we never speak of Helion. As it is, I can only guess their connection because I know my mother so well.
And because I could always tell Lucien and I never had the same father.
That must be why mother always favored him- I don't blame her. I hate myself for every bit of Beron's DNA that I have. I'm just glad that she can still love me despite it.
I deposit mother at her chambers with hesitance, and make my way back towards my own. As I do, my feet are drawn to a stop outside where I know Nephele is staying. I smell the lavender and rainwater, and I hear the peaceful chorus of her breath as she sleeps. I can imagine today was exhausting for her.
I rest against the door for only a second until lightning crashes outside, startling me off. Foolish. For all I told mother not to get her hopes up, here I am: admiring.