A Storm of Flames and Deceit

VII. I Hope I'm Right

Nephele

Lev kept his distance from me all dinner, and I noticed a slight wince when he picked up his glass. Darian still hadn't seemed to much notice me either, so Eris didn't feel obligated to walk me back to my room or "protect" me in any way.
It was all about ownership to him- I'm no starry eyed fool. He wanted me to perfect my power so that I could be a weapon to him, not an embarrassment. He wanted to keep me pretty so I reflected well on him. He wanted to keep me whole so I didn't make him look like his father.
I suppose I don't much blame him for using me. It's not like he wanted to get married either. He was just as much a pawn as I- which I'm sure frustrates him. Well, he can join the club.
Unfortunately, my father wasn't entirely done with me, and he ends up cornering me on my way back to my chambers. I stifle a frown as he pulls me into an alcove in the hallway. "I want to make myself clear as to how you are expected to behave when you go on this trip with Eris," he seethes. I think he's had enough of me skipping around acting like I'm untouchable. "How you act reflects on me, and I didn't promise Beron a troublemaking daughter in law. I promised him a lady."
I roll my eyes. "Have I not done well?" I challenge. "I haven't stirred up a thing, and the Lady of Autumn likes me quite well."
"I don't care what the Lady of Autumn thinks," he hissed, his grip on my wrist tightening. "You aren't marrying her."
I shrug. "Eris likes me as well as he likes anyone, I'm sure."
"You better hope so because if he decides he doesn't want you," Father pushes me back into the wall. "I will put you right back where you left off."
"Super," I smile, striding away when he pulls my wrist back forcefully, bumping my head into the stone. My head pounds like thunder from impact, and I cry out a little in pain.
"What makes you think that you can talk to me like that suddenly?" He slams his palm into the wall in a single spurt of aggression. My head shakes from the collision against the stone, my vision spotting.
"I'm Eris' property, remember?" I smile a shit eating grin, and hell, it feels good, despite my pain. "You can't touch me without his consent. I know you must hate it."
Father's jaw sets, and I worry he might just kill me for my nerve and bear the consequences despite it. He's a calculated man at heart, being a general. He wouldn't ever let emotion cloud his judgement, even rage. He backs away then, if only to restrain himself, his fist clenched. "Then you're his problem now," he sneers, leaving me.
Smug as a thief, I stumble away, my head burning. I don't mind it too much- it's nice to feel something. Opening my door is a puzzle, though. I can't seem to remember which way the knob turns. When I finally shoulder it open, I lean against the oak, shutting my eyes, resting.
"Are you bleeding?" A voice surprises me into a jolt, and I clutch my heart, catching my breath. I glare at Eris when I regain my breath.
"Great, now you're going to lecture me on how I should act, too," I mumble, tipping my head against the doorframe. Why else would he be here? We hadn't discussed what he expects of me on our trip, but I'm sure he had some ideas of how to boss me around.
He walks over quickly, violence in his eyes. I flinch as he gruffly takes my chin in his elegant, ringed fingers. "I asked you a question," he seethes, bending down to eye level. His breath tickles my nose, but I shrink under his burning gaze. "Are. You. Bleeding."
"I- I'm not sure," I fumble at his intensity. "My father had wanted to talk to me, so he pulled me into an alcove. I thought we were done and began to walk away, but he pulled me back and I hit my head against the wall from the force."
He swears under his breath, sliding his hand behind my head, anchoring it firmly in the braids, tilting my head in a few directions to search for the wound. "He wasn't supposed to touch you," he breathes, and I shiver.
"Well," I smile sloppily. "Considering how difficult it is for you to find the wound, I dare say no one will see a thing- therefore no one can suspect you."
He looks away, swearing so royally that a snicker breaks through my lips. "So why are you waiting for me in here?" I smirk teasingly. "I suspect the reason is not nearly as fun as I would imagine."
"I'm gathering that you're imagination is quite far off from reality half the time," he mumbles, dropping my face. "I can't even picture what it's like when you're concussed."
I snort, rolling my eyes as he sits beside me. He sighs deeply, tipping his head against the door beside mine. He looks... tired. Tough shit, considering we won't get much rest on our two week long tour. He casually takes my left hand, and I'm too dizzy to think anything of it.
But as always, the gesture was purposeful because he slips something cool and metallic on my ring finger before dropping it. "I needed to give you your engagement ring before we left," he says casually, raking his fingers through his auburn hair.
Smiling, I bring my hand up to my face. The diamond is tear drop shaped and cut slimly, thankfully not massive or tacky. On each side of the primary gem, three tinier diamonds sit snuggly on the silver band, glittering sweetly. I catch his eye, smirking. "I approve."
"I wasn't asking," he replies, sliding to his feet.
"Wait!" I say, reaching for his hand before he stands. He gazes upon my fingers around his, puzzlement on his face. I drop his hand in response, and he sits back down. "You never told how you needed me to act- you know, diplomatically."
He furrows his brow. "Why do you ask that?"
I shrug. "I just figured you always have a strategy to how you act from my observation. I wasn't sure if you needed me to act in love with you or if that'd kill your street credit. I wasn't sure if you needed me to act subservient or liberated."
He blinks. "Why would you bother with helping me look good?" He says it like the idea was insane. He says it like he wouldn't have even asked that of me, anticipating that I'd refuse.
I shrug again. "The way I see it is that our futures are entangled, hot stuff," I point out. "If the world hates you and I tie my name to yours, I'm not gonna have an easy go about things."
He considers, tilting his head. "Then, I hate to break it to you, sweetheart- the Vansera name isn't a great one to tie yourself to."
I smirk, rolling my eyes. "Names change meanings. I'm still a Speirling, and I hated Hybern."
His jaw goes slack. "You shouldn't say stuff like that," he mumbles.
"Why?" I raise a brow.
"Because not everyone in this palace agrees," he whispers.
"But you do?"
"It doesn't matter what I think." Answer enough.
"Sure, it does- you're the heir of Autumn."
"Fine," he appends. "It doesn't matter what I think yet."
I roll my eyes. "We're off topic," I say. "I'm just saying- we're stuck together, and I'm not too proud to admit that you know more about what's going on out there right now. I have been- for all intents and purposes- living under a rock for two centuries. So tell me what you need me to do so that neither of us end up with our heads floating down the river."
He studies me for a while, really deducing what he wants to say. Then he shuts his eyes. "You may have been living in isolation, but you are supremely more likable than me," he breathes out finally.
I snicker. "Who isn't?"
Humor crosses his lips, even at his own expense. A good sign. Bad men cannot laugh at themselves, but good men can take a joke. "I need you to make people like me- at the very least like you," he says, and I see those gears moving in his mind. "When I introduce you, our story- agreed upon by our fathers already- is that I plucked you from a cell in Hybern. That you were just a powerful little witch on the North end of the isle, that Hybern himself locked you away because you were dangerous. I was your liberator."
"I see," I play with the ends of my braids. "So you're to be my knight in shining armor, and I'm to be your damsel?"
He laughs quietly, a dead humor. "I suppose we have come full circle, yes."
I smile at the ground. "And then, when they see that I like you, they'll think that you can't be that bad?" I squint up at him, the light burning my vision- I focus on his face instead of the bigger picture if only to relieve my headache.
He furrows his brows. "You like me?" It isn't a taunt. It's a statement of confusion.
I shrug. "I don't need to like you yet," I reply. "But everyone will think I do."
"I see," he purses his lips. "So you make all my friends for me, and buffer criticism?"
"Seems fair," I reply in agreement. He considers, looking skyward.
"I suspect that's what my father intended to do with my mother, but he failed."
"But there will be a profound difference between them and us," I point out.
"Which is...?"
"Your father is still hated because he mistreats a woman as kind as your mother. It's unbecoming," I remind him, feeling a bit apologetic for the wince he pulls. "But you won't mistreat me."
He gazes over me, as if he's studying my entire face for an assessment. "What makes you think I won't mistreat you?" He finally asks.
I shrug, sliding to my feet, swaying a bit. "I think you're smart enough to know better," I say, turning over my shoulder. "I hope I'm right."