A Storm of Flames and Deceit

X. Bitterly

Eris

Planning took quite a while, and I could see Nephele squirming in her chair. Frankly, I'm surprised she stuck around to plan with us. I didn't ask her to follow us into Tamlin's overrun conference room, but I was too curious to see what she'd say to suggest that she didn't have to stay.
And she certainly didn't disappoint.
Now, the brunt of the planning was over. Nephele declared that she was going on a walk, and left me to my brother, not that Lucien and I were friends in the least. But alcohol made it easier to be civil with him.
We drink quietly in Tamlin's study, my gaze frequently darting out the window. I should've gone with her. She's a walking storm, fresh out of a cage, and this court had turned a bit lawless- though there was hardly any folk within a two mile radius, save for Lucien and I.
Possibly Tamlin.
My blood roars hotly. I really should have accompanied her.
"She's fine," Lucien says, as if he can hear my thoughts. Maybe the room is hotter. I right my face. I've never been transparent, even to someone who knows me as well as Lucien. It's mortifying that he could tell I worried. "From what I've gathered, it would seem she can take care of herself on wit alone, not to mention whatever power makes the sky rumble in her wake."
I scowl, taking another sip of whiskey. "She's naive," I say bitterly. "And she doesn't know her way around here."
Lucien rolls his eyes. "She'll be back by dinner," he glances at the window. "She doesn't seem like the type who likes to be hunkered down inside, especially in a new place."
I refill my glass, which I have suddenly found to be empty. "With good reason," I mumble, hoping he doesn't catch the bitterness in my voice. Her treatment at the hands of her father...
It shouldn't bother me as it does. I've never been one to pity another, and yet, I feel like I might catch fire every time I think of the General locking away his daughter for two centuries, starving her of both her nutrition and her power, beating her at convenience.
A flash of movement out the window turns me feral. I gaze upon her gratefully, watching her meander through what remains of the flower garden, picking what catches her eye beneath the falling sun. She smiles quietly as she adds a flower to the weft between her fingers. A crown, I deduce.
Lucien chuckles warmly. "You two make an interesting pair," he comments, probably observing how life has made me hard and cruel. How life has somehow preserved her softness, her gratitude for beauty. "I like her."
"That's the point," I lean back in my seat. "She's meant to make me more likable."
He considers, a bemused look on his face. "Is she a miracle worker then?"
I actually chuckle alongside my brother. I'm not sure if we've shared a laugh since we were boys. So much resentment. "Remains to be seen," I smirk.
"And she's whip smart too, a real schemer. I might say she's perfect for you if she wasn't so plainly too good for you," Lucien sips his drink. Was there a bitterness in his voice? I was not mated with Nephele, but I certainly was paired with her. He must envy the ease of such a pairing. I take it Elain still hasn't chosen or rejected the bond.
I actually pity him.
I had only encountered Elain a few times, only from a distance. She was beautiful enough, but something about her seemed so flavorless. She seemed like a new born to me, surrounding herself with people who would coddle her. Nephele was technically just as sheltered by circumstance- more sheltered, even, but she never once seemed like she needed me to coddle her from the real world. She didn't see herself as entitled to protection from others. She saw the world coming at her, and she chooses to stand, not shrink. She chooses to embrace things as they come, bend them to her benefit.
"You cannot insult me with that which I already know," I tell Lucien, dropping the ice in his tone. "Mother has already made me well aware."
Lucien's face drops at the reminder. "How is she?"
I shrug, taking another sip. "Fine," I say. "Father hasn't lashed out in a while. He seems to focus more on me these days, luckily. General Speirling doesn't beat his wife, and I think father doesn't want to look like anything mother says or does concerns him. But the General beats his daughter- used to, I mean. So that makes me, Lev, and Darian fair game."
Lucien nods. "So mother likes Nephele?"
"Too much," I answer, watching my fiancé in the garden. She twirls a flower in her fingers, but even from such a distance, I can see her beautiful smile as I speak. "She's looking at her like she had hung the sun itself. It's ridiculous."
Lucien mutters something under his breath. "What was that?" I return my attention to my brother.
"Nothing," he smirks, taking a smug sip of his drink.
"Right, well as far as mother is concerned, Nephele is already her daughter," I mumble, irritated.
"Is that such a bad thing?" Lucien asks gently. I scoff.
"We aren't married yet," I remind him. "A lot can happen in two weeks."
"She isn't Mor," Lucien says- I'm not sure why he cares to make me feel better.
"No," I agree. "Her father is way worse than Keir."
"If she was going to run away, she would've done it," Lucien says. "She wouldn't have helped us hatch such a tedious plan if she was committed to this agreement between you both."
I shrug. "She's just looking out for her own skin."
"Of course she is," Lucien grins, sitting back in his chair. "Which is why I suppose it's a good thing that you're looking out for her too," he glances at the window where my focus has been for nearly an hour, even before she appeared outside the house. "That her best interest is aligned with you."
I scoff. "It's rarely a good thing for anyone to be aligned with me," I mutter, glancing back at the garden, only to find that she's no longer there. I blink, my heart palpitating just the slightest bit until something is gently placed on my head.
I look up, finding none other than Nephele standing over me, retracting her hands after placing her flower crown on my head. She grins, turning to Lucien. "Doesn't he just look like the prettiest maiden in all of Spring?" She teases, sitting down in the chair beside me.
"Oh, yes," Lucien agrees, smirking. "Certainly the moodiest."
I roll my eyes, slipping the crown off my head, plopping it onto Nephele's where it belongs, fixing my hair. The crown was actually quite impressive now that I can see it, a collection of lavender and marigolds woven together by reeds and green grasses.
"Well, he doesn't need a crown for that, does he?" She replies, grinning as she straightens the arrangement of flowers over her brow.
"Did you enjoy your walk?" Lucien asks, and a smile slips to her face.
"I certainly did," she replies. "Though I left my heels behind in the grass by the steps, but when I returned, they were missing."
Lucien chuckles quietly. "That would be the sprites," he grins. "You cannot leave anything out like that here. They are grabby little things."
She giggles, leaning her tired head against the arm of the chair, tucking her knee to her chest. She doesn't sit very formally, something I hope she doesn't take to doing at the other courts. Because the sight of her thigh pressed against her breasts is quite improper. "Better them than me," she says. "I hated those shoes. They made my feet ache."
"So you preferred to be barefoot?" I ask. Surely, the rough ground would have irritated her skin.
"Indubitably," she replies, smiling. "It's good for circulation."
"I'm sure," I murmur doubtfully, and Lucien chuckles.