A Storm of Flames and Deceit

XI. Death is a Woman

Nephele

Lucien comes along with us today for training. As nice as the room I was put up in was, I couldn't sleep in. The minute the sun peaked behind the trees, the birds were up and chatting. There weren't many rooms left in the estate that were untouched by whatever Tamlin mourns, just barely enough for us each to have our own. Luckily, since Eris and I aren't married yet, we aren't expected to share a bed, so I got my own room.
It was a beautiful day anyway. Even if I was feeling a bit groggy and heavy lidded. The sun shone, and I could help but think what a shame it'd be if I were to block it with any of my clouds. Eris would probably mock the sentiment if I ever spoke it, so I do as he says. Lucky for him, I'd actually like to learn to control my power too.
The brothers lead me to a horse stable, and my feet slow. It's Eris who looks back at me as his brother mounts a horse. "I've never-" I gesture at the horses, shifting on my feet. "I don't know how-"
Eris huffs a frustrated breath. "Of course, you don't," he mumbles, beckoning me forward anyway.
I cross my arms, feeling a tad bit blamed, but do as I'm bid. "Sorry to inconvenience you, Hot Stuff," I mumble.
"Did your father deign to teach you anything?" He asks, mounting a russet horse.
Oh.
So he isn't mad at me?
His anger seems more directed at my upbringing, un blaming of me. "Oh yeah," I roll my eyes. "He used to teach me needlepoint when came home from war, but that was only after he helped me master basket weaving."
Eris rolls his eyes in return, offering me a hand. I take it, slipping saddle in front of him, though it's snug.
I'm not sure I've ever been this close to a man before. It's absolutely enthralling. My skin tingles, my body heating just to be near him as he wraps his arms around me to take the reins. He chides the horse forward, and I shut my eyes, feeling his breath on the back of my neck as we follow after his brother. If I didn't know better, I might say something in the back of Lucien's head looks smug and taunting, but maybe I'm reaching.
The ride is a growing torture. The horse smells horrendous, and yet, all I smell is the musk of a brisk autumn day, a slight of bonfire. With every rough step the horse takes forward, Eris' hips bump into my ass, closer and closer. It's an effort to reign in the scent of my arousal- I'm not even sure why I bother.
His breath is on my throat, sweet and gentle, but his knuckles are white on the reins. He's mad, irritated with my uselessness.
What- fucking- ever.
It's not my fault I'm useless. I've been living under a rock for two centuries- and I almost mean that literally. It's no fault of my own, and I'm certainly trying. Who would blame me if I decided to laze around and play housewife and baby maker? No, I decided to help his image.
To be fair, I may or may not be offering my help to save my own skin and level vengeance against my father.
But some fucking patience would be nice.
Now, I'm huffy and angry. What would he do if steam came out of my ears? He's not the only one who can be pissy.
Did he have to be so damn close?
It's maddening. All my foolish brain can think of is the bump of his hips against mine. All I can imagine is what I would do is his lips touched my neck. If his hands dropped the reins and cupped my breasts.
I blame my isolation. Two centuries, and I've only ever had my hand. Though she served me faithfully, I've tired of her. If something doesn't fuck me soon, I'm going to lose my mind.
"Calm down," Eris mumbles in my ear. I blink, looking around. The sky has blackened, swirling and menacing. Lucien stares at me from his horse, his eyes wide, metal in all. I glance back at Eris. His hair stands on end, the current of electricity that flows from me to him. I swallow.
"You can't let yourself lose control when you're angry," he says, and I nearly breathe a sigh of relief. So he associated my frustration with anger? I'll let him believe it, but my frustration is centered somewhere else, somewhere lower in my body.
"I'm in control," I say, breaking his arms from the reins, hopping off the horse myself. "We've gone far enough. Let's not waste ourselves."
Eris sets his jaw. He's just as frustrated. I can tell he doesn't like being swept aside. He doesn't like my assertion when he had probably planned to stop in some clearing that must be nearly identical to this one.
Lucien hops off his horse without qualms though, approaching me with caution. I keep the sky black, the wind blowing. I like the storm- no point banishing it. "Eris tells me you've been able to winnow again," he says, guiding his horse to a tree to wait by.
I nod. "I took him to Hybern as a demonstration."
Lucien blinks. "That's quite a distance," he comments. "How many times had you winnowed? You know... before..." He won't say it. In the back of my mind, I think he might be scared it'll trigger my anger further, causing me to rain hell. I hate to think that I might be so out of control, but my past doesn't make me angry.
My past motivates me.
"Only a handful," I answer. "He locked me away shortly after. I was probably thirteen? I don't remember exactly. I just know I didn't get many chances to winnow before I was locked away."
Lucien scratches his jaw uncomfortably, glancing at his brother who has grumpily dismounted from his horse, leading it to stay beside Lucien's. Eris subtly nods, and Lucien snaps his fingers, an armoire appearing before our eyes.
I blink with surprise. "We won't be training your powers today," Eris says, leaning casually against a tree. "You know better than anyone that sometimes your power can fail you." Lucien cringes, as if he fears that Eris has upset me. As if he is invoking a wrath in me that will put them in the eye of the storm.
But I appreciate that Eris doesn't coat his words in sugar. I appreciate his frankness. I think he understands that I'm a very honest person. I don't like being lied to, and I certainly don't like lying to myself.
Eris will never coddle me, and I'm grateful. I've had enough shelter in this lifetime.
Lucien opens the armoire, and I grin like an idiot. The cabinet was positively glittering in swords, knives, spears, bows, daggers. Some pretty. Some brutal. I found myself drawn to the ones that could be both at once.
Lucien sheathes a sword from the center, a broad hilt, a broad black metal blade. He holds it out to me. The instant he revokes his hand, my arms drop to the floor. To my credit, I kept my grip around the massive blade, but it was so heavy I can hardly lift it again.
Eris takes it from me, bored, not bothering to ask my thoughts. He can tell it's not right. Hanging it back up, his amber eyes fix on the blades, quietly scanning. I want to object that I'm perfectly capable of picking my own weapon, but I don't know what I'm looking for. I grew up around weaponry, but I had never once been given the freedom to even consider holding much more than a butter knife.
Eris' eye catches on a sword, and I freeze as well. The sword was long and thin, a white silver. It's hilt was nimble and slim for my small hands. It had a twin as well.
Eris plucks them from the shelf, extending the ornate hilts to me. I take them, noticing how the metal along the handle bend and wove like knots, centering a tear drop shaped amethyst. These were light in my hand, but like a storm cloud, they could bring death.
A slick grin comes to my face. "Oh, I like these," I say, clumsily twirling them.
"Don't hurt yourself, now," Eris says. Was he smirking too? I don't care. The clouds cool happily above us before I remember to relinquish the power my mood holds on the weather.
I glance up at the men, then down at my clothing. "Shouldn't I be wearing pants?" I ask them. "I've never seen a warrior fight in a dress."
Eris shrugs. "In the older days, women did used to fight in skirts to allow a wider range of mobility," he replies. "It wasn't until fighting was seen as a masculine pursuit that armor and uniform began to mimic the fashions associated with what is perceived as masculine. We can get you pants if you'd rather, but you are just as capable in skirts. It's however you feel comfortable."
I glance down again. I didn't see it before, but it made sense. There was no seam between my legs to limit me. And Eris had picked a gray dress for me today that stopped around my shins, a light a movable fabric with two fair slits sheared up the thighs of the loose skirt. The silver bodice was quite armored, structured and padded, secure around me. Even when the horse had trotted earlier, my chest hadn't bounced. And he had dressed me in black boots today- which I had initially associated with riding. The boots were thick and springy- I bounced with every step, my toes hugged, my heel secured.
"This should be fine then," I reply, glancing up at him. I like the idea that I don't have to remove my dress- a garment associated with femininity- in order to protect myself.
Eris holds my gaze longer, and I glance at Lucien who looks, for the life of him, like he's never seen his brother before.
"Alright," I say, rolling my shoulders back. "Let's do this."