A Storm of Flames and Deceit

XIII. Good Taste

Nephele

It's a sad thing. The tiniest bit of physical exertion knocks me right out into a five hour long nap. I've been slowly getting my energy back. Having been asleep for, essentially, the last two centuries, my body isn't used to being awake.
Besides, working out is hard. My bones ache from the effort of holding up those beautiful swords I got. When I arrived back to the manor, I barely had the energy to bathe myself before I knocked clean on atop my sheets in my satin robe. It's entirely possible that I'm capable of sleeping through the morning, though it's just only past noon.
But no, I'm not so lucky.
I awake to the sound of an aggressive knock on my door, jolting out of the puddle of drool on my pillow. Eris doesn't wait for my answer- I wouldn't expect him to. No, he just enters briskly, his amber gaze glaring upon me as my eyes flutter open.
"You know, I was sleeping," I tell him, my words slurring with exhaustion.
"You need to eat," he says simply, and I notice for the first time the tray in his hands, stacked high with spring fruit and some vegetables. Could he already tell how much I didn't like red meat? I won't give him credit for coincidence. "It's past dinner time."
"I'm not hungry," I whine, burrowing deeper into my pillow. "Let me be."
Then, my pillow is pulled out from under me. I glare up at Eris, but his expression is hard. "Eat." He says it so simply, such a command. I wrinkle my nose, sitting up, rubbing my eyes.
"I'd prefer if you'd say please," I mumble, taking the plate.
He actually chuckles, clearly lightened now that he's gotten his way. "Then you're in for a supremely disappointing marriage, I'll tell you that," he says, sitting at the end of my bed.
I roll my eyes, becoming supremely aware of how tiny my robe is. Mother would have a cow. To be so near to naked around a man before marriage is taboo, even if he's my fiancé. But Eris doesn't seem to bat an eye which makes me feel more comfortable. As it is, half of me wants him to indeed bat an eye at my body. I don't hurt for confidence. Why should I? I look fifty times better than I did only two weeks ago, and I feel a hundred times better.
I wouldn't mind if he seemed to notice, but I suppose that's a foolish hope to have.
"Lucien returned," he says, and I recognize that night has fallen. It must be hours after when dinner truly would've been. No wonder Lucien is already back. "He says Tamlin approached him."
I nod, popping a grape in my mouth. "That's good- I'm sure." In truth, I had forgotten all about our interaction with the High Lord, but the memory returns with a sweet smugness. How had no one figured out the riddle? Tamlin lived as a beast, he prowled across his hardened land, and they all chalked it up to giving up? It's almost sad. He hadn't given up- he had just changed tactics.
They were right about one thing though. The High Lord certainly was sad. The revelation should neither excuse his actions or villainize him. It should just be understood that he is doing the best he can right now. That people shouldn't give up on him just yet, because despite popular belief, Tamlin hasn't given up either.
Eris shakes his head in minor disbelief. "Lucien said Tamlin went to him in..." he hesitates, as if he still cannot believe it. "In human form."
"Good," I smile happily, eating my carrots smugly. "Now your brother and him can begin to resolve whatever broken bromance it is that lies between them."
Eris scoffs. "I wouldn't call it a bromance," he says, rolling his eyes. Foolish. I didn't miss Lucien fix his hair and check his scent before he rode off to see Tamlin earlier. He means to tell me that they lived together for centuries, and nothing happened between them? Fat fucking chance.
I decide to drop it, shrugging with indifference. "What did Tamlin say?"
Eris twirls the rings upon his princely fingers, a buildup of energy, needing release. Too many thoughts in that ginger head of his. "He told Lucien that he needs to start running the guests of Spring through him as the High Lord. Lucien said he seemed angry," Eris scratches his head, his auburn curls separating. "But Lucien found it odd. Usually, if Tamlin is truly angry, he'll enter his beast form, but he stayed mostly human the whole time. Lucien said that Tamlin had already insisted that all the court affairs be run through Lucien himself as his emissary since a few months ago when he finally allowed Lucien back into his lands."
I frown. "But Lucien stopped being his emissary?" That was my interpretation at least.
Eris shrugs. "I don't think Tamlin cared at that point. I think Lucien was the only one left who he hadn't pushed away," he decides. "Even if he was mad and beastly, he didn't want to be alone."
"He knew Lucien felt bad about how it all went down, so he let Lucien's guilt incentivize him to stay around?" It makes sense enough.
Eris nods in confirmation. "Lucien has ties to many courts. Already he works as an emissary of night. He also works as a middle man for me to feed me intel for autumn. He has ties to the continent as well as a few more connections."
"A few more connections?"
"It's no matter," he waves me off. "I'm just saying that Lucien makes time to be here, and as far as he knows, this is the first time Tamlin has returned to his human form in a while, albeit only halfway."
"Halfway?"
Eris shrugs. "He still kept his teeth and claws about him, but Lucien says it's a huge step."
It's all Lucien thinks this, Lucien thinks that. "And what do you think?" I ask Eris, gazing up at him.
"I think Tamlin just felt invigorated that a pretty girl was nice to him again," he shrugs grandly, still mistrusting Tamlin's motives, believing the worst. Wait! Did he just call me pretty? "I think that we're going to Summer Court tomorrow."
My mood brightens, my focus changing. "I bet it's beautiful," I muse, setting my plate down. I can't eat anymore, though I've hardly made a dent in the food. My appetite will return with time, I'm sure.
Eris shrugs again, bored. "A bit too sunny for my liking," he replies pessimistically, and I laugh behind my fingers.
"The sun must burn you with a fair complexion like that," I poke his freckled cheek, laughing as he swats my hand away, an icy glare. It's funny to think that something could burn him. Last time I checked, it was him who burned things.
He rolls his eyes, but I can tell he's biting back a smile. "We'll see what your complexion does, sweetheart."
I laugh in concession. "True," I reply. "I have been living in darkness for a couple centuries."
The room feels warmer, and I can't tell if my blunt wording has made him mad or if I'm just getting hotter with stress. I decide it could be both, but it's certainly the latter.
"There will be a Princess there," he tells me calmly. "Her name is Cressida."
"I see," my grin is nearly excited. A Princess? I wonder if she's pretty? No. That's a stupid question. It doesn't matter if she's pretty, I'm betrothed. "I'm meant to befriend her, correct?"
He nods. "The High Lord is named Tarquin. He's a bit of a... hopeless visionary."
I chuckle. "I'm sure you think everyone is a hopeless visionary."
"He wears his heart on his sleeve- it's a dangerous game for a High Lord," he replies. Of course he thinks that. I'm fairly certain Eris is allergic to emotion.
I roll my eyes. "Am I meant to befriend him too?"
"You're meant to make him like me however you can," he replies simply. "Summer is Autumn's western neighbor. Tarquin- like most rationale people- doesn't like my father. We need to show him that I'm at the very least a little bit better than him."
I snort. "That shouldn't be too hard," I grin. "Your father is the worst- well, maybe tied with my own."
He grins at the darkened humor. "We must also be certain that you don't make me look weak as well," he tells me, gears seeming to twist in his brain. "It's a delicate balance between tolerance and fear."
"Don't be clumsy, yeah, I got it," I wave him off. I won't mention that I already am clumsy. I'm sure he can already tell. "Sounds like fun- what am I wearing?"
He actually grins. "My favorite question," he murmurs, waving his hand across the bed. Then, atop the duvet, several dresses appear in a color scheme of pale blues and purples and silvers. All colors of the storm.
It makes sense. Even I've noticed Eris adheres to a color scheme of golds, burnt oranges, and Ruby reds. He was giving me a color scheme.
Lucky for him, purple and blue are my colors.
I scan the dresses eagerly, grinning like an idiot. The dresses aren't as thick as the ones I've worn before. I suppose it will be hot.
The dresses range from full length to no longer than the robe I'm wearing now. Some skirts are fluffy, some have slits. Some are fully covered. Same of the bodices. But one catches my eye.
It's a small pale blue mini dress made of the finest satin. Tear drop shaped pearls seem to drip from the fabric, stitched across the skirt, catching the light in tones of iridescent lavender and ivory.
My eyes go wide.
"Good," Eris says, catching my line of sight, snapping the other dresses away. "I'm glad you actually have taste."
I laugh, raising a brow at him. "Was that a test?"
He shrugs. "Possibly," he watches me run my fingers over the pearls, my nails clicking against them. "I'm just glad to know that I can trust you to dress yourself without making me look bad."
I scoff. "So vain?"
"First impressions go a long way," he replies. "And yours will need to be better than mine."
I roll my eyes. "That's what I'm here for," I tell him, laying back on my pillow. "Now go away. I'm tired."
He chuckles, but I don't hear him get up and leave before I knock out completely, drooling on the pillow once again probably.