Throne of Honey

Chapter 2: A Tricksters Bargain

I look through my closet of tunics and gowns in my room, each one in varying shades of the seasons. My thin fingers traced over the textured fabrics in wonder as the wood in the fireplace snapped under the heat. Briefly, I wonder if I should look docile or fierce, noble or humble, before tossing the thought away. I realized that in a crowd filled with blue-blooded families with everything the court was looking for, I need only to find a way to impress in my knowledge, should I ever be given a chance to be granted an audience.

  With a sigh, I decided to present myself as I am. Authenticity was a hard thing to come by, even in a realm where lies are scarce. Words can be interpreted any way the one hearing them wants to decipher, or how they would prefer not to, depending.
The dress I chose is a velvet material, gray and black like a shadow, depending on how the light decided to hit it. Spider silk spun carefully so that stars and a crescent moon dance and glow around one another over the off-shoulder sleeves, connecting to the bodice so that the gleam of silk can drift over the empire waist and give the illusion of wispiness, and the designs can shine down the deep tones, accenting them. My dress shows the very constellations in the sky above our kingdom. I slide my legs inside of the opening, pulling it over my hips, admiring the feel of it against my bare skin.

Putting my arms in the sleeves, I turn towards my dressing table and grab a thin chain necklace with one golden pearl that hangs at the hollow of my throat.
I look at myself in the mirror. I had tried to go for authenticity. Things I had felt at the very core of my being, from the bright stars and the shifting colors of my gown, to the simple necklace leading up to my lips, lined in a berry lipstick that had crushed fish scales to give it shimmer. Even my eyes were lined in gold powder and thick black liner so that my silver eyes had depth in them. I had chosen to leave my waist-length chestnut hair half down with intricate braids allowing strands I wanted to fall and frame the delicate features of my face.  Looking at myself, I hardly recognize the reflection staring back at me. I looked very much like the blue blood I was not. Someone that might command power without much effort.
A knock on the wooden door pulls me away from my thoughts. And I lift my skirts so as not to drag them across the floor and open the door to see one of my favorite trickster pixies outside with his cart of various rarities.

"Astrid..." He draws out my name, purple eyes looking me up and down, taking in the care I had put in to try and have everything looking perfect. Then, with a low whistle, he looks back up to my face, and a grin tugs at his lips, his sharp teeth showing. "You clean up very nicely."

I give him a genuine smile in return and do a joking spin. He grasps at his heart mockingly as if I have just pierced it with an arrow.
"Oh, Killian, you do flatter me," I say, happiness in my voice. " What wonders do you have for me today?" I ask, looking over at his cart.

Killian was a part of the Tricksters clan. They were well known in the art of bargaining, and if that didn't work, thievery. While humans may think of the creatures as small and harmless, everyone in the realm knew the opposite. Only coming up to my shoulder, Killian's body was adorned with white tattoos chasing up his ochre skin to show off his conquests. Each vine having thorns and flowers that appear depending on the deed that is done. A flower symbolizing deals. Thorns indicating deaths. Not only did he have an abundance of flowers, but hidden away, he had even more thorns. The only reason I even knew was a complete accident, and he was the one person that had agreed to train me in battle. During a sparring session, my sword struck the shoulder of his shirt and pinned him to a wall. A single rose had a halo of thorns surrounding it. We do not mention it, and I pretend as if I had never seen it. Because it was never meant to be seen. Tricksters do not mind showing off their heart flowers at the center of their chests; in fact, it is what they are most proud of because it is their most potent weapon and shield in one. And Killian's was showing through the partially unbuttoned shirt he wore. A bundle of foxglove, purple, and white blossoms in differing orders going up to his chest.

"Look for yourself." He says, A mischievous smile pulling at the corners of his lips before he pulls out a leather-bound book with burnt edges, obsidian stone at the very center. There were symbols on the front of it that indicated a special seal had been placed on the tome so that the only way to read it was to have the exact right spell—a safety precaution for the original owner to keep their work guarded.

I look at him in astonishment, mouth agape, and before I think better of it, I ask, "Where did you find this?"
He gives me a droll stare because now he has to think of something honest to say without getting himself in trouble with any who may be listening unbeknownst to us.
"I happened to be passing by a section of the library you are unlikely to be near."
I give him an apologetic look, and he holds it out to me. I take the book in my hands and rub the cover, feeling an electric pulse under my fingertips. I could feel the life inside, and it was trying to get out, but until I could find the proper spellwork, it would have to wait.

"What would you take for this?" I ask him, knowing there was almost anything I would do to crack this particular code. But he did not ask for anything too much.

"A trinket filled with happy feelings. Our spell meister is gathering certain emotions to prepare for the King and his court. Something about balancing it out so that nothing gets too out of hand." he replies.
I walk back towards my jewelry box and open it, picking out a seashell hair comb given to me by the first fae to ever love me.
I push it into Killian's hand.

"This is happiness from me and a former lover. With each tooth of the comb, may you have merriment aplenty for future potions."

After placing the comb in his pocket, he goes into a deep bow.
"You are too generous." His mercurial eyes glance up at me. " Until our next spar, dear lady."

A lily grew on the palm of his hand where the trinket was placed, and for a moment, I wondered if my flower had always been the lily in every deal. 

                                                             ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After hiding the book under a loose stone beneath my bedpost, I had just left my room and began to make my way through the gardens when I heard urgent whispers on another side of the wall.

"How could you be so careless?" one man whispers in a deep guttural tone and a muffled impact. Like he had hit someone with something. Hard.

"I am sorry, my lord. I am sorry!" This whisper was higher, whinier. I lean my back against the wall and listen. It had been a while since I had heard gossip before Ellasbeth did. With any luck, I can surprise her as she surprised me earlier in the day.

"I do not have time for your apologies!" There's a scuffle of noise, and the whiny man squeaks. "Tell me exactly what happened."

"One second, I am guarding it, and the next, there is this voice in my head, singing to me the most..." before the man can finish what he is saying, there is a squelching noise and grunt. Although I cannot see what is happening, I cover my mouth with both of my hands to keep quiet, thankful I decided against bracelets that had dangling charms.

There's a thud to the ground, and the man with the deep voice speaks, almost as if the other man can still hear him.
"You've been compromised."

Footsteps begin, heavy at first, but gradually they quiet. Finally, he was well enough away that I could safely climb the brick fence I had been hiding behind. I turn around and kick my shoes off. Placing my toes in the cracks of the wall and using my hands to reach the top, I pull myself up and look down at a puddle of blood where a body should have been. Looking both ways down the maze, I see no sign of any other folk. Had the man taken the body with him?

I am about to jump into the maze myself to look closer when I hear voices approaching.
I need to get out of here before someone believes I had a hand in this.
Or worse, before the murderer comes back to find me hovering near something he wants, there to be no evidence of.

((Thank you for taking the time to read this chapter.
This is all just a first draft I type out while I go through my outlines. If you enjoy it, please let me know!))