A Storm of Flames and Deceit

23. The Role

Nephele

Eris and I are up barely up by noon, both of us desperately needing rest after last night's bonfire. After our three day journey. I awoke fully drooling on my husband's bare chest, accidentally waking him as I discreetly tried to wipe it away. Luckily, I don't think he noticed, smiling peacefully as he kisses me good morning.

"Are you excited?" He murmurs, fixing my messy hair out of my face so that he may look upon me with obstruction.

"Very," I smiles, propping my chin into my palm. Eris had told me of today's festival, the revelry of it all, the gathering of merchants and tradesmen and vendors and performers in the street. "So excited I might not even ask you if we can stay in bed the rest of the day."

"That's too bad," he mutters, a smile on his lips as he reaches for my palm, pressing at kiss to the skin. "I thought we might stay in the rest of the weekend. Hell, the rest of the year."

I roll my eyes. Eris could be such an introvert sometimes. If not for duty and devotion to his people, I fear he might be perfectly content to never leave the treehouse. "You seemed to enjoy yourself well enough last night," I remind him encouragingly.

"That's because I was drunk and dancing with you," he replies, a soft chuckle. "It's easier for me to connect with people to a soundtrack. I'm not so good with words."

He was indeed a gifted dancer. I may or may not have wet dreams about how he looks when he dances, the intensity in his eyes as he leads me across the floor. "They love you as I do," I reply, kissing his nose- though I'm certain no one in the world loves Eris quite as much as I do. Not even close. "Even if you can be wildly intimidating."

"You were never intimidated by me," he points out. "When we first met- if I remember correctly- you raised your brow at me in challenge."

"Challenge. Flirtation," I shrug casually. "Who can tell the difference?"

His hand slides to my waist, thoughtfully slipping down the seam of my nightgown, playing with where the hem meets my thigh. "We better get going before I downright refuse to get out of this bed," he murmurs suggestively, causing me to raise my brow in what cannot be mistaken for anything less than flirtation as I lean into his lips.

...

My lips are still kiss-swollen by the time Eris and I walk arm in arm down Main Street. In the end, I somehow managed the restraint to push him away, insisting that we at least make an appearance at the festival. He had groaned but let me roll from bed to get dressed, watching me very intently the entire time, his hand tucked behind his head.

Stomach fluttering, I had managed to dress in a gown of a dusty blue color, cap sleeves made of the same chiffon at the straight and casual skirt, embroidered in tear-drop shaped crystals. Eris had snapped himself into a complementing Ruby vest, embroidered in copper and gold, an ivory shirt buttoned beneath.

He didn't complain as I dragged him into nearly every stall, him buying absolutely everything that so much as caught my eye, having it sent back to the palace. The first couple of times, it was cute- maybe even a bit sexy. But after awhile, I started to feel bad.

"I'm investing in my people," he had whispered in defense after buying me a glimmering hair comb. "Putting money into our economy, into the working class. You would have me impede that?"

I roll my eyes. I know what he's doing- the smug grin indication enough. "Manipulative bastard," I mutter under my breath. As much as he likes giving back to his people, I think he might just like buying me things. There are worse problems to have, certainly- I just cannot wait until the day where he finally lets me take a long time to thank him for it.

"A leopard can't change his spots," he shrugs impassively. "Hungry?"

My brows draw together. "How do you always know when I'm hungry? I'm serious. It's freaky."

He smiles, leaning down so that his lips graze my ear. "Must be the mating bond," he whispers quietly, his teeth grazing my skin, turning my blood to flame. Since he told me of the bond, we had hardly acknowledged it beyond those first few days. I could've convinced myself that I made the whole thing up, considering the bond has yet to snap into place for me. "Or that hangry glare you give me."

I scoff, elbowing him as he chuckles. "That's the one," he says gleefully, kissing me on the cheek. "I'll go get us some food if you want to find us a spot to sit?"

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, whatever," I reply. "Don't be too long."

He kisses my cheek. "Yes, ma'am."

...

I pick one of the tables crafted of redwood carelessly from the scattering of tables set outside the vendors tents. I shift across the wood a bit as nobody so much as approaches me or even sits at the tables around mine. At first, I regard it as a dislike of myself. Perhaps, I had done something to offend the people, though I can't imagine what.

A few seconds later, the shyness in their gazes strikes me. It all makes sense then. Beron had been their High Lord before Eris and I reigned, and I have sincere doubts that Beron ever invited interaction among himself and the people. They don't know the protocol for their new High Pair. Hell, all this morning, even the artisans had avoided eye contact as they let me look in their booths.

They were afraid of their government.

Who could blame them for the trauma they endured under Beron? Who could-

"Did you know I'm playing a Princess in the Festival Day Play this afternoon?"

I blink, looking down at a child who can't be more than seven, talking to me like we're old friends passing in the street as she plops on the seat across from me. A laugh falls from my lips, even as townsfolk watch her with wide eyes. "I would expect nothing less," I reply, spirits raising.

"Can I borrow your tiara?" She asks, gazing up at my brow. "Ms. Diaga got me one for the play, but yours is way more sparkly."

My laugh is interrupted by a snort. So that's why the kid approached me: she wanted my tiara. She's got good instincts, I'll give her that. "Sure, kid," I reply, slipping the priceless comb of silver and diamonds from my hair, leaning across the table to rake it into the child's scraggly brown hair. I avoid looking around, fearing I'll laugh so hard my lungs will burst if I see another civilian so close to fainting.

Straightening the tiara, I look the girl over. She's a tiny thing, but her brown eyes are massive, a dusting of freckles across her chubby cheeks. "Beautiful," I assure her. "It looks better on you than it ever did on me." The little girl smiles a toothless grin as Eris sits himself beside me.

"They were out of pumpkin ale, so I only grabbed us water to drink," he says, setting a steaming cob of corn, a caramel apple, and a massive soft pretzel in front of me, only just catching sight of the child wearing my tiara. "Who's the kid?"

"Good," I murmur warily. "You see her too."

"I'm Giava," she says, extending her tiny hand to shake both of our hands.

"Eris," my husband says in an official introduction, already amused.

"Nephele," I introduce myself, fighting the laugh that begs to return as I turn to Eris. "Giava here is going to be playing a Princess in a Play this afternoon," I inform him. "She asked very nicely if she might borrow my tiara for the role."

"Are you in the play the orphanage is putting on?" Something seems to click in Eris' head.

Giava nods. "Ms. Diaga says I was born to play a Princess," she tells us proudly. I glance up at Eris, but his eyes are wholly focused on Giava, an idea glinting in his eyes.

"Mind if we walk you back?" He asks, sharing a glance with me. "I think Neph and I might like to watch your play very much."

Giava grins, nodding eagerly.