A Storm of Flames and Deceit

51. Mannerless

Eris

I've owed Helion an apology for a couple weeks now. Being sorry... it's not one of my strengths. But regardless, I regret how I had spoken to Helion when he had shown me his libraries, how I had lashed out, tense with the idea of him wanting to know me.

But Mother had invited us for dinner tonight... and with the events of last week... we certainly had a lot to talk about.

"I shouldn't have said what I said to you," I tell Helion. Nephele and my mother had swiftly toddled off to whatever garden my mother wanted to show her- which I've realized now is their little way of politely escaping us males, apparently- while Helion invited me in for a drink. There was a tension in his spine. "You sought me out honestly, and I did nothing but chew you out for your efforts."

He hands me a glass of something auburn, leading me to the lounge. "I'm sorry too," he says as we sit. "I shouldn't have snapped at you."

I wave him off. "I've been told I'm exceptional at getting under people's skin." It's a gift even, my proclivity for strife. I thrive off it. So rarely does it affect me how it has with Helion. It made me realize that family is the one place I'd like to avoid conflict, if at all possible. And like it or not, Helion is family.

He laughs. "It mainly struck because there was some truth in what you said about me," he takes a sip. "I can't blame you for honesty."

"Helion..."

"You were right," he ignores me. "I had been diminishing myself- whether intentional or not. Most of my courtiers were afraid I had come ill with how little parties I had been throwing. They thought I must've had a rash on my skin to suddenly be dressing so conservatively."

I laugh, sipping my drink.

"I had been so worried," he confides. "Your mother and I were so young when we fell in love. I had been who I was then... I thought she might've grown out of me. I'm full aware that I can be... a lot at times. I had been afraid to scare her off."

I shake my head. "I think that's why my mother likes you so much," I tell him, leaning back. "You're light, never heavy on her. You're fun. She likes to smile- but for so long, she couldn't bring herself to."

He smiles to himself, and I realize I've said something kind. Not something I'm used to, if I'm being honest. He shakes his head. "It's no matter- I'm back to my promiscuous clothing and endless parties these days," he laughs, adjusting his toga. It's true. He was hardly wearing anything aside from the white and gold sheet wrapped around him, but his jewelry was grand. I'm a man who can certainly appreciate a good fashion statement, that's for sure.

"You were a little right about me too," I tell him, setting my glass on the table. "I am stubborn."

He laughs. "Anyone who does what we do needs a bit of stubbornness, don't you think?" He raises a brow. "We can't very well roll over and let other High Lords step all over us. Anyone of us who calls themself a fighter has to have at least a little backbone."

I laugh. "Fair enough," I agree, smirking. "It's a miracle either of us could bring ourselves to apologize at all."

"Even if your jaw was clenched the whole time," he teases.

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, yeah," I mutter. "I'm still working on it."

"There's only so much practice can do when you are the way you are, Brother," Lucien taunts, making his entrance grandly the way he so loves to do: with an insult and a wink. "I'm just sad I missed this alleged apology- I don't think I've ever witnessed such a sight. I'm not sure I believe it even happened."