Knight of the Wolf [GxG]

3: The Full Moon

Cellars, as many people imagine them, take place underground. North of the Odranic border in Inveralwyn, though, cellars could be above ground for the better part of the year. Inveralwyn was a glacial tundra wild and ripe with conifers shaped like icicles. In the imperial city, however, cellars were indeed underground.

Princess Morrow's designated room was adjacent to her mother's within a wing dedicated to the imperial family. As a child, full moons were somewhat of a family reunion—she could play with her relatives, run amuck up and down the torch-lit tunnels, and have slumber parties with her cousins. When she outgrew the familial affairs, the full moon just became another night to shut in and shut everyone else out.

It could have been relaxing.

Dev had seen the princess' gate from across the sitting room between her and her parents. There were barriers between the sitting room and the rest of the cellar as well, which ultimately cut the Empress and her daughter off from the shallowest side of the cellar. They were as far from the entrance as anyone could get.

The door clanked shut with a resounding echo. The guards at either side of the main exit were just far enough apart to fit Dev and Zoyla between them while Princess Morrow stepped ahead.

The room rang with the long, shimmering chords from the hired entertainment. They were all cast in the hearth's warm glow—a hearth that could easily burn a log from the largest white pine Dev had ever seen. That night, however, it occupied a humble and ambient crackle.

In some worlds other than their own, the relationship between the Emperor and the Empress could be described as a mutual roommate arrangement wherein politics involved delegating tasks like sweeping, cleaning the dishes, and who was the last person to open the back door because it isn't locked anymore. They were and always had been friends who were blissfully unaware of their families' intent to wed them until long after they had their social circles slyly collided by a higher power at play (the Emperor's mother). Before long, they were acquaintances, and then friends, and it was decided that the arranged marriage wasn't such an awful idea after all.

Morrow was, in most respects, a younger version of the Empress herself. It was difficult to see this beyond the differing fashion senses, as the Empress' makeup camouflaged any resemblance to her daughter, and her hair was styled appropriately for the trends of that year—up, with an elegant golden pin pinched through it.

While the younger folks preferred to follow Morrow's stylistic mark of long elegant hair, Dev often saw older women aligning their looks more similarly to the Empress.

The Empress met Morrow at the center of the room, holding two ends of a gilded neckless up. Her daughter was already studded with gold from her ankles to her ears, and even as she half-heartedly protested, the Empress said, "One more won't hurt, dear."

Morrow breathed in her reservations, which were worn plainly on her whitened knuckles. "Thank you for the gift."

"Won't you have tea with me?" she said, tipping her head curiously to catch her daughter's eye.

Morrow caught herself glancing back at Zoyla. Whether or not she made eye contact, though, was to be debated as her mother herded her along to the table where the music was brightest and the tea was smokey from the fire.

The princess could be rest assured knowing that Zoyla was the only participant privy to her anxieties. She feigned indifference, though, with two purposefully steady hands on her cup as she paced each sip. Not too eager, not too slow, but just right—lest her mother accuse her of trying to leave early.

Her mother, ever the gossip, perfected the art of eavesdropping early on in life. The art worked both ways—to eavesdrop, and to prevent eavesdroppers.