The Changeling

26

Cetlali stormed back to her rooms alone and over two hours later. Stuck wearing loose boots, an ill-sized attendant's skirt, and one of Ezren's tunics half tucked in at her waist. He demanded to keep her dress when he'd seen blood on it. His face twitched with stilled rage seeing the stark bloom of red against the yellow frock. It was on her hands and cheeks too, mixed with black ink like a portent. She wasn't sure why, but she agreed, too tired to fight him any longer.

As fast as she burst into her solar, so did she slam the door behind her. She leaned back against it, eyes shut tight. A silent sob was swelling in her chest and she bit her lips shut to keep inside the wail that wanted out. She rocked forwards with a whine as she flicked her wrists hard, tensing all her fingers.

"Oh...? So you've finally decided to deign us with your presence?"

Her eyes popped open, and she froze.

Lovou sat at her table in the dim quarters.

Surrounding him were all five jugs of ale Athua had snuck her. She hid them around her rooms as carefully as possible with the help of Seun.

The bottles were all empty of ale, which had not been the case when she left them earlier.

Masha was missing, too. That terrified her almost as much as the last and the most disheartening thing. A profound rage radiated off of Lovou. He was furious, but even more drunk.

"Ezren requires much of me," Cetlali's reply was empty as she walked towards her table.

She picked up the empty jugs cast about, across her floor, on her table, between his feet.

When she approached the one nearest him, he grabbed onto her arms to stop her. She flailed against him out of pure instinct. He let her go, jumping out of his chair as she scrambled away from him.

His face was a mess of subdued rage, "You bled because of him," his tone was hollow and echoing with fury, "And yet you cower from me?"

The words sounded so much more hurt than she could have ever expected. "It's not about you," came out as an agonized whisper,

"and it's not about me either. It never has been."

Her words wavered and her lips quivered. She sucked in a hard breath and exhaled. "Where's Masha?"

"Sleeping off her attempted murder in your bed," Lovou snapped. "Where's Ezren?"

"Drunk, asleep," Cetlali grumbled and shivered.

"And what of the attempt? Does he plan to draw and quarter the poor girl?" Lovou rasped, shifting on his feet and squeezing his fists.

Cetlali stuttered to shake her head, and tension forced her body to coil around itself.

"No."

His gaze shot to her. "Why not?"

She scowled at Lovou and only just refrained from shouting at him, "Because she's a child!"

"That's never mattered to Ezren before..."

Lovou said with a desolate familiarity as he stepped closer to her. Cetlali stood stunned, frozen to the spot as his suspicious eyes raked over her. The damp tendrils of hair braided at the back of her neck hung over her shoulder, blotting dark irregular spots onto the ill-fitting tunic. His eyes focused quite hard on those splotches, like they were a visible hint of her disgrace. His tone came out haunted. "How was he convinced?"

"That's hardly the point —," Cetlali tried to move away from him.

"It's entirely the point," Lovou snarled and grabbed at her arm again, not allowing her to rip it away this time. "How did you convince