For What is Bought in Blood

Disappearing Moon

I step out of the main door leading to the garden to applause. My maroon dress fills the small platform as men race to aid me in descending the short stairs. I clutch a hand thrown the highest and begin walking, throwing glances around the enclosed garden walls, shamelessly searching for Reagan.

Mother is here again, atop a platform across from the doorway. Her dress is red as well, her color choice shining bright against the browned trees. A few evergreens also reside in the garden, their leaves fighting against the cold breeze filtering in. I am not sure if my dress was meant to leave me cold, but the short sleeves do little to nothing against the northern winds.

The remaining suitors have dressed even more lavishly than yesterday, sporting family crests and heirlooms. Young Lords support gold chains and pendants along their coats to assure others of their wealth. Some of the more aged Lords left wear marks of battle along their finery, as if to establish dominance. It amuses me how quickly this has become a battle between nobility. Families long since bonded by neighboring territory show no alliance now, first sons that are undoubtedly friends standing as far away from one another as possible. When dancing begins, these friendships will allow leeway when one man cuts in to dance on another. The confused but firm looks given between men yesterday tell me that these friendships were weaker than status all along.

When my feet reach the open area of the garden, my mother clears her throat. I drop the hand of one of the tallest men, Lord Faust, and offer him a polite smile. Thanks to my mother's interruption, he has already looked away.

"Thank you all for being here in the honor of my sweet Alula," her eyes fall softly upon me, and I cannot help but think of the people she allowed to be murdered this morning. My top lip almost dares to roll upwards in disgust. My chin remains high as I weather her attention.

"In honor of the soldiers who bravely disassembled a rebellion rendezvous this morning, we will be starting a new program with all of our territories around Arithia." She scans the crowd now, but if the silence here had a feeling, it would be apprehension. We all appear to be frozen at her command. Not even a breeze dares enter this battleground now.

Her head on a swivel, she addresses the entire crowd. "Anyone who comes forward with information about rebellion movements will receive whatever their territory requires. This could be weaponry, food, or any other sort of aid you might need."

I stare at her blankly, but my mind roars Reagan Reagan Reagan...

I do not dare look around the room for him, but I feel eyes on me. He has found me in the crowd and is staring, and I feel a sense of dread rising. I need him to look away, to realize the danger he is putting me in. All it would take was for my mother to notice his stare.

"Lord Xenon, please approach the dais." The Queen commands, and somehow the crowd becomes more still than before.

Xenon is a name I did not recognize. Have I already forgotten names, or is this a man I have never met? Lords around me begin to look around in search of the requested man, and shuffling begins a few yards to my right. I do not dare look.

When Lord Xenon passes in front of me to begin walking up the platform stairs, I hold my breath. Long brown hair glides gracefully along his shoulders as his deep green coated body crumples to a bow at my mother's feet. I do not have my daggers. Where are my daggers?

"Lord Xenon, is there a reason you look to the Princess when rebels are discussed?" My mother cocks her head, undoubtedly amused by the way Reagan casts his glance away from her face and bowed without command.