between hell.

I

act one: the limbo

part one: queen of swords

A woman like me has a sword for a tongue, night in the heart, and room in the body for only the mysterious- the impossible, umfathomable things,

-Segovia Amil.

MACARIA ASKER

In the cloak of midnight, the masquerade was scintillating in the midst of darkness which seemed as if it was induced by Naÿla, the daughter of Darkness herself.

Macaria Asker's vermilion dress swayed around her ankles as she made her way downstairs, decked in flamboyance. The glasses of Cheval Blanc, the sumptuous dresses. Melinoe's wealth didn't go unremarked upon. After centuries of exploiting Eangulian slaves, she had enough to live like an elite for a million decades to come.

Melinoe was the Queen of Easby. It was a city, reigned by a Queen who was appointed by gods they didn't even worship anymore. It was the most populous, most expensive city of the Realm but it was still overridden by criminals and Rebels.

Important figures were at the masquerade, Cambion and Vulroye alike. The Guards: Xiemin Dione and his cronies, formed a idyllic circle as they laughed and enjoyed themselves with nothing on their minds. Not their duty to the Queen or to Easby. Masks studded with sapphires, emeralds and ambers, excavated from the mines of Eanguline itself by the shaking hands of the damned, covered their scarred faces. Smiles graced their lips as if they owned the night, their teeth shining through like pearls found from the ocean: imperfect but still beautiful.

Macaria had bloodied her hands for him, so many times, it seemed as if the cinnabar liquid had forever made its impression on her palm. She didn't complain about it a lot though, the money was worth it. Xiemin caught her gaze and smirked. He raised his glass and she did the same. Seemed like she wasn't the only one who recognized everyone else in the room, with or without a mask.

Macaria toyed with the empty glass as she crossed one leg over the other.

"I think you've had too much to drink." An orotund voice spoke, and Macaria swore. A shiver ran down her exposed back and she internally shivered.

"Why do you think that, Xiemin Dione?" She teased, in her silvery voice.

"You're thinking, not drinking. That's unlike you."

Xiemin sat down on the empty seat beside her. Having constantly seen him in battle gear, she'd forgotten how good-looking he was. Blonde hair, piercing cerulean eyes, the man was straight out of any girl's fantasy. His lips were curled into an arrogant smile as Macaria took his appearance in. She turned the chair towards him, taking a good look at him. He was dressed in an immaculate blue suit, which closely fitted his form. A sapphire studded mask was draped across his brown eyes and she simpered.

"So, it's been a while."

"It has, hasn't it? Last time I saw you, you were fleeing the scene of Frostine's death. So, whose mess are you cleaning up today?" He seemed amused by the thought.

"Your Queen's, darling. Feel like giving me a hand?" She moved closer, so she could see the tips of his jade lashes. His mouth twitched at the ends but as he struggled to maintain his calm, she could practically hear his rising heart rate.

"I would, sweetheart but, it's my night off. And she's your Queen too."

"She isn't. Nobody rules me. But me." She smirked as she shifted back into the seat and crossed her legs again and Xiemin's eyes shifted from her face. She knew how much she beguiled him. It'd always been like that. They kept flirting timelessly but it never turned into anything else.

"Who're you chasing tonight?"

"Abner Daxtan." She answered.

Macaria felt Xiemin freeze. "The leader of the Cambions?" She turned her head sideways and nodded. "Melinoe didn't tell you? Pity." She clicked her tongue, shaking her head.

"You're enjoying this."

"The fact that she told me something before she told you? Yes, Xiemin. I'm enjoying this."

He just smirked. "I have to go. I've got business to take care of."

She leaned back in the chair as she picked the Cheval Blanc out of his hand. She took a sip out of it, thinking of a sarcastic comment to make. "I thought it was your night off."

Xiemin placed his finger under her chin and lifted it, so she was staring right into his ocean. "Thanks to you, it's not anymore." He kissed her lightly on the cheek and walked away, leaving a rarely flustered girl, flustered in his wake.

"Can I get a shot of vodka?" The bartender nodded. She threw her head back and let the alcohol work its magic. It burned her throat, leaving the cuts inside scorching. It made its way to her head, calming down the raging storm.

She saw the man with flaxen hair, the one she was looking for. A smile was etched on his hubristic features. She picked up another glass from a tray and found her legs being dragged towards him, her heels clicking against the marble floor, the music overpowering the infrasound. She reached him and his back was towards her. As he spun, Macaria let the glass slip from her nimble fingers and it left a long, golden stain on his exorbitant white jacket. He was an aggressive man, her sources said. But he could never get mad at a pretty lady.

"How dare you? Do you know-" He bit back a curse. He smirked as he saw her. "I apologize, for my rather rude choice of words."

She forced a counterfeit grin. He took off his mask and introduced himself. "I'm Abner Daxtan." She took no efforts to repeat his actions. The less people saw her with him, the better. She may be good at hiding her identity but, people remembered faces.

"Clementina Vaslar."

"Well, Clementina, how about I buy you a drink?" His breathy voice held a seductive undertone, that implied he wanted to do more than just buy her drink.

"Why not?"

She was going to make it the last drink of his life.

*