The Heirs of Death

10. Breaking Ice

BREAKING ICE

The night was darker than usual, the moon hidden behind some drifting clouds, sometimes powerful enough to send its light, sometimes not. Elegant flambeau shaped like crystal balls had appeared as we spoke at some point during our meeting, casting light bright enough to make us forget night had already settled.

Changing from attire to attire in less than quarter an hour was one tedious challenge that left both Nayal and me utterly breathless; the few minutes that I was to be late as a show for power were lifesavers.

I had changed from the dress Aether had sent to a two-pieced one. The top was sleeveless, showing the markings on my right shoulder, gold in color and covered in glimmering dust, and longer on the back to be able to tuck it under the skirt, the front shorter, showing a bit of my navel. The skirt was smooth velvet dyed rich burgundy, floral patterns of gold and Nightbleed that had been rendered thin to be sewn adorned the lower part.

Getting into the outfit was the easy part. Nayal and mine's magic were at complete work beside her hands, undoing my hair and pulling it in a high ponytail, not a single strand falling over my face, a brochure shaped like a rose pinned to the tail, adding a smear of gold in the blackness of my hair. The maid had to redo my makeup, going for the same black and gold as she added some dark crimson and painted my lips red just to add some life to my features.

Apparently, I was an utter mess.

I wore no shoes past an intricate swirl of thin gold decorated with rubies that went from my toes to just below my knees, a match to the ones on my forearms. A protective layer of magic was beneath the sole of my feet, protecting them. The look was more Fae than any I'd worn before. But late Queen Elena Salvar Armedes was half-Fae and those clothes were nothing but to honor the part of Fae essence that ran in my blood.

Lord Isal and some other Fae lords and ladies did look pleased when I had first arrived. The others, mainly Perdiel and a few old men I couldn't truly care about, on the other hand, weren't much happy seeing the absence of the king.
And so, case after case came to be discussed, two already done and one still playing in front of my eyes. The first one was approved, the second denied, and all along, I kept a thin bridge between Ramos's mind and mine just to know how he analyzed it all. And if he saw something I couldn't.

One of the two White Troopers—the one standing next to the accused man in the circle where there were no longer chairs and seats, the spot fully visible to us—finished reading the man's rights for the third time that day, and all eyes turned to Ramos and me as the second one started citing the accusation and evidences.

"Treason,'' he said, eyes not wavering from the scroll he held, ''and conspiracy with demons. He was a messenger between the two sides and used his boats and limited wealth to serve Lysithea and her armies. Caught trying to escape—''