Dark Love

B2:P26

Svennett strode across the palace grounds as if he owned the place. Heads bowed and knees bent as he went past. But Svennett paid no heed to his surroundings, instead he quickened his pace. 

"Your highness," called out a witch running up behind him. Her pace changed as she closed in to a more subdued one but he had no time for one of his mother's coven mates.

"Your highness, Prince Svennett." She called out again. "The Queen sent me to you with a message."

Svennett moved on past. He knew full well what kind of message came with this kind of messenger and he was in no mood for the kind of messages his mother had for him. Already the ball she planned loomed close. Too close.

Svennett brushed his tag aside and pushed his way past the many more heading his way. Ambush like this had become the norm each time he stepped onto the palace grounds. And after the attack at Ebon Academy this has fast become a week of pure torture. With the Academy closed Svennett had no choice but to return to the palace. No choice but to remain and bask in his mother devious schemes for him.

He advanced onwards heading towards his private suite of rooms. There at least he would be spared his mother's machinations. There at least he would find some semblance of peace. His quick strides had him there  in no time. His hands reached out to shove open the doors to his suite. The spell work around it recognised him on contact and his will to enter was granted. Just another sample of the added security he had put into place  after the attack on the Academy.

"How is she?"

Darr shrugged, before reaching down to throw back the covers. He got out of bed and strutted about in the nude and shamelessly unconcerned about it.

"The same," Darr grunted. The week had been pure hell for him too. But it wasn't just because of Darr's mother dodgedly trying to find him a wife just as his own mother was doing the same for him. It was because of the small lump of witch that had been burried beneath the mound of blankets right beside him. A lump that had only gotten smaller with the passage of time and her stubborn unwillingness to eat.

Recalling the purpose of his being away from his private retreat... from her, Svennett summoned the spell to portal the food he'd fetched for their breakfast. It was not because food was unattainable at the palace by simply a click of a button, it was because he'd gone to fetch a homemade apple pie. Massey had baked enough to feed the three of them. He thought perhaps some of her cooking might do the trick to get her niece to eat something.

Svennett looked over to the other end of the bed. "Feed her," he said to Cade, waving the food over. While Saera tolerated Darr's naked presence in her bed, she clung to Cade like a lifeline. Svennett, himself, she ignored completely. Her blame for Nick's death no doubt laid with him. At least it did in her mind.

And he was getting fed up with her callous treatment. Of her blatant disregard of all her tried to do to make things work. To make them work. Had he not stooped low enough to accept all her add-on mates? Was Cade not right there sharing his bed with his wife? What more did she need of him? His own needs for her was easy enough to comprehend. He needed her fed and so refrained from lashing out with his temper.

They stood there and watched for a moment as Cade painstakingly swept Saera up in his arms and laid her across his lap before trying to entice her to eat. While the potions they had force fed her had taken care of her horrendous burns and injuries, nothing they did so far juggled her out of her depression.

It was becoming tiresome. So Nick died, big deal. They had all died, every one of them sent out with Saera had died that night. Only she lived. That she had lived at all had filled him  with an unbelievable sense of relief. But it had done nothing to dissuade his anger that she'd put herself in harm's way in the first place.

He had been filled with rage when she'd so blithely volunteered. And being helpless to do anything about it, had only further fanned that rage. It was all coming to a boiling point.
Who was he kidding, it had long surpassed that point. It was only her clear grief that helps him keep it at bay. But how long was she going to mope over the loss of her Elvan? As far as he could tell, she never even really liked him. He refused to even consider how she felt about himself. Feelings didn't matter, they all had a role to play in what was to come.

And play it they will.