Ch. 44

“Dauntless”

I have always had a love hate relationship with how Mother looks. She is strikingly stunning, not in a sweet or cute way, like I will make you cry without saying a word kind of way. Her face could cut through the crowd just as easily with her mauve eyes as a sword could slice your throat. I mean genetics blessed me with many of her same features, the harden eyes, the shape of her nose, our matching wavy mane, but her features are more aligned while mine are rounder. I may look like Mother, but we are nothing alike.

Mother is wearing a gown that is almost white, but not quite, more so a pearl color. Luminescent in the torch lite room. Basically glowing. She knew it would draw attention to her, silencing the room. Her hair is mostly up, but there are some perfect fallen ringlets around her face. Her crown woven into her hair. The sleeves of her gown falls off her shoulder like water. Her sword still attached to her hip. Fierce and elegant.

She moves through the crowd of tables with ease. Never breaking her gaze from her destination, her throne. Farrah close behind her. The room is silent as she moves now. She demands their attention, and they are giving it to her, every ounce of it.

She makes it to the long table in what feels like seconds. Finally her gaze moves from her throne and unfortunately to me.

Nyx, I hate the affect she has on me. I immediately feel small and insignificant.

Little bat…

Nyx, and I hate this warmth that is now tickling my insides. I feel a smile tugging and begging to escape.

Mother’s eyes move over me like they always do scrutinize everything they land on. The hair that still falls around my shoulders. The makeup that makes the faint blues in my lavender eyes stand out. I see her face twitch as moves past my face. Remembering the snakes laced on the sleeves that hug my arms. Oh, Grigore you made a crack in the hard exterior that is Mother. I could hug him if he was here. I miss him. I bite the inside of my cheeks to keep the smile that wants to shove itself at her down.

She never stops moving, but as she reaches the end of the left side of the long table, she closes her eyes briefly. For a moment she looks…shaken. Before I could read more into it, it is gone almost like it was never there to begin with. She passes Nesobi and gracefully moves to stand at the throne next to me.

The smell of power and pinecones fills my nose. Farrah falls into the seat next to Oana and the room is still. Waiting.

“Thank you all that agreed to meet here today. I hope we can fill your bellies with food and drinks for the long journeys you have all gone through to be here.” Mother’s voice is like elegant poison in my ears. “I have brought you all here because we have something in common.”

Faint hushed whispers starts, and Mother looks over the crowd and they are immediately silenced once again.

“I hope that as festive as the night started, we can still discuss the true matters, what is happening within our clan, and yours alike.” Mother rests her hands against the table as if she is bracing for an incoming onslaught. “As many of you have already been in contact with, Ane over the last couple weeks.” Ane that was the councilor’s name. You think after twenty-eight years I would be better at remembering names. As if Mother is listening to my wondering mind, her body shifts. “We all are missing some of our brothers and sisters, our loved ones, members of our clan.”

As the poppy wiggles through my mind, edging me to slumber, I carve, I feel my body tense. Zanir mentioned earlier about members of his own clan were missing. How long as this been going on? Where are they going?

Mother clears her throat, again like to keep me on track.

“Through reports of my own scouts and research we have gathered we are to presume the reason for why this may be happening.”

Zanir mentioned a war…a warmth feels my core. Damn, poppy.

Little bat, I know you are thinking about me, but it is better to focus on what is being said, at least for right now.

You wish, and don’t forget my aim is great. I glance down to the glassware that sits on the table. Oh, this fork looks nice.

Vicious.

“As many of you have heard there is a war going on across the seas. Between the Fae lands. Between the dark and light regions. What started the war we don’t know, but currently that is not what matters. What matters is why this connects to our missing people.”

I feel so out of the loop. So far behind on the world that is happening around me. So many days inside these castle walls wasted.

“We have reason to believe that the Fae are stealing our people for their war. Binding them and using them to fight their war for them.”

In almost an instance the room bursts with noises, voices, questions, just too much, and all too loud.

“And how did you come to that conclusion, Zeva?” The dark haired Varcolac from earlier says. His arms now on his table as he leans in. His skin is dark, touched by the sun for years. Wonder what that is like?

“Or how do you know about what the fae are doing or even if it is them? No one has been allowed into the fae lands in decades.” A dwarf chimes in…he is so small. I feel my mouth tug. No, focus.

He is so small.

I am definitely taller than him. I bite the inside of my cheek.

“I have my intel and you have yours, Lord Ovot.” As if that was a simple and effective dismissal the dwarf sits back down. “Prince Rolf, as it is always a pleasure, I was hoping to see your father today.”

The Varcolac, Rolf, has a grin that moves across his face much like the animal, the beast, that he can turn to in a matter of moments. Pure blood. “Lady Zeva, we both know that daddy dearest does not ever leave his castle, much like that mysterious daughter of yours.” Rolf’s eyes move to me. A predator in a world full of prey. “Plus, Lord Barmin is not one to blindly believe a woman’s intuition either.”

Every pair of eyes is on us now, jumping between us both. Mother doesn’t even blink, not even fazed. As much as we clash her poise sometimes is impressive because I want to crawl out of my skin and run out of here as a muscle and bone filled husk. If we weren’t in a room full of the most powerful clans around, I would just climb that prick like a tree and punched that grinning face of his.  Another wave moves through me, Nyx. I feel them. I feel judging me. I feel them picking apart every inch of me like a new toy. Coldness faintly pricks at my fingertips. Shit.

Black suits you.

My mind moves and follows back to him. Back to that nonchalant character. His leg crossed over the other. His elbow resting on the table and his face rests on his thumb while his index finger rests along the side of his face. The black ink along his skin flickering with the torches on the walls. His middle finger, the one with the rune rests on his mouth. I feel the warmth replacing the pricking cold of my hands. Blaming it on the poppy, I fully look him over. His hickory hair, clean and covering those pointy ears I know are there. That one small braid falling at just the edge of his face. His face. His thumb holding up the curvature of his jaw. His eyes burning that bright orange that they do sometimes fighting against the cerulean that normally fills them. I follow the black ink that moves down his neck. He is wearing a white shirt underneath a leather vest. His sleeves are rolled up slightly and more black ink dances along his arms. Even at this distance the light chases the lines of his muscles underneath.

Oh, little bat. Keep looking at me like that, and there will be dinner and a show.

Shit, damn poppy. I have threated this man numerous times about looking at me without permission and now look at me. Staring at him like a love drugged poppy filled puppy. I feel my eyes widen and thankfully Mother starts speaking again.

“That is a shame, Rolf. I haven’t seen your father in years.” Mother turns her head like a viper toward the area the Varcolac sit. “Not since he tried to turn some of my people. How is his…eye?” Mother may not be everyone’s queen, but she is not one to be messed with, and she isn’t just some woman.

Rolf surprisingly wasn’t even looking in Mother’s direction. I follow his line of sight. Landing on a table close to the entrance on a cocky hickory colored hair man.

Seems you already have admirers.

Rolf gaze moves slowly back to Mother and a grin plays across his face. “Well then it sounds like we have much to discuss.”

“As we do.” Mother glances to the bards who have started playing faintly. “But please enjoy tonight. We will have a meeting in the morning. We will send Ratatoskrs to all the leaders and officials sent in their places once the meeting is ready to commence. Gather any questions you may have, but tonight enjoy.” Mother stops leaning from the table and steps back. “We have rooms for everyone as well. Please be our humbling guests.” Mother glances right over me and makes eye contact with Farrah who simple nods. Mother moves quickly out of the grand hall. Devlyn and Sadar following with her.

Oana finally speaks while leaning down next to me. “Well there is no blood on the floor and it isn’t snowing, so I think we did good.”

“There is still time.” I whisper toward her when a shadow moves across the table. My eyes move in front of us, where the now know Rolf stands.

Who is fucking massive. Like how? Logistically? How would one like? I feel my head tilt. Nyx, could you imagine like a Varcolac with anything other than a Varcolac, oh my Nyx, a dwarf. They would have to climb…fucking poppy. Oh, Nyx, what do Varcolac women look like. I push my mouth into a fine line and try to blink the thoughts away.

You keep looking at him like that and there will be a dinner and a show of a different kind.

I feel my eyes flare.

What kind of show? Is that jealousy I feel? Is he jealous? And what for?

“Lord, Rolf, was it? What do we owe the pleasure?” Oana chimes next to me snapping me back from inside my head.

“Ah, she does exist.” Rolf gives Oana a devilous smile and then his gaze moves to me. Ew. No. I feel my eyes narrow. We can do this game, Rolf.

“And I didn’t even know you existed.” I shrug. “The world is full of so many oddities, I guess.” I say with a smile and resting my chin on my hand.

Rolf’s grin grows and I briefly imagine it full of fangs… “We have heard much about you but have never had the pleasure to meet. We were beginning to think you were just a myth, but it seems you do exist, but not for the outside world sadly.”

“They don’t let me out much. Something about not playing nice with others.” I move my hand on in front of me and look at my nails.  

Little bat, it is okay to attempt you’ve been studying me.

I feel my eyes roll and thankfully Rolf’s graze flashes to Oana who is now twirling her hair. The blue in her hair shining along her fingers. Smart little witch.

Nyx, I can wait to sleep and by done with all this. All these interactions.

As insufferable as you are, this nonchalant demeanor seems to work. I would prefer just for this night to end, and not to mention I don’t need anymore pricks in my life currently.

I don’t think you will get the same desired effect.

As if that snaps me back, I realize Rolf is studying me. Not in the same way Zanir does, to understand, no, more with a desire, to devour, and I don’t like it. I am not a piece of long-lost treasure or a reward.

“Well they should. Maybe that would make these meetings more interesting.” Rolf leans closer across the table. His power burns through my nose and I can smell the faint hint of iron on his breath.

Within seconds, my hand is moving, and my crystal dagger is sticking out of the table. The buckle on thigh dangling and the hem of dress raised high along my leg, tattoo of murdered creatures dancing along my knee. I see Rolf’s eyes quickly flash from my exposed skin to the pink dagger mere inches from his fingers. I see a flash of metal shift in the corner of my vision. Guards.

“More so for me than you.” I stand and the chair screeches across the floor. I can feel the room shift in our direction. Shit. I grab for my dagger and yank it with force out of the wooden table, as the wood groans.

I use the dagger to push some my hair out of face before saying, “You have heard of me, but I have never heard of you, so that must mean you are not worth mentioning.” We aren't going to reveal that I wasn’t allowed to leave or explore the surrounding areas, clans, or people. Been stuck in here for decades. “Nor worth my time.”

For someone to imply that meetings about missing people and those missing people being bind against their will to fight in a war…is going to be boring is absolutely infuriating.

I push the dagger back in the hustler on my thigh and let my hem fall back to the marble flooring. I twirl the hem, so it falls nicely back into place. I shift my attention to Oana. “Until we meet again.” I bow toward my friend whose eyes are as wide as they could be, and she snaps her mouth shut. “Lord Rolf.” I nod in his direction.

Rolf’s eyes never leave me as I move past the table, but it’s not his eyes that cause a warmth to be felt in my core, that teases with the poppy settling in my veins. Without the poppy, it’d be a snowstorm in here right now for sure.

I move through the crowd, first past the guards who shifted closer to our table, Mother will be ringing me a new one sooner or later. The bards are finishing up a song as I continue. I feel him before I see him. Nyx. I can hear my pulse thundering in my skull. I move past a female dryad who has the smell of a refreshing fresh stream. A nice change to the bitterness of power that lingers in the air.

He has is arms on the table, with his fingers intertwined, and his chin is resting on his thumbs. He face is forward toward Iamys who is talking to a woman who looks familiar, but I don’t focus long enough to recognize her. I can’t. My attention is drawn back to Zanir. His cerulean eyes are raging with fiery orange, but his expression is blank. His eyes are cut in my direction.

Little bat. I am disappointed. Crystal carves blood.

I move past a rowdy and oblivious drunk dwarf. Moving out of the way last second before he falls. I am definitely taller than him. I step over him while grabbing my dress hem and continuing.

Did you name my dagger Crystal? I shake my head. It’s not the weapon they should fear.

We are mere feet from each other now.

She carves another’s blood.

I see the edge of his lips curl. I could almost guarantee a direct hit if I grabbed a nearby glass and chucked it at him, but I choose to simple raise my middle finger and wave it at him as I pass.

Hmm, I do like that one.

I notice the black ink that etches the sides of my finger. Shit. The fucking rune. I groan loudly as I make my way through the grand hall entrance wooden doors, but don’t turn around even though that exposed bare feeling is burning into my back.