'ᴡᴇ ꜱʜᴀʀᴇ ᴀ ꜱᴇɴᴛɪᴍᴇɴᴛ. ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ʙᴇ ʙᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴠᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇ.'
Only one month has passed in Daliah Viper's life trying to reintegrate at court and follow the uneasy trails her eyes have caught.
One month filled with blood, tribulations, and l...
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No celebratory mood is set up in the capital. Not yet. Maybe not ever. It is a grim day in a cold world.
I watch the square from the window of the rooms my family occupies. I use the biggest one as office, and I have a nice look down.
Crossing my arms, I stare at the podium built to throne over the square. It is a stage built for a speech or a execution. They won't cut her head off. Something much more humilating is about to process here. And every camera in the capital and every citizen is supposed to catch it.
The pathway to it is paved in hellish rebukes and bloody stones have been scrubbed clean since the fights and explosions. Everything has been repaired in front of the palace by now.
Atara follows my gaze and tilts her head. I have forced her to follow me. My guards take a day off.
"It is promising," I explain to her. "It is a small step to a victory. An open demonstration will soothe masses. That is how it always is."
"Is it? Are you happy about this?" She rolls her eyes. "Why do I even ask. You don't know what happiness is."
That rolls off my back. My skirt swishes over the floor in a swishing wave when I turn to her.
"I am not content. But only because everyone is upset that we only have the girl. As long as there is any contestor for the throne, especially one you can traditionally support, what do you think will happen?"
She makes a face of pure discontent. "Do you think we will fall into some sort of open war with each other? Silver houses are never friendly, but we don't battle open."
"Things change fast. Just be careful. I told you I need you. You are a capable warrior, even if you aren't much else."
For a second, her eyes cut me into half. We continue on.
I am unpleasantly suprised by the next visitor.
Evangeline said I looked like shit. Now, if she could see my husband, she would not even have a word for it, only a face that twists and tightens into a grimace. Because for whatever he is usually groomed and well dressed, he looks as miserable I feel. It brims behind his face, in dep purple eyerings and icy pale colors.
"Leave us, little snake, we have something to discuss."
My eyes try to tell her not to go. The more witnesses out in the open, the safer everyone is from him right now.
She throws one last look at me and then disappears, shutting the door hard.
My heels scrape backwards.
There is no escape.
I should have known Atara would abandon me. Who would want to stay too close to my husband. His anger is barely pushed back behind his facade, and it is a freezing cold burn. It grabs my skin, and sinks into my nerves. It touches me down every scar. The pale fingers draw lines down my spine, bend over my thin shoulderblades, and they squeeze me in goosebumps.
