A Storm of Flames and Deceit

XIIV. Head in the Clouds

Eris

I kind of fucked myself over.
I should've picked her attire today because damn. Of course she picked the most revealing outfit. Who could blame her? If my mother dressed me in chintz collars all the way to my throat my whole life, I might also want to show a little leg.
No. It wasn't just a little leg.
There was in fact a lot of leg, long, smooth, and maddening leg. She stands tall in her heels- nearly my height. I was never the tallest person in the room, but I certainly wasn't tiny.
I kinda like being eye level with her.
I kinda want her to step on me.
Easy there, Eris.
The last thing I need is anyone else using me as a doormat. My father did it frequently enough. It's a bit alarming, however, that I don't think I'd mind if she walked all over me. I might actually thank her if she did.
I need to pull myself together.
Lucien is smirking into his oatmeal. I could swear that metal eye of his lets him see things normal people can't, like emotion, but luckily, Nephele doesn't seem to notice the clench of my fist around my spoon, the heating of the room. Maybe, she just chalks it up to the sun shining through the windows.
I find myself wishing she'd make it rain instead. Maybe that might put me out.
In fact, as we finish breakfast, as Lucien bids us a farewell, I could scorch all of Spring for the elongated hug Lucien gives Nephele goodbye. It's intentional too. He's just trying to get under my skin, the clever fox always playing his game. He had a mate for fuck's sake. He just wants to fuck with me. To see if I really care about my betrothed. I seriously doubt he'd have any interest in Nephele.
Do I truly doubt that?
She's quite wonderful. She must be. I've never quite been jealous before. Sure, a few people have hurt my pride in my life, but I've never felt envious. I've never been attached enough to someone to be envious.
Not that I'm attached to Neph.
I just want her. I'm unused to waiting or denying myself what I want from a person without a clear disinterest. That's why I'm this way.
"I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again soon," Nephele gives Lucien a departing squeeze, coming back to my side, making all right in the world.
Nope.
I refused to be that attached to her.
Lucien nods. "I will see you all a week from now in the Court of Nightmares," he informs us.
Neph snorts. "Affectionately named I'm sure," she replies, turning her grin to me. "Shall we?" She extends her hand into the buzzing space between us, jazzing her delicate fingers. I take them, covering the flutter, nodding once at Lucien before I winnow us to summer.
At least now the heat wasn't my fault. Summer, for all its beauty, was damn near miserable. I'm lucky that I'm used to the heat, a prince forged by flame and whatnot. Adriata's only saving grace is the sea breeze and the shade of palms.
I glance at Nephele. Surely, she must be miserable. Her home was so cold and rainy- the isle was always covered in clouds. But she didn't look discomforted by the environment. No, her eyes were wide and curious, her lips parted, her grip on my hand tight as she looked around. I'm not sure she's blinking. I'm not sure she's breathing.
Someone clears their throat from behind us, and we falter. I had been so caught up in her adoration that I forgot that this was the time and place we told the court to meet us. That they very well can't talk to the back of our heads.
She shakes out of her trance, turning eagerly, eager to meet someone new. I turn with less excitement, nodding at Tarquin, Cressida, and about ten of their guard.
I'm actually quite offended that they didn't bring more.
It's not that I didn't like Tarquin. No, he was probably my favorite of the High Lords. He's quite friendly, but I can tell he's not playing game like the others. He's just kind. A straight shooter.
It makes him a good guy, but I'm sure it gets him into a lot of trouble as a High Lord sometimes. Actually, I know for a fact it did when Rhysand made a fool of him. At least he's not alone in that regard. We've all been Rhysand's fools before.
"Eris," Tarquin says, his deep voice tinged with a nautical sort of accent, a handsome tone. "How lovely it is to see you again."
He makes up for his cluelessness with that dimpled smile, I'm sure. I glance at Nephele, hoping she hadn't noticed, but her eyes were on the Princess, her dark skin and beautiful locks tied back away from her delicate face, her long lashes making her sparkling eyes pop. Fantastic. The realization I have about Nephele's sexuality means I have twice the amount of people to be jealous about.
This is going to be a long trip.
The Royal high fae were beautiful people, bred in vanity and self importance. What better a motivator for devotion than attractiveness? And we would be meeting every High Lord and their court on this trip.
Neph has been locked away for two centuries. I can imagine she's probably buzzing with want right now, but I absolutely refuse to take advantage of that. She will be my wife. I can't just fuck her and forget her like every other person in my life. No, I need her at the very least to not hate me- which is already quite difficult.
"Tarquin," I say cordially, extending my hand to shake his. Slipping my other hand on the small of Nephele's back, ushering her forward. Her skin is cool under my warm fingers, her exposed back smooth and straight. "Allow me to introduce my bride- Nephele."
Nephele seems to notice Tarquin now, giving him a likable smile. Her eyes were just so... kind. I'm not sure I could fake a smile like that even if I tried. "It's wonderful to meet you, Nephele," Tarquin says, smiling in the same manner. In a certain light, the High Lord reminds me of Nephele. They both have their head in the clouds a bit, but it's nearly infectious. They make you believe that it might be nicer up there anyway. They invite you to dream with them.
Cressida, I'm inclined to believe, is more like me, hardened by time and war. She eyes us skeptically, her gaze narrowed on me, perhaps wondering how such a delightful girl ended up with the terror of the autumn court. I might wonder the same in her shoes. She shakes her examination, smiling fakely, extending her hand to Nephele. "I'm Cressida," she says, kissing Neph's fingers. I fight the urge not to scowl when her cheeks go a bit pink.
"A pleasure to meet you both," she smiles, retreating back to me, wrapping a fainting arm around my waist. She looks around, making a show of swiveling her head to the ocean. "I've never seen the sea quite like this. I've never seen water so... blue," she bats her lashes, as if overcome. I nearly don't see through her act it's that convincing. Had she been enamored of first impression? Sure. Was she a puffing it up just to flatter them now? Absolutely.
I wrap my arm around her shoulder, watching her watch the ocean.
"Yes, I've never been to Hybern myself," Tarquin says. "But I hear it is as rainy as it is cold."
Nephele nods, swallowing, looking freshly scorned as if the mention of Hybern alone was enough to make her tremble. It was an act. I've heard her make jokes of her imprisonments like how someone might joke about something as insignificant as... well, the weather.
But now she let herself look wounded, troubled by the memory of Hybern. Our declaration of marriage that preceded our visit told of her history in brevity. Said she was a prisoner of Hybern himself for two centuries, only liberated by yours truly.
She leans her head into my chest, holding me tighter as if my touch was truly a comfort to her. As if she needed to be comforted. She means to make herself look delicate if only to make me look gentle.
She really was good. I'm not all that surprised. Having strict parents makes you a practiced liar. I should know. I'm an excellent liar.
"It was quite rainy in Hybern, yes," she says, giving a wobbly smile. "But I'm so enthused to be out of imprisonment. I'm so fortunate to be on this engagement tour. I had always dreamed of traveling, seeing the wonders of all the land. I promised myself if I ever got out, that'd be the first thing I'd do." Her smile turns hopeful, and I can't help but wonder if that was all an act. She almost seemed to mean it.
Cressida smiles sensitively, her eyes softening on Nephele. "Then, it must be our responsibility to show you all the wonders of Summer," she says, glancing at her cousin who looks just as pitying. They truly are kind people here.
Tarquin clears his throat as if reminded he's hosting us. As if reminded that he's a High Lord. "Yes, we should discuss all of it over a cup of coconut tea," he says, glancing at me. I'm not sure if it's confirmation bias, but I could swear he looks at me with a little less disdain.
And it's only been thirty seconds.
We follow after the Princess and High Lord, down the hill to the palace, and because I can't help myself, I lean down and whisper in her ear, "Did you mean all that? About promising yourself the first thing you'd do when you got out is travel?"
She glanced up at me before her gaze falls to the ground. She shakes her head, jaw set- not in anger. No, it's set like she's biting back a grin. "No," she whispers. "I promised myself that if I ever got out, the second thing I'd do is see the world."
I furrow my brow. "What was the first then?" I dare ask, even if it's just a whisper.
She lets her grin loose, and in that moment, she doesn't remind me of Tarquin at all. No, she reminds me of myself, something sinister and vengeful in her gray eyes. "I promised that I would destroy everything my father had," she says, her voice as cold as ice, even in the heat of summer. "And then I'd douse him in storm, and burn him to a crisp with my lightning."
I look away from the fierce curl of her lips, catching her eyes. Though still narrowed, the pupils appeared to widen with curiosity, like she wonders what I make of the admission.
I wonder what she makes of the way I return her sinister grin, smirking as we follow Tarquin and Cressida.