A Storm of Flames and Deceit

XXXV. I'm Not Afraid of the Fight

Eris
By the time dinner rolls around, I'm supremely over this returning home thing. I can tell Neph was too. I'm sure if she had it her way she'd travel the worlds until there was nothing left but beyond. Then, she'd travel some more.
Regardless, the both of us arrive at dinner, positively exhausted with practicing the reception ceremony. We put a pin in the main ceremony until tomorrow, but her and I still had quite a bit of work to do tonight with practicing her waltz and her timing.
Not that I will mind that part. As much as I hate to be diverted from scheming against my father, I think I'll like this if not for the alone time we get together then for practicing one of my favorite hobbies.
It's a necessary infliction anyway. This wedding must go swimmingly if we are truly to keep our rouse. Foolishly, I'd like it to go well anyway. I never longed much for a fairytale ending, but I'd like to get the day as close as possible for Neph. She deserves far more than that really, but it's the best I can do.
If I can just get through dinner.
Already the affair is insufferable, my brothers sizing Neph up as beautiful prey, my father watching our dynamic to see if I truly care for her, her father studying us to see if I'm as cruel to her as he would wish.
As much as I love her, even mother participates, nosey and eager to see what sort of connection I've made with my fiancé. I wonder what she would do if I told her that Neph was my mate. She'd probably insist I run away and never look back- which isn't an option for many reasons, while tempting.
How disappointed will mother be when I must dawn my cruel act for her? The more she knows, the more danger she is in. The more danger Neph is in.
Nephele casts her eyes away from me in submission, and I'll be damned if a little part of me isn't hot and bothered about it. "Your stuff has been moved into my room," I tell her harshly. Her eyes go wide.
"B- but-"
I dig my fingers into my arm rest, portraying aggression, hardly concealed. "Is that going to be a problem?"
She shakes her head quickly, silencing herself with a bite of lamb- which I know she hates. If she had it her way, I think she'd cut out meat altogether- it makes her sick for some reason. And if I had it my way, I'd facilitate whatever change that helped her eat. "No, it won't be a problem," she murmurs, adverting her eyes.
I make the mistake of catching mother's eyes, simmering with disappointment where Father's simmer with pride. Now I feel a bit sick. It must show for the briefest of seconds on my face because Neph gives my thigh an encouraging squeeze beneath the table cloth, and I right myself.
"Father," I clear my throat. "How were things in the refuge camp today?"
He shrugs, shoveling some potatoes into his mouth. "They were alright, growing restless with everyday not taking blood," he replies simply. As good as I'll get out of him now.
"Yes, they will need to strike soon," Fergus agrees. "They grow feral without battle, although that can make them more ruthless."
Nephele shivers a bit, and I chew on my lip. "And did you have a target in mind?" I ask Fergus casually, sipping my water.
Fergus levels his gray gaze at me. I hate how his eyes look so similar to Neph's. But where Neph's gaze is warm and gentle, his is infinitely cold. "It's nothing to concern yourself over yet, Princeling," he says, suspicion doting his tone. He's smarter than father, smart not to trust my motives. He is formidable- unfortunately.
"I was just curious," I shrug indifferently. "Seeing as I, alone, hold the greatest understanding of our diplomacy as a court. I would know whom to target. Whom might stand with us. But if you doubt that, I won't get my panties in twist about it."
Neph looks fearfully between her father and me, and I'm not sure it's entirely faked. I think there's a good chance that no one has ever stood up to her father like that before, with so much casual restraint. I keep my face unbothered as I feel the room stir with electricity.
"You make a good point, Eris," my father agrees, and it's an effort to keep the smirk off my face. "You can meet with us tomorrow morning in advisement as well as fill us in on any changes to other court dynamics. Then, you can help us form a decision."
"Beron," Fergus' tone takes a warning. He has been in charge this whole time, whether it be manipulating my father under his nose or directly, and he benefited from my father being a fool. What he didn't account for is the fact that I am no fool. That I have been manipulating my father for years in ways some will never know. My father thinks he's in charge, but power is so easily controlled when one rules by arrogance and recklessness. "These matters are delicate and precious. Discretion is-"
"Discretion is none of my concern," my father answers sharply. "Eris will be both my heir and yours- in case that escaped your notice. He whipped that terror you call a daughter into shape, and I won't be so proud as to exclude him from conversations that he could potentially assist in. He will be there in our meeting tomorrow."
Both Fergus and I are biting our tongues, though I hardly look it. I should be glad my father stood up for me, but all I see is red for how he spoke of my mate. It's ridiculous and primal, and I can't do anything about it.
"As you wish," Fergus says stiffly, his jaw squared. I can tell this isn't over for him. I can tell by the way he stares daggers at me before talking to his wife in hushed tones about the wedding. The room is stiff and tense with it, and I can't help ponder the differences between Neph's mother and my mother.
My mother was so repressed that she became a ghost, only speaking when spoken too, a shell of a woman most of the time, misery in her eyes. But Nephele's parents were so different.
Neph's father- while horrible- loved her mother, and she loved him right back. They were a partnership- that much was clear. Neph's mother was raised to be a homemaker, and damn if she didn't take pride in her work. And for all his faults, Fergus seemed to respect her role in their household. He seemed to value her. Would he give her up in a second for a grasp at power? Irrefutably. But they were partners, nonetheless.
It's almost worse that way.
Neph never had any allies in her house. Neph never had at least one parent she could go to. They both conspired against her. I can't imagine how lonely that must be. I always had my mother and her kindness. I was so fortunate for that.
But no one ever was that for Neph.
I glance at her sipping her water out of the corner of my eye, and I wish I could be that for her. But I am not kind. I am not reliable or good or comforting.
Her gaze catches mine suddenly, and my heart stops beating. Could she tell what I was thinking? Maybe she could just tell that I was stewing. Who could say? All I know is that discreet smile she gives me makes my rigid body melt a bit, even as she turns away, her knee skimming mine in solidarity. Before I can stop myself, I reach out, sliding my hand over the fabric of her skirts, settling it on her thigh, appreciating the frazzled look on her face when she nearly drops her fork.
...
I frown when I finally reconvene with her after dinner. "Did you forget we were practicing dancing?" I ask her. She had already changed into a white, silk nightgown, draping and slipping over her body so beautifully that I have to lean against the wall to keep my balance.
"Eris, you don't understand," she whines dramatically. "If I had to wear that ugly dress for one more minute I was gonna kill someone."
I raise a brow, meeting her gaze once again. I hope she didn't notice my eyes get lost tracking her body. As if she couldn't scent what she does to me anyway. "Come on," she tugs me from the room, a bright smile on her face. "Let's dance."
"We have to be quiet," I whisper to her urgently. "If my brothers saw you like this- hell, if my father saw you like this..." I shake my head. I'd put nothing beneath them. Lev already made his attempt, but I sincerely doubt it was over for him. And for all Darian tried to hide his desire, I could see something wicked in his eyes as he watched her at dinner. And father...
Father certainly isn't bound by any loyalty to mother. I wouldn't be surprised if Nephele ever took his attention. Because he also isn't not bound by any loyalty to me most of the time, if he decides he wanted her, he wouldn't feel dismayed. He'd try to take her to his bed no matter what she wanted- not that I'd let that happen.
"I'm yours, remember? They can't touch me," she shrugs easily, turning the corner. My heart flutters every time she says she's mine, even if she doesn't quite mean it like that. "And I can take care of myself."
"Believe me, I'm aware of that," I reply as we duck into the ballroom, me locking the door behind us. "It would just make it easier on both of us if I could keep you invisible."
She frowns as I take off my blazer, rolling up my sleeves, unbuttoning the top of my shirt. "I'm not afraid of the fight, Eris. There will come a day- and hopefully it will come sooner rather than later- where you will be High Lord of Autumn. And you will be a good High Lord. A great one," she tells me, taking both of my hands, her eyes so full of conviction that it stings. She really thinks that of me? "And neither of us will be invisible. Neither of us will be playing to the appeasement of our fathers. You will rule, Eris."
I swallow, her body so close it's poison. I take a step closer. "We will rule," I append. "You will rule at my side, Nephele."
Her breath catches, her lashes fluttering up at me. "What are you saying, Eris?" She murmurs, her lips perfect and soft. I blink away the urge to kiss her.
"I'm asking you if- when the time comes, when I am High Lord and all our enemies are gone," I say. "I'm asking if you'd be my High Lady, Nephele."
She blinks. "I don't understand," she stammers. "Why would you bother with giving me any power when you could keep it all for yourself? I wouldn't even blame you. You've waited and worked and bled your whole life for that power."
"And if I can ever hope to be worthy enough to keep it, I'll need your help," I tell her. "You balance me in a way I'm not sure how to admit. Your first instinct is always compassion and restraint and understanding. I've always struggled with that sort of empathy for others, but it's something I'd be remised to dismiss if I wanted to be a good ruler."
Her eyes are glassy like she could cry, and I pray to the mother that she doesn't. I'm not sure what I'd do if she did. She blinks, and her gaze goes back to her default stormy amusement. "Do I get to wear a crown?" She asks, tilting her head cutely.
"I'm insulted that you even have to ask, sweetheart," I reply, smirking.
"I think we've gotten ahead of ourselves here," she responds, tugging me towards the middle of the floor. "Come. First, you must teach me to dance."