Heirs of the Gods

Ch 68: He had it coming

Briar, Ella had learned, had a particularly potent death stare.

She could feel it on her profile, hot and heavy, burning imaginary holes into her skull. Still, it was no match for Ella's honed skill of playing dumb and avoiding uncomfortable subjects.

As soon as Briar had returned, Ella had expertly invited Gidden to stay with them. It had taken little persuasion for Ronan and Ewan to join them as well, and soon, what had begun as a girl's night turned into a jolly get-together.

The more the merrier! as Ella liked to say.

When death stares didn't suffice, Briar employed elbow jabs, which Ella also skillfully avoided by using Gidden as a giant meat shield. She'd even managed to avoid her glares by pretending Briar simply had something in her eye. Ella was nothing but masterful in this game.

She knew she'd receive several strongly worded letters later on, but that was a small price to pay for having managed to weasel out of Briar's too-perceptive gaze and her close-hitting questions.

Ella was not going to elaborate, she'd already had enough heartfelt talks that day to last a lifetime. She didn't particularly know what to say either. She had a good idea of what Briar was going to ask or assume and frankly, she didn't know how to explain her situation with Aedion either.

Truth be told, she didn't have an answer. Explaining it felt wrong. Some things were better left unsaid. Or whispered in the dark after too many glasses of brandy, like that conversation Ella tried not replaying and failed, every single night since it happened.

She thought of all of this, as she made her way through the castle, heading back to the Petrium after they'd all decided to call it a day.

As she often did, she couldn't help but compare it with her own home. Cereas brimmed with people, full of movement and ruckus. Staff coming and going, courtiers huddled around conversing, visitors from other Kingdoms milling around.

Having grown accustomed to Gerreathea's quiet halls and nonexistent visitors, she often forgot this was what a Royal residence was supposed to look like. Blackwell manor had been the same, a place where people constantly came and went. It was when she visited that she realised how much she'd come to appreciate the quiet comfort of a private residence, where she didn't need to shut herself in her room to have a bit of peace and quiet.

Sidestepping several well-meaning maids who offered to show her around or arrange a sitting room for her, Ella continued her way across the palace, leisurely strolling out of the west wing of the estate, where the private residences were housed.

It wasn't long before she was stopped yet again. This time not by a helpful maid or groundskeeper. Rather, by a cold, sneering voice.

"Ah, the little human wench."

That voice, she would have recognised it anywhere. Standing tall and proud, Lord Aster. Just as contemptuous as the first time she'd seen him, at the study whilst she wrote a letter. He had that same barely concealed disgust as the first time.

"Lord Aster." She didn't bow nor tip her head in greeting, only observed him with a tight-lipped smile.

"Ah, yes. I almost forgot," he continued, looking her up and down like muck at the bottom of his polished shoes. "You're a half-blood now, aren't you. One of the Aeron's lot, I've heard." The cluck he gave was enough to know what he thought about that.

"You've heard correctly," she conceded. "It so pleases me to see you have enough free time to keep up with my life. It's flattering. I do hope it keeps you entertained."

His sneer intensified threefold. If he kept at it, his beaky nose would become permanently fused with his upper lip.

"I ought to have known you were an Aeron," he tutted. "As insolent and troublesome as the rest of your ilk. It doesn't surprise me they've decided to mix themselves with humans now."