Mermaid Tear (The Fated #2)

11 | Traveling News

Over the next week, the season fell into a pattern.

In the morning, Aria would drop by their rooms to drag her out to be washed and dressed. Then, an event would take place. Sometimes Rae was there, sometimes she was absent leaving only Iliana for the court ladies to flaunt over. It churned her stomach to smile at them--but, she did.

After, if she held her tongue, she'd be taken to lunch. Then, Zuher's office to sit at his side while he flipped through endless forms and occasionally shot her questions that chilled her spine. Because, even if there was no evidence as of yet--each answer she gave, as simplistic or meaningless as they tended to be, felt like it was playing a game of life-and-death.

"Roses or lilies, Pet? Which one should I have cut?"

"I'm bored of the current whelps. What do you think? Should I clean the tower again?"

"Should I reward the lapdog or the wolf, hm?"

Paperwork led to dinner, after which she'd either be left in the tower to lean on Del, or dragged into another changing room for some banquet or ball. It was suffocating and exhausting--Iliana had never had so much respect, and hate, for the peerage. How they smiled at one another all night, danced as if their feet weren't dying, and laughed on cue despite no doubt having heard the same joke every night that week, she had no idea.

Del kept her sane--at least, when he was allowed to attend.

They'd dance, socialize, then slip out of the view of the crowd the moment he felt they'd been watched long enough. On the balcony, or in silent halls, she was free to breathe.

At some point during those nights, studying him in the moonlight became a habit.

The caressing glow it cast over his soft curls eased the sharp edges of her nerves. She could almost forget the conversational buzz of voices behind them, or the guard standing watch just beyond the balcony curtain. With the stem of a wine glass clasped in her fingers, and Del telling stories at her side, Reotak could almost be dismissed as Cieon.

Almost.

"I don't know how your guard didn't off you himself," Iliana snorted. "If every tale is true, you've done enough to deserve it."

Del smirked. His hands spread over the railing at their backs, nearly brushing her free fingers.

"Oren wouldn't kill me," he stated. "If for no other reason than that if he did, he'd get arrested and his partners would kill him. The lord of the house, Shai, hates complicated events like that. Makes the business hard for them to handle. And I've heard Adara, their wife, tell him on multiple occasions that if he goes to jail, she's telling their little one they only have two parents."

Iliana shook her head, it swam with the pleasant buzz shifting through her. "You should be glad he loves his partners, then."

"I am. It's why he's safe, with them and not..." Del drifted off, smirk dying. Seeming to note the questioning look she shot him, he shrugged. "Oren's father is the one who came on the mountain trip with me. Said we were going too close to the border for him to feel comfortable letting his son come along so close to the birth of his grandchild."

"Did he...?"

He hesitated. "I believe so. Can't see a reason for them to have kept the rest of my party alive. I was the only one with worth as a hostage."

Iliana grimaced. Instead of responding immediately, she busied herself with a sip of her wine.

That line was where the 'almost' fell. As pleasant as it was to talk to Del, as warm of a distraction as it provided, there was always an overhanging awareness that this wasn't Cieon, and this ball wasn't optional. Outside their balcony laid a world of politics and false faces.