Seven Sinful Crowns

Helina

Helina stood in the grand hall across from Pria, waiting. It was nearly 4pm and they would have to be leaving soon to arrive at Gillian's castle shortly after 10. They wanted to catch them in the act, and thanks to a perfectly placed window behind Gillians desk, Helina knew just the words to do it.

Pluck their tongues indeed, she thought to herself, the all too familiar flames flickering through her body.

When she returned with the news, it was quickly decided that Gillian and Silvana were not the culprits, but they did need to pay.

"Where is she," Pria said to herself, I?impatience thick in her words.

"Its Griesha. We should have told her 2."

"So irresponsible," Pria continued to mutter, and Helina didn't disagree. If Griesha was anything, she was late. Always. They had ordered the carriage readied at 3, and planned to leave an hour later on the journey east to the Castle Verina, but here they stood, waiting, Pria's toe tapping the stone floor.

I'm going to the coach. We'll meet her outside," Helina said as she moved forward through the large doors, composed of stone and steel. It was a fortress, after all. Her guard stepped forward offering his hand for her support, but she didn't take it. She never did. Instead she grabbed the inside of the frame, one boot-clad foot taking hold of the step and pulled herself in. Watching Pria trying to maneuver her skirts into the small opening baffled her. Why would her sisters insist on wearing such frilly, fruitless attire knowing that this meeting could very well get ugly, very fast. She sighed to herself, chest pressing into the worn leather of her jacket, closed her eyes, head leaned back, and waited.

She had managed to put off her gowning today with everything else going on, but she would have to meet with her the dressmaker tomorrow afternoon instead, which she found particularly irritating, as it was at the same time she normally took Baxley riding. The stable-mage could do it, of course, but it wasn't a chore to Helina. It was the only truly free moments she had during her days...aside from her nights with Killian, stolen in the darkness.

Did her sisters know who she had been with? There was no way to tell for sure, but she didn't think so. They wouldn't have been able to keep from taunting, and they would have loved to tell Lilith, who had had a thing for the young tutor many years ago. She had not taken kindly to being shunned, and Helina had had to intervene, blade in hand. Then she pretended she had not truly wanted his attention anyways, but they all knew that was a lie, used as a salve upon her bruised and battered ego.

"Finally," she heard Pria say from her seat across from her, and opened her eyes to see Grisha's lavish coach making its way up the long stone path. Helina straightened her back, rolled her shoulders and threw the door open, calling out before her sisters cart even stopped.

"You're late! Lets go."

And as Griesha made her way across the drive, Helina took in the blood-red gown and dark lining of her eyes. Her hair was smoothed down her back, her lips painted dark, and to anyone else she might have looked terrifying, but to Helina she looked ridiculous. As the coachman helped her into the carriage, Helina unsheathed her blade, slicing through the air and pausing just in time as it kissed the sweet hollow of Griesha's neck.

"Dear god, put that thing away,Helina," said Pria, in a matter of fact tone.

And Griesha sat frozen, eyes terrified and enraged all the same.

"Tell me, Griesha, what are you going to do when we break into Gillian's home and her guards have a sword to your throat?" Helina couldn't help it, the fire was kindling all morning and the wait for her sisters arrival had fanned the flames. Seeing her now had turned it from a slow burn to a pyre, crimson paint upon her glossy lips, dress so tight she could scarcely walk...no wonder they were now an hour past schedule.