Heir of Cinders [FADING EMBERS #1] - ON HOLD

11.1 - Troubling Thoughts

The sliding door closed behind Nadrien with a decisive click, obstructing Fealtanis and Mirathiel from her view. She pursed her lips slightly, evidently distasteful of the abrupt way that their leader had dismissed them. True, she might have committed herself to silence earlier, but that didn't mean she had run out of things to say. On the contrary, she'd been mulling over them in silent contemplation, trying to think of the best way to phrase her words.

Not that it mattered now that the meeting had been cut short.

"Now, we could only hope that the hybrid girl doesn't dissuade the master even further from accepting Princess Adaria's offer," Boris whispered in a hushed tone, drawing the yildean's attention to him.

Nadrien's face scrunched up on Boris's poor choice of words. The moment she'd left Mira's presence, her demeanor had considerably subdued. There were only a select few that the woman was comfortable showing her exuberance to; for the rest, she had built an impenetrable wall to bar them from further entry into her thought processes- the way the sliding door they were gradually leaving behind had barred her view to the two occupants of the highest positions on the Scarlet Masks' hierarchy.

Needless to say, Boris of Blacktower was not one of the people she had allowed past the thick metaphorical barrier she had constructed for herself. If anything, he fell into the... least favorable side of the spectrum. The stout, scarred yildean had rubbed Nadrien off the wrong way, and the way he'd called her best friend a "hybrid" in a somewhat conceited manner certainly only served to solidify her dislike of him.

"You better not let Mira catch you calling her that," Nadrien warned, somewhat coldly. She let out a small sigh that was laden with disdain.

"And anyways, he would've been less susceptible to refusing this offer if you didn't tell him who the candidate to replace the king is. I thought that you'd know better, considering that you've been serving him for twenty four years."

"Even if I didn't tell him, he's bound to find out one way or another and that would've been worse for us," Boris tried to argue through his raspy breath. "Better tell him now rather than later. Besides, didn't you say that you wanted to see the old king die?"

His tone suggested that he'd picked up on Nadrien's shift of conduct, though she could care less about what he thought of her. A small scoff escaped her lips. "I meant it as a joke, Boris. Not everything has to be taken literally. On that note, why did they even pick his brother as a candidate? Every single great house is aware of his... plebeian habits."

And the fact that he was bastardized by his father, Nadrien continued in her mind. She had her fair share of scorn towards Fealtanis's brother, Avrenis... perhaps even more so than Feal himself. If anything, she was possibly the one who knew him best. The thought that some decades ago she had developed some sort of affection for him still made her cringe.

"For now, he's the only candidate available," Boris replied.

"Why not pick Fealtanis as a candidate?" Nadrien suggested as she continued to stomp her way through the car. "He was legitimized by his father. Surely he's-"

"He still hasn't completed his exile. For that to happen, we need his brother to remove his charges."

"You could've threatened him. I'm pretty sure that he would revoke his charges the moment someone threatened him," Nadrien scoffed, her voice heavy with contempt that was mostly directed towards their subject of discussion. She knew better than anyone that Feal's older brother had little to no backbone.

"You didn't take his mother into account," Boris pointed out, his hand motioning towards Nadrien to continue walking. "That witch has her talons wrapped right around him; don't forget that."