Dissonance

the seventh chord - "evasion"

                Dangerous. He had formed a muddled opinion of Alaeca Mythal, but the one word came to mind at her very memory. Despite the control he had established during their brief exchange, he was still wary of the woman's spirit and what it might entail if left unshackled. Her sudden transition from subdued to unafraid had thrown him completely off guard. By the end, he had resorted to exploiting her discomfort. Alaeca receded into her shell, and destroyed his chance to further discern and classify her personality.

                Arventh pushed away the image of his queen's knowing smile. He immediately called for Rivex. While he waited, Arventh cleared away the top of his desk, dropping beige folders and bindings on a nearby, smaller table. The walls of his study were lined with shelves bursting with both crucial and forgotten records. A soft, maroon carpet covered the entire room, lending it a dignified look. There was a settee across from his ebony desk where Arventh often slept. Three wooden chairs were scattered across the rectangular space, two of them set in front of the wide desk. A fourth chair was designed exclusively for Arventh's comfort – he had an irritating case of shoulder aches from working for extended periods of time. Arventh also considered his study the sole place he could unwind. No one was allowed inside unless invited or permitted. The walls were high, and kept him both safe and alone.

                A loud knock sounded on the door. Arventh leaned against his desk. "Come in."

                Rivex slipped in without a word and plopped down on the settee. Arventh filed through a list of possible inquiries, and finally settled on the simplest. "What do you think of her?"

                The other man had anticipated the question. Arventh traced circles on the surface of his desk with his thumb. After a minute of contemplation, Rivex said, "She's cautious... Doesn't lie or pretend very well. Capable of holding her own. Funny and respectful."

                Arventh's chest tightened. He agreed with everything barring Rivex's most specific observation. Capable of holding her own. Arventh frowned. If anything, he thought of her as emotional and defiant. The general picked up on Arventh's frustration with ease. "What's wrong?"

                "She took you up on your advice and asked for a ceremony," Arventh squeezed the bridge of his nose. Rivex was unsurprised. "Who's going to be in charge of the preparations?"

                His saving grace! "Ronov," Arventh exhaled deeply. "I'm leaving everything to do with that woman in his hands. He'll certainly make her aware of her position in a less hurtful way than me."

                The air grew heavier by the minute. Rivex frowned, and lifted himself off the settee. "Hold on. What do you mean? I thought you were going to take care of her needs. Arventh – without you, the country's going to turn against her."

                Dangerous. Finality entered Arventh's voice. "I'll take care of whatever Ronov can't fix. She has my support, but I don't have the patience or time to tell her what she can or can't do."

                Rivex narrowed his gaze. Though he replied in a low voice, he enunciated every word. "You're sidestepping your responsibility. Alaeca isn't someone who's going to sit by in a corner and do what you tell her to. What is your problem? If you were going to ignore her anyway, why didn't you just break off the deal?"

                In a flash, Arventh was across the room and two mere feet away from Rivex. His dark green eyes were wide with fury. "Get out."

                All emotion vanished from the general's face. His jaw was tight when he stormed past Arventh. A powerful pang of guilt washed away Arventh's rage, but the door slammed shut just as he turned around to apologise. A bitter smile distorted the king's lips. Shit. He dropped onto the settee in resignation. There was some truth in Rivex's flagrant accusation, but even a general could never hope to fathom the sheer number of responsibilities anchored upon Arventh's shoulders –most of them more significant than Alaeca Mythal.

                He'd almost dozed off when a familiar voice pierced the haze. "Had an upset with Rivex?"

                "Shut up," Arventh managed to murmur. "You were eavesdropping?"

                "You wound me. I saw his angry face. Only you make him that angry."

                The guilt rose to a painful height inside Arventh's chest. The familiar fifty-seven year old man sauntered inside and settled upon Arventh's chair. To the king, Ronov Atriche was both friend and advisor. It was impossible to determine Ronov's age based on appearance alone. Straight, auburn hair hung to the top of his shoulders. Few wrinkles had managed to surface on his face, and the only folds of skin visible were the creases at both corners of his mouth. Ronov's pencil-thin moustache curved upwards at its extremities, and was by far the man's favourite topic of conversation.

                When Arventh chose silence, Ronov added, "I also had the pleasure of seeing the young queen retire to her chambers. But she looked rattled. Did you cause that too?"

                Arventh narrowed his eyes at the old man who responded with a chuckle. He was the only individual alive immune to Arventh's negativity and intimidating aura. Ronov took a seat beside him. "Alaeca's lovely. Don't you think?"

                "Lovely or not," Arventh gritted his teeth; she was the last person he wanted invading his thoughts at the moment. "You're in charge of her. She can take it easy until the ceremony, but you'll explain her duties to her."

                "Ceremony!" Ronov's chocolate eyes sparkled. "I'll be happy to befriend such a fascinating lady for you. Adys always spoke about her with pride."

                Arventh shot him a sideway glance. "What are you insinuating?"

                "Adys told me the way to her heart is through stories. I like her already!" He clapped his hands together. As Ronov prattled on about his day, Arventh tried to devise a heartfelt apology for Rivex, but soon gave up because of the annoying ache in his neck. He faced Ronov. Over their years together, Arventh had learned to shut the old man out. Despite his easygoing and pleasant exterior, Ronov was responsible for extinguishing growing unrest following the previous king's untimely death. At ten years old, Arventh was crowned king in name alone, unable to comprehend the wayward methods of the court. Ronov established control and served to secure Arventh's power. When offered a high-ranking position, Ronov had declined, choosing to devote himself to the young king's well-being. Seven years of intensive ruling had also knocked a few screws in his head – as Arventh pointed out on occasion.

                "Are you done?" Arventh asked. "I'd like to get some rest. Do me a favour and go talk to Alaeca tomorrow. Show her around."

                Ronov sealed his lips and headed towards the door. Just before leaving, he looked over his shoulder. "Alaeca's strong, like your mother was. Hopefully she won't fall off the same precipice. Good night, Arventh."

                "How would you know? You haven't even talked to her," Arventh muttered, tensing at the very mention of his mother. Ronov turned the handle and stepped into the hallway. "When you've seen and dealt with as many people as I have, you get to know just from their faces."

                The prospect of having broken the deal now seemed tempting – but it couldn't be helped. It was his father's decision, and Arventh had no right or ample reason to undo it. But it was no relief to him at present that Alaeca had already won Rivex's favour. The back of Arventh's eyes throbbed, and he finally decided it was time to rest. Arventh loosened the belt around his waist, and threw it to the side. The jewel-embedded hilts of Arventh's hidden weapons peeked out from the belt's pockets. His black leather boots fell with a thump beside the belt.

                Arventh shut his eyes, feeling his heart rate increase with every quiet moment that passed.

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