by K. L. Thorne
The band began to play once more and the tension in the room dissolved. The guests began talking amongst themselves and Sivelle breathed a sigh of relief.
“No need to look so nervous, my dear girl. This is your night, remember?” Her father chuckled quietly.
Sivelle cast her eyes around the room. It may have been ‘her night’, but the room was decorated to the exacting standards of her father.
All his guards were in their ceremonial dress and the room was lined with silk curtains that shone like molten gold. There was no banquet at this evening, but a vast array of beverages were being served by the waiting staff. Even they were elaborately dressed, all in plain silk shirts with cravats and masquerade masks.
“It looks beautiful in here. Why the masks for the staff father?” Sivelle asked.
“To emphasise their anonymity, my dear. This ball is for you to choose a suitor, I wanted the help to blend into the background.” He waved his hand with an elaborate flourish.
Sivelle hesitantly looked out across the sea of men that mingled before her. As she had predicted, most were either too old for her, balding or vastly overweight – some were an unfortunate trio of all three.
She felt comforted knowing her exceedingly handsome demon companion was still upstairs, awaiting her return.
The princess imagined how horrific this party would have been if she’d never met Haros. This could have been her only chance at romance… She shivered. As it was, she could rest, safe in the knowledge none of these men were going to be successful tonight. It was a relief.
A few of the men caught her eye and shot her winks, or leering smiles. Sivelle hastily tore her eyes away, feeling nauseous. There was no doubt in her mind that this ball had never been for her benefit. Her father really was marrying her off to the highest bidder. Lori had been right all along.
A flash of ornate plate armour caught her eye across the room and she spotted Captain Morgwell, chatting with one of the gentlemen. His handsome face was a sight for sore eyes indeed.
The faerie caught her looking and shot her a tight smile. That easy confidence he’d had the last time they had met was absent. Sivelle fought a smile – she didn’t need to wonder why that might be.
“Take your time tonight child. Mingle and get to know these gentlemen, don’t just fall for the first pretty face. My guards are here if you require any assistance,” her father said.
Sivelle almost laughed. There was a distinct short supply of pretty faces in this room. Morgwell was by far the most handsome man here and she knew from experience that he wasn’t a patch on Haros.
Her belly fizzed with excitement and nerves. She was both terrified and thrilled by what the future held. Tonight could very well be the last she spent in this castle. She just needed to get through the evening graciously, say goodbye to her guests and she would be in Haros’s arms before she knew it.
A familiar face shuffled forwards through the crowds and she heard her father sigh irritably under his breath.
“Cirro, brother! Good to see you.”
Sivelle’s uncle approached and bowed before them. He looked much older than the last time she had seen him and he had lost most of his hair. Cirro smiled kindly at her and his eyes crinkled at the corners, just as she remembered.
“My King, Princess – wonderful to see you both.”
“To what do we owe the pleasure?” her father asked.
“I figured it was about time I showed my face in these halls. My dear Sivelle, please forgive me. I intended to make it to your birthday celebration, but alas I got caught up at the last minute.”
“Thank you, Uncle. It means a lot that you even thought to join us.” Sivelle smiled.
“Briar was most disappointed with me. She was looking forward to seeing you.”
“How is she?”
“She’s very well. I’ll tell her you were asking after her.” Cirro nodded and his kind face suddenly fell serious as he met his brother’s eye once more.
“Do you bring any other tidings?” Lazuli asked frostily.
“Do excuse us, Sivelle.” Cirro bowed his head and began talking to her father in muted tones.
Sivelle turned her body away as if to feign disinterest, but her ears strained to listen in on the conversation.
“Have you thought any more on that proposal I gave you, brother?” Cirro asked.
“Preposterous! I threw it straight onto the fire. You disgrace yourself and offend your king by even considering such a thing, Cirro. You’re lucky you’re my brother. I have had people beheaded for less,” her father hissed menacingly.
“You understand the implications of ignoring the demon king’s request? Zelrus is not playing idly at his war campaign, Lazuli.”
“Neither was Tennul and look how that turned out.” Her father smirked.
“I’m warning you, do not underestimate the boy. Zelrus is not his father. I believe you are making a grave mistake in dismissing such a fair request. Think of the trade opportunities if we were able to unite demon and faerie once more? It would be a prosperous deal for us all.”
“I will never accept a deal brought forth by those sewer rats. Let the demon king come, let him try to topple my castle.”
“He’s got your daughters, Lazuli. Lori and Faye are—”
“You think I don’t already know that? He can keep them, the traitorous bitches,” the king growled.
Sivelle swallowed. The contempt in his voice drove through her heart like a knife.
“You don’t care how that looks to your people? To have your own daughters siding with the demon king? Surely you know of the unrest already building in Awrelwood?”
“And what of it? I’ve provided comfort and riches to my people beyond their wildest imagination for years. Do they really think those things don’t come at a price? They may disagree with my methods, but my people have always been willing to overlook it before when it suits their own ends. This will be no different.”
Cirro shook his head. “There is no persuading you of this? You will not even consider the demon king’s offer?”
“Never. Now kindly step away brother, or I will have you removed.” Her father glanced across at her and the cold, malicious gleam in his eye melted away. “This is Sivelle’s night, it’s not the time for such serious talk.”
“Apologies, Your Highness.” Cirro cast her a tight smile before stepping away into the crowds.
“Father, what was—” Sivelle began but her father held up his hand.
“It’s none of your concern. Please, go and join the men. They are eager to introduce themselves to you, I can see it.” He grinned, but the emotion didn’t reach his eyes.
When Sivelle was hesitant to move, he waved her away with his hand. She stood and drank the rest of her wine quickly before walking away.
She politely excused herself from several conversations as she wormed through the room. The men crowded in around her disconcertingly and she was awash in a combination of musky aftershaves, bad breath and sweat.
Sivelle kept her eyes focussed on the flutes of wine, laid out and sparkling in the dim lighting on a table at the back of the room. As she reached out for a glass, a hand swept down and held it up to her.
“Oh, thank you. I—” Sivelle glanced up, faltering as she was taken aback by the waiter’s square jaw and wide shoulders. Her was tall, handsome and well built. His muscles were defined, even beneath his silk shirt.
It was only when her eyes met with a very familiar dark gaze beneath the masquerade mask and the waiter cast her a smouldering smile that made her knees weak that Sivelle realised who he was.
“Haros?!” she hissed in disbelief. She cast her eyes over him – his horns were missing, replaced with a mop of dark, messy hair. He had faerie wings, folded away at his back.
“Ssh,” he replied, casting his eyes warily around the room. “Shit, it’s like an all you can eat buffet for the homeless in here. You’re the buffet in this scenario, if you hadn’t already figured that
out.”
“What?! How?” she gaped.
He shrugged. “Mivian worked a little of her magic to help me blend in. I couldn’t just send you off and wait up in the room whilst these dicks had their paws all over you.”
“Whilst that’s very chivalrous, my father is here! This is so dangerous, what if—”
“He won’t recognise me, Sivelle. I’m in disguise.”
Despite her concern, just having the demon near comforted the princess more than she had thought possible.
“Dorian has the bag that was under your bed in the cellar. We’re making a break for it tonight. I’ve already, oh, incoming…” Haros turned away and busied himself with polishing a wine glass.
“Princess Sivelle, I assume?” A fat, pimpled faerie grinned. He took her hand in his and pressed his disconcertingly wet lips against it. Sivelle fought against recoiling in horror.
“Pleasure and you are?”
“Horcuntis Honeybottom the third.”
Sivelle heard Haros snort under his breath behind her and she fought to keep a smile from her face.
Chapter Nineteen
“What I found most amazing about that whole conversation was three generations have named their sons Horcuntis and not one has paused to reconsider it!” Haros chuckled under his breath as Sivelle turned to him once more. She had a horrified expression on her face.
Horcuntis had shuffled away dejectedly when Sivelle had failed to laugh at his jokes and stroke his ego. Haros supposed men like him weren’t exactly used to women fawning over him, but he had clearly expected the princess to be a little more receptive to his advances.
“What an awful man.” Sivelle shivered and held out an empty wine glass for replenishing.
Relishing in his role as a fake waiter, Haros gladly topped it up and shot the princess a smile.
“How did these guys get an invite? Did you get any say in it at all?” he asked.
“None. I presume this is a collection of the wealthiest single men in Awrelwood.” Sivelle glanced around the room, her face the picture of disgust.
“Unfortunately money has no correlation with good looks. Those men who are fortunate enough to possess both are rarely single for long. Unless their name is Oriel, naturally.” Haros chuckled.
“I presume you’re referring to Prince Oriel? Zelrus’s older brother?”
Haros nodded and began polishing a glass with a rag.
“I wasn’t aware demons had much in the way of wealth.”
“We don’t by your standards, but Oriel and Zelrus are certainly amongst the richest men in Banesteppe. How did you think they paid talented individuals such as myself for their services?”
“I guess I hadn’t really thought about it. I kind of assumed you were just a merry band of do-gooders, attempting to right my father’s wrongs.”
Haros snorted. “Definitely not. As much as I am loyal to my king, I wouldn’t work for free for anyone. Especially if it involved doing some of the crazy shit he has me doing.” He gestured around the room. “Case in point.”
“That’s fair,” Sivelle agreed with a smile. She glanced around and lowered her voice. “Do you have enough money to support us both when we get out of here?”
“I do quite well for myself. Why? Would you change my mind if I didn’t?”
“Not at all, but I might get sticky fingers on my way out.” Sivelle grinned.
“Oh don’t worry about that. Mivian has already helped me pack up the entirety of your jewellery collection.” Haros grinned at the appalled expression on the princess’s face.
“I hope that was after I agreed to join you!” she laughed.
“Of course.”
Haros caught sight of another gentleman approaching over the princess’s shoulder. This one was thinner and much older than the last. He was easily old enough to be Sivelle’s father.
“I take your loitering at the bar to mean you’re not enjoying your evening much, Princess?” the man asked with a smirk.
“Oh, Uncle, no. It’s utterly terrifying. The worst night of my life.” Sivelle laughed.
Haros’s attention was piqued. Uncle? This was the famous Cirro Goldwyrm? He cast his eyes over the faerie again. He supposed there was a vague family resemblance between him and Sivelle. What little hair the man had left was a pale silvery gold and his eyes were a similar shade of blue.
Cirro met his eye. “Malted mead, if you would be so kind.”
Haros was confused by Cirro’s request for a moment, until he remembered he was masquerading as a waiter. He hunted around beneath the bar for tumblers whilst eavesdropping on their conversation.
“You’ve grown up so quickly, I can hardly believe you are thirty already.” Cirro sighed and shook his head.
“It’s been too long.”
“Tell me, why are you allowing your father to throw this awful event for you if you are not enjoying it?”
“Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time. Things have changed considerably since I agreed to it,” Sivelle replied hesitantly.
Haros found a glass and picked up the oldest and most expensive bottle of malted mead he could find. He poured a finger of the dark, rich liquid into the glass and handed it to Cirro.
The faerie took the offering and lowered his nose into the rim, sniffing it appreciatively.
“A fine choice.” He nodded his thanks but narrowed his eyes, surveying Haros curiously. The demon turned his back and started to wipe down the countertop.
“Will you be staying with us tonight?” Sivelle asked, drawing her uncle’s attention back to her.
“I’m afraid not. I have some very important business to get back to and it’s clear I am not really welcome.” Cirro cast his eyes across to Lazuli’s throne. It was empty, the king having disappeared into a side room with one of his guards.
“That’s a real shame, I—”
“Pardon my interruption Princess, but I have some rather important information for you. Quickly, whilst your father is preoccupied,” Cirro muttered beneath his breath.
“Yes, Uncle?”
“The demon king is making noises of war. I’m not sure how abreast you are kept with the situation outside the castle walls, but the unrest is near breaking point. King Zelrus and I have been working on some peace treaties in an attempt to relieve the issue, but your father…” Cirro trailed off.
“Is refusing to co-operate. I gathered from your brief discussion earlier.” Sivelle nodded.
“Unfortunately so. If something isn’t done soon, it will spell ruin for Awrelwood. Please, do not misinterpret my meeting with the demon king as collusion, my dear. I just wish for a happy and safe result for all involved. Your father has kept the demons on a shoestring for too long.”
Haros blinked, disbelieving what he was hearing. Had a faerie, King Lazuli’s brother no less, just sympathised with the demon plight?
“What makes you think Zelrus will be successful? Excuse my naivety, but haven’t demon kings attempted to rebel against Awrelwood’s reign before?” Sivelle asked.
“On many occasions over the years. King Zelrus is different. I never met his father, Tennul, but he was rumoured to be a great man. It’s something he has passed to his son, without doubt.”
“Then why do you think he will succeed where Tennul failed?”
“Because he’s got his brother, Sivelle. Oriel is a force to be reckoned with. Zelrus is logical and just, but Oriel is ferocious. The Dawnoaken brothers are no match for your father as individuals, but together? I do not doubt they will achieve their goals.”
Haros grinned. Cirro had a pretty good handle on his friends, that was for sure.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you need to get out of here, before war is upon us. You are not safe here Sivelle.”
Sensing the moment was right, Haros stepped forward.
“I believe I can help with that,” he said.
Sivelle’s eyes jumped between him and her uncle. Cirro’s eyes narr
owed with suspicion.
“Uncle, this is Haros. He’s one of Zelrus’s men.”
The faerie’s eyes widened. “Haros? Does your king know you’re here? He mentioned your capture to me when we met last but I didn’t dream you’d still be—”
“Alive and kicking? Very much so, thanks to Sivelle.”
“That’s a mighty fine disguise you’ve got for yourself. How have you come to be here?”
“It’s a long story, I’ll tell you about it some other time. Sivelle and I are planning an escape tonight, whilst the castle is distracted. I’ve already got an escape route laid out.”
“The roads to Banesteppe are littered with King’s Guard soldiers since Lori and Faye’s escape. You’ll never make it out undetected if you’re planning to head back to King Zelrus.” Cirro shook his head.
Sivelle cast Haros a haunted look.
“I have to try.”
Cirro paused thoughtfully for a moment. “I have a better idea. Rosenhall Castle, my home, is in the opposite direction. I will leave the details of the escape in your capable hands but I beg you, please, take the road north west to Rosenhall. You will be safe there, I swear it.”
“Uncle, we couldn’t—”
“It would be seen as treason,” Haros agreed. “Why would you put your neck on the line for us?”
Cirro cast his eyes over the princess with a smile. “Sivelle is my niece and you are an integral member of your king’s war effort, Haros. It appears my brother is determined to lie in the bed of his making, no matter the consequences, and I am not keen to be on the losing side when this war begins.”
“That’s very decent of you.”
“Nonsense. It’s what my dear Genevieve would have wanted. She spent her whole life fighting against the tide, trying to tip the balance between demon and faerie. I would be disgracing her memory if I sat idly by and allowed my brother’s reign of terror to continue.”
Another faerie sidled up to them at the bar and raised his gnarled fingers for Haros’s attention.
Cirro looked at the man and cleared his throat. “I’m going to head home shortly, Your Highness. I will say my goodbyes to your father and hope to see you again very soon.”