He flashed her a smile, full of white teeth and grace. “Maybe we should all go down to the city to celebrate our agreement.”
“I don’t-”
“Nonsense,” Mithras said, she listened as he rose from his seat and came to stand beside Beathan. “Desety is a far better place to celebrate.”
Beathan rolled his eyes. “Not again with this, Mithras, please. Feremony is the safest place to celebrate with Cassia.’
Argoth groaned from his seat at the table. She turned and looked at him. He shook his head in annoyance. “Kypriantha is the safest place for Cassia, but I doubt there are places to celebrate in that place.”
Griswold shifted in his seat, throwing a deadly glance at Argoth. “Mind your own business, Argoth. You can’t even protect our borders and now you are accusing my people.”
She scowled and shook her head groaning. “Nature! How old are you?” She could get used to this, she could get used to those mindless, meaningless little arguments. It bound all of them into one big family and united their lands in the most wonderful way of friendship, family. “Kypriantha is not a place I would walk there willingly, anyway.” She felt Griswold’s eyes turning away, not bothering to acknowledge her tone or words. She turned to Mithras. “I am certain Desety is a fine place, but I think Feremony’s closer. Maybe another night we could spend it to your lands.”
Mithras seemed to be little bothered by her comment. “I’ll take your word, Lady.”
She only nodded her head. “Where to then, Beathan?”
“I’ll send a maid to help you dress.”
+ + +
She returned to her room to find a blond haired servant waiting for her with an ornate attire for Cassia to wear. She closed the door with a thud and walked towards the vanity desk. Cassia ignored the she-elf, but as she grabbed her brush to comb through her hair she felt the female flinching away.
Cassia cleared her throat and turned around to look at the she-elf. Blond, brown eyed and beautiful like all the Adanei elves she had met so far. Her limbs long but somehow concealed from her long white dress. A Lady’s maid, indeed, proper and silent. As a Lady should be. She rolled her eyes as the lady kept flinching away from Cassia’s glance.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me, I don’t bite and I don’t eat she-elves,” she smirked. “I always had males on my dinner menu.”
The she-elf remained in her place by the bed, her shoulders still standing erect and tense.
“I told you, I won’t harm you.” Fetalaia shook her head. “I don’t know what kind of vicious stories you were told about me, but she won’t harm you.”
She didn’t talk.
“For Nature’s sake! Leave if you can’t stand being here.”
She let the clothes on the bed and left the room in a hurry. Cassia shook her head, she didn’t know how she was to live here if the maids were afraid she would hex them into their next life with some kind of voracious magic.
She stood from her chair. Reflecting on a lowly maid did her no good at all. She grabbed the clothes and took a look at them. Black, formal pants, a white shirt, black long sleeved robe and a silver belt. She cursed under her breath; at least that maid had gotten something about her right.
She let them on the bed and went to shower. She let the water wash over her skin as she relaxed for a moment before she became alerted again. Relaxation was never a strong trait of hers. She always was somehow scared that she would be found in the shower with a dagger through her back. She had more enemies than friends, anyway.
Cassia dried herself quickly and returned to the chamber. She slipped into the clothes and strapped two daggers at her sides, beneath the black robe and hidden another pair on her boots. She had her own terrors of Death and she always liked to be prepared no matter the situation.
She pinned her hair away from her face and placed the silver circlet over her head. She still had a social status, even though she was merely another member of the Lords’ Council and probably was the first female that ruled an acclaimed Adanei land.
Her sword lay on the bed, but she didn’t bring herself to strap it on her belt, she could be just as lethal with her daggers. She took in a few breaths before she left the room only to face Griswold leaving his chamber from across her door. Stoic, uninterested eyes met with hers.
He still wore the same clothes. She smirked as she said, taunting him to no possible extent. “Will his Highness not grace us with his presence?”
He narrowed his eyes as a scowl appeared on his brow. “I won’t participate in your foolish drinking and dancing.”
“Of course, the Lord is so much better than this.” She rolled her eyes. “What will you do? Chant spells and open portals for demons to roam the castle?”
“Perhaps,” he said and pursed his lips, his distaste for Cassia so evident that made her hope he was just another Steward in her city, just to have the satisfaction of ripping him apart, limb by limb. “You should concentrate more on the war than wasting away.”
She chuckled bitterly. “Well, when you put it that way,”
“Beathan will just have you on your back, moaning underneath him. You are as simpleton as any other lowly she-elf.”
She moved too fast for him to understand and assess her movements. She grabbed a dagger from around her waist and pressed it to his throat as she slammed him against the walls behind him. She had had enough of his foolish talking. Maybe if he was disposed of his tongue things would be easier. She let the blade press firmly against his skin as she maintained a cold expression over her features.
“You are jealous then,” her voice was barely a whisper. “Jealous because you will never have the chance to fuck me like dear Beathan will?”
“I don’t like already used things.”
She narrowed her eyes and pressed the dagger at his neck, he hissed. “I only pity your mate, how miserable she must be.” She grimaced and shook her head.
His face twisted into something so stern and vicious that she only wanted to stab him through the throat with the dagger. “What I do and my spouse is not your concern.”
“Tell me, is your mate as high born as I am? Does she have royal, ancient blood running through her veins?”
His reply was abrupt and sharp. “Yes, but she is still not your concern.”
She shook her head. The bastard was just toying with her and she was playing along. “Then I would very much like to meet her. She must be a saint to bear all of your mood swings.”
Her stance had relaxed as he pushed her away from him, dusted his clothes and raised his chin. She would have slapped him, she would have killed him right on the spot, but Ael’s words about Griswold’s importance rang through her mind.
“Get lost, you pathetic creature.”
“I can gut you in your sleep and make it look like an accident.”
“Empty threats.”
She groaned and pulled the dagger back into its place around her waist. “Don’t tempt me.”
He ignored her then and turned away as he began walking on the opposite side of the corridor. “Have fun tonight, Lady. You will need it for the rest of your days.”
It was a silent threat, a silent promise that he would torment her till the end of her days.
If there was an elf that she wanted to kill with so much passion it was him.
His character was despicable and his arrogance made her insides boil. She only hoped that he was somewhere close to her when she was to explode.
She sighed sharply as she turned on her feet and walked away from the corridor and down the stairs where the rest of the Lords waited for her to depart for the city of Feremony.
She tried to forget about the Lord of Kypriantha as she took down the stairs, but her rage blinded her too much. She only wanted to drive her blade through his throat.
Griswold Blackthorn was indeed a thorn in her side.
28
The city was a marvellous creation of architecture. The eloquent curves and arches of the buildin
gs and the various colours were drawn out from a time of peace and prosperity. The cobblestones on the roads illuminated every time someone stepped onto them in a diversity of colours and shades that had Cassia looking at her steps instead of her fellow Lords who laughed and joked as they were friends since they had been mere elflings.
Their laughter made her forget for one moment that they were in the middle of a transpiring war, and it gave her strength to know that their mood was not spoiled by the rotting clutches of that plague. She found herself smiling earnestly and genuinely. Their laughter and crude jokes earned a silent chuckle from her.
It was as if every building, every house; every little tree had a colour of its own. She had only observed the city from afar yesterday night.
The glittering walls of the buildings varying in shape, tall and thick, small and thin. The houses wore ornaments with golden symbols of the gods, trying to shield themselves from the evilness in the outside world.
She thought it impossible that something sinister would ever affect this place of peace and happiness. Cassia let go of the worries that washed over her in tidal waves of terror. She let herself forget that she was a traitor to her King, traitor to her people and traitor to her ideas. She had betrayed things she had fought for so wilfully all these years.
Cassia allowed herself the luxury of celebrating, just for a moment, just to see what it felt like to be happy.
She caught herself thinking of Griswold, at how foolish he was to keep himself away from this. She shook her head. Fantasising about that elf made bile rise on her tongue. He was by far the most despicable person she had known. He could even rival the King if he wanted.
The thoughts went away as a soft, cold wind blew, her cloak billowing behind her. She pulled it tightly around her and straightened her spine. Beathan led them in a restaurant. He ushered them all to a round table somewhere at the back of the restaurant. Dark walls, onyx, carved in dragon shapes and flames, illuminating a faint, green light
She took her seat with Beathan at her right and Otho at her left. It was a risk having Otho so close, but she was surprised when she realised he had come with them and was laughing just as much as Beathan and Argoth did.
Plates and different kinds of wine glasses appeared before them. Beathan had sent word earlier, announcing their arrival. That elf had the capacity to think about anything ahead of the others. Cassia cut through the meat with her silver knife indulging herself in her plate as a silent chatter took over their fellowship.
Her eyes focused on the green pattern along the tablecloth; dragon shapes and flowers too, tendrils of flames stretched along the velvet cloth. She pulled her gaze to her glass of wine and took a sip. She knew that she didn’t pay much attention to the elves around her, but she was rather distracted by the thoughts of war.
Beathan leant back to his chair and sighed, her attention returned back in the night, back in the restaurant as she set down her glass. Beathan grabbed his glass and twisted it around.
He turned his attention to her and smirked. “I didn’t fail to notice that you dress quite like Griswold.”
She choked on her wine and coughed in her hand, she panted only for a moment before she shook her head, eyes wide.
“You are going to choke Cassia if you continue talking about Griswold,” Mordas said with a sigh and a smirk.
She rolled her eyes. “No comment.” She glared at Beathan who laughed in turn. “A maid brought me these clothes. She was afraid though to come near me and I sent her away, poor thing.”
Beathan rolled his eyes. “Yes, she is...” He trailed and cleared his throat. “My stepsister. Don’t get her wrong she admires you a tad too much, I am certain she was just stunned to meet her idol.”
She shook her head. “I thought she was a maid.”
“Mersila is,” Otho began and turned to look at her. “A very fine she-elf.”
Mithras laughed with Timus and Mordas across the table. “Oh, Otho everyone knows what a crush you have in Mers.”
Timus laughed and took a sip from his wine. “And the crush you had on my own mate.”
Otho changed about five shades of red. “That was a long time ago before you even knew she was your mate.”
Mithras laughed. “Yeah, we all know what a little, wicked thing you are, Otho.”
“Oh, shut it!” Otho was now two shades redder than the last time Cassia saw him.
She rolled her eyes and laughed to myself. “Let the elf alone.” She chuckled. “I used to have a crush on my best friend.”
They all laughed in unison. Mithras slumped back to his chair and crooked an eyebrow. “It is a wonder that the Heir has a heart.”
“Trust me, unfortunately, I do. But you see it is a tragic story, my best friend’s mate was my other best friend and they have a horde of elflings now. And here I am. Alone and unmated.”
“I could ease a bit of your sorrow,” Beathan smirked, throwing those innuendos everywhere he could reach.
She snorted and laughed. “Not in your wildest dreams, Ethan.”
He grimaced at the nickname. “My Aunt calls me Ethan, don’t do it too, it’s annoying.”
Timus chuckled. “Ethan.”
“I like it,” Argoth said and took a sip from his wine.
Ethan rolled his eyes. “Now everyone is going to call me like that. Thank you, Sia.”
“Touché.”
She laughed along with the rest of the Lords. It was easy, to get into the casual mood with them. They chatted and socialised as if they were normal elves, with normal lives, as if they didn’t wear crowns upon their heads, heavy with the duty they had over their people.
They felt like a big family, oversized and quirky, strange in its own way, but wonderful and something she never had in her life. It was as if all of them grew up together, fought together in battlefields, and endured through hardship. Evil seemed not to have touched them through the years, they were a marvellous team.
She didn’t stop thinking though, why Griswold didn’t want to join in. He seemed deprived from happiness and anything else good in life. She pitied him, secretly, but she knew that he was just like her. She had been denied happiness and kindness too, but she chose not to show it to the people around her. They didn’t deserve that kind of treatment from her.
“How’s our sister, Argoth?” Mordas asked.
“Just as angry as she was the last time you met,” Argoth replied and shrugged.
Mithras glared at Argoth and gritted his teeth. “That wasn’t our fault and you know it.”
It was funny to see the twins talking in unison as they spoke. “We didn’t destroy her tapestries, those goblins of children you have done it, we just happened to be in the room.”
Argoth slapped his hand onto the table. “Are you accusing my elflings now?”
Ethan rolled his eyes as Timus, Handres, Hianos and Otho laughed. Handres shook his head, he had been talking with Hianos all the time we were there. He turned and glared at the twins and Argoth.
Handres groaned. “Take your whining elsewhere, you fools.”
Mithras threw him a glare of his own. “Go back to chatting with Hianos, this is none of your business.”
Ethan sighed. “Not again and Griswold isn’t here to stop them.”
She shook her head, smirking. She ghostly wrote runes on the tablecloth and chanted under her breath. The next time someone tried to talk none of them could bring sound out of their mouths. The spell had apparently worked well. She rolled her eyes as they all looked at her in unison, not just the twins but all of them.
She sighed and shook her head. “If you are going to fight in the war, then you would have to stop arguing about meaningless things.” Argoth tried to speak, but she shook her head and raised her hand stopping him from even bothering to speak. “Even the spoiling of your mate’s tapestries is not important enough to argue over, Argoth.” She turned to the twins then and smirked. “You two should stop thinking that everyone is against you because clearly none
of us is.” She straightened her spine and scowled. “Now, I am going to lift the spell, but you have to promise me that you will not continue.”
They all nodded. She glided her hand over the place where she had mentally written the runes, ending the incantation. They gasped and looked at their glasses with abandon.
Ethan leant closer. “Remind me never to anger you.”
She rolled her eyes as they laughed. Ethan summoned more wine and the Lords only filled their glasses once more. Then they drank a bit more and a bit more, until their heads were far too dizzy and far too heavy to talk, they only grinned and sang and laughed on their own.
She was lucky enough and smart enough not have drunk the twenty glasses of strong, Iberian, red wine most of the Lords consumed. She was the only one capable of flashing them back or she could simply let them there, and she could walk back to the palace alone with her own thoughts.
In the end, after debating for about five minutes. She shook her head and scolded herself. She risked elven magic and flashed them to the living room of the palace.
She managed to make them sit on the sofas in the room and huffed as everyone was safely placed on the cushions. Ethan leant onto Handres and sang as he smirked at the other elven Lord.
Hianos and Otho were laughing slowly together and the twins were with Argoth singing the same tune as Ethan. It was a sight to behold, all those powerful and fearful Lords were nothing but a pack of giggling puppies and it felt she was their mother who tried to restrain them from snapping at each other.
Ethan stopped singing as he pulled away from Handres and chuckled then fell back.
Oh! They’re all so drunk.
Drunk and quietly vulnerable. She could ask them all kinds of questions and they would answer truthfully. Drunken elves couldn’t possibly lie.
Then she spoke, something that had been in her mind until morning. “It is a pity Lord Griswold stayed with his mate tonight and didn’t join us.”
Handres snorted. “Mate?” He laughed.
Ethan laughed too as Otho spoke. “I doubt the gods have given that pompous worm a mate.”
A War of Silver and Gold Page 25