Page 81 of The Nightmare Queen

“Ha.Peace. Of course, how could I forget.” He says the word ‘peace’ like it’s something stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

“War has never won anyone anything, Rorin.”

Disbelief crosses both of our faces. Coming from the man who refuses to witness the actual carnage his seat partner has caused to Vellaran citizens. “It seems to have won plenty for King Baelor here. The ruler ofnow three kingdoms, and the occupant of a fourth. War seems to agree with you.”

“It will not win him Vellar. While you were off…” his hands wave around, gesturing at nothing in particular, “gallivanting andkilling,we have been drawing up a treaty. A treaty that will serve us both without any more bloodshed.” The two kings share a look that I zero in on. “But that is hardly dinner conversation. Dinner I am sure many of us are no longer hungry for.”

I can feel the vibrations of Rorin impatiently tapping on my chair. My hand moves over - of it’s own accord,again- and squeezes his leg lightly. My serpents slide down my arm to connect to him. As if they could absorb and tether his magic the same way they do mine to take the edge off.

My eyes snag on a glint of golden blonde hair. Millicent juts her chin at the girl in front of me. A pitiful thing. Hollowed cheeks and deep set eyes. The ruby curls cascading down her back are severe against the paleness of her skin. She’s the shell of a girl. My magic feels for any indication of fear, but all I sense is a darkness that mirrors my own. Looking to Millie again, I can see her mouthing something. “Pru-el-la” her lips repeat the name a few times until it clicks,Pruella…Baelor’s only daughter. What a liability she must be.

As if she senses my magic probing her, her eyes dart up and around. “Pruella, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Oh now, none of that. You’re a princess in your own right. Formalities are such a bore.” Rorin’s heavy presence weighs in my mind. I angle my face only slightly towards him. The arm behind me tenses but he doesn’t send anything down the seal. “How do you feel about your father’s tirade of mass genocide?”

Her back straightens a little. “I support my father’s efforts to do what he deems best. He’s a great King. One who has grand plans for our sister kingdoms.”

Rorin and I share a look. “Sister Kingdoms?Is that what you’re calling them?” The prince laughs in disbelief while she nods.

“Sounds like you are a devoted and obedient daughter, Princess. Your father is fortunate.” Eiser praises her, the slight not going unnoticed by either of us. “Although! It would seem Queen Eveera was the most fortunate. No parents to disobey or disappoint.”

Tap. Tap. Tap.“Mm. Yes. Being orphaned is so much better than pesty parental disappointment.” Calloused fingers lace into my hair, moving in slowly circles on the base of my neck.

The king swirls his goblet one…two…three times before tipping the contents into his mouth. The resemblance is there between father and son but Rorin looks far more like his mother. A travesty really. “Enough of this. Peace is duly in order and what a better time with the Valen Celebration in less than three days.” Applause and compliments round the table, praising the two kings for their amicable relationship. But I don't believe it, Rorin called it before we entered the room, they're setting us up. I can't help but smile to myself.

So many deceitful plots in place. So many games. It will be fun to see the fight. It will be better to be the victor.

Rorin

I opted for the comfort of my desk after the disastrous dinner with Baelor and my father. I’ve chosen that comfort for the past couple of nights in fact. Since coming home my sleep has been fitful. A torturous melody of Eveera’s screams in that cell is on a constant loop in my mind followed by seeing my father mingling with the man I’ve single-handedly been trying to end for the past few years. Who’s killed our people, good people of Vellar.

With each nightmare I wake up sweating and panting. Murder the first thought in my mind. The rage I felt seeing those men handling her, the things I have imagined that they might have done during our states of unconsciousness. The things they’d suggested they would do. If I hadn’t cut off their heads, I would do it again for as little as a wrong look in her direction.

Tick tick tick.

The large clock’s mechanisms clicking together become the metronome to my thoughts and I zone back in on the maps, payrolls, condolence letters, and missives piled on the wood. “Father, what gameare you playing at…” None of these coordinates, or formations make any sense. Going back months in the paperwork, I see the same pattern.We were pigs being led to slaughter. But why? Why kill so many innocents, innocents of Vellaran blood and then break bread with Baelor?

The hour hand strikes forcefully. I sign the final condolence notice for tomorrow and stamp it to be sent tomorrow. I make quick work of the buttons on my shirt, stopping short in the doorway. Her small frame is spread haphazardly across the large bed. Limbs bent at awkward angles, the side of her nightgown riding up just under her curves, and her once neat braids are fraying where the curls refuse to be bound any longer.

One…two…three…four…

“She’d be pissed to find you doing that.” The sudden intrusion of a voice behind me has me reaching for the dagger at my hip until I realize it’s only Axel.

Snooping bastard.

“Shh. You’ll wake her and then we’ll all be paying for it.” He scoffs quietly before walking about to the bed. He tucks a loose curl away from her face, straightening the blanket afterwards so that it covers her exposed leg. His closeness to her is irritating even if I understand it.

“You do that a lot I’ve noticed.”

I peer up at him as I unlace my boots. “Do what? Piss her off?”

He chuckles, his voice much quieter now. “That too, but no. Watch her so closely. Someone who didn’t know you might think you are ogling her chest.”

“I am not ogling her chest.”

“It’s a nice chest.” He teases looking for my reaction.

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