#novelidea

Evander lead her straight to it, their steps slow so as to let the partygoers gawk and ogle his newest prize. For that was exactly what this was, an exposition of his capture of Grey. He dolled her up to look like an elegant woman, as he thought all noble women should look, and wanted each and every person to acknowledge that he, the Honorable Commander Evander Blackwell, had caught and tamed the feral child that was whispered to be the long lost heir to the crown.

He wanted the members of his society to know that he was powerful enough to contain what anyone else would have seen as a danger to his throne. He was not afraid of being overpowered. He was not afraid of the rumours, or the gossip of her gifts. He wanted all to see that she was nothing more than another weapon in his arsenal.

Grey felt her cheeks growing warm at the attention. She’d never been averse to lingering gazes, she knew that she was an anomaly amongst any group of people, but the way that they stared made her feel much more self-conscious than she’d ever felt in her life. Her confidence had been greatly shaken, not that she would have let Evander know that.

It was likely the dress he’d put her in, something she would never have chosen for herself. She much preferred the comfort of trousers and a light-weight tunic. The high necked gown made her feel as though she had a hand around her throat, threatening to cut off her airflow, and the low back made her feel exposed. The brilliant shade of white was a brave choice, and emphasised her scarlet curls that had been freshly washed and styled loosely around her shoulders. She’d kicked off the horrid shoes she’s been offered before she’d been brought to Evander’s side. She refused to strut around in the absurd, fashion forward heels that were popular with the elegant noble women. Either Evander hadn’t noticed, or chose to ignore her small act of defiance. The hem of the long gown dragged on the ground behind her, and she hoped it turned as black as the Commander’s soul.

Evander pulled her up onto the platform where the throne stood, the crowd oozing back to their original positions, all facing toward the two of them. He raised a hand, as if to silence the already quiet guests, and gave them a thin-lipped smile.

“My friends,” he began, deep voice echoing. “I am grateful that you have all joined me on such an exciting day, especially given our honoured guest.” He gestured to Grey. “I would like to say a few words to you all before we begin our feasting and dancing. A thank you to all of our brave guardsmen who continue to risk their lives in the war against the Cursed, and a solemn apology to all of those who have lost loved ones to the enemy. We are one step closer to containing the vile darkness that taints our realms.” Grey saw his eyes flicker to her, as if gauging her reaction to his words. She kept her face passive and unaffected. “With our prized weapon, we will destroy all those who would wish to see our empire fall, and crush the opposition into dust.” His voice rose as he spoke, emanating a passion that he hadn’t shown before. It felt as if he were putting on a show, which he likely was for these people.

They couldn’t know the blackness of his soul, or the vile actions he had committed against his own family. Certainly they wouldn’t follow someone who had knowingly tortured and murdered his own brother. It didn’t matter that Stagg was impervious to death, he could still feel the pain inflicted and suffered all the same. Would they cast him down, if they knew? Or like all the others, would they turn a blind eye? As long as it wasn’t them. As long as it wasn’t their family, their children or siblings being tortured beneath the rocky shores of Blackthorne, they would not oppose Evander’s reign.

Evander wrapped up his little speech, and the crowd clapped politely before dispersing to their tables, which had been piled high with many varieties of delicacies. Another table was brought out by a handful of servants to be set in front of the throne, and an additional seat for Grey to sit beside Evander, a miniature throne of her own, less ornate than the one that the Commander set himself into. He smiled down at her, dark eyes staring down at her with a void that make her break into chills. She would not be surprised if he had no soul.

Food was brought to them on gleaming golden plates, and goblets filled with a deep scarlet wine set before them. She felt her stomach gurgle, but she kept her hands tightly in her lap. She would not allow herself to eat anything that Evander presented to her. It would likely be poisoned.

“Do not feel that you must hold yourself back,” Evander said softly to her, filling his own plate with sausages dripping in fat and several slices of glistening meat. It smelled mouthwatering. “My guests will not be averse to your large appetite.”

Her cheeks grew hot again, though not with embarrassment this time. “I will not eat until an offering has been made.” She said stiffly, not looking at him.

“Ah, yes. Your silly little traditions.” He chuckled, taking a large bite. He continued, mouth full, “Do not be fooled, dear girl, there is no room for your fictitious gods here. You might as well give up on such things.”

She said nothing, choosing to survey the ballroom and its occupants than to focus on the heaping piles of food before her. Each and every one of them were stuffing themselves, gorging on meats and cheeses, rolls and cakes that were laid out for them. Their faces were slathered with grease and crumbs, smears of condiments on their elegant clothes and caught in their hair and beards. They devoured their meals with a ravenous air, as if they were famished, left without food for weeks.

Grey did not let her disgust show on her face, she was clever enough to know any reaction of hers would be turned against her. Instead she turned her gaze to the room they were in, ignoring the beastial actions of those around her. It was simple, and did not appear to be nearly as regal as the chair Evander had fashioned for himself. The walls held portraits of the Commanders of the past, all of them morose and dark in colour. The walls themselves were plainly covered in a pale paper that held no pattern or scenes, and met the equally pale stones of the floor, almost seamlessly. It wasn’t an unattractive room, just one that did not seem to fit with the style that Evander seemed to like to surround himself with. She did not think him materialistic, but she knew that he would decorate ornately to make others think more highly of him.

Perhaps that was why the food was so plentiful and over the top, to distract the guests from realising how boring the room was they had gathered in.

Longingly, she thought back to the homes of [Florence] and the incredible creations that had been masterfully crafted to look like a living piece of art.

“I do insist that you at least try something,” Evander’s sharp tone brought her back to her place at his side. He was looking at her with an intensity that she did not like. “I had it prepared especially for you, my queen.” Venom dripped from his words and a chill ran through her veins, causing the hairs to stand on the back of her neck.

“May I have a candle?” She asked politely, not letting him get to her. Or at least, not letting him see that he was able to shake her down to her core.

He looked puzzled, but only for a moment, before he gestured to a servant, not breaking their locked eyes.

“Yes, my liege?” The young boy asked.

“Fetch our honoured guest a candle for her meal.” He commanded.

Grey felt a twinge of familiarity at the boy’s voice, but before she could look at him, he was gone to do as he was told.

He was back before she could tear her eyes from Evander's, and set a small, lit candle before her plate. With a bow, he retreated from their table to stand at the edge of the room with the other servants, who waited to be called upon.

Without hesitation, Grey slipped a small bit of meat from the platter in front of her and placed it into the flame of the candle. An ordinary candle flame wouldn’t have stood up against the fat of the meat, but Grey was no ordinary person. The offering, to her great relief, was accepted immediately and the flame burst into a brilliant white hue. She smiled.

Her gods were here, and they were watching her. She was not alone within this fortress of enemies. She was protected.

Evander scowled, knocking the candle onto the floor and extinguishing the small flame. It clattered noisily and a few of the closer patrons glanced up from their troughs to see what caused the sound, only to promptly return to their feasting.

“I will have no witchcraft here, woman.” He said, much too calmly. “Try something like that again and I will have no choice but to string you up in front of the entire room.” He shoved another slice of meat into his mouth, juices dripping down his chin and onto the white tablecloth. “My guests would love nothing more than to witness the execution of one the Cursed.”

She began to fill her plate, though not as fully as all the others had. She took only one of the thick sausages, and a small pie that looked as if it may be some sort of venison and potato filling, as well as a small dinner roll. It was dry and bland in comparison to the filled buns that Marlene often made. “You wanted me to try something.” She said simply, cutting a small slice of meat and taking care to chew it slowly, deliberately. It tasted even better than it smelled, and she had to forcefully keep herself from shovelling the rest of it into her mouth.