3/ Hayll
Things had changed in the Three Realms. There wasn't anything noticeable, not after three thousand years, but Lizaveta knew her history. She was the first Gray Lady to not wear the gray. The cities had changed, the people had changed, customs and beliefs took on a new form. Terreille was ruled by a Sapphire Queen named Gwen, and oversaw all the territories with the help of Provincial and Territorial Queens, as Blood Law had dictated thousands of years ago. The realm had long since lost its bloodied tie to Dorothea, becoming a true beacon in the Realm of Light.
Dena Nehele was the only one, over the centuries, to hold onto a different kind of independence.
Because of the Great Purge, and the hysterical chaos that resulted from the broken Blood after they found most of their Queens dead, Dena Nehele used a marriage claim to hold Shaldor and the few territories between the two. It held it securely, while the other Realms tried to collect their strength. Even Kaeleer had been hit with the loss of their Black Witch. There still wasn't a Queen for Ebon Askavi.
And now, over three thousand years, no one has bothered the claim Dena Nehele has on Shaldor, nor about the fact that their Queen holds her lands with a law of her own. The Queen of Terreille acknowledge this independence but had the Gray Lady come to court during the autumn months and often put her own Lords or Princes into the court of Dena Nehele. The horrible taint of Dorothea was long gone and the contracts were honored with little or no problems.
Dena Nehele was only apart of Terreille in name.
Lizaveta remembered this as she strode down the massive corridors of the Queen's castle in Hayll. The land around it had returned to its natural glory, there were meadows within the city's limits where the Kindred roamed, but there was still a certain chill of superiority held onto by the stone buildings. Lizaveta bit her lip as she ducked into an alcove, stilling herself to listen into the hall.
She hated coming to court, especially now when she was a powerful, free-floating Queen.
Lizaveta had been born with the Red and her parents had assumed that she would descend past the Gray when she made her Offering, which she did, and had tried to train her to be more like Gwen, for reasons she could not understand. Lizaveta's sister, Alyxandria, was born with the Green and would soon make her Offering, and become the next Gray Lady.
Which left Lizaveta at the mercy of the Queen of Terreille.
She knew how difficult her position was and how difficult it made the relationship between Terreille and Dena Nehele. Lizaveta was a powerful Queen with no court to call her own. She could easily overtake the Queen of Terreille if she managed to gather an army, or could even take over Dena Nehele. So there were few options to handle her with. Lizaveta could be married into Gwen's court, or even to her son Gregory, both to watch over her or to add her power to the court.
There was also exile or a well planned death. And right now, Lizaveta was extremely vulnerable.
"Andy, where are you?" She whispered, feeling the sting of tears as she looked around. She had wandered off with a Warlord's lady, talking about the upcoming Winsol activities, when the lady had been called away and Lizaveta was alone. All of her training screamed at her, knowing this could be a trap, and she had walked calmly back to the main wing that held the housing for the members of the court. But she had lost track of both her older brother Luther, her First Escort, and her long time friend, who was her self proclaimed protector.
Lizaveta? The call came on the Opal distaff thread, and Lizaveta instantly calmed.
Angeline, I'm lost. Please send Andy. Lizaveta called back. Over the thread, Lizaveta felt the brush against her inner barriers and she opened them. She felt Angeline rifle through her memories, seeing what happened and where she was.
We're coming. Angeline told her. Lizaveta sighed her relief, knowing that the emotion washed down the thread. All she felt in return was anxiety and then the communication was cut off. Lizaveta leaned against the back wall of the alcove, suddenly able to think a little about something than the imminent danger she felt. The alcove was big enough to hold a statue but was empty, and, looking down the hall, there were other alcoves dotted along the way.
"Hiding from something?" Lizaveta turned, and, realizing that she had stepped back out into the hall, tried to swallow her terror. A young looking Warlord stood before her, smiling pleasantly.
"Just looking around." She replied, trying to seem nonchalant. The Warlord smiled, still seeming pleasant.
"Can I escort you somewhere Lady?" He inquired. Lizaveta looked at him, trying to get her bearings on him. He was a Warlord, a Hayllian, and wore the Purple Dusk. She could try to brush against him, to see if anything darker sang back to her, but knew that if he was hostile, that could evoke something deadlier.
"My escort is actually on his way here." She replied, giving him a small smile.
"Then let me wait with you. It would be very rude of me to leave a Lady waiting with no one to keep her safe." He said.
"Thank you." She said and then paused. "I'm Lizaveta Ardelia." The Warlord bowed to her and rose with a wider smile.
"A pleasure to finally meet you Lady Ardelia. I've known your brother for quite some time. My name is Stephan Tremont." At the mention of her brother, Lizaveta relaxed and offered him a genuine smile.
"Do you serve in this court Lord Tremont?" She asked. Stephan laughed and turned down the hall that Lizaveta had come from.
"Not officially. My father is a Warlord in the Seventh Circle." He replied. Another thrill of fear whispered through Lizaveta. A potential Sapphire Warlord with a Black-Jeweled Queen as a wife had the ability to move up within the court. Lizaveta flexed her right hand, trying to give herself some comfort.
Before she had to reply, a clatter came from around the corner, where Stephan was facing.
"It looks like your entourage is here." He quipped. Lizaveta took a few steps toward him and peered around the corner. She smiled as she saw three familiar figures rushing toward her.
"Lizzie." Angeline sighed and twitched her dark, membranous wings. Her twin brother rushed forward and stood between Lizaveta and Stephan, his own wings twitch at his sides as he tried to keep them tucked in.
"Warlord." The Eyrien male seethed. Stephan just smiled and bowed politely.
"Prince Yaslana. I'm glad to see Lady Ardelia going into such capable hands." He retorted. The Eyrien snarled and Lizaveta put a hand on his shoulder.
"Calm down Andulvar. This is Stephan Tremont. He was just keeping me company." She hissed. Stephan kept his blithe smile and watched Andulvar wrestle with his temper. He was a Warlord Prince and had been riding the Killing Edge since yesterday, it was a tough thing to accomplish.
"I shall take my leave. I hope to see you again Lady Ardelia." Stephan said and bowed. Lizaveta smiled and waved.
"Thank you Lord Tremont." She said as he walked off. As soon as he was out of sight, Andulvar pounced on her.
"Why didn't you call out for help earlier? You shouldn't be alone, especially not now." He snarled. Lizaveta bristled, she didn't need anyone, especially not Andulvar Saetan Yaslana, to remind her that it was her moon's blood.
"Even without Craft, I can handle myself Andulvar." She spat.
"Against a Warlord on the edge after one whiff of you? I doubt it." He retorted. It was a well kept secret that Lizaveta was a Black Widow, a secret weapon during these times, and Andulvar knew about it, yet still dismissed it.
"Isn't this what you've been training me for? Besides, I have a darker Jewel." Lizaveta snapped.
"I train you to defend yourself against a lighter Jeweled Prince at times like this, not a Green Jeweled Warlord when you're at your most vulnerable." Andulvar took a step toward her, his wings outstretched and looking menacing.
"Snarly male." Lizaveta hissed.
"Stubborn she-witch." Andulvar roared. They both silenced then, glaring at each other, when Angeline and Luther started to laugh.
"You both are hilarious." Angeline said. Luther managed to regain his composure and pulled his sister in for a hug.
"Can we go back to gardens? Meredith and Andria are waiting for us." He asked. Lizaveta sighed and nodded her ascent.
"Let's go." She muttered.
Stephan felt his blood pulsing still as he made it back to his quarters. The Seventh Circle part of the housing wings wasn't as grand as the First Circle but still held the grandeur of a larger castle. They were comfortable and lush, a warming place rather than one of prestige and wealth. He hated it.
When he had been walking through the halls, he had been surprised to smell the psychic scent of a Queen on her moon's blood, and a distressed one at that. It had pushed his inner self to the Killing Edge by the time he turned the corner and found the fragile woman standing alone in the hall. And when she had turned, turning her piercing green eyes on him, he had almost reacted. He had wanted her, to feel her under his fingers, to touch her and protect her, the need to serve rushing up from his very depths. But at her fear, Stephan had kept his distance, but he had to have her.
Everyone had heard of Lizaveta Ardelia from Dena Nehele. Even if he hadn't shared a few professors with her older brother, he still would have learned of her. The Black Jeweled Queen that was as much of a threat to her own family as she was to the Queen of Terreille. How convenient would it be then, for Lizaveta to marry a minor Warlord's son, a way to keep her in check and to add her influence to Terreille? And how easy it would be for a dark Jeweled couple to overturn the Sapphire Queen and finally cow the insubordinate territory of Dena Nehele.
He had to have her.
4/ Dhemlan
Jaenelle looked about the room, puzzled by the mark left there. Rhys' scent was imprinted on the room, as he had been a border there for the past few months, despite his flat within the city. However, a more temporary scent was left hanging in the room, one that matched the minor destruction. Anger was apart of the overturned bed, the deep scratches in the walls, and the basic disarray of the desk. The only thing that held the semblance of balance and peace was a small wooden frame that hung a tangled web. Jaenelle picked her way over the debris and fallen books, stepping carefully into the bare spots on the floor. She air walked where she couldn't find footing and finally made it to the desk.
Picking up the wooden frame, Jaenelle smiled at the craftsmanship of the web. Rhys was not a natural Black Widow but had been taught by the best, and had countless millennia for practice and could spin a web as good as a seasoned Black Widow. However, the message was spelled out in threads more suited to the Kindred, speaking in animalistic words and ideas. Danger, lust, and greed rippled through the web while a few webs shone with love and the desire to serve. The male was both tainted and light in the web while the female was a changing variable. Something was going to happen that could end badly, and it was going to happen soon. With her experience with the kindred and the three thousand years she's had in idle practice, Jaenelle tried to look deeper into the web. She found out when and where, and that this was Rhys' business, but not why he had left the room in such a manner, or how they would get about fixing the scenario.
With a sigh, Jaenelle put the frame back on the desk and walked back to the door. She was going to have to find Daemon.
Daemon looked up as he heard his study door open and close, looking into the eyes of his beloved wife. He set down his pen and vanished his papers, giving her his full attention.
"What can I do for you love?" He asked. Jaenelle didn't reply but instead walked forward and sat in the chair opposite him.
"Winsol is coming up." She stated blandly. Daemon raised an eyebrow and steepled his fingers together.
"Yes." He said, trying to gain more information.
"I was thinking we could go to Hayll this year. For a proper Winsol celebration." Jaenelle said. Daemon winced but kept his composure. No matter how much time passed, Daemon hated going into Terreille, unable to forget the horrible past he had there.
"Is there something going on there?" Daemon asked, trying to think of another reason why Jaenelle would want a different venue for this year's celebration.
"Yes." She replied honestly, but offered up no other information. Daemon nodded and laid his hands on the table.
"Who do you want to bring?" He questioned. Jaenelle smiled and leaned forward to rest her hands on his.
"Lucivar and Marion of course. Saetan, if he wishes. And Rhys." She listed. Daemon smiled.
"And Rhys." He repeated. Jaenelle smiled back as she stood, her hands lingering on his for a second before she pulled them away.
"Thank you Daemon." She said.
"Of course Jaenelle. But tell me, couldn't we allow Gwen to handle this?" Daemon asked. Jaenelle's smile flickered and Daemon saw the conflict in her eyes.
"No, Gwen wouldn't know until it was too late." She said calmly. Daemon nodded again and called in his papers.
"I'll write to her. When would you like to leave?" He questioned.
"As soon as possible." Witch answered and then left the study, leaving only a slight chill in her wake. Daemon sighed and found a clean sheet of paper, thinking of how to word his letter.
Rhys paced the meadow, snarling as he thought back on the web he had weaved. After finally meeting Daemon, the man he knew would lead him to his Dream, he had wanted to weave a web to see where his Dream stood, but he had been scared. But when he finally did, he found terror there. His Dream was in Hayll, and she was in danger. By the end of Winsol, she could be dead, or wishing that she was.
But how could he get into the castle during Winsol?
As a presence walked closer to him, Rhys turned, turning his hands into razor sharp claws. When he saw that it was the Lady, he relaxed, letting the blades slide back into his skin.
"Hello Rhys." Jaenelle called. Rhys bowed, trying to clear the strain and frustration from his face.
"Hello Jaenelle." He replied. As she walked closer to him, the strands of her golden hair not tied back were swaying in the wind.
"We're going to be leaving in a few days." Jaenelle said as she stood next to him.
"Where are you going?" He questioned, his panic rising in his voice. Jaenelle smiled warmly at him and looked off to the horizon.
"We're going to Hayll, all of us." She said. Relief washed over Rhys and he almost cried out at the feeling.
"You saw the web?" He asked.
"I did." Her tone changed, becoming darker, and colder. Rhys shivered as he saw Witch for the first time.
"Can we save her?" He asked. Jaenelle's demeanor changed, Witch melting back past her inner barriers.
"I hope so." She whispered.