Rhys
Rhys
Leaning against the wall, seeming calmer than he actually was, Rhys watched as a worried Jaenelle escorted a wilting Lizaveta from the hall. As she had passed by him, he had caught a faint scent from her, recognizing it as he had that light caress from a week prior, something very familiar but one he couldn't remember how it was familiar. In his mind, there were flashes of paws pressing flowers in a small hole dug into the earth, of rings forged from magic alone, their clumsy limbs unable to do that simple task. Rings of varying sizes, what might have been their only chance at survival.
Flashes of betrayal.
Rhys squeezed his eyes shut to try and push those flashes from his mind, and when he opened them, found a figure standing beside him.
"You seem to be taking this well." The silky voice said. Rhys snorted but didn't turn to look at Daemon.
"I did not think it appropriate to follow the Lady, as it seems I am unwelcome in her presence." He retorted, making no attempt to hide the caustic bitterness he felt about that.
"You recognized the spell that she's wrapped in. And don't play coy, both Jaenelle and I can taste the damn thing, it's so thick. You did too and I saw that look." Daemon stated. Rhys pushed himself away from the wall and stretched his arms over his head, feeling the pop in his shoulders as he spread his fingers out, letting his claws slide out a little.
"I recognized it, but I do not know what it is or from where. Nor does it taste malevolent." He replied, letting his arms drop. Daemon snarled and turned on him.
"Not malevolent? The girl looks like she's had the fever for months! And it's my duty to make sure that nothing harms her." He hissed, moving closer to Rhys and letting the heat of his raw anger roll forward. Rhys only looked back at him, his silver eyes cold.
"That is not my duty as well? You may be her Uncle through whatever line, but I am her rightful Consort. I love her with every drop of blood in my body and I would gladly spill it for her. Even if this turns out to be some harmless love game you morally stunted Blood play, I will rip the limbs off of whatever creature has done this to her and claw out his entrails. Never accuse me of trying to harm my Lady." He said calmly, despite the words that came from his lips. A chill battled with Daemon's heat but quickly overtook it, pushing roughly against Daemon's body. When he was finished, Rhys turned and walked out of the hall, the deep chill following him and frosting the glass in the windows on the wall. Daemon relaxes as he looked at the frosted glass, knowing exactly what was happening to Rhys at this moment.
"Do you think he did anything?" Daemonar asked as he approached, his wings twitching more from confusion than anything else.
"No. I believe he is more like me than I thought, just like Jaenelle said he was." Daemon answered.
Walking down the hall, Rhys had to try and still his heart beat, feeling it try to tear itself out of his chest was setting him more on edge. There were a few bodies in the halls as Rhys kept walking, most of them were preoccupied with one another while the others were just servants, wishing they could be at the ball or cursing their masters for whatever infraction. Finally, Rhys made it to the hall where his room, knew this was where Jaenelle would have taken Lizaveta, where all her healing things were.
Pushing open the door, Rhys was alarmed to see that the two women hadn't even made it to a bedroom. Instead Jaenelle had laid the exhausted form of his Lady on a lounge, and was kneeling on the floor next to her talking to an impressive wolf Kindred.
"I need you to go research this please." Jaenelle said. The wolf huffed and turned to walk toward Jaenelle's room. It got past the door and disappeared, just as Jaenelle turned her attention to Rhys.
"What is wrong with her?" Rhys asked as he walked to the lounge and knelt in front of Jaenelle.
"I don't know. Kaeli said she recognized the scent and would go seek it out. But I don't even know what this spell is doing. I don't think it has anything to do with Blood magic though." Jaenelle sighed and stroked Lizaveta's bare arm.
"Daemon thought I had something to do with this." Rhys stated. Jaenelle looked at him, her eyes at once going flat and deep.
"Did you?" She questioned.
"No." He answered. Jaenelle nodded, her eyes going back to normal, and turned to Lizaveta.
"I can understand his suspicions though. You did say your people had access to an older magic than the ones the Blood have." She replied. Rhys sighed and leaned against the edge of the lounge at Lizaveta's feet, trying not to touch her.
"I know, but it still hurt me." Rhys paused and looked toward the open door of Jaenelle's bedroom. "Who is Kaeli?"
"She's an Opal Healer, sister to the Queen of the closest pack. She's very nice." Jaenelle answered and stood, stretching her legs after kneeling for so long.
"Will she be able to help?" Rhys asked. Jaenelle stretched, putting her hands on her lower back and leaning backward.
"I don't know. There's something undermining Lizaveta's psychic shields and something else blocking her Black Jewel from being able to react. She's very susceptible to a psychic attack now and there's nothing I, or Kaeli, can do." Jaenelle replied, her voice hitching a little at the end. Rhys stood and went to her, folding Jaenelle's body gently next to his own. He held her while Jaenelle cried, stroking her hair while pulling out the silly ties. There was a moment, while he brushed his hand through her hair, that a piece of the fragile obsidian snagged and snapped in half, slicing him down the length of his palm. He pulled his hand away from Jaenelle's head and watched the blood well up from the cut and Rhys felt a tug inside of him.
The sharp smell of blood, hot metal next to a roaring fire, the cool earth in its shadow, smoothed rocks in a neat circle, there was a deeper magic that his kind held onto, and the memory of it lingered in his blood. Rhys clenched his hand, stopping the light blood flow, as Jaenelle pulled away from him and looked curiously at his fist.
"Do you recognize the spell?" A voice not quite Jaenelle's asked.
"Yes." Rhys replied honestly. Witch nodded and looked at Lizaveta.
"Something your people can do?"
"Yes."
"Do you know what it is?"
"No, but it was something they have tried to do in the past. Something that did not work for some reason."
"You don't remember?"
"No."
"Did you do this Rhys?"
"No."
"Are there any more of your kind?"
"I do not know that answer. There may be some who survived the madness."
"Or succumbed to it."
"Yes." Witch nodded and looked back at Rhys, who didn't flinch.
"I would like to weave a web, but I will need some of your blood." She said and gently reached out and took Rhys' wounded hand into hers. Gingerly, Witch lifted back his fingers and examined the slice. The shallow wound had already scabbed closed so Witch looked around for something to reopen it with.
"Allow me my Lady." Rhys said and raised his free hand. With a claw, Rhys dug in and not only reopened the wound, but made it deeper. Blood flowed freely from the cut and Witch made a simple white shield to collect it as it pooled over the edges of Rhys' hand. Witch then called in a small bottle and, as the blood collected, opened it and smeared some of the ointment onto the freely bleeding cut. The blood mixed with the ointment, turning it a gritty pink, and the bleeding stopped. Witch the closed the bottle, vanished it, and then turned her attention to the shield.
About a cup of blood had been collected and Witch nodded approvingly. She used Craft to fold the edges up and onto itself, creating a sealed pocket so the blood would not fall out. As it hung there, Witch relaxed and Jaenelle examined Rhys' hand.
"The blood has natural healing abilities so this is the only ointment that can be used on a wound that hasn't been cleaned, since it has its own sterilizers to take care of infection." Jaenelle explained as she called in a small healer's kit and found a roll of bandage gauze. Rhys didn't particularly care, so as Jaenelle worked, he stared down at Lizaveta.
"Don't worry Rhys," Jaenelle said as she turned and walked to her bedroom. "We'll make sure she's safe." Rhys stayed silent as Jaenelle entered her bedroom and closed the door behind her with a soft click. Rhys then turned and looked down at Lizaveta's sleeping form. Her skin was almost alabaster and her blonde lashes curled delicately against her face. Her siblings both had a darker coloring, but Lizaveta seemed almost translucent. He knew, however, that her eyes were a stronger color of gray, with an almost blue tint, like metal. If she had been born with a lighter Jewel, she could have made a capable Gray Lady.
And she wouldn't be used as a pawn.
Sighing, Rhys leaned his head against Lizaveta's leg, wondering when she would wake up. He had missed her for the past weeks, and being so close to her, with her not saying anything, was maddening.
"Please be okay." Rhys whispered. But that familiar feeling, that light touch against his inner walls, merely curled up and sat, waiting for an inevitable conclusion Rhys couldn't remember.
Stephan
Stephan leaned against the back of his armchair and stared at the wineglass in his raised hand. He was subtly ignoring the woman standing across from him, arms hidden under her heavy cloak.
"I thank you for your gifts Priestess, they were quiet helpful." He finally said and took a sip from his glass.
"There are ways for it to become undone. You must take care, especially with the Traitor. He has the ability to break the charms." The Priestess rasped.
"Can't you just take care of him?" Stephan sighed dismissively. The Priestess made a sound that would have been a snarl but came out gargled.
"Although he is a Traitor, he still has his connections to the Old Way and he has his Jewels still. I would not be able to destroy him, or else I would have." She retorted. This was obviously a subject that bothered her, Stephan noted this and tucked it away for later use.
"So what happens now?" Stephan asked. The Priestess turned away from him, but pushed back her hood. Her hair was graying, a trait that seemed almost impossible if she came from the same bloodline and time as the man she labeled the Traitor.
"The ring has compromised her psychic shields and the longer she wears it, the more permanent the tangled webs in her psyche will get. The powder will put a cap on her Jewels, and if she takes all of it, she will never be able to reach her full potential again.
"What we do now, is weave a spell to submit her will. Right now, she may be a little confused but she still can form her own opinions. We have to poison her mind so that she will willingly submit to you." The Priestess explained. Stephan felt his pulse leap toward the end but quickly veiled his reaction by taking a sip of wine.
"That sounds a little dangerous, as Jaenelle and her Consort are well versed in poisons. Or were you talking about a spell?" He questioned. The Priestess sighed and touched a hand to her cheek before turning, her silver eyes looking thoughtful.
"Unfortunately, a spell would take too long and we need something quick and efficient before either the witch or the Traitor notices what is going on." The Priestess replied.
"I take it you have this poison?" Stephan prompted. The Priestess grinned wildly and reached into the recess of her cloak and pulled out a small, clear vial, holding a sinister green liquid.
"Here." She said and handed the vial to him. Stephan took it, looking at it warily.
"How will I get her to drink this?" He inquired. The Priestess kept grinning, though it took on a much more subtly vicious look.
"I do not know Warlord, but you must do it covertly or else it, and the happenings tonight, may be linked to you." She answered and walked toward the door. Stephan even watched her this time, but as she got closer to the heavy, oaken door, she simply vanished, as if Stephan had blinked. Instead of getting up for the hundredth time and trying to probe the area she always seemed to disappear at, Stephan sighed and set the glass of wine down to give his attention to the small vial. There were plenty of ways to do it, to get the unsuspecting woman to drink the poison. He could go to her and say it was a healing potion he had garnish from an older woman at court, although after the ball, either Daemon or Jaenelle would want to probe it.
He could get a servant to do it, but again, there was the chance of Daemon and Jaenelle checking it. He could use a trusted servant, but the servant could easily turn on him and report him to his masters. And if he tried to kill the servant, they would be even more cautious.
There was another way. But it was incredibly risky. Although, once he had the power that came with a witch's consent, he would be set for life, even after her short lifespan was over.
Andulvar
Pacing with tears in his eyes, Andulvar tried not to lash out at the stone statues in the garden next to the SaDiablo quarters. When his father had told him that Lizaveta had been spelled, Andulvar had immediately thought of Stephan. Neither he nor Luther really liked the Warlord, finding something inherently greasy about him. Only Lizaveta, with her Black Jewel, had believed he was better than he seemed. Only she tried to find some goodness in the cretin and now look what had happened.
And he had been too distracted to look after her.
His night with Alyxandria was nice, wonderful even. He saw her for the first time, not as the little girl he had grown up with, but as a woman he wanted to serve. Ever since childhood, it was assumed that Andulvar, being closer in age to Lizaveta, would serve in her court, if she ever had one. But there was a sweetness to Alyxandria that Lizaveta didn't, not that she was an unkind person, Alyxandria was just different.
And now he wasn't focusing again.
"AHH!" Andulvar screamed and called in his practice stick as he swung, bashing it into a statue's face, reducing the stick to an explosion of splinters. Andulvar threw the piece he had actually been holding and tried to keep his breathing even, restricting the unborn, racking sobs that grew in his chest. He had been distracted by everything that was Alyxandria, and Lizaveta, his closest friend, was harmed.
"I don't think she appreciated that." A cool voice spoke out from behind him. Andulvar whirled around, a thrill of fear igniting a cask of anger inside of him. He quickly snuffed the whole thing and bowed gracefully, as his uncle had taught him.
"I apologize, my Lady, for disturbing you and desecrating your statue." Andulvar said evenly and rose. Gwen just smiled at him and looked over his shoulder, contemplating the cracked face of the statue.
"I do think it's an improvement. I never understood why the chose to portray the last queen as a beautiful woman. She always had a look of soured disgust on her face." Gwen replied. Andulvar shifted, not knowing what to say. Daemonar had been able to glean valuable information out of their uncle's lessons, but not Andulvar.
"Jaenelle has told me that you are under some stress. Both your sister and the young Gray Lady are being guilted into staying with Lizaveta in order to give you your peace." Gwen stated. A mixture of emotions tore through Andulvar's visage, and his wings sagged in defeat.
"She got hurt." He murmured, not trusting his voice to stay steady and be any louder.
"Yes, Jaenelle has informed me of the events that befell Lady Ardelia. This upsets me greatly." Gwen said, anger creeping into her voice.
"She wasn't happy here. If she makes it through this, she won't want to stay." Andulvar said, trying to gauge the Queen's motives. Gwen just sighed and rubbed her temple.
"I know. It was difficult for her mother to send her to me. But a loose Black Queen is dangerous. I have the means to keep her as safe as possible. Especially considering," Gwen drifted and Andulvar stiffened.
"You know she's?" He left off the rest of his sentence, still not wanting to betray Lizaveta after failing her once. Gwen merely nodded and Andulvar's throat tightened.
"I knew when she first arrived. It did frighten me a little, as I could be easily dispatched and replaced. It frightened me more when Gregory said that he actually liked her. But, then I got to know her. I would like to see her join my family. You understand, this means I will go to the ends of the earth to find out who did this to her and have him, corrected." Gwen hissed through her teeth. Andulvar relaxed, as much as one could in the presence of an angry Queen.
"I don't know if Rhys would allow Gregory to even get close to Lizaveta ever again." He remarked, trying to seem jovial. To his relief, the Queen smiled and relaxed.
"Yes, I noticed him." Gwen replied, a smile of familiar mischief playing on her lips. Andulvar could only guess what she was thinking.
"I don't know what to do in this situation. Whoever is doing this must think we wouldn't have noticed and I don't think it would be appropriate to have five, dark Jeweled males riding the killing edge for the remainder of you party." Andulvar stated with an unusual amount of honesty. He was never this forthcoming in his failings to his father, and especially not to a highly ranked female outside of his eyrie.
"I think that our culprit is acting within time constraints so, as painful as it may be, I believe we just have to wait. And I think the dark Jeweled males in question will be reminded that in order to keep Lizaveta safe, they should not act rashly." Gwen replied carefully, keeping the threat subtle but no less dangerous. Andulvar bowed and looked back at the entrances that led to the private quarters.
"Well, I think I will go and attend the lady, if it pleases you." Andulvar said and bowed.
"Go on then. I'm sure Jaenelle could use your help." Gwen said and began to walk back the way she came. Andulvar sighed and leaned against the statue he had defaced, thinking over the awkward conversation he had just gone through. The Queen knew that Lizaveta was a Black Widow, and a lot about the dynamics of her court. She was a very formidable Queen and would become a good ally for Lizaveta, if the need ever arose.
"Coming in then?" His father's gruff voice barked. Andulvar turned and smiled broadly.
"Been there for long?" He retorted.