Chapter Three: Hidden in Sight
Mira kept her eyes lowered as the fae of Amarantha's court were summoned in the grand chamber, as they had been every day for the past month.
With the end of Tamil's bargain nearing and still he continued to defy her, the would-be queen had taken her displeasure out on those who continued to be trapped under the mountain. The cruelty of Amarantha was not new, but the frequency was. Fae, both young and old, were beat within a breath of their immortal life and then expected to stand with no assistance the next evening.
Thesan's warning to be as invisible, as one could under the mountain, was heeded by both daughters as they had managed to escape Amarantha's rage during her recent events. Standing side-by-side the twins wore robes of the deepest red, only the smallest golden trim visible on their sleeves, to mark their court. Praying, the deep red will blend into the black shades of the common fae, gray of the servants, and the blood that stained the evenings victims. Everything was done with intention and the only intention was to stay alive.
Tonight, Amarantha seemed to be in a special mood. The simmering rage could not be seen on her face, but the emotion was so overwhelming that the stench of it took up the whole chamber. The scent, only being lessened by the fear coming from the line of fae males that were on their knees before the dais and their queen.
"My most loyal subjects." Amarantha's voice cut through the otherwise silent chamber. The lilting edge of mockery coating her sugary sweet words, further accented by the sharp staccato of her heels on the stone floor.
Mira found her eyes raising, ever so slightly, to view the spectacle before her. Curiosity, that only a young fae could exhibit in such a tenacious situation, causing her gaze to quietly wander from the red witch to the males. All the males were wearing the same shade of ice blue, each of their coats lined with the pure white of the Winter court. It was no secret that Winter continued to rebel. Even after the disasters that befell courts that resisted before, Winter refused to submit to the false queen. Mira admired their continued opposition, and wished that she could have the strength to oppose the witch that destroyed so many lives. Instead, she stood slightly behind her father. With her wings tucked in tight, Mira took up as little space as she could.
Standing in the chamber of the only court she had ever known, she felt as she stood: little. Insignificant, unnoticed, and unimportant. To her dismay, she was content to be all of these things. So long as Amarantha's onyx gaze remained fixed on the male with white hair, and those like him, instead of her.
Amarantha continued to pace before the males, her long pause between addressing the room of fae only causing tensions to grow. When the steady cadence of heels on stone ceased, the whole room seemed to be waiting for a whip to fall onto their shoulders. If there was one thing that the fae below the mountain had learned, it was that a silent Amarantha was exponentially worse than a maniacal – grotesquely gleeful- Amarantha.
The silence was deafening.
Amarantha's head snapped towards the direction that the high lords and other notable fae stood, Mira and her family included. Even with her eyes lowered, she unconsciously shifted further behind the shoulder of her father.
"It seems," Amarantha began as she strode towards the notable members of her court, "that my court still seems to be a mockery to some." Her skeletal arm pointed back to the males on the floor as she continued to approach the high fae. "Some," she sneered "seem to think that my rules, my rule, means nothing."
Mira lowered her eyes to the floor as the witch queen stood before the group of fae around her. Too close. Her mind screamed at her. We are too close. With the slightest shuffle, Mira moved back further into the crowd and away from the red witch. Sensing the unconscious movement, Aurora silently reached her fingers towards her twin, brushing against her in warning. Mira did not raise her eyes to meet her sister's gaze, but understood from the slightest movement that she needed to calm down. Mira needed to control her body and their reactions, otherwise Amarantha's wrath would be directed towards them.
Amarantha stopped right before the High Lord of the Winter Court. Mira's gaze still on the stone floor could see her blood red heels only a few paces away, before the gleaming white boots that could only belong to the High Lord where all the male before the dais reigned.
"Tell me Kallias, how much blood needs to be spilt on these stones before your court acknowledges my reign?"
The question seemed to pull the air out of the lungs of the Winter court members. Perhaps it wasn't the question, but Amarantha's magic, for out of her peripheral Mira watched the Winter males before the throne collapse to the ground with gasping breaths.
"How much blood until you acknowledge my RULE!" Amarantha's quiet seething turned to the screeching indignation of a youngling that did not get it's way. It took all of Mira's resolve to keep staring at the red stone floor and not take a glimpse of the High Lord of Winter's face at the exclamation.
"You are no Queen, Witch."
In many instances, the sentence would have been punctuated by Amarantha's whip. However, instead of creating a new scar on the High Lord of Winter, she laughed. The maniacal sound was jarring in its mirth. Like the swelling of the water that Mira had watched be poured into the pit to drown the Summer males for entertainment, the sound echoed through the chamber and foreshadowed doom.
"Well, my most loyal subjects," Amarantha sardonically stated, the sneer on her face making itself known through her tone. "As I said before, my most loyal subjects…seem to come from the lesser fae, today. It seems that the High Lords and High Fae of your courts need a reminder that under MY mountain, you are as disposable as the half breed filth that mar so many our courts."
Mira felt the claws on her face, raising her chin and forcing her eyes on the red witch that stood right before her. She could see the tense shoulders of her father, as Amarantha reached over his shrouding stance to touch the young fae just behind him.
"Even if they can be," she hesitated as her eyes raked over Mira's figure and a smirk painted her blood red lips. "pleasing. High born fae are expected to follow the same rules as all the other members while in my court." Amarantha's firm grip pushed away from Mira, causing her face to harshly turn to the side. "It is for these reasons," Amarantha pointed to each of the five males still knelt before her throne before returning her pointed claw to Kallias. "That the High Lords and their courts will be at my service in a more intimate setting."
The high fae around Mira did their best not to react, but Mira knew that many around her were wary of what an 'intimate setting' with the witch might entail. Mira's eyes briefly glanced at the high lord that was most familiar with the term. Rhysand's eyes, however, were already on Mira. Blue clashed with purple and the innermost part of Mira, that her father constantly told her to shove down and hide, reared its ugly head when looking at him. That inner voice seemed to scream at him. 'Some don't have to worry about the consequences either way, because they enjoy it.' Mira knew it was an ugly thought, but she also could not stand to look at the high lord that would so willingly lie with the red witch, that would so willingly give himself to the devil, that would so willingly sit with a smirk as the skin was ripped from the flesh of his kin and smirk. From where Mira stood she swore she could see the faintest smirk playing on his lips, even now.
"We would be honored to serve our Queen, in whatever way she demands."
Mira's gaze was pulled away from the High Lord of the Night by the robust timber of the High Lord of Autumn. The High Lord towered over his stance next to the red witch, who had turned to be closer to the fire-haired court. Her caustic appearance was complemented by the equally callous presence of the Autumn court High Lord. Slightly slender, as they all were under the mountain, Beron Vanserra's face held a gaunt tone that exuded the dangerous power that seemed to thrive in dark corners under the mountain. The darkness contrasted by the living fire, that Mira was told he could wield, that roared in the depths of his brown eyes. His strength in presence, however great, crumbled when compared to the might of the red witch. For all the horrible stories she heard from fae about the Vanserra legacy and Autumn court, they still feared the might of Amarantha. Beron's submissive response might as well have been punctuated by him kneeling on the floor to lick the blood off the witch's shoes. It was obvious to all the high fae that he would do whatever it took to keep his place of power, even as little as it currently was, under the mountain.
"Always a pleasure to work with the Autumn court, some of my most loyal patrons," Amarantha cooed, before her black clawed hands struck out. Before Mira could advert her gaze from the Autumn court, Beron's third son -Augustus if she recalled correctly- was on his knees clutching at the three bloody claw marks that marred his left cheek. Mira winced at the wound, before quickly schooling her features. Amarantha clicked her tongue as she slowly wiped her nails against the deep velvet fabric of her dress.
"Shame, now this one will probably scar quite similar to the other son that I had the displeasure of an early acquaintance." Amarantha scowled at the fire-haired fae male that silently clutched his cheek on the ground. "Least you will get to keep your eye."
She turned her attention back to the group that she had previously been standing by. Making her way, once again, closer to Mira and her family. This time, Mira felt Aurora begin to make the most minuet movements away from the witch, and found herself giving the same reassurance that was once given to her. A gently brush of finger tips. The only way that one could communicate, to let the other know that you were there.
"I don't need the Autumn court to declare their support," Amarantha began. It seemed that the sound of heels on stone would be drilled into the minds of all fae present, as she continued to subject the room to her theatrics and leave them in anxious anticipation of her punishment for the day. "Nor that of the Night or Day court." Her eyes flickered amongst the notable High Lords that stood before her in silence. "No," she stated with a sigh. "I need assurance that all courts are going to be complicit to my reign."
She stopped abruptly before Thesan. Mira tensed as the soulless gaze fell upon her father. Amarantha's red lips curled in grin, that while normal on any other fae looked vicious on her.
"I need the High Lords to know that I have been merciful." Mira tried to calm her heartbeat as Amarantha locked eyes on her from over her father's shoulders. "And know that what I have given…I can also take away," she hissed.
As soon as she had uttered the threat, Mira felt herself being pushed forward by the leathery clawed creature that often accompanies the red witch. Mira was unable to help herself as she fell to the floor before the red witch. She morbidly wondered if she would be the first of the fae to meet whatever fate Amarantha had for the high fae gathered. If her dark hair and golden skin would be laid in a pile of blood next to the five Winter court males who still cowered on the ground, awaiting their judgment.
"No, please!"
Mira wanted to scream at her sister, as she heard her pleas. They both knew that Amarantha's attention was limited. As long as she was focused on one fae, you were not in her line of vision. By calling out, Aurora had widened her scope from one fae to two.
"I want them both," Amarantha ordered the Attor as he pushed Aurora to join Mira on the stone floor of the chamber.
"You cannot take them! They are the heirs to a High Lord!"
Mira looked at her father, trapped between the desiccated hands of Amarantha's beast, struggling to get to his daughters. Only moments ago they had been under his shroud of protection, now both twins were lying on the floor next to males who were known traitors.
"I gave them to you!" Amarantha declared with a snarl as she looked upon the normally passive High Lord of the Dawn Court. "I was merciful in letting you keep the half-breed whelps all these years. Now, I am collecting them in the name of keeping your High Lords at rest!" Amarantha's fierce gaze turned to the other high lords. "I am the Queen. You are here to serve me!" Her black eyes snapped to Mira and Aurora, before she pointed at them, and returned her gaze to the other lords. "Starting with the heiresses of Dawn. They have been sheltered within my court, by all of you. No more!"
Amarantha stormed over to the two heirs, picking both up off the floor by their dark hair threaded with gold. Mira felt her eyes water at the sensation but refused to release the cry that rose in her throat.
"I brought heirs to life, and yet you still seek to belittle my claim." Aurora was thrown back to the floor as Amarantha locked her other hand around Mira's throat. Her black claws, still covered in the Autumn heir's blood, stroked down her throat in a sensual manner as she continued to tighten her grip. "I only need one heir to keep the magic from your blood lines under my control. All of the High Lords would do well to remember that."
Mira held her breath, looked to her father that continued to struggle in the grip of the Attor, and felt herself succumbing to the fact that these would be her last moments. Amarantha needed but one heir, she had already been "merciful" in letting them live these cursed forty-six years under the mountain.
"Surely you would not waste such a pretty face on becoming simple wall décor for the dais, my queen."
Mira subtly took in a deep breath, as Amarantha's grip lessened due to the seductive timber that broke the silence. Mira stayed silent as Rhysand approached, his right hand coming to rest on top of the one that Amarantha placed against her throat. For a moment, Mira thought he would rip the witch's hand from her skin. Instead, Mira felt herself grow furious when the tanned skin covered in dark tendrils began to caress the witch's grip against her throat. If Mira could show her rage, she would spit on the High Lord for practically petting the witch's hand as she tried to kill her. Since she could not, her face remained as emotionless as she could manage, excluding the tears that had welled up against her consent.
"I mean look at the female," Rhysand cooed as he used his other hand to gently direct Amarantha's gaze down to the watery blue eyes below them. "She gives me so many intriguing ideas from this position, wouldn't you agree."
Mira tried to keep all of the disgust off of her face, but it must have been evident by the wicked gleam in Amarantha's eyes. She watched as the black orbs flickered to the High Lord before returning to her. Those black claws raising from her throat, Rhysand retreating -but only slightly- to allow for the movement, before scratching her bottom lip. Mira resisted the temptation to turn her head to the side, knowing it would only make things worse.
"She does look quite susceptible from here, Rhysand." Amarantha cocked her head slightly to the side as if observing something that intrigued her. Mira felt her heartrate increase, praying to all the gods that had ever been and would ever be that the queen would just kill her instead of what was being alluded to. Mira saw the darkest glint go over Rhysand's eyes, the purple seeming to glaze over for the briefest moment, before returning his full attention to his queen.
"You can't! They are pure for marriage! You made it a requirement for heirs born under your…guidance… to ensure your court abided by your rules," Thesan strained against the Attor as he tried to get to his daughters, once again. He was pleading with the Queen. Something Mira had never seen her father do. Something Mira never thought her father would do. "They are heirs, and meant to be married for court relationships. They will never be married if they are…" Thesan trailed off as his pleading gaze flickered from Rhysand to Amarantha.
"I made the rules, I can break them," Amarantha stated offhandedly as she waved away Thesan's concerns.
"I, for once, agree with Thesan. The half-breeds already hold little value, but they are worthless if they become whores."
Mira never thought that she would be so pleased to hear the sexist and elitist remark come from Beron Vanserra's mouth as she was in this moment.
"You already have a High Lord, let the heirs continue to be pure for the sake of court relations," Tarquin agreed.
"The girls do not need to be used as whores. Simply whip them if Dawn needs some sort of punishment, and then let them return to their court as maidens. That way they may be worth something, one day," Kallias crudely agreed.
Amarantha's grip on Mira's throat returned at the comments.
"What part of stop sheltering the half-breeds did none of you understand?!" Her nails broke skin as she began to push her spindly fingers deeper and deeper into the tanned flesh of Mira's throat. Mira could not control her body as she let out a startled rasp from the sudden pressure. Her hands involuntarily lifted to try and pry the fingers from her throat, desperate for relief. Whether the relief was air or a swift death, Mira did not know.
"If I want to strip the half-breed whore down to nothing, lay her on the floor, and let all the beasts of the mountain fuck her until the sanctified cunt that you high lords glorify is ruined and then let the Attor rip her skin from her bones, then I will!" Amarantha punctuated her statement by using her nails to cut the deep red dress' straps from her body, letting the gown quickly fall to the floor, before throwing her back onto the stone.
Mira took in deep breaths, as she tried to maintain some semblance of modesty by clutching the ruined gown to her exposed chest. Her reprieve from Amarantha's grasp was only for a moment, before one of the red heels that had been echoing throughout the chamber all morning found their way to the center of her back, causing her tucked wings to be pierced. Mira could not hold back her scream as the stiletto drove through the downy-white feathers and membrane with a sickening squelch. Already laid on the floor, the pressure of the heel caused her arms to be trapped against her body, in a manner that was so painful Amarantha might as well have broken them just as she did the straps on her dress. She could not breath without jostling the heel that was lodged in her wings, each small intake of breath causing pain to travel from her back throughout her body like a jolt of electricity.
"Your assertiveness over the half-breed, really is enthralling."
Mira could not see him, but she knew from the scent that the Nigh Court High Lord stood near the witch above her. She could hear the sounds of clothes moving, felt the pain through her body as the witch removed her foot, and hear the disgustingly wet kiss that she knew was happening. Still, she lie on the floor and did not move.
"My Queen," Mira heard muttered as the High Lord released a guttural growl that echoed throughout the chamber. "Let me serve you, as all of your subservient subjects should."
The sounds from just above Mira, as she lay bleeding and in pain, from the High Lord and the witch would haunt Mira until the next chamber.
"Fine," Amarantha cooed. "My order still stands, all High Lords, heirs, and court members will report to small council starting tomorrow when the bells chime two…Including the half-breed whores."
Amarantha began to walk from the prone body of Mira, the heavy footsteps of the Night Lord following, before they abruptly stopped. Amarantha snapped her fingers, as if suddenly remembering something. "Oh, and kill the Winter court males."
As Mira continued to lay on the ground the sound of Amarantha's beasts cackling and screams filled the air. The courts pushed against the barrier that the beasts had hastily made at the recent command, with the Attor coming forward from the fray to Winter court males near the throne.
"Mira! Aurora!"
Through the tired daze that her body began to succumb to , whether it be from adrenaline or blood loss, Mira could just make out her father shouting to her over the fray. She pushed herself up on shaking arms, before she felt herself lifted by slender fingers. Looking over her shoulder, Mira met the eyes of Aurora who had – unknowingly- been on the floor beside her for some time. Without a word, Aurora pulled Mira to her feet and pushed her way through the crowd to her father.
Mira let out a quiet hiss as the beasts and fae bumped into her bloody wings. She could not push through the crowd, as one hand was secured around her sister's neck and the other holding onto the tattered remains of her dress. With every push, she felt the hot sticky substance leaving her body, as well as the last bit of her patience. She felt as if the last bit of her innocence was taken away, and before all of the high lords and ladies of the courts that she had never had the chance to see. Embarrassed, and furious, Mira found her strength in her anger to help Aurora shoulder her way out of the crowd.
"Careful, princess," She heard a voice sneer as the duo continued to push against the riot that was happening to get to the Winter court males.
Mira's eyes flickered over in time to see a flash of fire-touched hair and tan skin before Aurora pulled her between two fae and out of the fray. In a blink, Thesan had Mira in his arms. The embrace quickly turned to support as he placed one hand beneath her knees and the other behind her back and began to carry her from the crowd that was only getting louder.
Mira let her eyes travel over her father's shoulder as he fled from the chamber. The Attor stood on the dais, his fangs dripping with saliva as his large face was split in half with a mangled smile. His hands were raised high above his head, as he let out a rippling laugh that grated on her ears and caused goosebumps to raise on her flesh. Within the weathered gray skin of his hands, Mira could see the pale white hair of the Winter court male. His icy blue eyes piercing, from across the room. Mouth opened wide in a silent scream or final prayer. Attached to no body, and bleeding onto the already blood red floor.