Kings of Deceit - R

[Mollianne]

{name:Jessa#|#picture:47}

Jessa bit her lip in unease. She surveyed the room around them, wondering what was making it rock so. Shutting her eyes tightly, she clasped the bedsheets and let her head roll back onto the headboard. “This does not feel good. Find me something to take my mind off it.”

Rhys stared at her and shrugged his shoulders. “There isn’t anything to do. That’s kind of the point.”

Jessa frowned, trying to work out what he meant but the answer did not come. Frustration bubbled up within her. Sharp pricks of pain on her palms caused her to look down and see the whiteness of her knuckles as she held onto the sheets tighter. Hissing through pursed lips, she released her grip and rubbed her palms absently. By that point, she had forgotten Rhys’s comment.

“What is there to do…” she mused, missing Rhys’s exasperated stare. Jessa looked blankly at the floor and then at her feet, wondering whether they would be able to hold her. They looked remarkably feeble to hold an entire person, though she had never considered it before. She tilted her head as Rhys looked on in bemused amusement.

Carefully, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Rhys made to stand up but she waved him away. She waited for the room to stop spinning and then pushed herself to her feet. Instantly she regretted it and collapsed back onto the bed. “No, that’s not going to work.”

Realising Rhys was about to warn her about the dangers of lying down again, she hurried to sit up. She threw him a pointed glare, but there was no malice behind it. “Look in the armoire drawers. There might be a pack of cards or something.”

“I’m not your slave,” he replied haughtily. Nevertheless, he began the search. Clearly his need for entertainment outweighed his feelings towards being bossed around. Thankfully, Rhys came away from the armoire triumphant.

“Thank goodness,” she exclaimed, swiping the pack from his hand. She patted the spot next to her on the bed. Though Rhys stared at her as if he could not believe it was still Jessa in the room with him, he sat down.

They argued for a little while over what game they could play. Coming from two cities, they had played different games, or differing versions of the same game, all their lives. It was a difficult task. Eventually, Rhys sighed and said sarcastically, “Slapjack?”

Jessa’s face brightened, clearly missing the condescension in his voice. “Yes, let’s.”

Rhys looked up at the ceiling, distressed. It amused Jessa and she smirked at him. “Come on: deal and shuffle…Hmm, shuffle and deal. We don’t have all night.”

With a sardonic glance, Rhys began shuffling the cards painfully slowly. Jessa watched him, her mouth pursing into a thinner and thinner line as he did so, and nearly refused to play altogether when he, very deliberately, dealt the cards into two piles. The moment he had finished, Jessa scooped her pile into her hands and put the first one face up between them. She stared at it as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world, requiring all her attention. Faintly, she heard Rhys snort.

By the time Rhys had begun winning every single hand, Jessa was thoroughly disenchanted with the game and pushed her cards away.

“Why is your sister so horrible?” she asked plainly.

His eyebrows shot up into his hair. Jessa stifled a giggle. “Natural talent. And perhaps a small bit of practice. She aims for perfection, does Anja.”

“Well, she has managed that. She gives me the creeps.”

“She scares everyone. Just make sure it’s only the creeps she gives you. Anja can do far worse.”

“I can well believe that,” Jessa agreed. Her tone was matter-of-fact as she added, oblivious to the fact that she was probably entering dangerous territory, “I’m sure you all can.”

[Rosabeth]

{name:Rhys#|#picture:48}

It was not that Rhys was uncomfortable with the truth but rather that so few people were willing to speak it so bluntly. Those who knew the truth of his family - or were at least well versed in the rumors - did not address the facts until in their last moments of life, shouting out insults. The Marinon's were infamous, this was hardly a secret, but Rhys was fairly certain that Jessa knew only the rumors, despite her accurate observation. It was useless to lie to her at this point. If she was to be a part of the family, however reluctantly, she would discover the truth of the matter soon enough.

"Yes, we are. You have no idea just how capable we are or the things we've done." Rhys watched Jessa's face for reaction and was not disappointed. Her drunken good humor wore off quickly and she could not hide her fear. Rhys sighed, deciding terrorizing Jessa wasn't exactly a great deal of fun. "But besides this I promise you that you'll be safe with me and my mother. I cannot guarantee you that same comfort for the rest of my family."

Jessa watched Rhys's face for a sign of insincerity, and not seeming to find any relaxed slightly, though she still would not let her eyes leave Rhys as if she feared an attack at the slightest notice.

"I'm sick of cards," she declared, trying to detract from her fear. "Tell me about Jasrah."

"What do you want to know?"

Jessa shrugged, crossing her arms. "I don't know, anything. What's it look like? What are the people like?"

Rhys stared off at nothing particular, conjuring familiar images in his head. "It's beautiful, much more so than Ovis, if you don't mind me saying. The whole city lines the coast and the ocean dictates all of life. There are cliffs everywhere, lining the harbors, and there's an openness you don't have here with your heavy trees. The houses are more open and brighter, you'll find that out soon enough. I happen to prefer it myself. And the people...well, I think that's entirely up to interpretation. And -"

"Do you have a university?" Jessa blurted out.

Rhys smiled, putting together the pieces. "Your fingers," he mused, "they were stained when we met. You'd been at the library, hadn't you? I do remember your brother saying something about your studies. Well, to answer your question, yes, we do have a university. It's not quite the same as yours here in Ovis but we have a rather remarkable library with a large collection of texts on the history of Etrene, if you're interested."

Jessa looked pleased with the news but it was clear that she was past the point of conversation. Rhys abandoned his cause to keep her up, realizing she'd fall asleep despite his efforts.

"Just stay on your side, just in case," he pleaded as she slid down under the covers, rolling onto her side.

It was silent then, and Rhys went throughout the room, extinguishing the candles that flickered on their last breath, nearly burned to their holders. He moved silently, attempting to allow her to sleep, knowing her hangover would be fierce enough in the morning. As he moved to steal a pillow from the bed Rhys halted, inhaling sharply in surprise as he saw Jessa staring up at him in contemplation. Slowly, Rhys backed away, moving to his own place on the floor on which to lay. As he stared up at the ceiling, wondering if Jessa too was awake still, consumed with thought, he thought of the future before them and for the first time took to heart the reality that the woman only feet from him was to be bound to him for the rest of his life.

[Mollianne]

{name:Jessa#|#picture:47}

Jessa awoke with the eerie feeling that something was wrong. Since her head felt like a knife had been stabbed repeatedly into it, she kept her eyes closed and clumsily felt around her. The bedclothes were unusually soft and she practically sank into the mattress. This was not her bed. With a start, she shot up to a sitting position. Had she missed the entire trip to Jasrah?

A moment later, she disregarded the idea with a scoff. That was a ridiculous idea. Cracking an eye open to get used to the shooting pains in her forehead, she glanced around. Of course: she was locked in a room with Rhys following their sham marriage. Jessa pressed a hand against her head and fell onto her back, fervently wishing all of this was a dream.

“Feeling pretty bad, huh?” Rhys asked cheerfully, just to spite her. She groaned as his words shattered her blissful illusions.

“Go away.” Today, she did not feel gracious. Today, she hurt all over and wanted to die. Even going to the university felt like a chore. Jessa could not believe it.

“Don’t worry, you didn’t embarrass yourself.”

She could also kill Rhys. That would also solve her problems. How could someone be so perky after all that wine he had consumed? And now he was worrying her over what she may have said or done last night, even though she believed she remembered everything. It might have been a little hazy, though. Jessa threw a pillow over her head. With it muffling her voice, she said sarcastically, “I had not even thought about that. So thank you.”

She removed the pillow just as Rhys went over the check the door. It was still locked. Jessa pushed the sheets that had tangled in her legs off herself and stood. Though she felt shaky on her legs as a rush of vertigo hit her, it felt much easier than the previous night. Still, she steadied herself on the wooden bed frame.

“When does your family intend to go back to Jasrah?” Jessa inquired, shuffling over to the armoire. Despite the fact that the crimson night dress covered her, she hugged her arms about her chest. It was not even that she thought Rhys would look; she did it without thinking. As she opened the heavy wardrobe door, she glanced over her shoulder. Rhys was looking at her in amusement, her question forgotten. “Well?”

“Either tomorrow or the day after. You’ve some time to finalise your affairs, pack suitably, and say your goodbyes. So whenever you're ready.” Rhys went to the bathroom. “I’ll let you change.”

Jessa looked away and did not respond, though she was surprised the Marinons would deign to stay any longer than necessary. She would not quibble; though she had few goodbyes and little personal possessions, her study would take a little time to organise. Before the wedding, she had held onto the slim chance that it might have been a hoax and had started packing up very little. She listed the things she absolutely had to remember as she pulled off the night dress and surveyed the contents of the armoire.

It was disappointing. The gowns were all much too extravagant for her. She glanced back at the discarded wedding dress, lying abandoned in a pile. Grimacing, Jessa turned back and chose the least repellent gown.

She was about to call for Rhys to enter when she heard a key turn in the lock. If her head wasn’t pounding and her limbs feeble, she might even have jumped for joy. Rhys was in the room before she even told him they could leave. Together, they rushed for the door and away from the uncomfortable memories of their night. Jessa left the wedding dress on the floor.

[Rosabeth]

{name:Rhys#|#picture:48}

It was remarkably easy to find Dima after Rhys had made his escape from the confines of the bedroom.

"Up," he ordered, throwing open the door to Dima's suite. His brother groaned, turning over in his bed and burrowing his face into his pillow. "Go away, Rhys."

"Alright, up you go," Rhys urged, coming to Dima's bedside and shaking him by the shoulder. Dima protested again, this time resorting to half--hearted violence by flailing his arms uselessly around, trying to hit anything that came near. Rhys, much more coherent than his lazy brother, dodged the hits easily, never putting his efforts to rest. Eventually Dima gave up his fight, instead resorting to lying motionless in attempts to ignore Rhys's insistance. Perhaps on another day, a day in which Rhys was feeling more lenient, he would have let the matter go, but seeing as today was not one of those days Rhys made a change of action. Without warning he lifted the mattress with all his strength, throwing Dima from the bed.

"WHAT THE HELL?" Dima roared, landing with a thud on the plush carpet. He crawled quickly to his feet, livid with anger. He approached Rhys, hand drawn back ready to swing, but Rhys caught his fist easily, landing a blow on the side of Dima's head without trouble. The pain, magnified by the hangover, was too much for Dima to fight. He grasped at his head, crying out in pain in between cursing Rhys out in a garble. Without any grace Dima stumbled to the bedside, steadying himself on the table, his eyes looking dazed.

"Get dressed," Rhys yelled back as he strode from the room, "we're going riding."

The last thing he heard before shutting Dima's door was a muffled "fuck you," an insult that brought a smile to Rhys lips.

***

Procuring two top-notch horses had been laughably simple. The fear in the eyes of the stable boys when Rhys entered mixed with Rhys's commanding presence had assured him the finest horses in the stable before he'd even had to ask. He waited for Dima with the two creatures, letting them graze the fields just outside of the city gates. Soon enough Dima emerged from the city fully clothed and somewhat well groomed, though his temperament"So did not seem to have changed.

"I hope you know I hate you, you little shit," Dima hissed, yanking the reins from Rhys's hands for the black horse. Rhys only grinned at Dima's displeasure - if he knew his brother at all the overt anger was more an act than a legitimate rage. Sure enough, once the brothers began their ride Dima reverted to his usual self, cracking jokes at Rhys's expense and making obscene comments.

"So, I hear Jessa's gown was found on the floor of the room. I take it things went a little further than you let on. How was she? I picture her as being much more... spirited than she seems. Am I right?"

It was only because of their distance and stance that Rhys didn't smack the boy. "Of course nothing happened, idiot. She changed into a sleeping gown because we actually slept, the other thing people do in beds. Where'd you ever hear such a thing anyway?"

Dima laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, you know, I get around."

"Let me make a guess - Anja?"

Dima only shrugged, though his eyes gave away his secret. Rhys sighed heavily, mentally cursing his nosy sister.

"What was she even doing in there?" Rhys asked, trying to figure out the reasoning himself.

"Mother asked her to see if you two had left before allowing the servants in. Apparently it's not customary for a maid to enter the room while the newlyweds are still there." Dima paused, studying Rhys's blank expression to no avail. "What did you two do anyway if you didn't really do anything?"

"We talked a bit, but mostly we just slept. She was much drunker than even you. I have the feeling she doesn't hold her liquor well."

"I could change that," said Dima with a chortle. "A little time with me and she'd be an expert at the fine art of drinking."

The very thought of Jessa and Dima together, no matter what they were doing, made Rhys sick. Frankly, the thought of Dima's uncomfortable approaches on all women made his stomach churn, this was just a more personal case. Knowing that Dima rarely acted on his words let Rhys drop the subject, but the thought was still strange.

"What are you two going to do when we get back home?" Dima asked. "If I were you I know what I'd do, but knowing you you'll take the boring, unchallenging route."

"If you mean I won't harass her until she agrees to sleep with me then yes, I will take the boring route." Rhys shot an aggravated look at Dima, hoping he took the hint. "I suppose we won't do much of anything. She'll find ways to occupy her time and I'll do the same. It will be like nothing changed, we'll just have one extra person in the house."

"And Selene, will nothing have changed with her?" Inquired Dima, wiggling his eyebrows.

Rhys looked forward, unresponsive. That was the one thought he had repressed, the one situation he did not want to think about. How could he think about her after all that had occurred. The mere thought of seeing her again made his chest ache and his head hurt unlike any pain he knew. Without so much as an acknowledgement to Dima's question, Rhys dug his heels into his horse, charging forward and leaving Dima in his wake.

[Mollianne]

{name:Jessa#|#picture:47}

Harris waylaid her as she made her way through the bitter cold to the university. His cheeks were rosy and his scruffy hair fell into his eyes. Jessa bent and pushed the strands from his face with a stern expression. He dropped his gaze to the floor for a moment and then raised his eyes beseechingly to hers. She shook her head.

“One day you’ll learn how to look after yourself,” she mused as they walked side by side. Harris glanced at her slyly.

“Oh, you mean like you did when you first met Rhys?” The teenager ran off and, when he felt he was a safe distance away, stuck his tongue out at her. He was exasperating. Jessa refused to rise to his bait and continued her leisurely walk, much to her step-brother’s displeasure. “Come on. The grass is growing more quickly.”

When she reached him, she flicked him on the nose. He shot away from her. “I am walking at the perfect pace, thank you.”

In truth, she had found the perfect pace only so that her head did not rattle in her skull. The queasiness had faded but the headache would not abate.

“What are you doing?” Harris asked enthusiastically, running back over to her. Though he was nearing the age of manhood, the prince still acted very much like a child around Jessa. She knew it was because, while with the rest of the family there were so many expectations placed upon his royal head, with her he could do as he pleased. She had to forgive his childish tendencies.

“I am packing up my research to take to Jasrah.”

Harris paused, looking glum. He shuffled beside her and bit his lip. “I’m going to miss you, Jessa,” he whispered, as if it was forbidden.

She looked back at him. After a moment’s hesitation Jessa scooped his hand in hers. “And I you. Now, do you want to help me?”

He must have nearly snapped his head from his neck with the ferocity in which he nodded. His hair fell back into his eyes. Jessa sighed despairingly and led him to her office. When they got there, she realised they were not alone.

“Can I help you, Anja?” she asked warily. She remembered Rhys’s warning last night: do not be alone with his sister. She pulled Harris closer to her side. He looked at her inquisitively. The rumours had not touched his young ears.

“I thought I might offer my services,” the other woman said, saccharine. “But I see you already have a helper.”

Jessa frowned. “And your real reason for coming?”

Anja feigned surprise, her cat-like eyes widening and her sharp eyebrows rising. Jessa was not fooled and as soon as her companion noticed she dropped the act. Harris looked between the women in confusion, before his gaze caught on an open book and he lost interest in their interaction. Jessa kept one eye on him as he cautiously fingered the parchment and read the words while she waited for Anja to give in.

“You should take care around my brother.” Jessa remained expressionless. The Marinons all seemed desperate to betray and decry each member of their family. Clearly, they also thought she was uncommonly stupid if they believed she would ever let her guard down around a single one of them. She would trust Rhys and his mother a little more than the rest, for her sanity if nothing else, but she would not be gullible.

“Thank you for the advice. Now, I am sure you have more pressing matters to attend to,” she said, sidestepping to let Anja pass through the door. She stayed where she was, however. Jessa crossed her arms and waited.

“I ask because, given last night's events...” Jessa frowned; she had no clue what Anja was talking about, though she would not ask. "I worry you may find yourself feeling closer to him in time. I would not wish to see you hurt.” Jessa tried not to scoff at either of those ridiculous statements. Instead, she went to her desk and began neatening the piles of books there. Anja was not to be discouraged, however. Jessa hunched her shoulder and sighed.

“He is in love with another woman. You may not care now, and honestly for me, love is a fool’s game which you ought to be happy to forego, but he will never care for you. That may make him…complacent with you.”

She was surprised Anja was being so candid; apparently entering the family fold meant they were less concerned about revealing their true natures. “I am sure I can look after myself. I have survived the castle all my life.”

“So you have. Forgive my intrusion. I’ll leave you to pack.” The woman left without another word.

Harris looked up from the book as soon as she left, though Jessa had thought him completely engrossed in the words. He bit his lip and glanced over his shoulder at the door. “What was that about?”

Jessa had been shaken, though she tried to hide it and instead feel vindicated that she had been right about Rhys. Continuing to absently line up the books, she said, “Firstly she wanted to rub my nose in it that her brother would never stoop to liking someone like me. And because she thinks I already don not know, she warned me that, when Rhys inevitably stops protecting me, I’ll probably find myself a little bit dead.”

[Rosabeth]

{name:Rhys#|#picture:48}

They rode for hours, traversing the idyllic country side and the lush forests, escaping as far from the cramped city as possible. There was really only so far one could go before the scenery became commonplace and the villages repetitive, and after several hours the men turned back, taking most of their ride in silence. Just as the sun began to dip below the horizon the gates of Ovis loomed in the distance, calling them in. Rhys rode hard and fast, turning the last stretch of their ride into a race. Dima was not one to forego a challenge, and having picked what was apparently the superior horse he dashed past Rhys, egging him on. The brothers rode neck in neck, calling insults to one another, quickening the race. In the last few yards of the race as they reached the outer gates a figure appeared from behind the wall, waiting patiently for their return.

"What do you want?" Rhys pulled his horse to a stop, glaring down at Anja. She stood in the shadow of the wall, no more than a mirage to the untrained eye.

"I spoke with your bride," her voice was smooth and light, her words trailing off at the ends into nothingness.

"What could you possibly want with her?"

"I was just giving her some sisterly advice." Anja feigned innocence, but Rhys only scoffed at the notion.

"Threats aren't usually pleasantries."

"I was just reminding her to watch herself - to check her feelings. I mean, after last night..."

Anja's subtle gestures, the way in which she framed her statement, all hinted at one ridiculous implication.

"You've got to be kidding me," Rhys slid from his mount, reins held tightly in his hands as he approached Anja. "Dima implied the same thing but I didn't think there was anything to it. You know nothing happened, why would you tease her like that?"

Anja laughed, and the sound was deceptively pleasant, like a child's laugh. "Oh please, Rhys, I don't think she even took the hint. She was utterly oblivious. Still, such things raise concerns. I simply reminded her that you are spoken for. Well, for the moment anyway."

It was a strength of Rhys that he was so controlled with his emotions, so easily able to let most digs slide by unacknowledged, but Anja had that way of getting under his skin, of making his hand twitch with the urge to slap her, to hurt her in the way she so expertly hurt him with her words.

"I do not think she cares about such things - we're not involved," Rhys insisted through gritted teeth. "But I would caution you not to bring up the matter or to inspire fear in her. That is not your place."

Anja advanced slowly, reaching out and taking the reins from Rhys, curling them in her hand. She laid a hand upon the mare's muzzle, petting the creature like one might do with a lap dog. "You threaten so often and yet ... here I am, good as new. You see, unlike you, when I make threats they are not empty."

"That is because you lack basic compassion and - what is that thing in your chest again? - oh yes, a heart."

It was nearly impossible to faze Anja with words. She was hardened beyond repair, so unbreakable that insults were of little use. Her emotions were as easily extinguished as a flame, and she controlled them with the utmost delicacy. Her light eyes glowed in the twilight, watching Rhys as he moved past her through the gates.

"You're not exactly a god yourself, Rhys. I've seen you do things that would make Jessa go white with fear. You're certainly one to speak of morality with such authority."

"Yes, but I've seen you do things that assure me you have no humanity left. " Rhys never stopped his stride, keeping his back to Anja and an amused Dima. "At least one of us isn't a psychopath."

Once his siblings were left in the dust, far behind him at the gates, Rhys made a beeline for the castle. It was nearly comical how quickly the guards ushered him in. For people whose job was to protect the royal family their fear and compliance to the wishes of the Marinon's was a bit concerning. Inside the castle Rhys took the stairs two at a time, rushing through the twisting halls and nearly running into maids as they went about their daily tasks. The guest wing was empty of servants, as always (for Rhys had a suspicion that they stayed well out of the way of the family out of fear), and Rhys found his father without much effort, bent over a writing desk composing a large stack of letters.

"What do you want?" Erik's voice was exasperated and he waved Rhys in with very little enthusiasm.

"When are we leaving for Jasrah?"

"In a day or two," said Erik, never looking up from his work. "Why do you ask?"

"We leave tomorrow morning." This was not a question or suggestion. For Rhys to demand anything of his father was rare, but these were extreme times. Erik peered up from his papers, obviously taken aback by his son's forwardness. Rhys repeated his demand again, more firmly this time. His father studied him briefly, his eyes narrowing, before sighing, waving him away.

"Fine, fine. We'll leave tomorrow. Send a message to the captain."

[Mollianne]

{name:Jessa#|#picture:47}

Jessa eyed the ship dubiously. It bobbed up and down on the ocean’s grey surface and knocked gently against the pier. Around her, men, tired from their early wake-up, struggled to lift her few trunks onto the boat. She wanted to go to them and help, knowing how much a few books weighed, but she would be more a hindrance. They bent their knees, groaned and hefted the chests into their arms. When each of them staggered past her, Jessa slipped a few coins into their pockets. She may have been on a scholar’s wage before, but now she was part of a Lord’s family. Jessa could spare a few coins, even if she would never rely on the Marinon ill-gotten fortune.

When one of them had offloaded his trunk onto the deck and put his hand into his pocket, he looked around in bemusement. His gaze landed on Jessa, who smiled. Saluting her, the man trotted away. Jessa held back a laugh and then returned to watching the hull warily.

“Is it safe?” she asked when Rhys came up beside her. He laughed at her.

“Of course it’s safe. I thought you said you liked the sea?”

“I do,” she replied defensively. “Just I have only ever seen it. I’ve never actually been on it.”

“Well,” he said, taking her arm and pulling her up the gangplank. “Let this be your first time. You’ll do it much more often in Jasrah; better get used to it.”

“Do I need a boat to get to the university?” asked Jessa, thinking that would be the only reason she would ever need to leave the Marinon house. Unless, of course, she decided to run away.

“If you want the quickest and easiest form of travel, yes.” He nudged her onto the deck. Jessa clutched the railings and refused to look at the water sloshing against the hull. She swallowed to rid herself of the sickly feeling in her throat and told herself she would not vomit on this journey. The embarrassment would be intolerable.

“Why are we even leaving so early?” It was a question that had been bothering her since she was informed of the change a few moments after her harried day of packing. She had been slouching in her chair and lamenting its loss, while Harris sat at her feet reading a book Jessa had allowed him to keep out, when the messenger had burst in. He had been relieved to find her and apologised for the short notice. Jessa doubted it had been sincere; no one ever felt remorse for unsettling Jessa’s plans.

“My father has business to attend to in Jasrah. He decided it was best to get back to it sooner.” Rhys glanced away as he spoke, staring at the horizon where the sun peeked. He stifled a yawn.

Jessa did not believe for a moment that he was telling the truth, but she said, “Fine,” and left it at that.

The royal family would arrive soon to wave her off. It was a perfunctory gesture, purely for the public eye, and Jessa would rather they did not bother. She would not be surprised if Catrice and Elissa managed to find reason to excuse themselves, though she would not complain. Harris was the only one she would miss, as well as Alistair, and she had given them proper goodbyes last night. This dawn was not a time for tears.

Amid much fanfare, disrupting the market stallholders as they tried to set up for a day’s trading, the king appeared at the harbour’s edges. He strolled to the pier on which the Marinons’ ship was docked, and strode up the gangplank.

“Jessa, my daughter,” he greeted formally. Despite the early hour, his appearance was the same as any other time she saw him. His dark hair lay perfectly in place, and his eyes were alert and shrewd. Rhys, sensing Alrick wanted a private meeting with his daughter, bowed and went to the helm of the ship to bother the captain. Jessa stared the King in the eye and curtsied.

“I trust you will keep yourself well in Jasrah,” Alrick said, taking Jessa’s hands in a parody of affection. Jessa saw it for what it was: he wanted to tell her something secret and this was his way of preventing eavesdroppers.

“And I trust that this marriage was not purely to align your family with the Marinons,” she uttered, keeping her head turned away from the activity aboard the ship. Alrick inclined his head.

“You are correct, of course. Just…write to your friends about your life with your husband.”

“Do you want me to spy on them?” she asked plainly. The King frowned at her disapprovingly.

“Do not lose your friends to distance,” he persisted. Jessa stopped herself from rolling her eyes and pulled her hands out of Alrick’s grasp. “Let them know how you are all faring.”

Jessa leaned in close, feigning a kiss to the King’s cheek, and whispered, “Yes, I will spy on them. And report to Alistair instead of you.” Over his shoulder, she spotted the rest of the royal family making their way to the pier. Jessa stepped back. “Now, go to your family to see us off.”

[Rosabeth]

{name:Rhys#|#picture:48}

There was very little pomp to the farewell and Rhys chalked it up to all the pleasantries having been exhausted at the various formal events. It was clear that both parties were well done with one another, happy only in the sense that they were glad to see the other leave. As the ship left the dock the Marinon's all crowded together to wave unenthusiastically at the watchers, only to turn and scatter like flies the moment the ship had pulled away. Rhys stayed a moment longer, watching as Jessa stayed at the deck, leaning on the railing as she watched the ocean slip by beneath them. He hesitated, unsure if he should say something to her, but decided against the action and too turned and headed for his quarters.

Luckily for them all the journey was a very short one for being stuck on the small caravel for more than a day would be unbearable. The ship was light and fast and the winds were in their favor, and storms aside such a short journey look no more than a full day. They would likely make it to Jasrah the following afternoon, and for that Rhys was thankful. Just the thought of home relieved his tensions. He pictured himself drinking in the taverns on the coast with his friends, laughing off the situation which he now found himself in. He imagined working once more, meeting with various nobles and commoners day in and out to resolve family conflicts. Or so that was the official description of his work, despite its truthfulness. The only anxiety that presented itself was the unavoidable reunion with a certain someone, and such thoughts drove Rhys more mad than he could imagine.

Instead of joining his family in the cabin, sure to be driven insane by banal chatter, Rhys ventured to the forecastle deck, climbing up to the top level to look out over the sea. The grey water, not yet illuminated by the morning sun, had a calming effect. Watching it roll away in waves as the ship pushed against it was an entrancing effect to watch, and Rhys found himself getting lost in the vision. It was not until a cough from behind informed him that he was not alone.

"Brooding?" Rhys's mother asked, coming up beside him, resting her arms on the rail.

Rhys chuckled, shaking out his hair in the wind. His mother's playful smile put him at ease and in that moment Rhys felt more comfortable than he'd been in ages.

"I don't brood," he grinned, "I contemplate."

"Ah." Vyserene looked out behind Rhys, her dark eyes trained on something he could not see. "I see your wife seems to have the same idea."

Rhys took a quick glance behind him, noting how Jessa still stood on the deck, overlooking the ocean just as Rhys did, their positions nearly mirrored.

"I think she misses home already."

"I do not think so," Vyserene narrowed her eyes in thought, pressing her lips together. "I can't imagine her childhood was particularly pleasant with those people for a family. I doubt she even considers it a home, to be honest. She was very involved in the university but not much else. She had one true friend, an older advisor at the university, and I hear one of the younger princes was rather fond of her. Besides that she was not treated particularly well or endowed with any benefits of royalty."

Rhys's lips parted in disbelief, looking much like a gaping fish, and he immediately felt idiotic. Of course his mother would know these things - she knew everything.

Vyserene noted Rhys's shock with a smile. "It's my job to know these things, dear. Do you think I'd marry you off to some unknown? Then again, there's no such thing as an unknown when it comes to my investigations."

"You know, if I wasn't your son I'd be rather frightened of your devious skills."

"As you should be," she smiled. She then nodded back towards Jessa. "And speaking of fear, that girl's full of it."

"Of course she is," Rhys scoffed. "We're the Marinons. Infamy has done us wonders."

"She does have reason for concern, that is certain, but I'm also rather sure that it will wear off quickly. From what I've heard of her she has quite a head on her shoulders. She will not be easy to deceive."

"Were we planning on deceiving her?"

"Oh Rhys, do we not deceive them all?"

Rhys stared at his mother, his mind lingering on that thought. His mother leaned in close, her face very near his, beckoning him closer with her hand.

"She'll be watching you closely," she whispered, her voice as light and passing as a breeze, "so you must stay vigilant. You're clever, Rhys. Lead her on a chase. She'll be looking for things, anything to defame us, though I'm not sure we can be defamed at this point. Make sure she finds nothing. Lead her on a wild goose chase. The king would like nothing better thank to strip us of our title. Obviously such a thing would hardly touch our true power, but still, it's the appearance that's important."

With a parting kiss Vyserene descended from Rhys's perch and wandered across the lower deck. Her descent brought Jessa's attention to Rhys's position. She did not acknowledge him but watched him unmoving in her eerie way. Rhys nodded in greeting and turned away, suddenly both excited and unnerved by the task at hand.

[Mollianne]

{name:Jessa#|#picture:47}

Half a day had passed by the time Jessa had grown used to the rise and fall of the boat. It was less pronounced than she had expected, but still enough to unbalance a girl who had lived her entire life on firm land. However, draping her arms over the railings and relishing the salty wind in her hair, she decided she could certainly enjoy a life on water. It would be a peaceful life, once she learnt how to go with the tides rather than be jolted by them, away from the real world. Never had Jessa considered running away from reality; in that, her marriage had changed her. Pretending this was all a nightmare was a far better solution.

Yet, she would not let herself believe it. Jessa Pryor – she would never call herself du Rene Marinon – would never hide her head in the sand. She was not above avoiding her new family, though. Despite the size of the ship, she was doing surprisingly well. The allure of a new toy was already wearing off for them, Jessa thought.

Of course, she would have to speak too soon. Dima emerged from below deck, covering his eyes from the sun with a hand. He surveyed the boat and she saw his posture straighten upon finding her. She withdrew into herself and turned her back, silently willing him to ignore her and return to the cabin.

“Hello, my sister.” No such luck, then. She turned around reluctantly, glancing over Dima’s shoulder to see if Rhys was around to distract his brother. He was nowhere to be seen. Jessa scolded herself; she did not need Rhys to save her.

“Brother,” she said shortly, nodding and then twisting back around. The ship dipped as Dima came to stand beside her, causing him to inelegantly fall against the railing. Jessa hoped he would go inside soon, deciding it was safer to be sitting.

“Won’t you come below deck? It is getting rather chilly out here,” he suggested, right on cue. Jessa shook her head.

“I prefer it out here. You can go, if you like.” She fervently hoped he would take the hint. The young man shook his head and leaned over the railing, either oblivious to or just ignoring her plea. Thankfully, he kept his mouth shut, apparently content to watch the white surf bubbling in the ship’s wake. Jessa stared into the water’s inky depths, trying to ignore the discomfort of Dima’s presence.

“You know, Rhys can be pretty boring,” Dima remarked casually, pushing himself up and resting his back against the rail. He glanced sidelong at Jessa, who stared back unimpressed. She did not know where Dima was going with this but she had a feeling she really did not want to.

“It doesn’t matter whether he is boring or not. I am not married to him for my own happiness,” she said. The corners of Dima’s lips twitched upwards in a sly smile.

“If Rhys can’t satisfy you…”

Jessa took a step back, trying to school her features to remain expressionless. Dima let his hand fall near Jessa’s and moved his fingers to slither against hers. She started and stared at their hands in horror for a moment before she swiftly pulled away. Holding her hand close to her chest, Jessa glared at Dima. “And you can?”

“I can certainly try, for you, if life in Jasrah gets too mundane for you.”

“Listen carefully, because this is saying something: I’d pick Rhys over you,” Jessa hissed. “From what I heard yesterday, Elissa seemed pretty won over by your slimy lines. Perhaps you should run off to Ovis and try there. Now, please, go away.”

Dima did not. A flicker of fear rushed through Jessa. She had just insulted a very dangerous man. He may only be eighteen, but it was likely he was even a murderer. In her haste to get away, she tripped over her feet and clung to the railing. It was wet and slippery and a splinter made her hand sting. She stared up at Dima, who held out a hand to her.

“I’m not going to bite. Not unless you want me to,” he murmured, in what he thought passed for seduction. Jessa’s heart stopped pounding so ferociously. Though she was sure Dima was only pretending to let her affront go unnoticed, she felt fairly certain he would not hurt her here where anyone could find her. He chuckled. As if he was speaking to a child, instead of someone nearly ten years his senior, he said, “I’d not hurt anyone as pretty as you. Certainly not yet.”

Without another word, Dima spun around and headed for the cabin. He left Jessa breathing heavily on the deck, wondering if she had just made an enemy of the youngest Marinon. The peace she had enjoyed so far on the journey was destroyed.

[Rosabeth]

{name:Rhys#|#picture:48}

By the time they docked the next morning no one had puked or fallen overboard, so Rhys considered it a pretty successful journey. The port was crowded as always, hundreds if not thousands of people milling about loading ships and retrieving cargo, setting up shop and setting sail. When the Marinon ship came into view in the harbor the crowds grew noisy, all eyes locked on the ship. Rhys could feel the intensity from his spot on deck despite being still so far out. Despite the strangeness of it all, the attention they brought wherever they went, it was wonderful to be home and see so many familiar faces, friendly or not.

Once the ship was securely tied to the dock the family began to disembark, trailed by a line of servants. Rhys watched for Jessa's reactions, partially for amusement but mostly out of curiosity. Her eyes were wide in wonder as she scanned the rocky cliffs and the clear waters. He could almost see her mind working at rapid pace, taking in what must be a true assault on the senses for someone so sheltered and isolated.

"Is it what you were expecting?" He asked casually, slipping beside her as they winded their way past stacks of crates and throngs of onlookers. Jessa did not answer, either too awestruck to come up with a response or too proud to admit that it was far less menacing that she had expected.

"RHYS!"

Nearly knocked over just by the sheer volume of the booming voice, Rhys stumbled in surprise, looking around for who had called. He did not look for long, for a massive figure came striding towards him from the east, a huge grin plastered on his face.

"Welcome back!" Victor cried, pulling Rhys into an embrace and slapping him hard on the back. Rhys couldn't help but smile at his old friend, a wave of comfort washing over him at the sight of a familiar face.

"And this must be..." Victor turned to Jessa, his eyebrows raised in question.

"This is Jessa," Rhys introduced, guiding Jessa forward with his hand. Jessa's surprise at Victor's hulking figure was comical, and Rhys could not hide his amusement. Victor was a good few inches taller than Rhys, a tall man himself, and had the muscle of a warrior.

"Don't worry, he won't bite. He may look fearsome but I have it on good authority that he has a fondness for kittens." Rhys teased, still waiting for Jessa to compose herself. His words seemed to snap her out of her transe, for Jessa's face went blank and neutral, though her scarlet cheeks betrayed her embarrassment.

"A pleasure."

Victor swept into an elegant bow despite his size and kissed Jessa's hand, winking at Rhys as he pulled away.

"The pleasure's all mine, I assure you. Anyway, Rhys, we're all meeting at the tavern tomorrow night. You absolutely cannot miss under any conditions. If you are not there precisely at eight I will challenge you to a duel, I swear on it."

"Oh please," Rhys snorted, "I'd kill you in seconds. You can barely manage a child's sword. No worries, though, you'll walk away with your life. I'll be there, I promise."

Victor grinned, clapping Rhys on the back once more before sprinting off back towards the town, scaring several women as he rushed by.

Rhys could not gauge Jessa's reaction to any of this, for after her initial shock - both at Jasrah and Victor - she had maintained a stony expression, indiscernible by even the most skilled at reading faces. He gave up his attempt, turning his intention instead to leading them both to the smaller boat waiting for them at the end of the docks.

"Another?" Jessa asked in surprise, looking around as if looking for some carriage that might appear out of thin air.

"How else are we supposed to get to our home? Unlike Ovis, in Jasrah we..." A familiar figure, a small, lithe body with an unruly head of dark curls, passed in Rhys's peripheral, and his heart stopped in his chest. The woman stood not 20 feet away talking to a man managing the loading of a merchant ship. She was exactly as he remembered her though it had been no more than a week since their last encounter. Her back was to him, but Rhys could picture every curve of her lips, every line of color in her perfect almond eyes. Rhys was glued to the spot, petrified, when she turned slowly, their eyes meeting immediately.

Selene.

A million repressed emotions came crashing down on Rhys at once, a violent hurricane that ripped and tore at his very being, shaking him to his core. Anger, unspeakable sadness, and a mountain of immense guilt, all built up and unleashing their fury on his vulnerable state. Every flicker of thought that passed through Rhys's head was mirrored in her eyes, and nothing either of them could say or do could possibly repair the anguish that passed between them. Selene's posture softened gradually, her eyes losing their fierceness and her features molding into an expression of tenderness. Suddenly Rhys could feel her hands on his neck, her waist under his hands, and the warmth of her breath on his face. She was so close, so tangible... yet when Rhys returned to reality she was still there, gazing at him in silence.

"Rhys! Come along, we won't wait forever!" Anja called. Her sharp voice broke the tenderness of the moment and Selene was snapped back to the present, quickly turning away and fleeing from the scene. Rhys wished to call out, to run to her, but he knew any action was unadvisable. With all the strength he could manage he put one foot in front of the other, forcing himself from his spot and towards the boat, ignoring Jessa's inquisitory look.

[Mollianne]

{name:Jessa#|#picture:47}

Jessa kept looking over her shoulder as she was herded into the boat, but the woman had completely disappeared into the crowd. She studied Rhys speculatively: he kept his head steadfastly forward, as if it took effort to do so, and there was a hollowness in his eyes that could only be explained by one thing. Though she might have guessed there had been a woman in his life before their marriage, it was quite another thing to see the truth of it. It was a horrible realisation that politics and distrust – that she – truly had obstructed a love match. Jessa had no idea how anyone could love any of the Marinon spawn, but from the woman’s soft smile and watery eyes, it was clear someone did.

And Rhys certainly had a heart. Before, she had refused to admit it, but the truth was there before her. Jessa clambered into the wooden boat, which rocked far more than the ship and looked far less sturdy, with her own heart heavy. Three lives had been upset by this union, not just two.

She was pulled from her thoughts by Dima climbing into the boat and settling himself beside her. Without looking at him, she stalked over to the other side, keeping her head high. The boat lunged at the last moment, throwing her against the side. Jessa rubbed her arm and sat on the ledge running around the edge of the boat. Dima appeared satisfied with himself, winking at her incorrigibly. Jessa shivered, fearing how it would be to come across Dima in a secluded corridor. No one else seemed to have noticed the exchange: Vyserene and Erik had yet to get aboard, Anja was at the other end, staring out at the cliffs ahead of them, and Rhys was still stuck in his thoughts. She was glad.

Hugging herself, pretending it was to protect herself against the bitter coastal winds, Jessa waited for the boat to set sail. Vyserene sat beside her. Unlike her son, she did not inspire fear and disgust in Jessa. The woman turned to her and smiled. “How do you like Jasrah so far?”

Jessa glanced back at the busy market uncertainly. It was overwhelming. Jasrah might have been smaller than Ovis, but Jessa had been confined to inner city walls and gated boarding schools. She had had spent very little time in the Ovisian markets, and when she had she had frequented the more organised, relaxed one in the south. This, with the sea salt fresh in the wind and the smell of fish, spices she could not name, and the crowd swelling and chattering…it was something completely different.

To Vyserene, she said, “I have not been here long enough to make my opinion. But I am sure I will come to like it here.”

It was not even that she was lying. Jasrah did smell like freedom. She could do what she wanted here, without the watchful gaze of the castle, waiting expectantly to discredit her. Of course, she had other concerns here, but as long as she spent as little time as possible with the Marinon family, Jessa thought she would be okay. With the family – that was a different question. Jessa shivered again. “Are you cold, dear? Have my shawl.”

Vyserene soon left to speak to her husband about some dinner they were planning for the following evening. Jessa breathed a sigh of relief, a tension in her shoulders she had not noticed loosening. She turned to watch for the signs of her new home.

The boat rounded a corner with a stomach-dropping lurch. Jessa’s fingers whitened as she gripped the side of the boat, splinters digging into her skin. At first, she saw only a natural arch over the sea, which led to the land above. She could not see what was up there. Then the house came into view. Though she had been told it was beautiful, she had not believed Rhys. What would he know, with his dark heart, about beauty? But the house – with its domed, blue roofs, reflecting the high sun and glittering, and the golden, rounded stone walls – took her breath away. Jessa leaned in closer and nearly fell overboard. The tips of her hair turned dark with water and the drips hit her face when she thrust herself back.

The house drew nearer and Jessa drank in the delightful architecture. The windows were set in swooping archways, letting sunlight pour in. She doubted there would be any dark corners; surprising, giving the shadowy nature of the family members themselves. Jessa could picture herself sitting on one of the window ledges, reading her books.

Honestly, it made her hate them more. She scowled and turned away.

Rhys had barely acknowledged that they were nearly home. He stood at the rear of the boat, getting his final glimpse of the harbour. When it was hidden by the rocks, he twisted around resolutely. Though he kept his face blank, Jessa could read his hidden emotions easily. She had had too much practice at concealing her own feelings to miss the signs. The rest of his family did not seem to care.

The boat knocked against the rocks just as a small crowd of servants came rushing out to attend them. They had arrived.

[Rosabeth]

{name:Rhys#|#picture:48}

The return was little short of chaos, servants running here and there like a chicken with its head cut off, taking orders from every person who passed. Rhys ignored them all, making a beeline for the front entrance. Avis trailed close behind with Rhys's luggage, a silent shadow that operated more as a comfort than a bother. Once inside Rhys was bombarded with another round of greetings from the maids and footmen, all of which he waved off rather rudely, not that he cared in the moment. He felt numb, empty, completely void of any human emotion that might make him care. It was as if all of his feelings had been expired in that one moment, leaving him as nothing but a shell casing.

"Take my bags to my room, Avis, and meet me in the armory."

Rhys wasted little time in his pursuits. He made off for the armory immediately, not caring that he was most likely trudging mud through the marble halls. On any other day he was sure he'd feel sorry for the poor maid that had to clean up after him, but today he merely shrugged off the glares that followed him. Anja tried to stop him on his path, beginning some menial banter, but he pushed her away when she stepped in front of him, reminding himself that she was not a target for stress relief, no matter how tempting it might sound.

Somehow Avis made it to the armory before Rhys despite Rhys's room being a floor above and on the opposite wing. Avis stood erect and still, holding forward a sabre with his eyes trained forward.

"You always do know what I like," Rhys muttered, taking the sword from Avis. He moved to the forms used for target practice, a luxury Rhys cherished, and began his attack, slashing away perhaps a little too enthusiastically. His moves were wild and untrained, bad enough to make even his childhood fencing master cringe, but it was not accuracy Rhys was going for. Every swing both drained him of the darkness that tried to swallow him up while giving him back his feeling. He worked hard and quickly, savoring every slash and jab as if they gave him back his very life. Before long he had tired himself, sinking to the ground as he drew his breath. The exercise made him calmer, more clear than he'd been before, but it was unable to erase his feelings completely, and for that he cursed himself.

"At least you are using the armory instead of your sister to relieve your stress."

Vyserene hovered at the door, watching over Rhys's slumped figure with and indiscernible expression.

"What?" Rhys asked curtly, feeling in no mood for conversation. "Do you want me to make a presentable appearance?"

"Well, that would be nice, and I'm fairly certain your father would like to speak with you, but no, I came down to tell you that we'll be hosting a dinner tomorrow night."

"What of it?"

"It will just be a few of the better families around, nothing taxing, but I would like you to be on your best behavior."

"I'm always on my best behavior," Rhys said, feeling slightly insulted. "Who's so important that..." The realization clicked like a slap to the face. "No. No, you cannot be serious."

"You'll have to face her in these settings for the rest of your life, Rhys, they're our closest friends. You cannot hide forever."

"Mother, I was just married! How could you?" The very thought of siting side-by-side with Selene, chatting about trivial merchant business and the latest faux-pas of nobles made him sick to his stomach.

Vyserene did not appear amused with Rhys's complaints. "Listen, Rhys. This is for your own good. I don't pretend to be happy to see you like this but this is how it has to be. The sooner you tackle this the easier it will be. You don't take a sword out of a wound slowly, wiggling it as you go; you take it out in one draw, a moment of pain for future healing. Take that idea to heart."

[Mollianne]

{name:Jessa#|#picture:47}

Jessa collapsed onto the window seat in her room, exhausted. The last day and a half had been a blur of unpacking, eating, a restless sleep and getting lost. The airy, light rooms were such a contrast to the dank corridors of the castle, but in their own way they confused her. They all looked so similar, perfectly put together, such a contrast to the Marinons’ unscrupulous lifestyle. It was clearly designed to hide any suggestion they were anything but a law-abiding family. Jessa had to give them credit: from a cursory glance, she would never be able to tell anything was amiss.

Spying for the king would be an interesting task, indeed.

All she wanted to do now, though, was sleep. Even that would evade her, for she had the dinner with the Jasran families first. Someone had advised her of the names of the heads of each family but she could not, for the life of her, remember them now. Thumping her head against the cool, clear glass, she looked out over the twinkling sea. The sun was low in the sky, half-hidden by the horizon, and the light played with the waves. Coming around the rock which blocked the house from the rest of the city were the silhouettes of the boats carrying the nobles. Jessa sighed, knowing she would not have long to relax.

She had already changed for dinner. It was one of her most comfortable dresses, and probably too dull and lowly for someone of her supposed status. She would probably be whispered about tonight by the members of the party who cared for fashion. Jessa tucked the dress under her legs and picked up the book, a historical account of the end of the Barichean Wars, which she had left on the window ledge.

By the tremendous hubbub, Jessa knew their guests had arrived. She lifted her nose from the book and peered through the glass at the small group of well-dressed families. One head of frizzy black hair caught her eye. She narrowed her eyes. The woman looked disconcertingly familiar.

The woman from the harbour. Jessa frowned; it seemed unlikely that Rhys would want his old lover at the dinner party. He was certainly still in love with her. Perhaps he did not know. But then he appeared on the rocks. She watched him closely and detected no sign of surprised, though she was too far away to properly tell. She noted that he carefully, subtly managed to avoid speaking to her directly, instead greeting the family in general and moving on.

From inside the house, Jessa heard her name called. Sighing, she remembered her page and put it back on the window sill. Clambering down from her comfortable position, she smoothed her dress and checked for ink stains on her fingers, though she knew there were none. She was not repeating her meeting with the Marinons. These would be the families with whom she would spend many dinners and it would be better to give a good impression. The Marinons had had no choice in their daughter-in-law and would have to accept her habits. She would rather not be spurned in two cities instead of one. Her dress may be plain, but otherwise her appearance would be impeccable.

Hurrying down the marble staircase, she waited inside the front doorway for the guests to come up from the beach. Anja was already there and looked her up and down with a sneer. Jessa forced herself to keep her hands at her sides rather than cover herself. She had nothing to be ashamed of tonight, she knew. Anja did not say anything. Jessa fiddled with the door and hoped the guests would come in soon so they could close the door. The draft was freezing her fingers.

She heard footsteps on the stairs and hoped Dima had been ready earlier and gone outdoors. She had avoided him so far, mostly by confining herself to her room, and seeing him again was not something she was looking forward to. When a servant had come into her chamber earlier that day, she had requested she not be seated next to her brother-in-law. Jessa did not like telling servants what to do, since she was their equal and was perfectly capable of completing tasks herself, but it had been necessary.

“Hello, Jessa,” Dima whispered in her ear, his hot breath fanning onto her neck. She jerked away, nearly hitting her head on the door. Anja watched them with raised eyebrows, her brain making the connections. Her smile, when she realised what was afoot, chilled Jessa to the bone. She rubbed her forearm and checked outside. The party was slowly making its way to the house, but Jessa wished they would move faster. She could not bear to be in Anja and Dima’s presence any longer.

[Rosabeth]

{name:Rhys#|#picture:48}

Candlebras lined the great hall, casting a warm glow the many dinner places the long mahogany table. The true light that illuminated the room with brilliance came from the full moon, hung high in the sky and shining through the large arched windows. Rhys found himself entranced by the sight, staring out at the moonlit sea that ebbed and flowed just outside the manor. How he wished he could escape the wretched dinner and bask in the moonlight away from the watchful eyes of all. Unfortunately, that was not to be his fate.

Rhys made his way to the middle seat, the one he took on all formal occasions. His father sat at one head of the table, his mother seated at the other, and Dima and Anja took their places nearby Rhys. The guests filled in en suite, raving about the beautiful decor or the loveliness of the night to one another. Jessa looked around helplessly, obviously overwhelmed by the size of the table and the unfamiliarity with the situation. Rhys caught her eye and nodded at the seat across from him several times. Jessa took the hint but paused before seating, looking horrified as she realized who would be sitting beside her. Rhys couldn't blame her - he didn't much like siting by Anja either, and not just because she would steal his food when he wasn't looking. With much reluctance Jessa seated herself, groaning as she looked across the table at Dima, seated to Rhys's right.

"Lovely," she muttered, picking up her napkin. "Even the servants don't listen to me." Rhys couldn't help but laugh.

The last people to file in were the Gaille's, and Rhys tried to keep his attention fixed on Jessa's mindless fidgeting before him. Rhys heard the seat to his left scrape across the floor and ruffle of skirts as the guest was seated. He had seen enough in his perifrial to make a fairly certain guess at who was seated beside him, but a sudden wave of jasmine perfume confirmed his thoughts.

"Hello, Rhys."

"Selene." His voice was suddenly raw and thin, and despite wanted to so desperately speak with her and gaze at her for the rest of the evening, he could not gather the courage to turn his head even a fraction.

"Look at me," she whispered, just low enough for Rhys to hear. Rhys did not comply, continuing to look forward, noting how Jessa watched the strange exchange with interest. "Look at me," she repeated. This time a soft hand clasped his under the table, sending shocks throughout his body. The touch was so welcome, so familiar and wonderful that all pretenses were lost immediately. Rhys turned his head ever so slightly, just enough to see Selene's face more clearly, and once he saw her slight smile his heart was warmed. She squeezed his hand more tightly and his worries dissipated, even if just for this moment.

"It's lovely to see you again," said Rhys, his voice regaining strength. He didn't care if their touch was inappropriate or if he was married - Gods knew affairs happened more often than not in arranged marriages - all he cared about was that for this one second in time he did not have to think about anything at all.

"Rhys, why don't you introduce Selene to your wife?"

All eyes turned to Anja. She sat quietly, poised and proper, looking between Jessa and Selene with a smile that could kill. She leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table and clasping her hands beneath her chin, her eyes growing wide. "I'm sure Jessa would love to hear all about how you two met and how you're so well acquainted, wouldn't you, Jessa?"

The awkward silence that followed put them all on edge, all but Anja whose smile had never faded and now looked even more entertained with the mess she had created. Jessa did not look uncomfortable much to Rhys surprise but rather concerned, though he was not sure whom for. Selene surprised them all, and her smile, however forced, threw Anja for a fraction of a second, wiping that smile from her face.

"Of course, we must be introduced." Selene reached across the table with her left hand, never dropping Rhys's, and offered it to Jessa. "I'm Selene Gaille. I've been friends with Rhys for a long time."

"Yes you have," Anja muttered, earning a swift glare from Rhys, his foot just twitching to reach out and kick her beneath the table.

Jessa looked apprehensive as to what to do but apparently decided that manners were appropriate in this situation. She took Selene's hand awkwardly, somewhere between a shake and a hold. "Jessa," she stated simply. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

[Mollianne]

{name:Jessa#|#picture:47}

The first course arrived, cutting the tension that prickled at Jessa’s skin. Everyone turned their attention to their plates as the servers walked around, offering their dishes to the guests. Jessa saw that Selene’s right hand and Rhys’s left hand remained under the table. She frowned a little and then made her decision. It would mean she would have to get Rhys alone at some point, even if that was a unappealing prospect. She would not be one of those women.

The server proffered his tray towards Jessa and she tentatively picked a few of the things off it. She eyed them warily. The smell of seawater suggested they were some kind of shellfish. Poking at the shell gently with one of the forks, Jessa was at a loss. From the corner of her eye she saw Anja put a hand over her mouth to hide her spiteful amusement. The woman leaned over to her and said, a little too loud to prevent Jessa’s embarrassment, “They’re oysters. You eat them like this.”

She picked one up and tipped the slimy liquid within the shell into her mouth. Jessa looked sceptical, but everyone else seemed to be doing the same thing. Tentatively, she picked one of them up and copied Anja. It was disgusting; she tried not to cough. The texture was unnatural and the taste was too salty for her liking. She carefully placed the empty shell back on the plate and avoided the rest of the oysters. With a bit of disappointment, she noticed that everyone else seemed to be managing them fine.

Selene smiled at her between oysters. It was a forced smile, but the woman was trying. Jessa was inclined to like her. “It’s an acquired taste. You’ll get used to them, though I doubt you’ll have to eat them too often.”

Jessa nodded, at a loss as to what she should say. Everything she thought of fell flat and seemed weak. Nothing could adequately convey her feelings, while simultaneously seeming to avoid the subject of Rhys’s and Selene’s previous attachment. She said nothing, and Selene soon returned to her oysters.

“I’ll have yours,” Dima said, reaching over the table decorations – pretty orange flowers Jessa had seen growing up the cliff sides – to take Jessa’s plate. She handed it over to him, feeling like every eye was upon her. Really, she was not that interesting. She was completely different to all of them, that was true, but she did not deserve to be watched like the street performers in Ovis.

“You can pay me back for them later…” Dima added, winking at her. Anja smiled evilly.

“Oh, what is this, brother?”

“Nothing,” he told her innocently. Jessa’s stomach turned.

“You’ll make Rhys jealous,” Anja warned, glancing at her elder sibling. Her gaze dropped down to the edge of the table, where Rhys’s arm disappeared. She looked up with a pointed, malicious grin. “Then again, perhaps not.”

“Shut up, Anja,” Rhys muttered through gritted teeth, saying the words everyone else was thinking but did not have the guts to say. Jessa bowed her head and fiddled with the tassels on the tablecloth.

When the first course was finished and the plates cleared, the silence around their small group became unbearable again. Idle chatter filled the air around them, making their quiet more noticeable. Selene attempted another stiff smile. It seemed she was determined to improve the situation, and it was a valiant effort. No one else was trying – and Anja was doing the complete opposite.

“So, Jessa,” Selene began, repositioning her cutlery with her free hand until they were perfectly in place. “What is Ovis like?”

“Oh.” Jessa looked around, flustered. “It’s nothing like Jasrah seems to be. It’s along the coast, but apparently the northern sea holds different creatures. I’ve certainly never seen these oysters. But there’s the university, which is the most beautiful building in Ovis-”

“Jessa’s a scholar,” Anja interrupted, her voice condescending. Jessa was affronted; there was nothing wrong with her profession.

“Really? I did not think princesses became academics.”

“She’s not exactly a princess, in the truest way,” Anja continued, “It seems her father had a little fun before he settled with his Queen. I can’t blame him, though things were a little different then – it would have been more scandalous. Of course, that might also have been because I heard he enjoyed the company of servants…”

Jessa saw red. “My mother was worth twice any woman at court.” As soon as she spoke, her cheeks flushed. Anja smiled, a sickly sweet smile that fooled no one; she did not appreciate being spoken to like that. Jessa’s anger dissipated as quickly as it came.

“I didn’t mean anything by my words. I am sure your mother was lovely. Don’t take things so seriously, sister,” Anja said sweetly.