Kings of Deceit - R

[Mollianne]

{name:Jessa#|#picture:47}

Jessa smelled a rat, but none of her suspicions showed on her face. Whether Rhys thought she believed nothing was afoot, she did not know. She soon left the sitting room, pretending to take her book to her room. Instead of going up the stairs, she turned to the right. Heading towards the dining room doors, Jessa looked over her shoulder to check no one was watching her. There was nobody, but she hoped they were not leading her into a trap. She did not want a repeat of that.

Pressing her head against the door, by the keyhole, in the crack under the door, told her that she would learn nothing from that avenue. She bit her lip in thought, they turned on her heels and made her way back to the grand staircase. Jessa reached the landing just as Rhys left the sitting room and went to Erik’s study. She breathed out in relief.

From the only time she had eating in the main dining room, at that first dinner party, she remembered the room to have tall walls. The ceilings had been decorated with swooping arches, holding up the blue glass that domed over it. She wondered if they would offer a better vantage point.

The door directly above the dining hall on the first floor opened out onto a thin balcony. It circled the entire room, without being far from the floor to hear their voices. She glanced at the arches in dismay; even if she could have reached them, she knew her climbing ability was non-existent. She was bound to fall. The balcony would have to do, and she would just have to hope that the Marinons would not expect her. Or hope that they would not care enough to look, at least. They had announced the dinner in front of her; that meant they wanted her to know. No one in the family did anything by accident, Jessa had come to realise.

Instead of leaving now and coming back later, risking discovery if the door made a sound, Jessa settled on the floor. Flipping through the book, she found the right page and continued reading.

The development of magic was certainly an interesting one. Though some people had been born with enough power for the current day’s average healer, hundreds of years ago they had not known this. Anyone could learn rudimentary magic, even now, but that was as far as anyone had gone. Lighting fires, lifting heavy objects – the people of the past had only manipulated objects. It was not until about four hundred years ago that a select few realised they could affect living things. In the intervening years, research had gone into perfecting these skills, but it was quickly realised that only certain people possessed these talents, such as healing.

But there was no mention of any greater magic. No one reported that someone simply exuded power, that they could use magic like breathing. No one had ever been able to use magic to cause someone pain. If Merai knew it, then where had she learned it was possible? Surely it was not something she just knew about herself. How would someone possibly discover they had a magical talent for pain, particularly if they lived as reclusively as Merai?

Jessa was pulled from her thoughts by the doors opening below. She placed the book carefully on the stone beside her and crawled to the edge of the balcony. She kept low and still, willing everyone to keep their heads down.

The Marinons came into view first, taking the same places around the table as they had done at the dinner party, though the table itself was smaller now. Their guests shuffled around and eventually, hesitatingly, sat down. No one clearly wanted to sit next to any of the Marinons, though Jessa noted that the seat next to Rhys was occupied first, shortly followed by the two on either side of Vyserene’s. The chairs next to Anja were last.

Whatever the real purpose behind this dinner was, the “traitors”, as Dima called them, clearly felt more comfortable sitting next to her husband and his mother. And since the woman next to Anja was fidgeting an awful lot, casting her strange, worried glances, Jessa doubted it would be a stern telling off. Her heart grew heavy and her tongue turned to ash, but she refused to flee. She steeled herself, breathed deeply, and settled in to watch.

[Rosabeth]

{name:Rhys#|#picture:48}

Flutes of champagne were passed around first to start of the evening's festivities. The guests all regarded their glasses with suspicion, some even subtly sniffing the cup to try and detect poison. Others held the flutes up to the light, looking for subtle color changes. Rhys snorted at the man who sat beside him who poured a drop on his hand, a test Rhys could only assume was to check for corrosive properties.

"A toast," his father began, taking to his feet. The others followed his lead, raising their glasses to the air. "I welcome you all here tonight to celebrate our bond of alliance we have forged these many years. I raise my glass in honor of your trust, your pledges, and your truthfulness," the woman beside Anja looked down immediately, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "Most of all I toast to this wonderful evening and hope it will bring some light as to how promises can so quickly be forgotten. I drink to your health and hope it lasts you through the night." His eyes flashed as he nodded to the table, tipping back his glass and taking a sip. If any of the guests had come without apprehension, Lord Erik's last words had undoubtedly filled their hearts with dread.

After they all drank for their flutes - some taking more persuasion to actually intake the drink than others - no one returned to their seats. They all stared at one another, looking anxiously from person to person as if waiting for someone to drop dead. As the seconds passed and spontaneous death seemed to no longer be a probable outcome they slowly began to take their seats.

"The first course, please," Lord Erik commanded. A footman near the door nodded, disappearing for a moment only to return followed by several more men all carrying silver platters. They placed the plates on the table and stepped away, all but one who held the center platter. He looked to Lord Erik for cue, pulling away the covering when given the ok to reveal a sight that made even Rhys's hardened stomach flip.

A decapitated head gazed out blankly at the guests, its face void of all color and the hair matted with clotted blood. The neck wound was gruesome, mangled and jagged, something only begotten by a very unskilled executioner or someone who relished in taking their time in beheadings. The most horrifying part was not the head, but rather to whom it had once belonged. Staring up at the group was one of their own, a trusted friend of many who sat at the table. This revelation was when the pandemonium truly began.

Many screamed, some jumping from their seats and others gripping at the table cloth, dry sobs ripping at their chests. A few looked on in silent horror, already resigning themselves to their fate. Rhys could not stand to look at the retched sight, already feeling his stomach churning. These sort of theatrics disgusted Rhys. Once many years ago he had asked his mother why they hosted such melodramatic events to punish those who crossed them. Vyserene took Rhys by the shoulders, donning a very serious look. "Theatrics suggest insanity and insanity inspires fear, and when vying for power there is no greater weapon than rooting fear in the hearts of not only your enemies but your friends. If you cannot be predicted then you cannot be overlooked." Rhys remembered this conversation often, and though he understood the sentiment more in time it never stopped feeling somewhat foreign.

"My Lord, I beg for your forgiveness. I did nothing wrong!" The slim man beside Anja cried out, dropping to his knees beside the table and clasping his hands as if in prayer. Lord Erik sneered, peering down at the man in disgust.

"You are guilty by association. You knew this when you entered the blood contract, Montigian. Perhaps you should should pick your fellows more carefully next time instead of begging for forgiveness after the crime has been committed." He signaled to Anja with a wave of his hand, never taking his sight from the whimpering man. She withdrew a dagger from beneath the table cloth, a look of ecstasy on her face as she fingered the sharp edge.

"What do you value most, Montigian: your fingers or your ears?"

If the man had any bravery left it vanished in an instant. He began crawling away backwards in terror, stumbling over his own cloak as he went. Anja stomped on his stomach hard, holding him in place as he gagged and wheezed. Rhys watched with displeasure as she pinned down the man's arm, taking off all the fingers on his right hand save his thumb with one clean motion. Blood spurted from the wound and the man howled in anguish, sobbing in a nearly childish way that sent chills down Rhys's spine. As the man clasped at his stumps, trying to control the blood loss with his cloak, Anja moved back to the table, circling the patrons while dragging the dagger along the backs of the chairs. Rhys took a quick look at his family, noting their varying expressions. His father was stony faced, completely devoid of all emotion. Dima was somewhere between Rhys and Anja, partially enjoying the whole ordeal in a sickeningly sadistic way while still showing some discomfort at the sheer volume of blood. As Rhys looked to his mother she met his eyes, nodding slowly as if to assure Rhys that this was somehow a necessary practice, though he noted that she too withdrew her gaze when she could manage.

"Lady Priya," Lord Erik announced when Montigian's cries had been somewhat hushed. All eyes turned to the woman beside Rhys, wide with horror. She seemed to have lost the ability to convey any emotion, for she was blank and dead, her eyes hollow and void of recognition. "You attempted to flee the city upon receiving our invitation. I, for one, am disappointed in your lack of loyalty. Had you fled you would have been tracked down and killed as many of your comrades will be soon. You, however, were stopped down before you could leave port. Unfortunately for you I do not reward those who are simply so unskilled at their attempted treachery that they cannot see it through."

Anja already stood behind the woman, her bloody dagger still held in her hand. She reached forward, grabbing the woman by her neck and wrenching back, using her other hand to thrust her blade into the woman's chest, twisting it forcefully once the gash had been mand. The woman's death was swift, only leaving a few moments for her comatose state to wear off enough to show a moment of fleeting fear before her eyes fluttered shut and her head slammed against the table.

Rhys glanced briefly at the lifeless body to his side. Strangely enough this murder caused Rhys much less discomfort than did any mutilation. Her death had been quick - though perhaps not painless - a fate he doubted any of the others seated on the table would receive. He'd rather see a hundred people killed quickly than a few tortured, even if only for his personal benefit. There were many fates worse than death and with Anja as your torturer there was no doubting that your fate would be one of them.

"Dima, would you be so kind as to teach our remaining guests a lesson in loyalty?" said Lord Erik, gesturing to the two men to Dima's side as well as the woman beside Anja and the man beside Rhys. Dima rose quickly, his hands empty of any weapons. A few of the men looked relieved that they were not to be executed with such bloodshed but Rhys knew better than they that they were not yet excused. Dima needed no such tools as Anja did - his heavily muscled body was a weapon enough. Before the man to Dima's left could blink, Dima took the man's arm in his hands and twisted it out of its socket. The man howled in pain, hunching over and clutching at his arm.

Rhys did not need to view the rest of the spectacle - he knew well enough what would take place. The man to Anja's side was known to be one of the originators of the treachery against the Marinon's. His fate was sure to be long and drawn out, resulting in many broken bones before an eventual snap of the neck. The other man and woman would be tortured in a variety of fashions, perhaps only by Dima but more likely assisted by Anja, but they too would walk - or be carried - away with their lives.

"May I leave, father?" Rhys asked quietly, ignoring the sharp cry that range through the air in that moment. Lord Erik sighed, looking dismayed, but nodded and shooed Rhys away lazily. Rhys needed no other cues. Grabbing another flute of champagne from a footman who was the most unusual color green, Rhys departed silently, hoping he could find enough to drink to drown out the image of the head that would surely haunt him for weeks to come.

[Mollianne]

{name:Jessa#|#picture:47}

Jessa turned away, leaning heavily against the balustrade, and closed her eyes. It did not stop her hearing the anguished screams, the moans, the cries for mercy. Jessa breathed heavily, shutting her eyelids more tightly. She desperately wanted to leave but she did not know if the Marinons would notice her. She could not let them find her. She had no idea what they might do, but she knew what they were capable of.

She bit her lip, swallowing bile. She pressed her hand firmly against her stomach. This… she had not thought them capable of such gleeful violence. Anja had positively relished her torture, her kills. Jessa cut her thoughts off, unwilling to even think about it. She focused her thoughts on Rhys, ignoring the continued cries and snap of bones. Only he had shown any real reticence towards this level of inhumane, undignified torture. She knew Rhys was not a good person, no – he had let the woman beside him die with no remorse. But clearly prolonged pain, for no reason, upset and disgusted him. Jessa was thankful for that. Though she had hated the Marinons for their murders, in comparison to what was happening below her, that was a kindness. That Jessa could even think that disturbed her.

Her new world messed with her head, tipped her upside down until she felt sick. It terrified her. She could never be alone with any of them ever again, but neither could she be with them as a group. How could she survive that? Rhys was perhaps the only one she could tolerate; he had hurt her recently, yes, taunted her and crossed her, but he was not vindictive with other people’s lives. He may turn a blind eye, but he was perhaps the only safety she would find here. And she gravely needed an ally.

When the shouts died down to whimpers, Jessa dared to look again. The Marinons had left, despicably leaving the horrified servants to deal with the aftermath. Bodies writhing in their own blood, crying out to their family members, were littered around the table, some collapsed onto it. Jessa’s heart went out to them as her stomach dropped.

The family was… evil. There was no other word. Jessa stood and ran.

She ran until she could run no more, stopped by the sea crashing against the rocks. She let the spray cool her face, then bent down and vomited violently. She collapsed against a boulder, scraping her arm and drawing blood. Jessa glanced at it vacantly, not even noticing the pain. It was nothing to the people inside the house. It was no less than she deserved, either, for being too scared to do nothing. She knew there was nothing she could have done; if she had tried she would only have been killed and tortured too. It was not a proud moment to realise she would put her life above people in pain, but her selfishness had kept her surviving this long.

Each time the memories of the torture threatened to enter her head, she pushed them away and instead thought of her mother. Emara was the one good thing about her life. The woman who had cared and loved her, despite being hidden deep in the castle, kept from society, purely because she had fallen pregnant. The woman who had wanted better for her daughter, begged the King to send Jessa to school. The woman who had never seen her wish come true…

Then the images flooded back and she wanted to harm the Marinons. She knew she never could actually do it, but she imagined killing them all; swiftly, quickly, with no relish. They would feel no pain, just an end to their lives. She doubted many would mourn the loss. But it was an idle daydream; the mere thought of holding a dagger, let alone against someone’s throat, made her sick to her stomach. She leaned over and vomited again.

Jessa turned her back when the guests were brought out of the house. She could not see them again. But she would find their names and do something for them. Even if they had supposedly been traitors, they had not deserved their fate. No one deserved it, whatever their crime.

Her thoughts were whirring in her head, jumping about from thought to thought. She could not think about anything for too long, she was barely rational – she was imagining murdering people! – and her heart beat rapidly in her chest, threatening to burst free.

She had to leave; she needed to go somewhere safe. This place… it was slowly killing her. Nothing good had happened so far. She had got someone killed and witnessed the near-deaths of so many others. Her eyes had seen too much. She would go insane before too long. She could not even hear about the possibility of another dinner such as this.

Her thoughts grew vaguer, less defined, slower, and she soon fell into a restless sleep, twisting against the rocks by the ocean. Her dreams were filled with blood, with Anja’s delighted face as she pulled a knife from body after body, with screams and pleas and death.

[Rosabeth]

{name:Rhys#|#picture:48}

Upon further inspection of his room Rhys realized that his personal suppy of liquor had been drained, most likely due to these very situations. Going down to the servants' quarters to replace his collection would undoubtedly present him with some very unsavory sights, putting that option out of the question. Victor would likely be at the tavern at this time of night, along with some of Rhys's other friends, and with that thought he set off towards the city.

The night was dark and cold, sea breezes forcing Rhys to pull his cloak more tightly around his body. Rhys approached the boats, pausing just as he started to board, looking off across the moonlit waters. No, this was not night for sailing, Rhys thought, stepping out of the boat. He turned instead, heading off along the shore towards the rock cliffs in the distance. Walking was therapeutic and Rhys allowed his thoughts to all but dissipate, washed out by the crashing of the waves on the shore. He kicked pebbles along the sand as he went, watching them fly across the sand and land with a thud, only to repeat the action again and again. After several minutes of this a small moan snapped Rhys back to the present. Once of his rocks had bounced off of a mound on the ground, and that mound began to shift, revealing it to be a small figure lying on the beach.

"Jessa?" Rhys stared in surprise, bending down to get a closer look at the body. With one look the bright red hair instantly gave her away. She was curled into a tight ball, covered only with a dress and no cloak. Despite being alseep her face was masked with distress, her eyebrows furrowed and her lips tight. In the low light Rhys could see her eyes moving quickly beneath her eyelids.

"Jessa," he said again, this time shaking her lightly by the arm. She stirred slightly but did not wake, and Rhys repeated himself again, this time slightly more forcefully. Jessa slowly opened her eyes, looking dazed and confused for a moment before comprehension hit and she let out a high pitched scream.

"Shh, Jessa, it's just me." Rhys stepped back, removing his hand, for Jessa was staring at him as if he was about to strike. Her eyes said all that could ever be said with words: hate, betrayal, fear, loathing, all these things delivered in a single potent look.

"What are you doing out here so late?" Rhys asked, ignoring her lethal glare for the moment. Jessa did not answer, instead steadying herself against a rock as she got to her feet, never letting her eyes leave Rhys for a moment. "Jessa, really, this is ridiculous. It's cold out here, you need to get inside." She shook her head, stumbling away in no particular direction, glancing over her shoulder ever so often to make sure Rhys was not following her. Of course, Rhys did not particularly care that she wanted to be alone.

"Take this. " Rhys held out his cloak in offering once catching up to Jessa. She refused at first, staring at it as if it was made of thorns. Rhys was not so easily dissuaded. He offered the cloak again, pressing it a little closer. Jessa, apparently deciding she was cold enough to justify taking an unfavorable offer, took the cloak hesitantly, wrapping it around herself with care.

"So, are you going to tell me why you're out here?" No answer. "Are you going to tell me why you won't talk to me?" No answer. Rhys sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Jessa, really, there's no need to be like this. You don't need to be afraid of me; I'm not going to hurt you and certainly not for whatever you might have to say."

Jessa stood still for a moment, seemingly mustering up courage. She kept her eyes pierced on Rhys' as she spoke - or rather spat - her words. "Why don't you tell me why you sit by while people are tortured before you?"

"Oh." Rhys was briefly stunned into silence, not only shocked at her forwardness but also her knowledge of what had just occurred in the house. Though Dima had certainly teased her with the knowledge of the gathering Rhys had not expected Jessa to find a way to spy over the dinner. With this revelation Jessa's behavior all clicked into place, each glare and careful avoidance seeing so understandable.

"Why don't you take a walk with me?" Rhys said. He offered his arm but Jessa only stared at it, obviously opposed to any physical contact. Rhys nodded in understanding, dropping it and taking a step back. "I promise I just want to talk. I told you once that I will never harm you and I meant it then and still mean it now, so please, just trust me on this one thing."

Whether it was her fatigue making her decision or her rational mind deciding Rhys was not a threat to be concerned with in the moment, Jessa agreed, stepping beside Rhys. They walked in silence at first, Rhys guiding her against the rock face and around a bend, off towards a crevice in the cliff. Jessa appeared alarmed as Rhys began to enter the narrow crevice, stopping just outside.

"I'm not leading you to your death," he said, rolling his eyes. "It's a passage to town. It's not well known, only by us and a few others, and it's a bit of a trek, but it's nice when you don't wish to take a boat everywhere."

This news seemed to interest Jessa enough to coerce her to follow, and once again they walked side-by-side, following the dark, narrow slot.

"I'm sorry," Rhys began, breaking the silence that had fallen. "Truly, I'm sorry you saw what you did, even if you were the one doing the spying. I know it's not something I enjoy," he thought of Anja with a frown, pushing many images away, "and I know it must be much worse for you. I don't expect you to understand or approve - I admit I don't often understand - but this is the way things are, this is the truth of our lives. You cannot expect change where it will not occur." Rhys glanced briefly at Jessa, trying to judge her indistinct expression. Whether or not she saw any merit in his apology wasn't particularly relevant, but he still felt it was necessary to say it.

"So," be said, preparing himself for the worst, "What did you think?"

[Mollianne]

{name:Jessa#|#picture:47}

As they had walked, Jessa became numb. Distantly she recognised that was a bad idea, that a numb heart would lead her to a very dark place, but she could not shake the emptiness within her. Her head felt like a dimensionless void, replaying faraway images that no longer made sense. She was sickened and weak, but it was a vague sensation, as though she was witnessing someone else feeling them and reacting to that.

Rhys’s apology snapped her out of it, thrusting her back into the reality of being married into a horrifying family, immoral and unrepentant, bent on torturing anyone who even knew someone who had crossed them.

‘What did she think?’ did not make sense to her; that someone could ask such a callously casual question reviled her. They were not about to discuss this. This was something she would live with for the rest of her days, but something she could not think about. The things crashing about in her head, previously dulled by the walk but now raging again, were not small enough to be called mere thoughts. Whatever she thought was something she could not – or would not – articulate.

She watched Rhys out of the corner of her eye. He was watching her back, waiting warily for her response. Jessa turned away, looking out to sea. She wished she could be miles away from here. Miles from the memories that haunted her. She shivered.

After clambering onto a boulder in her path, Jessa sat down and watched the waves lap against the beach. For a moment, Rhys continued his walk. She observed as he stopped, looked around in confusion, and spotted her. He came over and leant against the rock, sighing in frustration.

“Are you really going to keep giving me the silent treatment?”

“I hate your family,” she said quietly, keeping her gaze locked on the beach below her. Her voice was expressionless, stating irrefutable facts. She was too tired to do anything else. “They… I cannot even… I know I should not have gone now. Yet strangely, I am thankful that I did. I now know exactly who you all are, and I loathe it. How you can…”

She cut off, swallowing tears she refused to show Rhys. He would never see her break down; she would not let herself ever be that vulnerable in front of him. Jessa bit her lip until she was practically drawing blood, her head bowed and her shoulders hunched. Rhys clearly had no idea what to do or say. He seemed to be stunned into silence.

One thing was certain, he was not at all sorry for what had happened. He would never have told them to stop, instead running away like a coward. She had done the same. She breathed in shakily. How must all those people be feeling, and here she was feeling sorry for herself? Jessa was ashamed. Sucking in a deep breath, she raised her head and looked straight ahead.

“If you really want to help me, you would visit all of the people whose lives you destroyed tonight and do whatever it takes to ease their troubles. You would not stop, even if it destroyed you in the process. I don’t know how you can push it aside, and I know I won’t. Every time I look at them, I’ll see the evil in your family, and I will want to run. But, instead, I will try to make it better. Nothing can, I know. But you, your family, you don’t have consciences, you don’t have morals, you don’t care about anyone other than yourselves.”

She balled her fists at her sides, trying to calm herself down. The anger roiled in her, wanting to lash out, to try to change someone so that something this disgusting and dreadful never happened again. “But you said it yourself, I cannot change anything. This is how it is. Well, how it is makes me sick. It makes me want to kill you,” she hissed, finally turning to face Rhys. He looked surprised at her admission – raised eyebrows, leaning backwards. She glared at him scornfully. “I’m not like you; I would never do that, no matter how much you pushed me.”

“I am sorry.”

She stood, brushing down her dress and walking to the water’s edge. She let the water soak through her shoes and cool her toes. With her back to Rhys, she said, “Don’t you dare ever apologise to me when you don’t mean it, when you don’t want change. I won’t hear any more lies.”

She heard Rhys step forward, his foot crunching on shells as he came closer. Jessa wanted nothing more than to run away. He had said he would never hurt her, but she could not trust him. And physical pain was not the only trauma he could give her.

“Keep your family away from me and the people I love. I want nothing more to do with any of them. They act like the scum of the world, I will treat them as such.” She paused, and glanced over to the city. The lights in the bay reflected off the water. “Find me somewhere in the city, a place I can go to if life in your house gets too much. I cannot spend my every hour here, knowing what goes on. I need my safety and solitude.”

[Rosabeth]

{name:Rhys#|#picture:48}

It was not like Rhys had never heard such things before. He'd been called every name in the book, he'd been spit on, hit, screamed at, every possible way a person could think of to retaliate in the midst of pain and passion. Never before, though, had he heard such accusations, such bitter words, spoken from someone whom was not moments from death. Perhaps that was what gave Rhys pause - it was not the words, it was the speaker.

The accusation that he had no morals, that he had no conscience, that he felt nothing was preposterous. He had felt more deeply and painfully that Jessa ever had. There were sights his eyes had seen that haunted him night and day, memories that tore away at his psyche piece by piece until he could manage to steel himself against the attack. He was hardened, that was undeniable, but to live in such a way, involved such a line of work at to go on open to the rest of the word - that would be impossible. Rhys was not sure why he felt the urge to defend himself to Jessa, to try and redeem his own image, but in that moment the need seemed more important than any other.

"Come on," he urged, picking up his pace towards the city. "I want you to meet some people."

Whether or not Jessa was looking forward to meeting anyone Rhys had to offer she followed without protest, keeping to herself the whole way. Rhys made his way through the city streets quickly and quietly, checking behind him occasionally to make sure Jessa had not run off and gotten herself lost in an alley way. They came upon the tavern just as a particularly violent storm fell upon the city and Rhys and Jessa filed into the tavern with a hord of other citizens looking to escape the downpour.

"RHYS!"

Victor's booming voice was unmistakable, his figure even more remarkable. He held up a huge mug, raising it towards Rhys and nearly tipping the table as he hurriedly stood up. Several of the other people at the table groaned, grabbing at their drinks before Victor could knock them off the wobbling table. Rhys' eyes immediately found Selene, one of the patrons seated near Victor. She smiled gently, nodding at Rhys and Jessa as they approached.

"I'd like you all to meet Jessa," Rhys introduced, gesturing to her beside him. Adding that she was his wife was superfluous; they all knew. The various faces around the large table all nodded and smiled, some appearing more interested with the newcomber than others. Rhys rattled off the many names around the table, not that he expected Jessa to remember any of them, stopping only when he came to the last four.

"You already know Selene and I believe you've met Victor," Victor grinned broadly, adding in a wink for good measure, "but this is Ero and Freya."

"Welcome, Jessa," Freya said, patting the seat beside her. Jessa looked hesitant at first, searching for any other open seat, but eventually took the seat with a forced smile. Ero waved over a bartender, ordering a new round of drinks.

"So," Ero began, leaning over Freya to face Jessa, his hands clasped under his chin, "I hear you're from Ovis." Jessa looked surprised at his knowledge but Ero only waved it off, chuckling. "News travels fast around here. I've never been to Ovis. What's it like? Does the culture differ drastically? I've heard terrible things about your weather, though I suppose today's not the best time to boast about ours. What's all the interesting news from court? Any embarrassing facts about the king you'd be willing to share with the group?"

Freya elbowed Ero in the side, rolling her eyes. "Don't mind him," she sighed, "he's a constant thorn in my side."

Ero laughed, shaking his head and leaning in to place a kiss on Freya's cheek. "She loves me regardless." Freya smiled sweetly, joining in his laughter. Rhys watched Jessa with interest from across the table, ignoring Victor's incessant chatter that seemed to have already bored the rest of the group. Though obviously somewhat offset by Ero's aggressive line of questioning Jessa seemed to slowly be taking down her defenses, sinking into her seat as the minutes ticked by.

Rhys listened in on Ero and Freya's conversations with Jessa occasionally, finding himself fascinated with how quickly she seemed to have been taken with them. It was certainly not hard to imagine why, and Rhys had been pleased to see that they were present that night. Ero was a pleasant man with a scrawny frame and a soft face adorned with bright red hair similar to Jessa's own. Freya, enthusiastic and witty with a stomach matched to any man's, contrasted Ero almost comically, standing nearly a foot shorter with long, raven hair and angular features. The two were thick as thieves, a duo Rhys had never seen with a sullen face between them.

After a few rounds of drinks and a large platters of food the company had become comfortable in their seats, all lounging about casually, trading comical stories of their week. As they spoke a lute melody drifted over them, followed by the rhythmic beat of a set of drums. The table's attention turned instantly, all eyes on the performers who played away in the corner, reserved to themselves. Rhys barely had time to take in the music before Freya appeared before him, her hands extended.

"No." He laughed, waving her away. "I'm far too drunk for that."

"That's the point, isn't it?" Freya laughed, attempting miserably to pull Rhys out of his seat with her small frame. "Come on, you know Ero hates dancing. I can always count on you, Rhys! You're supposed to be the fun one!" Jessa's eyebrows shot up at that assertion, obviously doubtful that Rhys could be considered 'fun' in any world. This only encouraged Rhys, pushing his inhibitions aside.

Rhys took Freya's hands and followed her out to the floor, laughing at her own giddy expression and the way she jumped from foot to foot in excitement. They stood before the players who instantly changed their tune to something more upbeat, looking pleased to find someone to play for. Freya and Rhys began their dance, immediately encouraged by the other patrons with hollers and whistles as Rhys spun Freya around, her laughing as they went. They skipped and stepped and spun, ignoring the fact that all eyes were upon them. It felt so natural to let go of his inhibitions, to let all his thoughts and emotions fade away into the dance until all that was left was the elation left by his enthusiastic partner.

When the song finished the room thundered with applause, Victor's easily being the loudest. Rhys bowed unsteadily, Freya curtsying quickly before running back to the table and dragging Victor and Selene back against their will. As Rhys waited for Freya to make her rounds, gathering a new group of dancers, his gaze wandered to Jessa who had not left her seat. Her head was cocked, watching Rhys with a peculiar expression he could not quite place. He waved discretely, bringing Jessa's attention to his own gaze. She looked away hurriedly, instead striking up a conversation with Ero. Rhys smiled, turning back to the new group formed around the players and chiming in on their suggestions as for the next dance. If Rhys was to be hated so be it, but at least he could claim he was a hated man with many friends.

[Mollianne]

{name:Jessa#|#picture:47}

“So, you didn’t say: anything embarrassing on the king?” Ero asked cheekily, leaning in towards Jessa as though they were sharing a secret. Jessa, tipsy on wine, leaned in towards him and laughed. She pushed him away. The wine had released her of some of her torment, so even though she had vowed never to drink as excessively as she had done on her wedding night, she was glad of the few glasses she had consented to. The company certainly helped too.

“I honestly have nothing to say. I barely saw him, if I could help it.”

“Oh. Tell me something anyway,” suggested Ero. He had had much more to drink that Jessa, and he was lolling about restlessly in his chair. He winked at Jessa, eliciting another laugh. She may be loath to admit it, since his life choices were sickening, but Rhys did appear to have good taste in friends. She liked Ero, with his enthusiastic questions, his genuine interest and his playful jokes. His – and Freya’s – companionship was a much needed respite from the reality of her life.

Jessa shrugged her shoulders and waved her hands. “Lie, if you have to!” Ero said. Jessa shook her head in mock despair.

“Oh, he…” She was flustered, unused to thinking on the spot. Ero leaned closer, waiting expectantly. “I heard he fell over while dancing once, and tore his wife’s dress and a curtain in the process.”

“That’s all you have? You have much to learn, my girl,” he declared, falling back against the back of his chair.

She raised her eyebrows. “And you’ll be the one to teach me?”

“Of course, why not? Seriously, I like you, Jessa, but you need loosening up. Slouch a bit! We’re all friends here; no need to be so straight-backed.” He pushed at her shoulder, though there was no strength in it. Jessa ignored him with a smile, her gaze finding Rhys. Now he was dancing with another nameless girl, while Freya was nowhere to be seen. They certainly were not friends. Seeming to feel her watching him, Rhys glanced at her as he spun his dance partner under his arm. He gave her a small smile, and she realised that she was still smiling too. She looked away.

“So, you do not like to dance, Ero?” She tilted her head as his face scrunched up into a grimace.

“Hate it. My arms and legs just go all over the place; I don’t know what to do with them,” he explained. Jessa nodded, mostly agreeing with him. She would dance if she felt so inclined, but often she was much happier watching and admiring those much more elegant and excited by the dances. Watching the small crowd moving in the centre of the room, a small part of her wanted to join in. There were too many people in such a small space for her to really be tempted to stand up and step from side to side. As more and more people were enticed by the music, it was just her and Ero at their table now.

“I don’t think that’s the point of this dancing. They’re mostly just leaning on each other because they’re drunk,” Jessa commented. Somehow, Rhys and his new dancing partner had managed to stay on the fringes of the floor, giving them more freedom to move. Rhys was clearly a little inebriated, from his shaky, overdone movements. As he stumbled, Jessa laughed. Somehow managing to hear her over the music, Rhys looked over in surprise. She held his gaze, amusement shining in her eyes.

When the dance ended, he said goodbye to his partner and came over to them. Jessa watched him warily. Ero called to him cheerfully, “You may not have found her, or wanted to marry her, but you’ve got a good one here!”

Jessa whipped her head around to look at Ero, her jaw dropping as her cheeks flamed hot. Rhys did not react to Ero’s comment. He looked at Jessa. “How are you finding it?”

“I’m doing better.” She said the words but did not think more on them in case her memories returned to destroy her momentary peace. Sincerely, she added, “Thank you for bringing me here. I needed this. These are good people.”

Rhys inclined his head towards her as he took her seat. He was bewildered at her change of heart, but she had not told him that she already felt slightly more generous towards him than the rest of his heartless family. She shut her brain up with a forced laugh, which quickly turned more genuine, and said, “And you cannot dance while drunk. At all.”

“Do you think you can do better?” Rhys challenged, tilting his head back at the dancers.

“I did not say that,” she countered, shaking her head fervently. “I don’t pretend I can dance, unlike you.”

“I think you should show me what you can do, since you’ve insulted me so fiercely,” he teased. Jessa could not help thinking of their earlier conversation on the beach, though it had not been Rhys’s intention. She was mercifully side-tracked by Rhys pulling her to her feet. “Come on, Ero. Don’t sit here all on your own. I know you love it.”

Rhys pulled them over to the rest of the dancers, wobbling slightly on his feet. He pushed the pair together and grabbed Freya, who had appeared from nowhere. Her mouth dropped as she saw Ero standing there awkwardly, one hand holding Jessa’s, the other hovering unsurely near her waist.

“Shut your mouth, you’ll catch flies,” he quipped, glaring playfully at Freya. “I’ll have you know I can pull this off perfectly. I just choose not to dance usually.”

What ensued was a rather haphazard competition between the two couples. Ero had been telling the truth: his legs seemed to have a mind of their own. Instead of stepping from side to side, he nearly tripped over Jessa and pulled them over every time. Rhys and Freya laughed whole-heartedly at their friend’s misfortune, while Jessa struggled to keep them upright. What Ero lacked in finesse, he made up for in his desire to prove Freya wrong. He barely looked at Jessa, fixed as he was on Freya’s face with a pointed, ‘look-I’m-doing-it’ expression.

Jessa’s gaze caught Rhys. Her face sobered, and she nodded at him gratefully. He seemed to understand her. She smiled and then nearly fell over as Ero crashed into her. They finally regained their balance. “Perhaps you’ve had enough,” Jessa said, leading him back to their table.

For the rest of the night, Jessa and Ero remained firmly in their seats as the rest flittered from the table to the floor, though a few others had tried to coerce Jessa into dancing. She smiled, fiercely glad for this night in the pub, after the horrors earlier. Her lips downturned. The wine was lessening in its effect, bringing back her solemnity, though she tried to hold onto the brief happiness. This had been something Jessa had desperately needed, and it was, astonishingly, down to Rhys.

[Rosabeth]

{name:Rhys#|#picture:48}

By the time the group began to disperse it was well after midnight, approaching the early hours of the morning. Selene was the first, and most sober, to leave, followed by a very drunk Victor as well as Ero and Freya, the latter two stumbling along together and stealing kisses when they suspected no one was watching. Their displays of affection had never much bothered Rhys before, but then he had barely noticed when wrapped up with Selene. He forced himself to look away, feeling bitterness clawing its way into his mind, tainting his thoughts. Rhys tried to force those thoughts out, focusing instead on the success of the night. Jessa was significantly less hostile towards him after only a few hours and the improvement, though likely short-lived, put Rhys at ease.

"Come on," he said once the room began to clear, "we should be getting back."

Jessa nodded in agreement and grabbed Rhys' cloak, offering it back to him. He refused the gesture, pushing her hand away. "Trust me, you need it more than I do. That's the benefit of men's clothing - it's much warmer." Once Jessa had fastened the cloak around herself and Rhys had paid his tab the two set off into the darkness, slowly making their way through the empty streets.

"You liked Ero, I noticed," Rhys said, attempting to start up conversation. Whether it was the wine or the good company that loosened her lips, Jessa spoke more freely, seemingly forgetting her earlier quarrel with Rhys.

"Yes, he was wonderful. I'll give you that credit - you do have excellent choice in friends. Freya seemed nice too, though I didn't have the chance to speak with her much. She's very..."

"Open?" Rhys suggested. "And yet she chooses to be with Ero, the man who'd sits in the corner of every party. Yes, it's funny how those things work out, isn't it? Their personalities seem so opposing and yet... it works."

Rhys and Jessa's eyes met briefly, only long enough to share a brief, awkward look that suggested that romantic relationships were perhaps not the most fitting of topics to be discussed between the two. They both turned away awkwardly, Rhys regretting the feelings his words brought on and Jessa blushing. They walked in silence for a time, allowing for their inebriation to prolong the good feelings they shared. Of course, such good fortune was always short lived, and the call of Rhys' name snapped him back to reality.

"Lord Rhys!" Called a short, plump woman, turning the corner in a hurry. "Thank the gods it is you and not the Lady, no offense to her."

"No offense taken," Rhys assured the woman. "What seems to be the problem?"

"It's my son, my Lord," she gasped, stopping to catch her breath. Jessa looked questioningly at Rhys but he only shrugged, no more informed on the matter than she. "He just returned from a trip to Novamor on behalf of your men - he's part of the merchants who trade with Novamor every month - and when the group returned they realized that they'd be deceived, that the goods they'd been given were forgeries. My son tried to flee, fearing he'd be punished. He's young, my Lord, he does not understand these things. He was caught by a group of your guards and they've threatened to kill him. Please, you have to understand, my Lord. If it was anyone else I might not ask, but I thought you might understand."

Rhys sighed, his mood souring at the very thought of having to deal with anyone at this time of day, but he could not say no to this terrified woman, her plea so genuine. She thanked him a thousand times over, trying to kiss his hand despite his protests. He and Jessa followed the woman back through the streets quickly, coming upon a thin house wedged between two shops. The woman entered first, followed by Rhys and Jessa in his wake. The scene was very much as described, a young man of about Dima's age kneeled on the stone floor, bloody gashes on his face and bare chest oozing blood, his body slumped in a state of weakness. The armed men that surrounded him stumbled over themselves bowing at Rhys's entrance, obviously taken back by his presence.

"What is this?" Rhys asked dully, gesturing to the man on the floor. He stepped forward, kneeling down and taking the young man's chin in his hand. The man attempted to look Rhys in the eyes but could not manage to keep his eyes open long enough to register the scene before him.

"He tried to run, my Lord," the tallest guard answered, puffing out his chest in defiance. "We were dolling out the fit punishment."

"Execution? Really? This seems wise to you?" The whole situation was idiotic, really, and Rhys could barely contain his annoyance at having been dragged into this mess. "Is it a crime to be deceived?"

"We don't know he was decieved, my Lord. He could be lying. He and his fellows could have stolen the real items."

"And replaced them with fakes? You all certainly are dumb bastards," Rhys said scathingly, rolling his eyes at the guards who stared at Rhys in astonishment. "Release him if you cannot prove he's done anything."

"We don't need proof; the man was involved in illegal activity, regardless of its nature."

"Again, you don't actually know that, do you? Besides, aren't we all involved in criminal behaviors?" Rhys removed his dagger and sliced the ropes that bound the young man's hands. "I'm feeling generous today, men. Let it be."

"My Lady would never -"

"Never what?" Rhys cocked his eyebrows, turning on the men. Two of them backed away, looking slightly fearful of Rhys' subdued anger. The one stood his ground, never taking his eyes of Rhys. "Are you willingly disobeying me? Because, if I'm mistaken - and I am not, for I make the laws - I believe that is cause for execution."

All three men cowered, now looking extremely uncomfortable in their positions. Even the proud man flinched, taking a step back.

"And sheath your damn weapons before I use them to slash you all for ignoring the commands of your Lord!" Rhys' good nature brought on by his drinking was fading quickly, and he wanted nothing more than to leave this place and hope the effects would return. "If these fools give you any more trouble, madame, come to me and I will take care of them," Rhys said to the woman, glaring once more at the stunned guards. He turned on his heel, brushing past Jessa on his way out the door.

[Mollianne]

{name:Jessa#|#picture:47}

“Rhys!” Jessa called, running to catch up with him. She had not even given a second glance to the scene in the house – Jessa had seen enough blood, and thankfully the man had a wonderful mother to care for him – before she had chased after Rhys. Her mind worked to find an explanation that did not baffle her. Rhys slowed his pace so she could catch up. She pursed her lips, then asked, “Did what I say actually do something?”

Rhys frowned. “Of course not. There was absolutely no need for the violence – certainly no need for execution – and I was not going to let them continue. The man had done nothing wrong, only what we asked, and his only crime was panicking when he thought our people would jump to the exact conclusions they drew. That is our fault, not his.”

Jessa nodded, then bit her lip. “Well… It might not mean anything, but you behaved well there. For the second time tonight, I might actually find you acting like a real human.”

“What did you think I was before?” he asked casually, a slight tease in his voice. The cool night air seemed to have a calming effect on him after the smell of blood in the tiny house. Jessa examined Rhys for a moment, and had to conclude that this could be the true Rhys she was seeing. That was a possibility she had never considered; the closest he had probably come before was with Selene, or maybe his friends. Not her… they were not friends.

“I… I would have said an empty body, acting on immoral habits, but… I guess I knew before today that you do have emotions. I just refused to see it, because… I guess it’s simpler to think you’re like the rest of your family, even if that is more disgusting. They’re warped; they do the things they do for the pleasure of it. Now, you; I do not know why, and maybe that scares me more. Still, it means you have a limit where they do not.” She paused. “And you have real friends where the rest of them have allies and tools.”

“Are you actually saying you think I’m alright?” Rhys asked, disbelieving. They were back on the beach, now. Jessa’s feet fell into the sand, making the walk more difficult. There was only the moon to guide them around rocks. She did not answer his question for a little while, concerned with navigating the maze of boulders and rock pools.

“No, I am not saying that,” Jessa finally said. “You have a twisted morality, and you will step on whoever you need to get what you want. You hurt people and you don’t care because you think they deserve it. But your idea of necessity is different to your father’s or your sister’s idea of it, though both are wrong. I don’t like what you do on the whole, but I do like what you did for that mother and her son. Compassion.”

***

Over the next couple of weeks, Jessa and Rhys reached an understanding. They spoke to each other a little, and generally they were civil. Jessa refused to speak to anyone else in the house and spent as much time in the university or the library as she could. She had sent a few letters to Alistair: one contained information that there were ‘traitors’ the Marinons were looking for and that she advised them to attempt to discover their identities and find them to keep them safe; others noted general information on the dispositions of each Marinon as she saw them. There was nothing particularly useful to the king’s suspicions that Lord Erik planned to overthrow him; Jessa could find nothing to indicate such a thing. She had guessed the king would not be happy with her letters.

Until a couple of days ago, Jessa had not cared. She had been engrossed in her research of magic. There were so many intricacies in the power that she had not even considered. It was a difficult skill to master, but the basics were possible for all; that much she knew. But there was a rich history behind magic and there was still so much people did not know about it. Jessa had not realised there were so many untested or undiscovered uses of magic.

And in one particular book, there had been a brief mention of a deeper, darker magic which had caught Jessa’s eye. However, on turning the page, the following chapter discussed the spells inventing after the Barichean Wars. Whatever she read about – magic, the wars themselves – everything pointed to the idea that there was something very peculiar about the wars. Before, she had had no clue what it might be about. Now, she was convinced it was something to do with the magic Merai possessed.

Today, though, her thoughts were not on her research. Her thoughts were on the ship sailing towards port. Rhys was beside her, playing the part of her husband welcoming some of her family members to their home. Jessa wished neither of them had to be there. Whatever the reason for the king sending Princess Maira and Prince Edmund – and refusing to send Harris – it was unlikely to be good. The only saving grace in the visit was the Alistair had hinted that he might be able to come along, if the university permitted him leave. Jessa hoped he was on board, though she worried for his seasickness.

The wind blew her hair wild as the ship docked. The gangplank was lowered and the princess appeared, followed by her brother and… Alistair. Jessa breathed out a sigh of relief and smiled wide.

“Hello, Princess Maira, Prince Edmund,” she greeted vaguely, curtseying. They nodded with disinterest, looking around harbour with distaste. Jessa hid a smile; Jasrah was so very different from their sheltered lives. There would be no calm surrounding them. The harbour would not be closed off for them just for their convenience, unlike in Ovis.

But Jessa had no real cares for them. She laughed upon seeing Alistair, looking a bit green around the gills. She ran to clasp his hand. “I’ve missed you,” she admitted. “Though it looks like you could have borne missing me longer quite well. The sea really does not suit you.”

“Carriage ride back,” he said weakly. He clearly dared not say more in case he was sick. Jessa glanced over her shoulder, noting that Rhys was occupying the royals. She turned back to Alistair.

“Did you bring the books?” she asked eagerly, craning her head to watch the trunks being brought down to the pier. Alistair nodded. “Good. I hope I find something more useful.”

[Rosabeth]

{name:Rhys#|#picture:48}

Over the next few days Rhys was almost entirely confined to his study, engrossed with the ridiculous amount of work before him. He left infrequently and saw few people, becoming more of a hermit than he'd ever been before. Anja's trip to Ovis with the tracking team for the traitors had lasted longer than expected and as such Rhys was left with a bulk of work that would have otherwise been left to her, not that that was any surprise. Anja's work consisted mostly of the physical kind - threats, altercations, fights, murders - but she was still assigned some tasks of the estate. In her absence Rhys worked to complete that in addition to his banking and law duties, and as such found himself often sleeping on the job.

Though the day was bright and the sun shone brightly into the study through the long windows, Rhys laid face down on his desk, trying to keep his eyes open to no avail. He was so tired... so tired...

"FOUND HIM!"

Rhys woke with a jolt, shaking his head in his dazed state and looking around for the sound of the voice. Suddenly a large pair of hands gripped his shoulders, nearly pulling him ou of his seat. Rhys nearly jumped out of his seat in surprise, his hand fumbling uselessly at his hips for the sword that was not there. Before Rhys could work himself up Victor stepped in front of Rhys, a smile on his face.

"We came to keep you company!" He said pleasnatly, taking a seat in front of Rhys and picking up a book at random, flipping through the pages.

"We?" Rhys asked, rubbing at his eyes.

"Hello, Rhys," Selene said, stepping into the room. Rhys couldn't help but smile, standing as she entered. Selene motioned for him him to sit, pulling up a chair from agains the wall and brining it next to Victor's. "We hadn't heard from you in a few days so we thought we'd come make sure Anja hadn't killed you in your sleep. I'm glad to see she hasn't."

"Anja's not even here," Rhys said, pushing his books away from him and propping his feet up on the desk. "She's still off with the search party. Well, she is the search party, more or less."

"That's too bad, I thought I'd see if she was up for some good fun," Victor joked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Rhys felt sickened at the very thought. "Ugh, don't even joke about such things. I've seen enough of her escapades to last me a life time."

"Enough about everyone's least favorite psychopath," Selene interjected. "What have you been up to that's kept you so hulled up?"

"Work, what else?" sighed Rhys. "Piles and piles of work. Mother has been particularly insistant that I take a larger role in the banking business, no matter how dull it may be. Aside from this monotonous work I haven't much done anything else. I'm sure you'll find me dull company."

"I've never found you to be dull company," said Selene with a smile. "How have you and Jessa been getting on? I haven't seen you two together since the last night at the tavern, and she didn't seem particularly fond of you then."

Rhys thought about it, brushing the end of his quill against his face absentmindedly as he recalled the last few weeks. "We get on well, I suppose. Well, as well as can be expected, really. I wouldn't call us friends, but we manage just fine. Actually, aside from mother she's been one of the few people I've actually spoken to recently."

If this news affected Selene she tried her best not to show it. She remained impassive, eventually managing to pull a slight smile. Victor watched the quiet exchange between Rhys and Selene with interest, whistling under his breath and taking a turn about the room to allow them space while never really getting far enough away to not hear any conversation.

"Are you jealous?" asked Rhys incredulously. It made no sense, any of it, but the look on Selene's face, the way she desperately tried to hide any feeling, said it all.

"Of course not." Selene's eyes broke from Rhys, looking down at her hands. "I told you to before that I wanted you to move on, and I wanted you to be with Jessa. Of course I'm not -"

Rhys scoffed. "You think I have feelings for Jessa? We're just talking. Talking, Selene, nothing more. We're not even friends! Selene," he reached across the desk, taking Selene's hands that rested on its surface. She tried to pull away but Rhys would not let her go, intertwining his fingers with hers. It was stupid, he knew, but he was tired of carefully skirting the feelings before him.

"Rhys, please," she whispered, locking eyes with him once more. "we can't do this, not now. Not unless you've changed your mind."

At Selene's insinuation Rhys dropped her hands, feeling idiotic for his rash behavior. "No, I haven't changed my mind. Still, you have to know my feelings haven't changed. I still... you must know..."

From across the room Victor groaned, hitting his fist against a table top. Rhys and Selene jumped, breaking apart and turning to stare at Victor.

"If you two are done with your little romantic interludes, I think you might be interested to know that that our favorite person seems to have returned."

Rhys jumped up from his seat, rushing to the window with Selene crowding in behind him. Striding into the manor from the beach was Anja, trailed by a score of men and women who walked in uniformly behind her. Amidst the followers were a few pathetic looking people, hanging limply on the arms of guards who dragged them across the ground. Their clothes were tattered and dried with blood, their faces scarred beyond recognition. Victor scowled, muttering under his breath. Selene looked away in discomfort. Rhys only looked on with a blank expression, vaguely wondering if the waves of disgust that rolled over him were what Jessa had felt all those weeks ago.

[Mollianne]

{name:Jessa#|#picture:47}

Jessa groaned. “Really don’t want to go back now.”

Alistair glanced around in confusion. They were walking through the markets after Alistair had insisted he accompany Jessa to the harbour where the boat was waiting. He refused to stay in the Marinon house, preferring a small inn on the outskirts which he could get to keeping both feet firmly on the ground. The man was not really up to travelling along the beach every single day so he could get into town. However, he had to suffer through small boat trips to the University of Jasrah, who had granted him permission to work there for the duration of his extended stay.

Jessa pointed towards the mast rising higher than the others above the stalls of the market. “Anja’s returned. Oh, let me stay with you.”

“It is your home, Jessa. You can’t change that,” Alistair said. After much reluctance, Jessa had told her friend about the dinner she had witnessed. He had been as horrified as she, but it did not change the fact that she had a job to do for the king. However, he urged her to visit him whenever she could. As such, she had not yet spent any time alone with Maira and Edmund. For that she was glad; she did not want to be reprimanded by the king through them, when she was trying as hard as she could, and Jessa could not think of any other reason for their visit.

“Let’s have another look around, though. I know exactly why she went away, and if she’s back, she won’t be bringing anything good with her.”

Turning back on themselves, they meandered aimlessly through the market. Jessa impulsively bought a couple of blueberry muffins, which she had introduced Alistair to already. He adored them just as much. They ate them as they walked.

“Have my books been useful? You haven’t said anything about them yet,” Alistair asked eventually, surprise in his voice. Clearly he expected Jessa to be unable to shut up about them.

“I have read a couple, but none of them have been useful. I thought the same of another book, but I think there might be pages missing. Do you have any idea why?”

Alistair shrugged and shook his head slowly. “Well, the magic you described that Merai person to have sounded dangerous. Perhaps some long-dead king decided it was best to destroy all sources of learning the magic so no one could use it again.”

“I suppose. Merai could have the only book on the subject in existence, but I can’t go anywhere near that place,” Jessa said, shivering. Alistair frowned.

“I’ve been trying to think about it, but I still have no reason for why she would have attacked you so harshly. What did she say again?” Alistair asked, tapping his head self-depreciatingly. “My memory isn’t what it used to be.”

“‘Never bring the likes of her here again,’” Jessa quoted. She sighed. “Maybe she just knows I’m the daughter of the king. She wouldn’t want the king finding out about her.”

“It sounds like she could handle the guards well enough herself,” Alistair mused. Jessa felt quiet, feeling exactly the same but not wanting to admit it. She could think of no other explanations except that. She doubted Merai would take offence at a simple scholar, after all.

“You had really better go,” Alistair suggested, noticing the height of the sun. Jessa nodded reluctantly and allowed Alistair to guide her to her boat.

“Tomorrow, we will go through my books together, and see if there is anything to be found. There may not actually be anything other than a single spell that gives off the appearance of amplified magic,” Alistair said, holding out a hand to help Jessa onto the deck. She smiled at him.

“At least I would know. But I am sure it is something much greater,” she replied, gesturing to the boatman that she was ready to set sail. “I shall visit bright and early tomorrow, and we can go to the university together.”

Above the noise of the boat pulling away from the dock, she heard Alistair groan. She laughed, turning away and watching the rocks for the house. In the distance, she saw a group of people storming down the beach.

“Take your time,” she called to the boatman, who looked back at her inquisitively. She glanced pointedly at the group. The man followed her gaze and saw her meaning. He nodded imperceptibly, swallowing hard. “Enjoy the sights. I am in no hurry to return.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed in a clipped, formal tone. He slowed the boat until it was bobbing almost stationary on the water. The pair kept their eyes on the silhouettes until the group had rounded the corner. Then Jessa gave him a nod, and the boat began its journey again.

“Thank you.” She moved to him and rested her hand briefly on his shoulder. He stared at her in shock, but did not shake her off though he seemed to want to. Quickly she removed her hand and nodded at him.

The boat came to the rocks a few minutes later. Anja and her followers were nowhere to be seen, mercifully. The boatman helped Jessa onto dry land. Before she left, she turned to him and asked, “What is your name?”

“Jaq, ma’am.” Jessa nodded and smiled at him, but said nothing. She was not really sure why she had asked. They watched each other for a second more and then Jessa headed inside. As she entered the house, she spied Anja talking to her father at the end of the hall. Before she could make herself scarce, Rhys appeared and the three disappeared into the study. Jessa was intrigued, but she was not sure if she dared spy on another private conversation, particularly so soon after Anja had returned.

[Rosabeth]

{name:Rhys#|#picture:48}

The three Marinons sat around the study facing one another, Erik seated behind the large desk and Anja and Rhys as far from one another as could be managed. Anja had a smug look plastered on her face as she removed her gloves delecately, finger by finger, as if taunting Rhys with the action. He rolled his eyes, averting his attention from her shows. He had not called on his father to watch Anja revel in her success; rather the opposite, really.

"Oh, spit it out already, Rhys, don't make me force it out of you," said Erik, slamming his hand on the desk after several minutes of drumming his fingers in waiting.

"Alright," Rhys conceded, getting to his feet. He began pacing the room, working his thoughts into a coherent speech, but each time he opened his mouth nothing seemed to come out. Eventually he paused by the window, forgetting any pretense at being diplomatic.

"Anja goes off constantly on these little witch hunts of yours, dragging back offenders by their collars and then being lavished with praise. And for what? She doesn't do anything. I co-manage the estate, I co-run the banking, I work on the laws for the city and in my non-existent spare time I do all the work Anja leaves behind when she goes off to behead some nameless man in Ovis!"

"What are you implying?" Anja hissed, pushing away her chair and walking over to Rhys' position at the window.

"I'm implying that you have no value," Rhys said, using all his effort to keep his voice as calm as possible, despite the impossibility of such a task."

Despite having a reputation for having very poor control of her temper, Anja did not seem particularly insulted by Rhys' words. She narrowed her eyes, turning away from him and making her way over to a bookshelf on the other side of the study. "I believe I have more worth than you, Rhys. The things you do - well, anyone can learn to do sums and read books. The things I do however... those take a certain skill." Anja looked back and forth between Rhys and her father, defiance blazing in her eyes as she waited to be challenged.

Rhys couldn't help but snort at the very idea. Killing people, torturing innocents - perhaps those were things that few people could manage, but Rhys certainly did not see the problem in that. "Your brutality? Yes, what a treasure we have with you," Rhys said scathingly, making a face. "But to say that you have more value than me? In case you've forgotten, Anja, I'm the heir! "

For the first time in their argument Anja's control finally snapped, and the effect was startling. It was as if a cog had come loose in the gears of her mind, sending the whole instrument into chaos. She stormed over to Rhys, her hand raised as if to hit though the strike never came. Instead she turned to Erik, placing both hands down on the table.

"Rhys is not the heir!" She exclaimed. "Since when has Rhys been the heir? I have proven my worth a thousand times over, all for this, and Rhys is the heir?"

Though stuck between two angered children, Erik did not seem particularly phased. Rhys stared at his father, waiting for the words to be uttered, waiting for him to defend Rhys' position. The moment hung in the air for what seemed like an eternity, and the longer the words were withheld the darker Rhys' heart became. Finally Erik sighed, clasping his hands together on the desk and leaning back into his chair. His eyes turned first to Rhys, void of compassion, eyes that shook Rhys to the core.

"You were never guaranteed anything, Rhys. You know you are not guaranteed the estate or title just because you are the eldest."

"But I was promised," Rhys said, his voice quickly loosing its intensity. He felt as if the floor had been taken out from beneath him, sending him into his own personal freefall that never seemed to end. "I was told those years ago that I was to be the heir."

Lord Erik pursed his lips, looking to Anja who now appeared triumphant. "Anja has proven her dedication to our family, to the things we must protect and the causes we must further. You've shown a certain resistance to some parts of our work, despite your usefulness. I cannot name someone with weakness the heir."

Rhys might as well have been stabbed. "You've got to be kidding me," he whispered. He shook his head slowly, a small smile creeping onto his lips underneath the hand that covered them. How could he have been so blind. Had he not seen all the signs? Had he not known of his father's favoritism? Had he not held suspicions for years? Why, then, did the reveal feel like the ultimate betrayal if it was devoid of true shock? His life's work gone in an instant, everything he'd sacrificed himself for stripped away. Though these thoughts rocked him there was one that put all others to shame. If not the heir, Rhys would be subservient to Anja for the rest of his life. "Are you telling me that Anja is the heir?"

Though Erik needed not answer he did, sitting up straight and looking on Rhys with no compassion. "Yes. Anja is the heir."

It was a strange feeling, not knowing whether to scream or cry or do both at once. Rhys' blood boiled while his heart sank, every bone in his body wishing to crush Anja with all her malignant expressions. But there was nothing to be done, no words he could say or acts that could be done that would satisfy his desire to simply stop living in that one moment. He closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths before rushing from the room. The moment he stepped out into the hall the floodgates opened, letting every pent up emotion bleed into his mind. Rhys grabbed a vase on the table at the end of the hall, throwing it against the wall with all his strength, watching it shatter into a million pieces on the floor beneath him. Then, in a sudden flip of emotions, Rhys sunk to the ground with his back against the wall, letting a single sob rip from his chest as he buried his head in his hands. He let his emotions take their course, though from that moment on he let them pass in silence, his body shaking without a sound. When Rhys could breath enough to calm himself he opened his eyes and lifted his head, only to see Jessa standing against the wall beside the study, watching him silently with a look that could only be interpreted as pity.

[Mollianne]

{name:Jessa#|#picture:47}

Jessa had not intended to spy. It had been pretty difficult not to overhear what was going on when Anja had been shouting for the whole world to hear. By the time Jessa had crept close enough, she heard the confirmation that Anja was the heir. Only a few moments later, Rhys burst through the door and shattered a vase; Jessa jumped. Her heart went out to him when he dropped to the floor, but she did not move. In truth, she was stunned. She knew her father had presumed Rhys was the heir. He had banked on that by marrying her off to him, as she – and by extension the king – would then have a chance at a say in the Marinon’s business. Jessa also suspected he would be loath to hear the news because dealing with an organisation he thought was plotting against him with Rhys at the helm was far different to one ruled by Anja. She did not let these concerns show.

Rhys turned away from her; she guessed because he could not stand her sympathy. The action urged her to move, but instead of leaving him she came closer. She glanced over her shoulder, noting that the study door was once again closed, unintelligible whispers coming from within. Jessa looked back at Rhys and touched his arm briefly. He did not look at her.

“For what it’s worth,” she began, keeping her voice low in case Erik or Anja overheard, “I would have you as the heir fifty times over before her.”

Without explaining why – it did not need to be said – she left and headed for her room. She unbuttoned her long, red coat and hung it in the armoire before collapsing onto her bed. Jessa breathed into her pillow. It had been a tiring day; her legs hurt from walking and her head was throbbing from thinking about her research and about the implications of what she had just heard. Once Erik died, the Marinon house would be run by a complete psychopath. Erik was one of the cruellest men she had even known, certainly, but Anja was unhinged. Rhys had been the safest option for her sanity, as well as the rest of the world’s.

Though she could not fully understand why Rhys would want to preside over such a twisted family and deal with such horrendous plots as his family did, she empathised with him for having such a controlling father. Both of them had been unfairly given no choices in their lives.

Before she could think any more on the subject, she heard a faint knock on the door. Her voice muffled, she asked “Yes?”

A maid came through and bobbed to her. “I’m sorry to disrupt, my lady, but Their Royal Highnesses are waiting for you in the sitting room. They didn’t seem best pleased.”

Jessa groaned and lifted her head. She had done so well to avoid her step-siblings until now. Giving the maid a nod, she climbed to her feet and made her way to the sitting room. Both siblings watched his disinterestedly as she came in and sat, choosing the chair furthest from them. Though they appeared not to care, Jessa could tell their annoyance: Maira’s nostrils were clenched as though she smelt something bad, and Edmund fiddled with his empty scabbard. She waited in silence, looking down at her hands resting on her thighs. It was something she could not explain, but the presence of the royal siblings reduced her to a quiet, subservient little girl. Perhaps it was the years of feeling small compared to them.

Eventually, Maira cleared her throat. Jessa looked up expectantly. “Thank you for finally making time to speak to us. I have a message from my father.”

Though she noted the careful way Maira dismissed that the king was also Jessa’s father, she kept her face passive and waiting. She had been excluded from the family for too long, and did not particularly wish to be part of it anyway. Maira seemed determined to make her wait, holding the silence far longer than was necessary. Edmund huffed in annoyance and said, “He would prefer if you only told him of things that directly involve the Marinons’ plans for him and the throne, such as your first letter.”

“Edmund!” Maira hissed, glancing around wildly to check they were not being watched. Jessa stopped herself from rolling her eyes; if the Marinons were listening to their conversation, Maira would not discover it. Besides, the family already knew of her task – another wave of guilt washed over her as she recalled her first letter to Alistair.

“Anyway,” Maira said, smoothing down her perfectly straightened dress. “Though my father is willing to hear about their other antics, it is less vital, particularly when your letter is so vague that it cannot give names. Our spies were fortunate to have heard of the conflict you mentioned, so we were able to protect the ones we felt deserving. But really, the majority were criminals and, as such, have not earned our help.”

“You have no idea what will happen to the people they found.” Jessa was not sure if she was really surprised; the king was not the kindest of men, far too convinced of his own importance, and much too paranoid about his throne to worry too much about the rest of the population. But to deny anyone, regardless of their trade, sanctuary and throw them to the dogs?

“It is not our concern. If we found them, they would be tried for their crimes, and they would be no better off,” Maira insisted. Jessa shook her head, her eyes wide. She said nothing, however, for everything she could think of would be incredibly rude; she did not want to insult the heir to the throne.

Their father’s message sent and received, the siblings looked away from Jessa, almost in disgust. Jessa felt it rude to leave, so listened to the siblings talk amongst each other. She was used to being ignored; frankly she was glad that the king had sent these two than Elissa. They may treat her with indifference, but it was better that than the litany of thinly-veiled insults the youngest princess would offer.

When she saw an opening in their conversation, Jessa inquired, “How long do you intend to stay in Jasrah?”

The siblings glanced at each other. Edmund said, gaining a little more discretion, “We will stay a little while, and see how things are here.”

“I am sure the house can bear our intrusion a little longer.”

Jessa smiled falsely at Maira. She was sure the house would manage fine, but she would not. Hopefully someone would take her away soon. Her days in the city were simply not enough.

[Rosabeth]

{name:Rhys#|#picture:48}

Perhaps it was juvenile, but Rhys knew of only one assured way to calm his temper. He fired arrow after arrow at the targets near the stables, letting his emotions slip away with every hit. Archery was much safer than fencing, for at this moment Rhys was not sure he could keep himself from slashing at Dima with enough force to wound, and he was certainly in no mood to use a blunt foil. Within a half hour the target was riddled with holes, each one accompanied by large rips from Rhys tearing the arrows out a bit too forcefully. Still, the exercise made him feel better, even if only because he could picture Anja and his father's faces on the bullseye. After an hour or so Rhys grew tired of the shooting, his arm weakening from pulling back the bow so many times and his mind wandering to where he could barely hit the outer edge of the target. Still, Rhys was in no mood to be civil with Anja, and he knew that entering the house would only be opening another heated argument. With this in mind he set off to find Dima, a face he was sure he could stand.

It was always easy to find his brother when female company abounded, and Rhys was not wrong in his guess. Though the young du Rene girl did little to show her distaste for the rest of the family, the same feelings did not seem to hold true for Rhys' slick brother. Dima sat with Jessa's eldest sister Maira on a fountain in the courtyard, laughing about a joke Rhys must have missed. He caught a lock of her hair that blew in the wind, curling it gently with his finger as the girl smiled abashedly. When Rhys entered the courtyard Maira watched him apprehensively, not showing him near the enthusiasm she showed Dima. Rhys groaned, ignoring the girl and motioning Dima over.

"I'm busy, Rhys," Dima said quietly, looking over his shoulder and winking at Maira who blushed scarlet at the gesture.

"So I noticed. However, I don't particularly care, and I don't think flirting with the du Rene girl is going to win you any favors."

"Well, those sort of favors aren't exactly what I'm looking for, if you catch my drift."

Rhys reached out and lightly smacked Dima upside the head. Dima rubbed at his head, looking sheepish at having been aprehended. "I know exactly what you want and I'm telling you you're messing with the wrong crowd. If you choose to be an ass then please do so with someone who will not go running back to the King with such stories."

"Since when have we ever cared about the King?" said Dima with a smile. He jerked suddenly out of the way, as if anticipating another blow, but Rhys only stared at him in disapproval.

"That's beside the point. Anyway, I wondered if you'd accompany me on a ride. I desperately need to get out of here and whipping your sorry ass in a race would do me some good."

Dima looked excited at first, but then a look of doubt crept on his face as he turned to look at an impatient Maira still perched on the fountain. "Sorry, Rhys. I have a lady to attend to." Dima slapped Rhys on the arm before sauntering back to Maira, sitting a little too close for Rhys' comfort. He watched the two for a moment in judgement, hoping Dima would take the hint, but Dima only shooed him away, garnering a laugh from the girl.

As Rhys wandered about the property, debating the pros and cons of a solo ride, he came upon their small garden in the back only to realize he was no longer alone. Beneath a small wooden gazebo, book in hand, Jessa lounged on a cushioned bench, completely engrossed in her reading. Rhys hesitated among the shrubs, unsure if the thought that passed through his mind was one he really wanted to go through. Jessa enjoyed to ride - she had told him that once - but looking upon her face only reminded Rhys that she had been the sole witness of his breakdown, and that was not a thought of which he currently wished to be reminded. Still, the promise of a race, no matter the opponent, felt worth the possible awkwardness of the situation.

He approached slowly though the path of flowers, not wishing to scare her and ruin his proposal. She did not notice him as he grew nearer, only looking up from her book when Rhys was only feet away.

"Oh, Rhys," she said, looking flustered. It was clear that she too had not gotten past the earlier event. "What brings you out here."

"You, actually." Jessa looked surprised, fumbling with her book. "I wanted to know if you'd be interested in going on a ride." She began to protest, coming up with various reasons due to time and work but Rhys put up a hand, shutting down her excuses.

"I know you have nothing to do this afternoon - you aren't due at the University until tomorrow. I understand that you might not want to be with me right now, especially considering what happened earlier, but I really need to escape this place right now and I have the feeling you'd like to too."

At first Jessa gave no response, frowning slightly as she looked down at her book. Rhys waited patiently, knowing just how much she wished to leave the house. He had certainly not been blind to her attempts to spend as much time outside as possible or her careful avoidance of everyone but the servants. When Jessa looked up again she sighed, placing the leather book on her seat and standing up.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt," she agreed.

They walked to the stables quickly without so much as a word passed between them. The servants quickly prepared Rhys' horse but stopped upon seeing Jessa, looking at Rhys with confusion.

"What horse would you like?" He asked, gesturing to the lot in the stable.

"I can choose any of them?"

"Well, any except those two," Rhys clarified, pointing at a chestnut palomino and a large, dark thoroughbred. "Those are Anja's and my father's and they're not very fond of others playing with their things."

Jessa browsed through the selection quickly, eventually settling on a kind Novamorian that seemed to take to her quickly. Once the stable hands had prepared the horses Rhys showed Jessa back to the slot in the cliffs they'd passed through several weeks before. The ride was long and slow, only wide enough for them to pass in a single file line, but once on the other side Rhys' spirits increased dramatically, the open stretch of land before him bringing back some life.

"I warn you," he began, tightening his reins and fixing himself on the saddle, "I'm quite competitive."

"I'm sure you are," Jessa quipped. Suddenly a sparked flashed in her eyes, something Rhys had never seen before on her. She smiled and nodded before pressing into the horse, shooting off with speed Rhys had not expected. Rhys wasted no time in following, and for once in his life he found himself being the chaser in a race and not the chased.

[Mollianne]

{name:Jessa#|#picture:47}

The wind, in her hair and stinging her eyes, was exhilarating. She pushed the sand-coloured horse as far as she guessed he could go. A quick glance over her shoulder told her that Rhys was gaining on her, but she still had a respectable lead. From here, she could see his dumbfounded expression. “Never underestimate Jessa Pryor!”

Whooping, she rounded the corner. It was beautiful here; in Ovis every turn had revealed the same thing: flat land, dense woodland and a dull sea. Jasrah was rolling hills and cliffs overlooking sparkling water. There were copses of trees, of course, but the landscape was much more diverse and exciting. She felt like she was exploring an entirely new world. She guided the horse, still going at a fast gallop, to the edge of the cliff. As she rode, she peered over the edge at the sheer drop. Her heart beat hard as she imagined what it would be like to fall. Fearful, she tugged on the reins and the horse moved away.

Eventually, the horse began to tire. Jessa drew the Novamorian to a stop on the top of a rise overlooking the city of Jasrah and the sea. They had travelled the entire length of the city and were on the other side of the bay. Jumping off the horse, she sidled to the edge and looked down. At the bottom, the sea lapping gently over it, was a beach. She glimpsed the start of a steep walkway which led down, but she did not feel like taking the path today.

Rhys arrived a moment later. “You got lucky. How did you learn to ride like that?”

“You forget that Ovisians generally do not travel by boat. And my schools thought that horse-riding was a very beneficial skill, so I had many lessons. I liked it enough that I took extra,” she explained with a shrug. She sat down on the grass and leaned back on her hands. She heard Rhys land on the ground and walk over to her. For a moment he wavered, and then he lowered himself to the ground beside her.

“There may only be one good thing about this marriage, but seeing somewhere so beautiful is definitely it. I would have stayed in Ovis my whole life otherwise,” Jessa mused, casually picking the grass. She threw the blades over the cliff.

“You admit that there is something good about it?” Rhys checked dubiously. He looked at Jessa sidelong. She laughed and nodded.

“It, by no means, outweighs my wish to never have married, but… with everything going on in our lives, sometimes you have to look on the bright side.” She winced when Rhys glanced away. The bombshell dropped on him was still fresh in his mind. “Sorry.”

He shrugged but said nothing. Jessa let out a bark of humourless laughter. Bitterness swelled up within her and she let herself lean back to lie on the grass. “Our fathers have really done a number on us, haven’t they? There is not a single aspect of our lives they don’t seem to control.”

“That’s fathers for you. Say one thing, do another,” Rhys murmured. Jessa bit her lip.

“I want to do something… show him he doesn’t rule my life,” she declared. The determination rising up in her burst almost as soon as it begun. She sighed, “But I wouldn’t have a clue what to do. It’s pointless, anyway. You can’t run from a king once you’ve crossed him. Or a king’s wife.”

Jessa’s thoughts were elsewhere, now, in a time and place completely different to this. A place where she had actually been happy, before it had been cruelly ripped from her by jealously and hatred. If Rhys responded to her musings, she did not hear him. Anger boiled up within her and she clenched her fists, waiting for it to pass, telling herself that now was not the time. Not today.

As soon as the feelings passed, her chest loosened and she stood up. She offered her hand to Rhys and waited patiently for him to decide it was worth taking. “You know, for the rest of the day, we’re not going to think about our fathers, our families. I’m going to think about me and my horse, and you will think about you and yours. Nothing else. We’ll ride until we can no longer stand it.”

It was easier said than done, but as Rhys and Jessa rode side by side along the cliffs, she felt the tension within her loosen. She glanced to the side, noting that Rhys’s shoulders were less hunched over and his face was smooth. They descended from the hills into the city, where Jessa gestured for Rhys to follow her.

“Will anyone be in the tavern tonight?” she inquired, guiding the horse slowly along the cobblestones. The horse seemed unconcerned with any terrain; he was an extremely placid creature and Jessa was already falling in love with him. How the Marinons had come across such a lovely animal was beyond her, but they seemed to know their horses.

“I doubt there’s a day you can’t find Victor there, at least,” Rhys replied wryly. Jessa smiled.

“Then what do you say to having a drink?” She did not say ‘drown his sorrows’, but it was definitely implied. They made their way to the temporary stables, where they paid the stable master to look after the horses, probably until the next morning. Jessa doubted Rhys would be in the right state to ride back to the house after they left the tavern.

They meandered the streets in silence until they arrived at Rhys’s friends’ usual haunt. Inside, they were met by raucous laughter and jovial shouts. Living with the Marinons was like living in a bubble; everything was solemn and quiet. It was impossible to think that, for other people, life went on much more peacefully and happily. Jessa soaked in the atmosphere and let her remaining troubles melt away for a few short hours.

“Rhys! Jessa!” Victor bellowed, sitting at a table as predicted. Jessa was pleased to see Ero and Freya there too – she had not seen them since their first meeting, and she missed Ero’s conversation in particular. Selene was not there.

“It has been too long, Jess,” Ero lamented when the newcomers came closer. He patted the seat on the other side of him. “Been saving it for you.”

Freya rolled her eyes. “Stop flirting, you fool.”

Jessa was about to apologise, but Freya stopped her with a smile. “Oh, I’m only teasing him. I know he’s only playing.”

“You’re the only girl for me,” Ero said, staring into Freya’s eyes with a very serious look. They held it for a moment, while everyone’s eyebrows rose, and then they dissolved into fits of giggles. Jessa did not understand them at all; she had never experienced a relationship like theirs. She wondered whether Rhys had, with Selene.