It had been twenty hours since Charlie was supposed to have been home.
Twenty hours she'd spent with the Conquest Lord in his bed, because she'd willingly lost their little game.
It had been a chance to rebel, a chance to unwind. A chance to forget the pressure that was slowly crushing the very breath out of her body. But she'd needed a plausible sounding story, and it'd been something the newly crowned war heir had been mulling over on the entire run home. Everything in her body hurt. Each movement had her muscles screaming, but she'd pressed on regardless. She would show no weakness to her father, lest she once again gain his disapproving look as she'd done in the meeting. Her cheeks flushed red under her mask at the memory of the meeting. How she'd been made a fool of. Ugh.
She'd gotten his message, sent by one of his birds no less, to meet him back in their garden. Gods was she ever late--though part of her was still glad of the previous day's events and would much enjoy another night in the Conquest Lord's bed (something she would never admit aloud). Hopefully her father would be in a forgiving mood today.
Her pace slowed to a walk as she neared the garden, sweat dripping down the back of her neck from the run home, as well as from the volcano's stifling heat. Yet it was because of the volcano's fertile soil that Charlie was able to grow any manner of flower she desired, which she used to brighten the halls of the castle and her own room. She wasn't sure how her father or aunt felt about this hobby of hers--or any of her other hobbies, for that matter--but if was something that brought the girl peace.
She moved slowly along the white gravel pathways of the garden, careful not to make much of a sound. It was her job to be silent. It was how she gathered information. She was just another set of eyes for her father and her kingdom. Ah, but she supposed that was different now, wasn't it? War heir. It still felt surreal that the god had shown favor to her, and her alone. Not even to their kingdom as a whole, as Vaerath had specified, quite loudly at that. It had been a lot to take in, and Charlie still wasn't entirely sure how to process it all. Gods, if only it had all been a dream...
The crunching of gravel beneath her feet, directly before the pool, signaled the girl's arrival. The air still smelled of incense, and Charlie steeled her nerves. It was now or never.
"I'm here, Father," she began softly, bowing her head to him. "I'm sorry I'm so late. I feel ill on the way home, and Lord Conquest was gracious enough to grant me a place to rest until I felt well enough to be on my way. A gesture of good will to a new heir..." She prayed he'd buy the story. It was all she'd been able to come up with on the fly, and the truth of what had happened would never leave her lips. Charlie was certain of one thing: if her father knew the truth, he would surely kill her. No, he would make her pray for death.
And now that she was here in his presence, Charlie knew she'd have to brace herself for whatever came next. Her training was to intensify before she'd been named heir. Control magic. The thought was enough to send her chest tightening in anxiety. "I'm ready to begin," she said, the lie gliding off her tongue like a hot knife through butter. What was another lie among family?
Twenty hours she'd spent with the Conquest Lord in his bed, because she'd willingly lost their little game.
It had been a chance to rebel, a chance to unwind. A chance to forget the pressure that was slowly crushing the very breath out of her body. But she'd needed a plausible sounding story, and it'd been something the newly crowned war heir had been mulling over on the entire run home. Everything in her body hurt. Each movement had her muscles screaming, but she'd pressed on regardless. She would show no weakness to her father, lest she once again gain his disapproving look as she'd done in the meeting. Her cheeks flushed red under her mask at the memory of the meeting. How she'd been made a fool of. Ugh.
She'd gotten his message, sent by one of his birds no less, to meet him back in their garden. Gods was she ever late--though part of her was still glad of the previous day's events and would much enjoy another night in the Conquest Lord's bed (something she would never admit aloud). Hopefully her father would be in a forgiving mood today.
Her pace slowed to a walk as she neared the garden, sweat dripping down the back of her neck from the run home, as well as from the volcano's stifling heat. Yet it was because of the volcano's fertile soil that Charlie was able to grow any manner of flower she desired, which she used to brighten the halls of the castle and her own room. She wasn't sure how her father or aunt felt about this hobby of hers--or any of her other hobbies, for that matter--but if was something that brought the girl peace.
She moved slowly along the white gravel pathways of the garden, careful not to make much of a sound. It was her job to be silent. It was how she gathered information. She was just another set of eyes for her father and her kingdom. Ah, but she supposed that was different now, wasn't it? War heir. It still felt surreal that the god had shown favor to her, and her alone. Not even to their kingdom as a whole, as Vaerath had specified, quite loudly at that. It had been a lot to take in, and Charlie still wasn't entirely sure how to process it all. Gods, if only it had all been a dream...
The crunching of gravel beneath her feet, directly before the pool, signaled the girl's arrival. The air still smelled of incense, and Charlie steeled her nerves. It was now or never.
"I'm here, Father," she began softly, bowing her head to him. "I'm sorry I'm so late. I feel ill on the way home, and Lord Conquest was gracious enough to grant me a place to rest until I felt well enough to be on my way. A gesture of good will to a new heir..." She prayed he'd buy the story. It was all she'd been able to come up with on the fly, and the truth of what had happened would never leave her lips. Charlie was certain of one thing: if her father knew the truth, he would surely kill her. No, he would make her pray for death.
And now that she was here in his presence, Charlie knew she'd have to brace herself for whatever came next. Her training was to intensify before she'd been named heir. Control magic. The thought was enough to send her chest tightening in anxiety. "I'm ready to begin," she said, the lie gliding off her tongue like a hot knife through butter. What was another lie among family?
