Aureate Fates

22

        OUR FATES, CLAIMED IN BLOOD

                                       —REESE—

After today, Reese and the rest would be given wages. They would be paid in gold for their services to Verskyia, despite their services being forced by the prophecy itself.

It didn't matter, though. Because Reese was getting paid honorable money for once. He didn't have to thief and thug and lie for it. How incredibly dull that was.

Four hand-maids worked around him—tailoring his pants to perfection, adding details to his black tunic and deep plum cloak. Gold accented the form-fitting purple vest he wore over the tunic. Shimmering gold silk lined the cloak, which was impressively heavy.

If this was his outfit, he wondered what the hell they were going to dress Erik in.

Or Marisol.

Reese looked at himself in the mirror and became frightened at what he saw—High Warlock of Verskyia. He hadn't wanted to experiment with new magic tasks, because he hadn't yet known the breadth of his power.

It was noon, and the wedding would unfold in four hours. He could hear the sounds of a crowd gathering outside the palace, eager to get a glimpse of the ceremony. Only a few would be invited in—Delphinia's brusque guest list.

No one from Ziralem was to be invited, if only to avoid the spreading of the plague on Verskyian soil. Reese could understand Delphinia's reasons, but it felt awfully like fear. Like the state of the once invincible palace of Verskyia now was diminished to a pack of scared puppies.

An energy thrummed though him and sent him a fresh breath of air. Breathe, his magic seemed to shout.

He didn't know how much faith he had in Delphinia's prophecy, because so far, no one had benefitted from this ridiculous story.

The maids began to murmur something amongst themselves. One giggled.

Their words were of another language, and sounded something close to the dialect of the Southern Continent. Marisol had taught him enough to know more than a few phrases.

"Did you see the way he looked at her?"

"Oh, they're in love!"

One of the maids adjusted the lapels of Reese's vest with a blush. "The king is terribly handsome. And strong. And—"

Reese fought the urge to roll his eyes. These ladies had obviously never met Erik Orvar. He would gut them without flinching, yet, Reese had noticed something different about Erik last night. The way he took in the lights at Quellton.

Perhaps what Reese really witnessed was a man without the crushing weight of responsibility. No longer Captian Orvar or the onus that came with the name.

"And his brother is rather cute, I'd say! If only he talked more."

Reese choked on a cough that sent the maids looking up at him with concern. He righted himself and sent them a smirk. The maids looked away, shrugging.

A knock echoed throughout the room and Reese perked up, wanting so desperately for someone to save him from having to stay still a moment longer. Most preferably someone with a ginger scent and wide blue eyes—

"Thema," he voiced, forcing a grin. "Where have you been all day, sunshine?"

The girl crossed her arms and rose a brow. "Don't sound so disappointed." She sighed and sat on his bed, rubbing her eyes. "He's perfectly fine. With Erik as we speak."