20. Chapter 18 Arden

Chapter twenty

Chapter 18: Arden

C amus escorts me to the great hall, and we pause outside the huge wooden doors. My heart is aching at the thought of being away from him all day. But I'll manage. I have to.

He threads his fingers with mine and stares down at me. "You'll do great. You spent all those years being with that horrible fiance of yours, and faking–I'm sure–a record number of orgasms. You can fake being nice to the royals for a bit."

"You have a lot more faith in me than I do. Being brought here...something snapped inside of me, and playing nice with people who don't deserve it is not very high on my agenda anymore."

"Well move it up, pretty girl."

He kisses me, and it's a far cry from the branding kisses I'm used to. It's a reminder that we're all capable of being softer when needed.

"Trust no one ," he whispers and grabs the door handle and pulls it open. Then he slaps me on the ass and sends me on my way. Cyndair is already seated at the head of the table. I'm the only other person in the room aside from some servants.

Her hands are clasped on the table in front of her, and she wears a look of complete indifference. She's dressed to the nines in a formal red and gold gown that perfectly complements her complexion. Though terrifying, Cyndair is beautiful. It's not something that comes as a surprise. Everyone of her bloodline is stunning. It was the first thing that I noticed about Iona aside from how much of a raging bitch she was.

Approaching the table, I find three place settings. One is to her right and the other two are to her left. This is a test. I can't help but feel as though she orchestrated this so I was the only other one here.

Why am I such a threat, your majesty?

I take as deep of a breath as I can without showing my nervousness, then I come to a halt about five feet in front of and to the left of Cyndair.

"Your majesty," I say and offer a deep bow, just like Camus showed me. I'm sure my form isn't perfect, but it's enough to get the respect across.

"Please, my dear. Call me Grandmother. You're mated to two of my grandsons, after all." Her tone drips with distaste.

My teeth grind together of their own accord as I fight off the urge to tell her that I wouldn't call her 'Grandmother' if she were actually my blood.

"Oh, I couldn't possibly. Since, after all , one of those grandsons is a bastard; and you're trying to pair off the other with a different fae. I feel like until my position at your table is secured, I am much more comfortable calling you by your more formal titles."

My voice is honey sweet, but the words land exactly how I wish them to. A small flutter in the flesh of her cheek is her only tell. Refusing the olive branch she just extended—even if it was coated with arsenic—was greater disrespect than refusing to bow.

"Very well," she says. "Please, have a seat." She gestures to her left; the side with two place settings.

This is a game of wills. In every situation in Feldorn where there was a single ounce of formality, the seat to the right of Zorvan was considered the most important aside from the seat Zorvan himself occupied.

I round the table behind her and a servant rushes to the table to pull the chair out for me. I sit in the chair with about as much grace as a newborn giraffe, but I do manage to land in the chair. A second servant approaches the table and pours me a glass of water.

"Would you like some orc rue or some brunline juice extract in your water, miss?" he asks.

I narrow my eyes at him playfully, and with as much flirtatious humor as I can manage, I say, "I'm certain you just made all those words up. But on the off chance that they're real, what are they?"

He chuckles, but it dies quickly when Cyndair gives him a leveling look. He clears his throat and holds out two vials. He uncorks the first and holds it to my nose.

"The rue." He replaces the cork on that one, and uncorks the other. "And the extract."

The first smelled minty, and the second smelled citrusy. I focus my gaze on the thin man before me. "Which does Sir Camus prefer?" I ask.

"Mead," he deadpans, and I bark out a laugh. The man's brown eyes sparkle at my amusement. Then a look of something I can't discern crosses his face.

"Yes, that sounds like him. A drop of the rue, then," I say shifting my glass closer to him.

He puts a single drop of liquid from one of the vials in my drink and walks away. Only he put in a drop from the wrong vial. My life as an interior designer gave me a keen eye for detail. He definitely gave me something from the second bottle.

I return my gaze to Cyndair. "I imagine that was my first test?" I ask, pushing away from the table.

"What are you doing?" she asks, eyeing me curiously. She doesn't deny my accusation of that being a test.

I approach a large potted plant that is seated beneath an enormous skylight toward the corner of the room. Holding my cup out, I overturn it into the dirt of the plant. It takes a few minutes, but eventually the leaves begin to wilt, and the plant shrivels.

I approach the man who gave me the poison, and hand him my glass. "I'll be needing a new one."

"Yes, ma'am. Sorry, ma'am." He mutters, but I can't help but appreciate the look of relief on his face.

"Throw that glass directly into the trash, Clinton," Cyndair calls after him with no sense of urgency.

"Camus is right about you. You're exceptionally bright. I've had so many girls accept the extracts without even questioning it. What gave it away?"

"I've been in Feldorn, eating with the prince and his men for a couple of months. Their staff never once offered me anything like that for my drinks. That and your servant likes me already, and sort of gave it away. Small expressions; nothing major. Most people probably wouldn't have noticed.

"So what was the plan if you accidentally killed me?" I ask with a raised brow. "I can't imagine that would have gone over well with Camus. You may have caused a mutiny."

"You're being a tad dramatic. The other vial contained the antidote, and two of my 'servants' that are placed about are actually healers. You weren't in any real danger of dying. At least not from the poison."

"Fair play. Probably would have laid me up in the infirmary for a few days, though," I say and sip the new glass of water that Clinton placed on the table. "That would have given Solina enough time to get a head start."

"By being born and raised here, and by not being a shifter, she already has a head start. You have three weeks to prove to me that you're capable of at least resembling a respectable fae. Solina has had her entire life to plan for this."

"I suppose she has," is all the more of a response that I give her.

Cyndair knows that she underestimated me, and that terrifies me. Maybe I should have just drank the poison. Because she just tried to poison me, thinking there was no way I would see her hand. Now she knows that she needs to up her game.

The doors to the great hall swing open, and I'm sure shock is etched on my face when Solina and Dira are the ones who enter.

"Not a word," Cyndair warns.

It takes me a second to realize she's talking about the poison. She intends to offer it to them as well.

"I'm not going to let you—"

"You will do as you're told or you'll forfeit your spot in this training," she snaps.

Once the other two reach the head of the table, Solina offers a bow, though not as deep as the one I offered. Maybe I was playing too nice. Dira, looking completely lost, maneuvers in a way that sort of resembles a bow—if the person bowing were drunk.

Two servants come and pull their chairs out for them, just as they did for me. Clinton approaches, and offers them the same thing he offers me. Dira's eyes find mine, and in my mind I'm shouting at her not to drink it. Cyndair is watching her carefully, and glancing at me intermittently. I can't tell her anything. It'll fuck up my plans.

The greater good, I repeat over and over in my mind.

"Neither for me, please," Solina says. "Leaves a strange aftertaste in my mouth."

I breathe a sigh of relief when Dira says, "Yeah, I'm okay. Thank you," and waves Clinton off.

"Well," Cyndair says, disappointment etched in her features, "you're all here, because you intend to take one of my grandsons as a mate. Initially it was only supposed to be Solina and Arden, but at the last second, Gormon decided to put in a plea for you, my dear." She reaches over and pats Dira's hand in a condescending manner.

"Solina, this is just a refresher for you—"

"Yes. Thank you so much for insisting I go through this again. It truly made my whole month." Solina's voice is dripping with sarcasm.

"Your father and I agreed that the training clearly did not take the first time around. If you would just behave appropriately, we wouldn't have to do this all over again. It seems like, perhaps, they went too easy on you the first time around.

"So that you do not have too much of a leg up on these girls, I will be changing the way we do things. Most of the training will be the same, but there will be more challenges. I expect all of you to complete them to the best of your ability."

"How will they complete them without magic?" Solina asks, shooting me a worried look.

"They'll just have to figure that out, won't they?" Cyndair says with a venomous smile. "I will not be here most days. My assistant, Ursa, will be here to teach you proper manners and how to keep your sharp tongues to yourselves. There will be male fae here to teach you how to be proper mates. Do your best, and don't disappoint me.

"I'm sure Camus already told you, but your success is a matter of life or death. Fail to become a proper Solardinite female, and Camus himself will be responsible for beheading you."

"What the fuck ?" Dira whispers.

My hands go cold, and my stomach rolls, but I manage to keep my face neutral. Camus never did explain that little detail, but I don't want her to know that. Images of Camus bringing a sword down through my neck flash through my brain. My heart aches thinking of how difficult that would be for him. He wouldn't be able to do it, and he would burn the city down if someone else did it for him.

"Camus wouldn't have put my life on the line if he didn't believe in me wholly and completely."

A small smirk twitches in the corner of her mouth. She knows he didn't tell me. Fuck . I cannot wait for her to leave.

"Yes. I'm sure he has full confidence in you," Cyndair says.

Servants come out of the kitchen and place plates of food in the center of the table with serving spoons positioned in then. My stomach grumbles loud enough for everyone to hear, and my cheeks flush.

"Dungeon cuisine leaves a lot to be desired," I say with a chuckle.

"Eat up girls. My staff will be in shortly to begin."

With the finality in her voice, a servant rushes up to the table to pull Cyndair's chair out for her. She stands and faces us.

"However this ends, I expect you all to do your absolute best in every challenge. Do not disappoint me."

She turns on her heel and practically floats out of the room, additional servants rushing to open the doors for her as she goes. The second the door shuts behind her, Dira turns to me.

"Your little fuck buddy is going to kill you if you don't perform like a good little bitch?" she snaps.

"He believes in me," I say with a shrug. "Besides, we've got Solina to help us in small ways. I mean it's still a competition, but one she's been through before."

"Why would she fucking help you? She's trying to mate the same fae you are!"

"Please keep your voices down," Solina says, voice firm. Her gaze flits from me to the servants placed around the room.

"This is not an appropriate place to have the conversation, Dira ." I draw a line with my eyes from servant to servant just like Solina did, hoping that Dira picks up on it. When she just scowls at me in confusion I add in a whisper, "The servants are not on our side."

Her face shifts from a look of annoyance and confusion to one of horrified understanding. "Oh."

We spoon food onto our plates, and I look at Solina. "Is the food safe?"

"Should be. They didn't poison it last time. But don't eat too much. You'll need to stay on your toes which is hard to do if you're full and sleepy."

" Poison?!" Dira gasps.

"Yeah, that ‘whatever whatever' extract was actually a horrific poison." I jerk my head toward the plant I killed, and grimace. I hope someone is able to fix it.

"Why would they do that?" Dira asks, her shock morphing into rage.

"To prove a point. Most of the fae who go through these trainings are seeking a royal to mate with. When you're mated to a royal, your life is in constant danger. You won't be disqualified for accepting the poison, but it weeds out the ones who can't take the pressure. It sets the tone."

"What comes after this?" I ask, shoving a forkful of food into my mouth, and groaning in delight as it hits my tongue.

"The most patriarchal bullshit you've ever experienced. Today we learn how to be perfect little bitches for these men. There will be obedience classes, history lessons, cooking lessons. Next week we have to go out and forage for food in the forest, then bring it back and cook it for the men."

"I know why we can't, but why can't you just like...grow your own food?"

"Old tradition. I asked the same question and just got scolded for it. But while we're in the woods, you have to watch out. There are all kinds of predators and there are so many poisonous and carnivorous plants. Just stick close with me and I'll help to the best of my ability."

"Will we be armed?" I ask.

"Usually you're only armed with your magic, so I'm not sure how they're going to make up for that."

I sigh in frustration. "I already hate this whole thing."

"Me too," Dira grumbles.

"So what comes after that?"

"The gathering and cooking is an all day affair. Then we have to serve it to the men in the smoking lounge for dinner. Once they've eaten, if they've found it to their liking, then we'll move on to...pleasing them." Solina looks like she's going to vomit.

"Why is this just accepted? I don't understand why one of the royal women hasn't spoken up about it."

She scoffs. "The royal women don't have to participate. My father is only a council member, not a duke or a prince. You think Iona would have been compelled to suck the cocks of random council members?"

"And your father didn't stand up for you?"

"He encouraged it. I like women. He seems to think that if I just suck the right dick that all of this will be fixed. That suddenly, I'll wish to provide him with offspring."

"Gross," I mutter. "I'm so sorry."

"It's the way it is here in Solardin."

I lower my voice and glance around. "You know, three months ago, I thought Feldorn was awful and I was desperately trying to get back to the human realm. Now, I would quite literally kill to get back to Feldorn.

"The rules here are so different, and not in a good way. I miss the Cruel Prince."

"We'll get through this," Solina says and places her hand on mine.

I look at her and smile. "Thank you."

Our moment is cut short by the doors to the great hall slamming open, and four fae women entering the room. Solina rips her hand away from mine. Her touching me was a poor choice. Anyone with eyes could have seen, and we're trying to maintain some facade of rivalry.

The woman in the front of the group saunters up to the table with a purpose with the other three scurrying behind her like nervous little dogs.

"Good morning, ladies," She says to us with a bright smile that is even more fake than the flavor of banana Runts.

The fae behind her each have a decorative piece of wood in their hands with what I assume is a piece of parchment on top, though I can't see from where I'm sitting. They each have a quill in their hand at the ready. Where is the ink?

"Solina, nice to see you again," the woman says. "You must be Dira," she looks to my sister, "and Arden," she says as she sets her gaze on me. "I am Ursa. I'm sure Solina, here, has told you all about me. I promise I'm not as scary as she made me sound. I'm worse. We do not have the luxury of goofing around. You three need to be in mating shape in less than a month.

"It is within your best interest and mine, that you do exactly as I say in all circumstances. Arden, I'm going to be very blunt with you. Cyndair does not wish for you to succeed. Lucky for you, I am not in the business of failure. She wants me to go extra hard on you. And I will. But I need to know right now that you're up for the challenge. If you're not, you need to go."

"Look, Ursa—,"

"Ma'am," she spits at me. "You will address me as 'Ma'am' or 'Miss Ursa' from this point forward."

"Fine. Ma'am," I say through clenched teeth. "I don't have a choice. If I don't do exactly what you say, I die. If I drop out, I lose my mate. And that might be a worse fate than dying. So do you worst. I'm here to stay."

She gives me an assessing look then nods her head. "Very well. Girls."

She steps out of the way of the girls behind her. Their fancy clipboards are gone, and they each possess a pair of heeled shoes. Fuck !

One of the girls, a blonde haired, blue eyed, petite thing with the biggest doe eyes I've ever seen, holds out her pair of shoes toward me.

"Those will never fit me," I say with a laugh. They've gotta be a size six or maybe a six and a half. I wear a size ten.

She shakes them gently, urging me to take them. "They're enchanted. They're part of the training equipment and we'll need them back when the session is over each night. The enchantments were very expensive."

"How do those enchantments work, anyway?" I say, taking them. "I've seen the elemental magics, but I've never seen someone perform an enchantment before."

"Stars. We have a long way to go with you," Ursa says with a curse under her breath that makes the other three gasp. With a heavy sigh she says, "No time to waste. I'll explain while we walk."