Accustomed Read online

  “We haven’t heard anything from Azura yet and Ewin has already deployed men to the wall. For the moment, there’s little for you to do.”

  She ignored him. Speaking had become far too difficult for her and even listening to him caused her head to ache that much more. She entered her throne room, settling at the table where she leaned forward, using the surface to support herself as she pretended to take in the words the parchments in front of her had been inscribed with. They were an absolute blur, causing her to feel dizzy from staring at them for too long in an attempt at making out all the small, tightly packed letters.

  Deros placed himself in the seat across from her and forced himself into silence. He said absolutely nothing, sliding the papers from in front of her with care, certain, of course, that she hadn’t been able to take in any of it. He drew them all closer to him, viewing them with interest but, nevertheless, in absolute silence. He kept his eyes off her, for however difficult she was sure he found it, no longer wishing to coddle her in a manner that she despised. She loved him for it, she thought, laying her head on her hand as the drowsiness set in.

  The heavy throne room doors opened, the very sound of them scraping against the ground and the hinges creaking loudly enough to send her over the edge. She looked to the door when, through her muffled hearing, she found Caterina had paid her a visit. She tried her very best to smile, pulling herself back into her seat so that her back was supported and lowering her hand from her face. “What brings you here?” Sybelle asked, mustering the most cheerful voice possible.

  “You should know all too well what brings me here,” Caterina replied urgently, her fiery red hair flying about as she stormed further into the room. “We have Azura on our doorstep and none of your men appear to have moved to rid them from it!”

  “I must argue with that,” she said, leaning forward in her seat as she pointed at her, “I’ve sent a great deal of men to defend the wall near the ports. No doubt you’ve seen them there, or along the roads to their destination.”

  Caterina raised her eyebrows sceptically, her mouth falling open, “And you think that is sufficient enough?” she asked, her voice sounding shocked and verging on disbelief.

  Deros stood up and Sybelle held her breath as she watched something ignite within him. “Deros,” she said, reining him in with a controlled command, “would you visit the physician on my behalf? I would have something for this burning throat and congestion.”

  Deros looked from her to Caterina, deducing that the girl seemed tame enough to be controlled. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, making his way passed her but not without shooting a glare in her direction first.

  “There’s nothing we can do for the moment,” Sybelle said, sitting back in her seat once more, out of breath. “You needn’t be so concerned; I won’t allow them to get comfortable.”

  Caterina shook her head, her eyes turned towards the ceiling, “They’re interrupting our flow of trade. They are impacting business and we cannot have that. The number of people troubled by this is large and you seem perfectly comfortable with that.”

  “They have been in our ports for just a night and day,” Sybelle said, resisting rolling her eyes.

  “Ample time to fan flames of frustration within people who already harbour more than a flicker of resentment towards you,” Caterina reiterated.

  Sybelle exhaled softly, tilting her head back, “They needn’t be concerned. What they need is patience. If it doesn’t appear that they have it then you should do your part in ruling and see to it that they have incentive to summon some.”

  “It’s a bit difficult to be patient when they are watching their businesses crumble,” Caterina argued, stepping closer. “If businesses fall apart, it’s good men and their families that suffer.”

  Sybelle slammed her hands down on the armrests of her chair, huffing, “Do you not think I understand this?” She stood up abruptly, throwing her hands up, “Do you not think I’m aware of the people? Do you not think I’m aware of the sacrifices that will need to be made?”

  Caterina’s gaze followed her across the room. Sybelle stopped short of the steps up to her throne, the familiar dizzying sensation sweeping over her and swaying her upon her feet. She hung her head, placing it in her hand as she pinched the bridge of her nose and scrunched her eyes shut. “So? What will you do about it?” Caterina persevered.

  Sybelle snapped her gaze in her direction. Riffin stood there, looking to her with his large eyes, beckoning her with desperation for a response. “What will you do about it?” he seemed to prompt her.

  Sybelle advanced on him, her index finger pointed threateningly, a manic smile growing on her features “Whatever it is I desire,” she replied, laughing darkly, “and whenever it is I desire.” Riffin disappeared in the blink of an eye and Sybelle withdrew, her smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. She turned away, returning to the table where she sank back down into her chair, “Is that all you desire, Caterina?”

  Caterina took a moment to pull her jaw off the floor, shifting uneasily where she stood. She inhaled deeply, putting on a brave, unfazed expression as she went on, “This man that has been in your company,” she started.

  “Deros,” Sybelle supplemented, putting on a polite smile. “What of him?”

  Once more, Caterina’s mouth fell open, “Well, surely you know what people think of him!”

  Sybelle laughed softly, leaning forward in her seat and propping her arms on the table. She placed her face in her hand, scoffing and shrugging her shoulders with half-hearted indifference, “Do I look like I care what people think of him?”

  “Well, shouldn’t you?” Caterina asked, advancing on her. “The people don’t care for him, nor for his influence upon you, and, yet, you seem to have made him your advisor in all of this.”

  “Believe me,” Sybelle said, laughing softly, “there is nothing in me that he has influenced.” She sat back, propping her feet up onto the chair beside her. “Now,” she said, “I would suggest that you tell the people who come to you with their concerns to be patient, and to leave Azura to me.” She cocked her head to the side, blinking the feverish haze out of her eyes, “Unless, of course, they think they may fare better against them than I will. If such is the case, please let me know and I’ll withhold my forces and allow them to deal with it by themselves.”

  Eyes wide, a short scoff escaping her, Caterina whispered, hopeful, “You wouldn’t abandon us.”

  “Most certainly not,” Sybelle said, waving her hand dismissively, ”but only if they leave me to my own methods.”

  Caterina bit her lip, looking around, likely for Deros. “Is he part of your plan? Is that why he is here?” she asked.

  Sybelle shrugged her shoulders, pursing her lips together, “That’s for me alone to know, isn’t it?”

  Caterina eased her concerns slightly with that, her shoulders dropping as her anger and frustration towards her ebbed away. She shifted in her place once more, fidgeting with her fingers as she hung her head momentarily. “I shall be going then,” she said, “unless there is anything you require of me.”

  Sybelle smiled, bowing her head, “All I require of you is that you put your people’s minds at rest,” she replied.

  With that, Caterina said her goodbyes and left, leaving Sybelle to glare on at her departing back.

  Deros returned almost immediately, a smirk upon his lips that was difficult for her not to find amusement in. “So, am I part of a big, elaborate plan?” he asked teasingly, placing a chalice of steaming liquid in front of her.

  Sybelle laughed, clutching the small vessel between her hands, “Yes, but not for anything she is capable of imagining.”

  Deros sat across from her, hanging his head to hide his smile. “That said, if there’s anything that I may do for you…” he began.

  She nodded, “I’ll be sure to ask,” she said. She sat back while sipping the hot concoction, enjoying the blissful sensation as it ran down her inflamed throat.

 
“What do you require of me?” Deros asked, leaning forward. “I would help,” he said.

  She swallowed another mouthful of medicine and placed the chalice down, tilting her head back, “I sent a messenger to Evrad last night. If I were not to receive a reply to my request, I may require you to return to Evrad and see to matters there.”

  He dared not to ask questions about her plans. He didn’t want to be the one to pry, knowing full well that if she wanted him to know something than she certainly would’ve told him. However, his brows furrowed together and she looked at him, beckoning him to speak. “When did you find time to send word with a messenger?”

  She shrugged her shoulders, “Last night,” she replied, “when we returned from the wall.”

  He raised an eyebrow, asking, “When we went to bed?”

  “When you went to bed,” she corrected, smiling.

  He shook his head. “It’s no wonder that you’re as sick as this. You haven’t had the time to rest.”

  Sybelle sighed heavily, bringing herself to her feet and snatching the chalice from the table. “I’ll do that now, though only briefly,” she said. Deros got to his feet and extended a helping hand to her, bowing his head politely. She took his hand firmly in hers, exhaling softly. “Don’t be so formal,” she whispered as he tucked her arm under his and began to walk.

  Deros licked his lips, tilting his head slightly, “Does it not concern you at all?”

  “What does not concern me?” She asked, looking up at him curiously.

  “That woman—your friend—made a remark about an observation that cannot have gone unnoticed by you.”

  “And what observation was that?”

  “About my presence,” he said. “You know, as well as I, that I’m not liked by her, most certainly not in your company this way.”

  “I don’t care for what people think,” Sybelle said, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t care about who they deem fit for me to share my time and bed with. That’s my own business.”

  “Not if they suspect that your judgement may be clouded by it,” he argued softly. “If such is the case then... I would not have it. There will come a time when you will be forced to answer for this, for me, and I would not be the reason that you’re in a troubled place.”

  They stopped outside the door to her chambers and Sybelle waved the guards further down the corridor, leaving her to talk freely while supporting herself against the wall. “I’ll answer for my own troubles,” she said. “I, as Queen, make countless decisions that I have to answer for, with or without somebody at my side. If answering to others for my decisions will make no difference at all, I would have it that I enjoy what I can. If it means, one day, having to stand up for my childish desire to love and be loved in return, then I’ll do it with not a trace of hesitance.”

  Deros said nothing else, only nodding slightly. She wasn’t sure if he understood her. She wasn’t sure if he could ever understand the extent of her feelings for him. But he nodded, he accepted them for whatever they were and was ready to move on from the subject. He placed his hands tenderly on her shoulders, showing her a smile. “Go and get some rest,” he said.

  “Where will you go?” she asked, curiously.

  He smirked, “There’s still a matter I should tend to,” he said.

  She needed to give it little thought. She understood and, with that, she let him make his way down the corridor towards the dungeons.

  The path there was long and dark. For the most part, Deros couldn’t say he was surprised to find uncertain stares looking his way. Servants looked at him with unease and guards shifted, unsure of what to do with themselves in his presence. He made his way down the corridors, down the stairs, and down the short pathway between prison cells that remained largely empty—save for one at the back. He remembered his own time in that dungeon and all the pain that’d been inflicted upon him while contained within it. He couldn’t say he was all too sorry for that time, certain that he came out of it a far better person than he went into it. But he couldn’t say the same for Nicolas.

  The Evradian Prince remained knelt on the ground of his cell, naked, with his right hand, covered in blood, nailed to a wooden post. He looked at it constantly, in the dim lighting of the room, as though he were trying to tempt himself to rip it from the pillar.

  “That looks like it hurts,” Deros remarked, his hands clasped together in his lap as he crouched onto the ground.

  Nicolas’ nostrils flared as he snapped his red-eyed gaze towards him, “Only if I pull on it,” he replied.

  Deros resisted smirking. He didn’t think he would get as much pleasure out of the other’s suffering as he did. Frankly, it was almost difficult to contain. He licked his lips, asking, “How do you fare?”

  “How do you think I fare, traitor?” Nicolas scoffed, looking Deros up and down as though he were the one there, on display to be judged. “Have you not a sense of family? Not a sense of decency and respect?”

  “Questions I once asked of you,” Deros retorted, calmly. “Though, you made it clear from a very young age that you wouldn’t consider me family.”

  “Hate you should show father as well as myself,” Nicolas sneered. “I was not alone in such endeavours, after all.”

  “No,” Deros said, sighing, “you were certainly not.”

  “Where is father then? Hm?” Nicolas asked, raising both brows. “I don’t see him here, gaining the same mistreatment,” he said.

  Deros scoffed, shaking his head, “Would that he’d given me half the attention he’d given you, I would’ve taken this mistreatment and more not to have any harm come to him.” He got to his feet, pressing his forehead against the bars as he stared down at his brother, “But people mean nothing to you,” he said. “No matter what they have done for you, the lives of others hold no value in your heart at all.”

  “You have a heart now?” Nicolas asked, scoffing. “Deros Bonomo, the man with the heart,” he said, laughing sardonically. “Father is dead, correct? You did not tell him of that before you killed him, did you? I’m sure he would’ve laughed in your face, reciting each and every one of your sins.”

  “I don’t claim to have done nothing wrong,” Deros replied, shrugging his shoulders, unfazed. “And I don’t claim that I won’t continue.”

  “Then be the you that I know you can be,” Nicolas said, leaning in as far as he could go without tugging at his hand. “Betray her the same way you betrayed us and let me out of here.”

  Deros chuckled, resting his shoulder against the bars, “You would put yourself on the same level as her?”

  “We are all equal in times of war,” Nicolas said.

  “And the only things deciding one’s view is origin or favour,” Deros nodded, having heard the words before. “I’m of Evrad origin, in part, but I don’t see that enough to support you,” he said. “You must give me other reasons,” he added, smirking.

  Nicolas fumbled over his thoughts, his breaths quickening. “Whatever you want,” he said, before Deros could lose interest and leave. “Return me to Evrad where I belong and you can rule at my side, you can return to your position and I can...gift you land and wealth. That’s all you wanted, wasn’t it?”

  Deros licked his lips, pulling himself off the bars. He looked up and down the corridor, noting the guards distracted by conversation amongst themselves. He plucked the keys off the opposite wall and unlocked the cell with all the caution he could muster and tiptoed inside, shooting Nicolas a glare as he scuttled on his knees along the ground. He slipped his sword from his side and Nicolas held his breath as Deros laid it flush against his hand, slipping it beneath the head of the nail. He then pulled back, swung the sword until it became wedged in the wood beneath his wrist.

  Nicolas’ blood curdling screams as he clutched his handless wrist were enough to have the guards rushing down the corridor in alarm. Nicolas shot a glare, mixed with such pain and defeat, in Deros’s direction as he trembled uncontrollably. Deros shrugged his shoulders, �
�You’re free,” he said. Nicolas growled, squeezing his wrist as best he could. “You think me so fickle, brother,” he said, making his way to the cell door, “and, the truth is, you don’t know me at all.”

  “Why her?” Nicolas barked, breathing sharply through gritted teeth.

  “Why not her?” Deros asked, locking the cell up once more. He hung his head, biting the inside of his cheek, “Don’t think me without mercy,” he said. “I’ve agreed to the method and date of your execution.”

  “And when is that?”

  Deros shrugged, patting the iron bars of his cell, “What does it matter?” He went to leave, thinking Nicolas to have nothing else to say.

  “For a man who hates me as much as he does,” Nicolas called after him, bringing him to stop before he could take his next step, “you certainly took your sweet time coming to see me.” Deros turned around, raising his eyebrows at him inquisitively. Nicolas glared at him like he never had before, his nostrils flaring, “What kept you?”

  “Nothing a dead man should worry about,” Deros replied, turning away and making his way back out of the dungeons with his brother’s tormented face etched into his memory.

  He trudged up the stairs and down the corridor. He stared at the ground intently, his hands still trembling from what he’d done. He couldn’t understand why he did what he did, or why he suddenly had a moment of conscience over it. His body fell into shadow with his next step and he stopped abruptly, tearing his eyes away from the floor to look up long enough to see Sybelle eyeing him with curiosity.

  Her lips tugged into a smile and she bore her teeth like she was the happiest girl in the world, a matter he knew was far from the truth. “What’s the matter with you?” she asked, taking a step closer and reaching for his hands. He stared at their joined hands. He said nothing about how she was meant to be resting. She chose to say nothing also, running her fingers through a series of steps until they were entangled with his. However much he tried, he couldn’t get his hands to stop shaking.