Chapter 1-4: Raan

When Raan entered her caravan, L’Ilis was sitting on her floor, her bare legs frighteningly pale against the black fur under her; tendrils of a provocatively light, barely-there scent wafted over to Raan, embracing him and pulling him in closer to her. He relished in this scent, but forced himself back, his liquid, golden eyes grazing over her skin for a moment before averting their gaze.

"Did you see him?" she asked, her eyes still closed, her dark lashes curled against her porcelain-pale cheeks. "He looks just like her."

Raan didn't reply to this. He simply stared at her tranquil form for a moment, trying to read her mood - after a long moment, he sighed, changing the topic. "That side made a move yesterday."

"Ah?" A vicious smile curled at the lovely corners of L’Ilis’ lips as she opened her eyes slightly. Inhaling quietly, she absorbed back the dark, intoxicating energy lingering in the air, leaving behind smoke.

"His Imperial Highness finally announced the newly-promoted Great Dukedom. It's the d'Houracs. I believe the Eleventh Lord is already on his way to the Capital."

L’Ilis delicately arched her brows. "The d'Houracs? House d'Hourac is a very long-standing family. With their wealth and medical contributions, this promotion will put them on completely equal footing with the six Great Dukedoms. They must be ecstatic."

Raan’s voice was calm. “But it was outside of all of our expectations. The letter dispatched by the Fifth Lord yesterday said it was likely for a dukedom with military merits like d’Grei, Constanjan or d’Varha to be promoted. Instead, it’s the bureaucratic House d’Hourac.”

L’Ilis’ face twisted with contempt. “When has that slippery mongrel ever been reliable? The corruption papers that he gathered were in the end sent to Duke Fei'an instead so that an ‘unrelated third-party noble may be the one to expose d’Grei’s competitors in Court’, in his words. What he really means is that he didn’t like the way that lowly slave of d’Marco’s spoke to him. Who knew his miscalculation would lead to Asel claiming that d’Grei was too old to hold onto his post as the General of the Southern Army? Now, that military seal has dropped into Duke Fei'an’s hands. Duke d’Grei is nothing more than a toothless tiger and a useless instrument. Tell me, what should I do to punish that temperamental reptile?”

Raan knew better to respond to such a question. He simply watched as she rose from where she sat, her feet silent against the rugs on the expanse of her floor. Reaching Raan, she plucked off the stiff, creamy envelope from his hand, turning it over between her fingers and studying the red wax-seal that presented the celebratory invitation from House d'Hourac. She smiled sardonically at this. "With the Eleventh Lord already on his way, why is there an invitation sent here? The Crown Prince is really tying himself to too many influences."

Raan stepped back away from her respectfully. "Is my lady not fond of him? You've shown him a lot of favours throughout his lifetime. It's not unexpected that he wants to maintain the relationship."

She glared pettily. “I am fond of him - rather, I was fond of him. I don’t know who it is that raised him this way, but he’s grown far too sneaky.” She paused, then sighed, her shoulders dropping as she waved his question away tiredly. “I suppose I shan’t blame that human child. What is survival these days without a bit of betrayal?” With another sigh from her lips, the unopened invitation burst up into a small, blue flame in her hand, burning out of existence. All that remained was her faint, dangerous scent, blooming in the air and clinging to the walls.

"The Crown Prince has called me," she murmured, rolling her eyes to herself. "Of course, as a loyal subject, I must go and pay my greetings to him, and congratulate the d'Houracs on their promotion."

Raan nodded. After a moment of hesitation, he asked with reluctance that he did not dare show: "And what about her son, my lady?"

L’Ilis’ unreadable face suddenly filled with an emotion - what that twisted emotion was, Raan refused to confront. "Need you ask? I'll have to steal him from Allenr, if only to kill him myself."

Raan felt something lodge in his throat, and averted his gaze from the ugly emotion on her face. He felt that if he looked for too long, he would know exactly what that emotion was, and he was scared to confirm that it was the same emotion that now clogged his windpipes. After so many years of having been Contracted to her, she had slowly been tainting him, colouring him to complement her own intentions, and he was afraid - or perhaps, he had wanted to be coloured like her, to keep her lonely figure company. But increasingly, he felt that he could read less and less of her, as if she was stepping further away from his reach and into the void he knew lurked inside her. She was slipping from his fingers, and as each day passed, he had a harder time distinguishing the truth from her lies.

It took a few minutes of silence for him to calm himself enough to look back up at her. When he did, he found her pale eyes fixed on him, a shadow of a smile sadly lingering on her lips like a lost lover, but when he met her gaze, she averted hers, putting an end to the moment.

“That’s enough,” she said quietly in her melodic voice. “I’m tired. Get ready for bed.”

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