Chapter 20 My Vessel Might Have Fangs
\[THIS IS THE MOST SERIOUS YOU HAVE EVER LOOKED\]
Maeve believed that statement, and how could she not be? Right now, all of her plans led to this moment, this particular point. Naturally, she had in a sense foreseen that this might happen— that the Queen might end up pulling this card. She wouldn’t outright attack her, it seemed, it wouldn’t make any sense.
But this method…
This was the point anyway. To be brought to her presence again.
If everything went well, all she would have to fix would be the mercenaries contracts and then a life of full retirement!
When the carriage stopped, this time, perhaps because it was daytime, Maeve wasn’t sure, but Amir stepped out first. He had on traditional ceremonial elf attire.
Amir had on layered robes in the colors of slate blue, iridescent grey, and white beneath. The sleeves were wide and fluid, moving like water. Along the hems, tiny embroidered fish scales formed patterns of leaping fish from lakes.
A wide sash of golden grasses were also tied at his waist. His curls were partly pulled back with a hammered copper headband set with three river pearls. Around his neck sat a torc of silver and living willow, the Montague crest hanging at its center.
Maeve, on the other hand, wore something very similar.
A floor-length body hugging gown of silver-grey moss-silk that shifted like forest mist. Small blue mushrooms glowed softly along the neckline and hem, arranged in gentle, swirling patterns.
Over it, she wore a long cape of leaves in charcoal. Her hair was braided tightly back, threaded with something that smelled faintly herbal. A single willow-branch ear cuff holding a drop of amber, a firefly preserved inside.
They looked like they just walked out of a fairytale vogue magazine.
Because apparently, when Maeve had started her little ten dresses mission to bring in some money, she was also fully aware of the fact that there was something else she could sell, because you see, she dealt, breathed and lived for money.
So she made Amir give her designs on making elf clothes— for solidarity, she said.
Amir could not detect if she was lying, but he knew there was an omission in her statement.
How can she design all of this? Ask your questions later, dear human. Now, where were we?
Of course, they looked magnificent, and she looked otherworldly— especially since there was a faint glow around her now. No, not a metaphorical one, a literal glow, but that woof be explained later. Now, as they walked into the palace halls, the entire place went silent immediately, not a single person daring to make a sound as they walked in.
For the first time in… forever, Maeve walked straight, her head slightly held high as she practically glided across the floor with Amir guiding her, his hand holding hers and not letting go for a second— which was also because he had one of his hands behind her with tiny pin pricking into her waist, making it impossible not to stand straight.
For training, he said.
Maeve knew there was an omission there.
As they walked closer to the main throne itself, right on the left were the two houses— House Banister and House Vierdan— Calista and Anastasia, and of course, their Vessels right next to them. The former had two and the latter one.
She whispered NACE’s name, and when it appeared, it didn’t even bother showing their names. Just their ranks— and all three of them had A ranks and affinities. But no stars or question marks next to theirs.
Maeve curtsied for the Queen as Amir bowed. It was only when the former raised her head that she realized right on that podium where she always sat, she was wearing a different outfit— stable wear but not exactly. Trousers with a high waist design and a large white shirt with frilly hand designs and some of that on her chest.
Her legs were crossed, her cheek resting on the back of her hand as she stared at her with a lazy look on her face, her lips pulled slightly upwards in a way that struck something in Maeve’s chest.
She turned her attention to Cassian.
He looked different. He glowed… less, far less than she remembered. He looked as perfect as he always did except… except this time, his gaze stayed on Amir like he was taking all of him not to demand for his head to leave his neck.
Creepy.
She held his hand tighter, noticing how Cassian’s eyes instantly focused on that movement though when they moved to her face, he looked a bit hurt but before she could focus on the way he looked too long, he showed her a gentle smile, waving softly in that royally perfect way he usually would.
Creepier.
“I have heard different rumors of your outfits, Lady Montague,” Queen Eldoria was practically dragging out each word like she was far too exhausted to be seated in such a place, like every single moment bored her, “The Piety one. The Seductive one. Which one would this be?”
“Attires of the Elf,” She said ever so solemnly as she bowed again. “My Vessel and I come to you in our simplest forms, submitting to you, the Queen of the Human Realm and being above all things,”
Amir did not like that sentence. Maeve squeezed his hand tighter.
“You are… different now,” She said, sighing. “And you still call him a Vessel? I see,”
It happened so fast.
The Queen moved her hands and almost instantly, Amir fell to the floor clutching his stomach. It was instinct— it had to be, because Maeve moved, ready to hold him but he shot his hand out, snapping instantly in a voice that seemed to echo with voices that belonged to more than one person, “Stay!”
Maeve stared, her eyes slowly widening as she watched horns come off his forehead— slowly, but surely. His pupils were turning into slits, and from where she stood, she wasn’t sure, not certain, but she saw them still. Fangs. He had fangs.