Adonis Azzlyn sat staring at the numerous activities taking place all over the ballroom. He cared very little for the music, or the burgundy theme, or the ostentatious chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling. He was neither interested in the dance floor on which nobles of varying tastes sprawled, nor the spiral staircases, where the young ladies would giggle and blush and prattle on this or the other. He cared very little for the previous Sovereign's burial, the current Sovereign's Coronation and Reveal, and cared even less about the current Sovereign himself. But alas, as his father never ceased to remind him, nobility came with obligations.
The table at which he sat was round and draped in white and gold, the colors of the Azzlyn House. Chatter rose and fell all around the table, with the occasional burst of collective laughter. The Sovereign had already opened the Ball earlier. Attendants uncovered the platters in a flourish and popped open champagne dramatically. But hardly anyone had touched their food in the last hour. No noble came to a Ball to eat, much less a Ball proceeding the Reveal of a new Sovereign. People came to such, as Adonis had come to learn, to observe the changing tides, to watch for shifts, and to make whatever moves necessary to maintain, or increase, their power. And none were better at doing this than his family. The Azzlyns.
And so, while platters and plates remained mostly untouched, conversation hummed on like a fully fueled engine that could go on forever. Far down the table, Adonis' sister Vasia, dark-haired, dark-eyed and beautiful, chatted up a group of wealthy nobles, batting her eyes and touching their shoulders like the self-depraved debutante she was. Adonis looked away, disgusted. Slightly farther up the table, his aunts and uncles chatted bright-eyed and bushy-tailed with all manner of nobility. And finally, closest to him was his father, Athan Azzlyn, the paterfamilias of the entirety of the Azzlyn Family. Athan was in a deep conversation with what seemed to be, judging from the green robes, a Nefertari noble, most likely the Arch-Doque. Adonis looked much like his father, a fact which he had never quite liked. He had the same straight, long, ink-black hair, tied back to a neat bun. He had the same sharp, angular chin and the same ocean-blue eyes. And the same long and lean figure.
Adonis decided that he could bear no more. He saw that Ball for what it was. A den of liars and thieves, and it was becoming rather tedious just sitting there. He rose to his full height and began for one of the doors, when, much to his dismay, his father called.
"Adonis," Athan called in a smooth tenor that, while charming many, deeply irked Adonis. He had hoped to slip away unnoticed, but alas. He sighed, pasted a practiced smile on his face, spun around, and walked into the group's confines.
"Lord Nefertari, I have yet to introduce you to my son and heir, Adonis," Athan said, flashing a smile and placing a hand on Adonis' shoulder. Adonis first bowed his head, then extended a hand.
"It's a pleasure to finally meet the Emerald Lord himself," Adonis said, and they laughed heartily.
"The Emerald Lord was my father," he said with a smile, "the pleasure is mine, young lord." His accent was thick, emphasizing the vowels 'e' and 'i.'
"Adonis here is proving to be quite the fencer, much like myself when I was young," Athan said.
"One cannot deny it. He looks like an athlete," Lord Nefertari's voice boomed in agreement.
"The walls are lined with gold medals. If I'm not careful, he just might outfence me soon enough," both he and the Nefertari laughed.
"I just might. You can never really trust the temperament of a teenager," Adonis said slyly. The Nefertari laughed even louder.
"Quite right," he said between laughs.
"My lord, will you excuse us for a short moment?" Athan said, pulling Adonis aside.
"Where do you think you're going?" In that moment Adonis bore witness to a shift he had observed in his father countless times before. The lines on Athan's face grew sharper, and his lips drew to a tight, stiff line.
"I only wished to leave," Adonis said, his voice steady and tone neutral.
"Why? Athan demanded quietly.
"I'm quite tired." The moment Adonis uttered those words, he felt a crushing weight on his right foot. He glanced down, but he already knew what was happening. His father was stepping on his toes, crushing them.
"You will leave when I say it's okay for you to leave," Athan's voice was terrifyingly steady, and almost expressionless. "Am I clear?"
"Crystal clear," Adonis said automatically, swallowing the pain.
"Good," Athan said, and the pressure on his foot vanished. "In the meantime, mingle," he said, adjusting his son's collar, "there are numerous beautiful young ladies in this Ballroom who would just love to be approached by a handsome lord such as yourself for a dance." And with that, Athan stepped away, slipping back into conversation with the Nefertari lord.
Adonis stood immobile for a short moment, staring at the black and burgundy, tessellated marble floor. His mind was strangely blank at that moment, and only partly aware of the pain in his foot. It had begun to ebb. His eyes stung, but he quickly blinked it all away and decided at that moment that he needed wine. And as he was turning to head to the tables, he roughly bumped into someone.
"Would you watch where you are—" he stopped immediately when he saw who it was.
"Princess, my apologies. That was quite rude of me," he inclined his head respectfully.
"It was only an accident," Sappho Gula stood before him, a gorgeous burgundy gown flowing down to her legs, tucking away her feet. Her smile was friendly and diplomatic, yet unequivocally dazzling.
"You are of the Azzlyn Family," she observed, her eyes briefly scanning her attire.
"Yes, I am," he said.
"I'm afraid I'm not well-versed in your family tree. I only know Lord Azzlyn," she said.
"Lord Azzlyn is my father, actually," his smile faltered a fraction, before he quickly readjusted it. The Princess didn't seem to notice.
"Oh? How lovely. And what's your first name?" She asked.
"Adonis, Princess," he said, gently inclining his head.
"Well, Adonis. It has been a pleasure, but I'm afraid I have to excuse myself," she said, briefly scanning the Ballroom through narrowed eyes.
"Of course," he said, courteously stepping aside.
"Thank you, Adonis," she said, and with that, elegantly walked past him.
Adonis watched thoughtfully as her elegant figure vanished into the throng of twirling lords and ladies waltzing about on the Ballroom floor. The Princess was, strangely, different. Unlike every member of the court he had met so far. Or perhaps she was just better than everyone else at masquerading her true twisted motives, whatever they may be.
*
"I'm sure you have heard the news," Athan said later that evening, long after the Ball. They were in the guest chambers, in the guest wing of the Sovereign House. All three of them. Adonis sat at his father's desk and had turned the chair to face his father, who was undoing his tie before the mirror. Vasia lounged languidly across the chair adjacent to the wall, staring up at the ceiling and swinging her leg mindlessly, her black hair poured all over the white sofa.
Adonis had heard the news. And he found it disconcerting. But, of course, he couldn't tell his father that.
"It was only a matter of time," Adonis said instead.
"Why didn't the old bat ever offer you the job?" Vasia asked, turning her head to look at Athan.
"Old Meröe didn't much like our family," Athan said, tossing his tie onto the bed. "I want both of you to understand that this is a fine opportunity." He turned back to face the mirror and began undoing the buttons on his sleeve. Adonis did not see it as an opportunity in any way. He already hated the court, yet he lived nowhere near it. Having to actually live might drive him insane. And so he asked the question to whose answer he had been dreading ever since he had heard of the councillorship.
"Will we be moving to the Capital?"
Athan lifted his chin and undid the button at the collar of his shirt. "Yes, we will be moving to the Capital. However, only I will be living in the Sovereign House." Adonis' brow furrowed in confusion.
"Whatever do you mean?" he asked, unsure where this was going.
"I'm sure you have also heard of the Princess' decision," Athan said, turning away from the mirror to face both of his children. Adonis had indeed heard, but he was still unsure where this was going.
"Both of you will be joining Heartswood," Athan said unceremoniously. Adonis was aghast.
"You can't possibly be serious," Adonis blurted out. Athan looked at him with narrowed eyes.
"I'm serious with every bone in my body," he said, his tone as cold as his piercing blue eyes.
"But father, I do not need to go to Heartswood. I have been tutored by the finest educators in all of Kantia, with a national ranking in the AEC's," Adonis' face was a blend of plea and frustration.
Athan watched his son carefully. Vasia's leg was no longer swinging. Athan stepped to his bed's end table took the jug of water that sat on the steel platter, and poured himself a glass. Both Adonis and Vasia watched him as he downed the glass, waiting for a response. Athan finished drinking, then looked at the glass thoughtfully, before flinging it at Adonis. Adonis ducked in time, bringing his hands up to shield his face. The glass shattered in the wall behind him, glass shards flying every which way. Vasia sat up, eyes wide, as she watched on. Athan walked towards Adonis and lifted him by the collar back into the chair. Adonis looked at his father in wide-eyed disbelief. A sharp pain tore through his cheek.
"You will go because I need you to go!" he growled. "While I labor to bring the name Azzlyn back to its former glory as Lord of the Treasury, you will haul your ungrateful ass to Heartswood. You will observe that wretched Princess, even befriend her, I don't care. You are to know her every move. What are our words?"
"Know thy enemy," Adonis said through clenched teeth. Something warm went down his cheek.
"Louder!"
"Know thy enemy!" Adonis said, clearer now.
"And who is our enemy?" Athan growled the question, looking down upon his son.
"Anyone who isn't us," Adonis said, looking straight into his father's eyes. Athan straightened and went back to the mirror. Adonis rose from his chair, looking at the ground unseeingly, opened the door, and walked out of the room. And as he shut the door, he caught a glimpse of the look upon his sister's face. Satisfaction.
He wasn't sure how he found his way to his door, or how he managed to get into his room. His body felt strangely numb. As if all his limbs were where they were supposed to be, only farther away. He sat against the wall next to his bed, and, at that moment, his body began to shake. Anger, fear, dread, and hate whirled in him in a chaotic tornado of inner torment. In that moment he hated his father. He hated his horrible family. He hated this stupid Sovereign House. He hated the nobility. He hated it all. Tears began to seep through his eyes and pour onto his cheeks. His cheek still stung. As he wiped the tears away with the back of his hand he saw the red. Blood. A stray shard must have cut his cheek. He sighed, then laughed out loud. He would have to attend to it later.
He would be joining high school, and Heartswood no less. He didn't know what to think of it. All night Adonis sat beside his bed, with moonlight from four moons pouring gently through his windows, lighting up the room in cold, silvery glow. Sleep came quickly.