THE CONFLICT #2

CHAPTER 20

NOVENA

Nina patches my hand up pretty good, considering that she is just a servant of the palace. I apologise to her for my earlier manners before dinner while the odd servant girl grins and continues to sing in a surprisingly stunning voice for her ancestors to bring healing to my cut hand and grant ease to my pain. I don’t recall humans praying to their ancestors, but perhaps humans from the North have completely different beliefs to their Southern kin. After Nina has finished, she hands me two small white pills.

“Just in case the ancestors aren’t fans of yours.” She says and I laugh thinking she is joking as I take the pain pills.

I’m grateful the painkillers have finally kicked in. My hand has begun to feel bearable. However, nothing can dull the pain in my heart. It’s been two hours since Huntley told me that my father is dead. How could my father’s death be an accident? Did Zelus kill him because of me? Even now no tears come to my eyes. Its as if I simply can’t accept that my last parent is gone. I had been young when my mother died, so it hadn't hurt as much as this does. My father wasn't always the most involved or supportive parent, but he wasn't a terrible father either. I only have my brother left now. We are the last two Maces by blood. A knock sounds at the door, turning Nina's head. She stops attending to me, taking measured strides to answer while I refrain from telling her to let whoever it is rot. Pallas greets us with a smirk playing on arrogant face. He might not be my favorite person but at least it isn't Zelus. I couldn't stand to see him here now.

“Are you ready for an experience of a lifetime, princess?”

“What makes you think that I would ever want to spend a single second in your company?” I snap, disregarding any danger that he might pose to me.

If my words insult his pride, he certainly doesn't show it. “We are going into the den of the wolves. Don’t you want to see how we throw a party? I promise it's a hell of a lot better than your mundane attempts.” He promises with a wide grin and a hand held over his heart. Perhaps he thinks he is charming, and perhaps he would be if I didn't hate him so much. “Say yes?”

I want to say no. But my curiosity is a living thing. Reluctantly, I agree. I haven't changed from the dress I wore at diner so I simply need to put on my shoes and follow him out of the door. When I pass Nina, she seems bothered by my acceptance to accompany Pallas to whatever he has in store, but holds her tongue. Instead, she shoves something small into my hand. With Pallas’s back facing me, I glance into my open palm, finding a thin band of gold and a red ruby gem ontop of the ring. Strange that she would give me a ring? Not knowing what else to do with it, I slip it on my middle finger.

“How far is this place?” I ask Pallas as he slows down to accommodate my smaller stride.

“Eager are you?” He teases and I give him a sour look. He laughs, “Not far now.”

My heart picks up, beating irregularly for what's to come. Whether it's nerves or excitement of the unknown, I'm not sure. Probably more anxiety than anything else. We arrive at large double doors, guarded by seven wolves. My body tenses as we pass them, waiting to spring into action should they attack for whatever reason. I see Pallas grab the strange skull acting as the handle and open it wide with a smile. Beyond, music filters into the hallway. I take curious steps, my curiosity peaking once again as I look inside.

It is a room of sin.

Lust, greed and gluttony reigned supreme. The lengths of tables are jam-packed with delicacies and dishes of all sorts. The lights are dimmed and music is accompanied by seductive tones and flirtatious laughter. The large room has pillars and walls that hide its true size, creating nooks where couples or more lounge semi-privately. Human men and women are dressed in scandalized outfits. Some carry trays of drinks and food to the patriots. Others serve in ways that make my eyes widen. Pallas receives two glasses of a dark liquid I assume is some kind of wine. He offers me one, flashing his teeth in what he must think is a smile. But I see the horrid beast there. Humans are only meant for two things in his eyes. Entertainment and service. I drink deeply from my glass hoping to numb some of the rage swelling up on the inside. The drink has a sweet, smooth taste that delights my taste buds if nothing else. I skimp over the crowded venue. The wolf's den. My eyes find a male just as he grabs the human girl that had been dancing in front of him by the neck and slams her into the table. I gasp watching as her head hits the glass. I take a step towards them when a grin spreads across her face and her lips move. Whatever it is that she said makes the male on top of her smile too, just as he lifts her shirt and…I turn my face away.

"This is horrid." I manage, regretting my impulsive decision to take Pallas up on his offer.

"The drink?" Pallas asks as if immune to what is happening around him.

"This place." I breathe.

"If you think so now, you will certainly despise this place later. Or not. Let's see, shall we?" He says, offering an arm for me to take.

I hate accepting. He is so arrogant and smug, it's insufferable. But I need to know what Zelus doesn’t want me to see. I need to see what truly happens in the den of the wolves. Pallas escorts us to a lounge sheltered partly from the rest of the sinful room. Nudity does not seem to bother the patriants. I’ve never seen so many nake people in my life and certainly not a fully nake man. There seems to be no shortage here. Taking a deep draw of my drink, I shift nervously, noticing the way he focuses on my movements. A commotion draws our attention to the door seconds before Huntley is dragged into the room by a leash around his neck. Pallas laughs loudly as Selene gives her brother a grin. My mouth falls open at the lack of clothes covering Huntley's body. Selene very obviously wants to shame him. His beautifully toned body is completely on display for everyone to take their fill. Sleek muscles and smooth moonkissed skin has my eyes lingering longer than what would be considered appropriate. I meet his gaze, see his surprise and then horror. He quickly looks away in shame and I wish I could tell him that he has nothing to be ashamed of and that it is Selene in fact that should be greatly ashamed. Now his words make a lot more sense and so does the sadness. How many times had I thought that the boy from my dreams looked miserable? Almost every time. I'd seen him cry in the middle of a thunderstorm. I'd seen him locked in a prison cell. But I've also seen him with glorious white wings and magic at his fingertips. So why doesn't he just leave? Why doesn't he fight back? Selene seats herself same distance from us but still within sight. She tosses the leash at one of her two guards, smiling viciously at Huntley who has his head bowed. The guards connected the gold chain to the leg of the table in front of Selene as if they were tying up a dog.

“Did you bring me here simply to shock me senseless?” I ask as we take our own seats.

“Is it working?” He inquires causally.

“Not as well as you had hoped, I’m sure.” I lie.

Seeing Huntley so horribly mistreated is very distressing indeed.

He grins in response, "The night is young."

Pallas snaps his fingers at a passing waitress and orders, "Bring us a bottle of daemones vinum. Make it snappy." He says, clicking his fingers together.

Personally, I find the jester to be horrifyingly rude. But that's the least offensive act I've seen since walking through the door. The waitress hurries back in record time, delivering the same dark liquid Pallas offered to me before. He refills my near empty glass and then his own. He seems greatly satisfied with himself, like he knows a secret that I don’t. My tummy seems to warm the more I swallow the sweet tasting drink.

“Look at us Mace princess, enemies of old coming together.”

“Hardly.” I reply plainly, faking disinterest disprite my eyes glancing around the room constantly.

“Don’t hurt my feelings now, they are sensitive.” He says, forging offense. Raising his glass, we click his and mine together in a toast. “Here's to a memorable night.”

“Sure.” I say, lifting my glass to my lips… and a memorable night it will be.