It was hard to square his shoulders when his arms felt as limp as wet rice noodles.

Sebastian surveyed the length of the impossibly high doors before him. How could he possibly hype himself up in the shadow of those monstrosities? 

"You can do this," he hissed to himself. "For Abel."

A small cough from behind him sparked his already frayed nerves. "Are you speaking to yourself, sir?"

It was strange to be called a title so formal. Sebastian glanced at Melvin who stood guard just to the side of Queen Davina's doors. He was so motionless that Sebastian would have thought it had been a disembodied voice that had spoken. If he believed in such nonsense, that was.

And if Melvin didn't constantly seem to thrum with energy.

The carved words of the Scribal tongue weighed down on Sebastian from where they lay etched into the wooden beam above the doors. Then again, perhaps illusions such as invisible voices existed in a place such as this one.

"Sir?" 

"I'm only...thinking," Sebastian replied.

There was a brief pause. He felt a shiver work its way up his spine. Perhaps it had been a ghost.

"Out loud?" Melvin spoke once more.

Sebastian frowned at the motionless guard. "Yes."

Another beat of silence. "Was I meant to respond, sir?"

Sebastian sighed. "Not particularly."

How did Astrid stand being followed by guards every waking hour of her day? It was like having a third eye on the back of his head. One that he couldn't see out of but would undoubtedly receive a play-by-play of its wanderings. Sebastian swiped at the sweat dewing on the back of his neck.

He wasn't quite sure how much he trusted Astrid and this plan of hers for Abel. Part of him didn't doubt that this could have been one large ruse on Astrid's end to get him sent to the gallows before Queen Davina's tournament began. Winner by default. Somehow, he doubted Astrid would accept such a win. She would most likely find a gruesome way to reincarnate his body and fight his living corpse. Ugh. He really had no other options other than to trust her, which was very bleak, indeed. Sebastian lifted his shoulders.

"For Abel," he muttered again.

"Miss Venande seems a noble cause, sir."

Well now, Sebastian wondered if perhaps he had found the bloke responsible for Abel nettling her way into the fortress in the first place.

After all, she had claimed to have charmed aid from a young lapdog. 

He barely had time to raise an eyebrow at Melvin's declaration before the reddening guard used the hilt of his sword to rap into the heavy doors of Queen Davina's throne room.

The three echoing knocks clattered Sebastian's teeth.

"Command the room,"  Astrid had told him. "Act like the heroes in the books you read."

"Bash is already a hero," Abel had said.

"Yes, well, be the opposite of that kind of hero."

With that overwhelming confidence in mind, Sebastian trailed Melvin into the throne room.

Sebastian gasped and stumbled as something large and billowy sailed over his head. Melvin grabbed him around the elbow as if to pull him away from the unidentifiable assailant.

It was then that Astrid's haughty voice demanded throughout the room. "I will not be wearing that!"

She was standing to the left of Queen Davina's throne, her arms crossed across her chest, cheeks pink and hair a tangled fisherman's nest of a mess. Surprised to see her there during what was meant to be his private audience with the queen, Sebastian glanced back at the object that had narrowly missed smacking him in the face.

A lump of dark blue fabric lay crumpled and discarded against the open doors.

"A dress?" Melvin chuckled under his breath and released his hold on Sebastian.

Sebastian shook his head. Was this part of Astrid's grand scheme for Abel? Tossing gowns that cost more than his family's house around her mother's throne to distract Queen Davina? He frowned. He wished Astrid would have told him about this part of her plan because he would have told her it wouldn't have worked.

Queen Davina seemed hardly a woman distracted by such obvious ploys.

That odd ball of tension behind his navel jerked and, as if Astrid had read his thoughts, she scowled over at him, her hands clasped tightly at her sides. But one of her eyelids twitched into a quick semblance of a wink as Melvin draped the discarded gown over his arm and led Sebastian forward.

This was a mistake.

For Abel, he chided himself.

Queen Davina paid Astrid's gown outburst little attention other than to rearrange the fur-lined skirts of her own outfit. Sebastian assumed she must be used to her daughter's strange antics. Davina watched him approach with a soft grin. 

"This visit must have something to do with the girl currently taking refuge in your chambers, Sebastian d'Aximos."

Sebastian's cheeks flushed. "Astrid told you."

"She did not have to. I am always aware of the happenings of my fortress. For protection, I'm sure you understand."

"Of course, but—"

"Though I must admit that your little friend appears quite talented at bypassing my security."

He wished he could assure her that Abel was hardly a threat, but he had the feeling the queen would not buy that particular lie. Instead, Sebastian did a combination of awkward things; he inclined his head towards the throne and heard himself say, "I fear Abel would never wear a gown such as that, either."

Sebastian could have sworn that Melvin choked from his post beside him. One glance at Astrid showed she shared the guard's sentiments. Her gaze was turned upwards, lips twitching, the copper band around her arm glinting at him. Mocking him. It would have perhaps been better if that cursed gown had just smothered him when it had the chance.

The tinkling laugh that swept throughout the room caused shivers to electrocute the thin hairs on the back of his neck. Not that the sound made Queen Davina seem particularly menacing; it had to do with the wide-eyed shock of Astrid's expression as if she had never heard anyone laugh before.

Queen Davina clasped her hands together and leaned back into her throne. "Well, she very well may have to if she intends on remaining with you. We have a formal ball to attend to, after all."

Astrid let out a disgruntled huff. "The Saviour's Toast."

"Yes," Queen Davina agreed. She spoke with a calm Sebastian only wished he could summon. Unfortunately for him, he had never been much of a dancer. "Do sound more grateful, dear. Your love for theatrics should be brimming with pleasure. After all, this ball is an homage to both you and Mister d'Aximos. As such, that is your dress Sir Melvin currently holds, so perhaps you should retrieve it from him."

Astrid grinned sweetly. "But it matches his eyes so beautifully."

Her mother's grin flickered. "We all have our parts to play," Davina said. "You chose yours when you so brashly destroyed my keep. Do not deny that which you created. Now retrieve what is yours, for I am certain that young d'Aximos came for other reasons than to be assaulted by your clothing."

Sebastian didn't think it was possible for the ball of awkwardness in his stomach to expand any further, but as Astrid snatched the gown from Melvin's awaiting arms and jabbed Sebastian in the ribs in the process, he felt the heat stretch up to his neck, no doubt leaving red splotches in its wake. His eyes weren't sure where to look. He felt caught in the middle of a domestic dispute that he had no right to speak into and yet he could because he had read a lot of novels centering around familiar relationships—

"You can't fix everything," Abel would tell him. "There's a difference between knowledge and action, and don't take this the wrong way, Bash, but you've always been a man of knowing. Leave the action to me."

Except this time, he couldn't.

"You're right to assume it's not the ball I wish to discuss," Sebastian said in a rush. Judging by the high arch in Astrid's brow, he wasn't entirely sure it had come out at all intelligible. He cleared his throat. "Your majesty, I would like to discuss Abel's role while I'm here."

"Aw, Abel. The girl in your room, I presume," Queen Davina said. "Are the two of you betrothed?"

Sebastian gripped his hands to keep his fluster at bay. "No, but I—"

"All the better for your chances in my tournament," the queen said. "Love sharpens weakness; corrodes control; and you will need all of your control to prove yourself saviour of my realm."

He felt Astrid's pointed gaze on him. It made him feel sweaty. He refused to look back at her for fear of a distraction. Even so, he made a mental note to learn more about her father. If Queen Davina's sentiments on love were anything to judge by, he mustn't have been a very pleasant man.

Sebastian shook his head. One of his loose curls flopped over his forehead. "I'm afraid I must disagree with that when it comes to Abel," he said. "You see, she came from Eilibir with me. She's the only family I have left. She strengthens me."

He felt his cheeks grow warm beneath both Astrid's and the queen's scrutiny. Had that sounded as whimsically sappy as his brain had heard it? Though it was true, Sebastian had never been good at speaking of emotions. Embarrassment swept over him.

Astrid grimaced as if she were the director of this play, and he'd just gone off book. On the other hand, her mother brought her clasped hands under her chin and regarded him with the same serenity that exuded from her voice. 

"You are claiming you cannot perform in the Saviour's Tournament without her, are you not?"

Sebastian swallowed. "I am, Your Majesty."

"It sounds very much like a threat."

His heart skipped a beat to remind him he should be afraid, but the cadence of the conversation reminded Sebastian of the academic discourse he would often have with crazy old Norham. He fell into the familiarity with a sense of relief. He almost grinned, imagining Norham rapping his cane against the walls of his house, but Sebastian's heart pumped frantically behind his chest.

"It is but a fact, Your Majesty." He inclined his head towards her. "I knew nothing of supernatural forces before now, but Abel...she believes in me. And belief can be a power of its own, can it not?"

Even Sebastian was shocked with himself, but he ignored Astrid's widening gaze lest it shatter his newfound confidence. Queen Davina lowered her hands to her lap, her eyes glinting like a frozen pond just before the sun disappeared behind the horizon. It promised darkness.

"What are your terms, young d'Aximos?"

Terms? He shoved away the impulse to beseech Astrid for her opinion. "I would like for Abel to join my guard."

The request had popped out of him as if the words had been a forgotten memory he'd only just remembered. It washed over him, the relief of knowing, and he glanced between Queen Davina and her daughter as the request hit them both. To her credit, Astrid restrained her shock by grasping her right hand over the copper cuff on her left arm. He assumed he would have to apologize to her later for changing the plan.

Though why should he have to apologize? He owed Astrid nothing, and Abel so much more. He squared his shoulders as he met Davina's curious expression.

"You are more than you appear." The softness of her words was punctuated by the sudden clap of the queen's hands as she addressed Melvin. "I entrust this girl to your tutelage, Sir Melvin. See to it that she is trained between shifts, though she already appears adept at thievery and lurking."

Melvin clipped his boots together and lowered his neck in submission.

By the Scribes, he had done it. Sebastian exhaled heavily. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

"Do not thank me yet." Queen Davina raised from her throne, her heavy skirts fluttering to the ground. "Remember what I said about love," she warned. "If she proves to be a distraction, I will have to terminate her."

Sebastian nodded.

The queen regarded him from her higher position. "You've proven yourself a capable adversary. Perhaps Master Lambert saw that in you. You will continue your apprenticeship with him, as well."

He couldn't help but grin. It was beginning to feel as if he'd fallen into a latrine and emerged with hidden gold.

"Oh, and Astrid," Queen Davina added, "assure that your gown fits. Either that or announce yourself at the ball in nothing but the skin in which you were birthed. Those are your only options. It will not do well for another unexpected surprise to grace my presence."

It wasn't until after Melvin had guided Sebastian from the queen's throne room that the adrenaline high he'd been riding came to a screeching halt. As he was prone to do, the conversation replayed in his head on a constant loop, studying each word, researching each meaning. Sebastian stopped in the middle of the staircase.

"What do you suppose Queen Davina meant by termination?"

Melvin observed their surroundings before he loped to Sebastian's side. He had the energetic habits of a domesticated dog when Captain Matthias was not nearby. 

"Termination of what?"

Sebastian felt himself pale as the remnants of his adrenaline fled from his blood. He stretched out his neck, which suddenly felt stiff, as Melvin waited for him to respond. But he was being ridiculous, right? His anxiety tended to spiral like this whenever he allowed himself to overanalyze social interactions. Termination didn't have to mean death.

Besides, if anyone were going to murder Abel, he'd place his bet on Astrid.

He rubbed the back of his neck with a sweaty palm. "Never mind," he muttered, but his mind refused to drop the nagging sense of fear.

His steps suddenly felt too loud. Too heavy. He would have to learn how to tread more lightly.

_ _ _

Next up is possibly one of my favorite chapters: The Saviour's Toast! Anyone else love a good ball sequence? 

Thank you so much for reading! We appreciate it so much!!