Page 9 of Unkindness of Crimson Ravens (The Crimson Duet #1)

“Moonshine, sweetheart.”

F or a few moments, all I could do was gawp at the view of this gigantic room. I could hardly call it a room, it must have been at least five times bigger than the ballroom at home.

I hope you won’t be too disappointed, since our balls could never hold a standard of a royal event.

Francis’ words flashed in my mind. Arrogant man.

Of course, this gathering— as he’d called it—was more luxurious than any I’d ever attended before.

I should not have been surprised, but I was all the same.

The room—more like a hall—was truly glorious.

Stained glass decorated every window, depriving the sun of the ability to intrude the space, wherever I looked.

Every single one was different: from beautiful landscapes to mythical creatures.

On the sides of each window sat many different sculptures, some of them made me feel uneasy.

Looking towards the ceiling, I gasped. A luxurious mosaic depicted several Gods—some I saw for the first time. Some were holding glasses of wine and I couldn't help myself but to wonder if it was indeed wine.

The whole room was glorious and I couldn’t even begin to imagine what the rest of the castle was like.

I faced Francis who had been staring at me this whole time. He smiled, clearly feeling proud as though he’d made all of this art himself.

I shouldn’t like this place, even if it was truly a work of art.

Evidently, Francis saw my inner battle as he winked at me. Winked! Moon, help me.

“Can we go eat?” The annoyance in his tone was unmistakable. “Now that you have appreciated my house for long enough.” Francis rolled his eyes.

How dared he act like I was a burden on him? I’d never asked for any of this. If anything I was the one who had the right to be mad. I shook my head, my hands turned to fists.

We walked across the room, swaying around dancing pairs.

I tried my best to stay invisible, though it didn’t seem to matter: everyone here was too busy with their partners, not bothered by my presence.

Not being used to that, I was unsure what my expectations were.

I’d never liked big crowds, but at least at home, I’d been taught exactly how to act in one’s presence.

Engaging conversations and laughter occupied the room—something I had not been expecting to hear. At home the balls were solely about alliances, even when the occasion had been someone’s birthday, or marriage. There had never been any fun at such events, the fun that Sandra had craved so much.

By the time we had made our way across Francis had already found himself a drink. He passed me an identical glass, freezing me in place.

“‘Tis wine, Princess.” Francis laughed at me. “Drink.”

A princess should keep her head clear. Mother’s voice exclaimed in my mind as my hands stretched out towards the glass. Maybe being drunk wasn’t the worst idea given the circumstances.

My eyes didn’t leave the drink, studying it as though it was poison. A sigh escaped my lips before I finished the wine—it was indeed wine—in one gulp.

Francis’ eyebrows shot up, he stared at me like he'd never seen me before. Francis passed me another glass which I finished in mere seconds as well. In pure surprise he was finally silent. Studying me, as though I’d grown horns in the past minute.

“Cordelia!” Florence called from behind me. “I'm so glad you decided to join!” she exclaimed as she hugged me.

Decided? I wasn’t aware I had a choice, but before I could say anything her hands wrapped around me excitedly. She hugged me tight, as if we’d known each other for a while. My hands barely touched her back in an attempt to return the gesture, yet my mind just wished for all of this to be over.

For the next few hours I sat in the corner, pouring myself wine, watching people dance. I watched Florence in Roxanne’s embrace as they danced beautifully through the hall. I hadn't seen Roxanne since that secret meeting in my garden, but her bright copper hair was unforgettable.

Occasionally Florence laughed at something Roxanne said.

In the garden Roxanne seemed very cold minded and mean, perhaps I’d been wrong. Or perhaps she was indeed mean to anyone but Florence.

I looked away when they started kissing. In the Royal court kissing so publicly would be considered rude, but here no one seemed to mind such gestures.

My eyes traveled through the hall until they landed on a couple in the corner. A woman in a dark green dress sat atop a man's lap. His lips were on her neck, kissing it ruthlessly.

My brows furrowed in disgust, though I could not seem to move my eyes away from the pair. A low moan escaped the woman's lips when the man’s hand brushed along her cheek.

These people knew no manners. I poured myself another glass of wine.

“If you are trying to get drunk, this won’t work,” a voice behind me whispered. I jolted in surprise, meeting the eyes of the man who pointed his finger at my cup. “Sorry! Didn’t mean to startle you,” the man smiled at me.

His hair was bright ginger like the fire itself, and he wore green attire with gold ornaments on it.

“Simon.” He extended his hand in greeting.

“Cordelia.” I mumbled, ignoring the man's hand.

Perhaps my dismissive tone would make the man leave. Though, Simon seemed to have different plans as he moved a chair next to me, taking a seat.

“You should try moonshine, wine will not get you drunk,” Simon said.

I poured myself another glass, ignoring the man altogether.

“I see, no one explained anything to you, did they?” Simon chuckled. “Your body heals too fast, wine is not strong enough to have much of an effect. It would be the same as drinking grape juice as a human.” He shrugged. “Moonshine, on the other hand...”

“Moonshine it is then. Where do I get it?” I asked him with an enthusiasm that made him laugh even more. He didn’t seem to mock me though, his laugh was kind, as though he, for some odd reason, found me funny.

“Definitely not here. Eager to get drunk?” Simon grabbed the pitcher from my hand, pouring himself a drink.

“Very.”

“Then you should visit my tavern. I have plenty of moonshine there.” He winked, taking a sip of his drink.

Despite my best attempts at dismissing this strange man, he managed to keep our conversation alive, throwing at me all kinds of questions about my life.

My short answers didn’t seem to bother him as he kept talking and I couldn’t help but wonder if he knew who I was. Simon talked to me as his equal. Something I’d never been allowed to do.

“Shall we dance?” He asked me eventually.

“I don’t dance,” I shook my head lightly. The last thing I wanted was to attract attention to myself.

“Liar.” He laughed and for a second I didn't know what to say. No one ever called me a liar. They wouldn’t have dared. “There is no way a princess cannot dance.” Simon continued before I could find an answer.

So he did know, I see. My mood darkened at the reminder of my reality. Would he have even spoken to me had I not been Royal?

“Yes, I know who you are,” Simon said, reading my face. “I'm afraid everyone here knows. The crown made a big deal about a princess who went missing.”

The crown? My brow furrowed. They had been looking for me. Of course they have, silly . My mind traveled. Were they well? Were my siblings well?

“Are they still looking for me?” My gaze met Simon’s, dreading his answer.

He quieted for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “They had a funeral a few nights ago,” Simon said softly.

My eyes widened. A funeral? Everything in my body stilled. They thought I was dead, well, I suppose a part of me was dead, but the thought still made me nauseous.

“On second thought, here. You need it more than me.” Simon interrupted my hurricane of thoughts, taking out the canteen from the inside pocket of his cloak. He opened it, offering it to me.

“What is it?” I asked, taking the bottle from his cold hands. I didn’t wait for his answer, drinking the contents.

Whatever this was, it made my eyes water. The drink tasted absolutely disgusting, but I made sure to finish half, wishing it was poison that would end me right here.

“All right, all right. That’s enough,” Simon chuckled, taking the bottle from me.

A cough broke through me, as my eyes and nose watered. What in the Kingdom had I drunk? The tears fell from my eyes as if I poured salt water into them.

“Here,” Simon handed me a napkin from the table and I gratefully took it from him: still coughing my throat out.

“It does get better, you know.” He looked me straight in the eyes, as if making sure I listened carefully.

“I know you don’t believe it yet, but I've been there. It does get better, Cordelia.” He sighed.

“At least your family had a funeral.” He slightly shoved my shoulder, laughing.

Though his laughter fell short when his eyes met my glare.

For a while we were completely silent. My mind quieted when I returned to the people dancing, though I couldn't help but only to criticize the dancers. No one seemed to care for the proper technique here, or even count—for that matter—though at least they appeared to enjoy themselves.

The pair in front of our table doubled, so did everyone else. My head spun. I felt dizzy and suddenly... unnaturally calm.

“What was in the drink?” I said, mumbling over my words.

“Moonshine, sweetheart,” Simon smiled. “Have you drunk before?” His brows flew up.

“No,” I replied looking at the now two headed Simon. I blinked, trying to figure out which head was truly his.

He studied me carefully and for some reason his facial expression made me giggle.

“Are you—” Simon crooked his head. “All right?”

The question put me into a stupor. Was I all right? I had no way of knowing. The dreading feeling of my body shattering into small pieces was now dull. I could finally breathe without constantly battling my lungs to obey me. I supposed I was indeed all right.

“Yes!” I said, surprised at my own discovery.

My head spun again, not in a nervous, terrifying way, but in a way that made me feel as if I was in a dream: flawless, weightless.

“Are you?” I said, giggling. My tongue felt like it was in a knot.

It was so hard to make the words out, but for some reason, there was no panic, the opposite: I found it funny. A little.

“You will feel better in a few minutes,” Simon patted me on my shoulder, giving me a half smile.

“I'm fine.” A small smile spread across my face as my eyes traveled toward the dance floor once again. Everyone danced so graciously, flawlessly. I was almost jealous. Almost. “Shall we dance?” I asked Simon, not believing my own words.

“You shouldn’t dance right now. You will fall on your pretty face.” He said, smirking.

Was he doubting my skill? Surely I could dance, I was not nearly drunk enough to fall. Or was I? How would I have known, I’d never danced drunk before. His mocking tone made me want to prove him wrong.

“Is that a challenge?” I replied, clearly not being myself. Was I really asking him to dance with me? What was I thinking? I barely knew this man. “Well?”

“All right, let’s dance,” Simon said at last. Getting up from his chair, he offered me a hand.

I took his hand in mine, as he led me to the dance floor.