How It All Began - Part 8

As our exchange ended, Sirius and Jeanne in disguise had reached the foot of the stage. He kneeled in a fashion similar to me before and regarded his family with a curt “Father, sister.”

I tried not to look to hard at him.

As he rose back up and made his way to the other seat he gave me a quick glance, though I could feel him examining me in that split-second.

“Zenia, I thought you said at training you didn’t have a companion for the ball. If I recall correctly, you even considered not attending,” he said, as soon as he placed himself on the seat. “Darling, could you fetch me some champagne?” He directed that order at Jeanne, in something close to a ‚customer service voice,‘ which was completely contrary to how he talked to his sister.

“No champagne for now, dear, not until I have properly opened the ball with a toast,” his father scolded him. Though him calling his son “dear” caught me off guard. Firstly, toxic masculinity taught me differently, at least for the English language. Secondly, this small exchange already showed how different of a relationship the two harbored with their parent.

I looked over to Jeanne, who was now standing behind Sirius, just like I stood behind Zenia. She looked idly across the ball room. Her left hand, covered by a white glove, was propped onto the backrest of Sirius‘ seat. Her outfit bordered on the scandalous, but maybe they have different standards here. Her legs were mostly bare until halfway up her thighs, were a corset transformed into a skirt below her hips. Jagged frills seemed to invite small glances at what lied below. If anyone else were to bow in front of the king now, they’d sure have the time of their life.

“And what is that I hear about not attending?” The king turned to face his daughter.

“What reason do I have to attend, besides appeasing you, father?”

“Getting out in the world? Meeting people? You can’t just stay holed up in the mansion all the time.”

“If you would just let me put my sword-skills to the test, then that wouldn’t be a problem, would it.”

Throughout this entire exchange they both barely turned toward each other. Instead, their glances passed through the crowd, their outward appearance regal.

“We barely had this discussion minutes ago.” Her father’s voice however could not hide the hostile intent behind his words.

“Excuses. You both are just afraid I’ll realize what’s really driving that war of yours, aren’t you.”

“What non-sense you spout!” The king got louder, his voice on the verge of shouting.

“Sirius, brother, have you told our father about the incident with the incubus, while we were sparring earlier?”

That seemed to prompt her father to for once take his daughter seriously.

“Incubus? What is she talking about?” he asked Sirius.

“Nothing father. There was just ... an incident. An incubus seems to have made its way onto castle grounds and tried to charm my dear sister.”

“We blew up the shed,” Zenia added.

“Why was I not instructed of an intruder on our grounds!?” Their father now failed to entirely speak in a hushed voice, instead putting emphasis on random words. “I thought nothing could ever escape our security system.”

Sirius was now visibly struggling for words, only a few tortured sounds escaping his throat.

“Yes, how could that happen.” Zenia was without a doubt enjoying extorting her brother. “Maybe, because our “incubus” was the type of intruder you wouldn’t want anyone to find out about.”

Zenia had now turned her body towards her father and brother, eyeing for any kind of reaction coming from them.

Some sort of telepathic conversation seemed to take place between Sirius and his father as they were trying to make sense of just how much Zenia knew. They found themselves treading on dangerous ground. How would they address Zenia’s threats without giving away information she did not in fact possess?

“Don’t worry father. We disposed of the threat as soon as possible,” Sirius reassured the king.

“We will have a talk about this later.”

Zenia chuckled to herself, which could only be heard by us, who were connected telepathically.

A gong echoed throughout the ballroom. The strings that had been playing so far drowned in the sound and gradually stopped their play, as everyone directed their attention to us.