Vicious | ongoing

chapter one

C H A P T E R
O N E

"Josiah, will you stop being such a drag," I said with a huff, twiddling the curtain coil beneath my fingers.

He'd been my best friend for as long as I could remember. Every memory I had, he played a part in it, whether little— like the first time I'd gone to the beach and I'd played in the sand whilst he'd swum in the sea— or large— like the first visit of the doctor, all because he'd broken his leg from jumping out of a tree because I said he couldn't.

He'd been fussing about preparations for the arrival of his arch enemy, King Demetrius of Mazji, though I couldn't understand how they could hate each other to the point of being arch enemies if they'd never actually met.

"Everything has got to be perfect, Everly," he emphasised, pointing at the red version of the material the servants were holding up for him. "We have to show the King,"— he practically spat the title — "the grandeur of Azja."

"Men and their pride," Cecilia said with an eye roll, appearing from a secret compartment behind the bookshelf. "You must always compete to be better than the next, no matter the price. A little... immature, don't you think?"

Like her brother, she had mousy brown hair but her's fell about her face and down her back in classic Azjarian ringlets.

"It's not immature to maintain a man's honour, dear sister."

I came to stand beside her. "His pride, more like."

"Is it not one in the same?" He asked, tearing his eyes from another selection of silk, nodding to the green one.

"Not at all," I said, picking at a book from the shelf and flicking through its pages. "For people that are supposed to hate each other so much—" I rose the pages to the historical battle that was said to have taken place hundreds of years ago. "— you sure do go all out." I then gestured to the dozens of things awaiting Josiah's choosing, knowing even from a distance the vast cost it would all amount to.

"We must show we are willing to be gracious hosts," he replied simply, turning back to his task.

Cecilia looked at me, and stage whispered, "More like my horse is bigger than your horse type of thing."

"It is not!" He said, turning so fast his cloak swirled almost completely horizontal in the air.

At his affronted scrunched brows and the hint of redness spreading from his neck to his face, we burst into giggles.

"Yes, yes," he waved, dismissively. "Very funny."

"Indeed, brother," Cecilia said, steadying herself with the bookshelf. "Come on, Everly, let's leave this old bore to choose the wrong tapestries to display."

His head shot upright and he looked to me. "She's just messing with you," I eased him with a squeeze of the shoulder. "It'll be amazing, I'm sure."

He kissed my cheek, gratefully. "You're positive?"

"I'm absolutely certain," I nodded. "Try not to stress too much," I said, then reached my fingers to his tensed brow. "We wouldn't want any premature wrinkles now, would we?"

He let me see a glimpse of that boyish smile I adored so much, before I turned on my heel and followed the direction Cecilia had gone. As I left the room, I saw her leaning against the wall to my right. She saw me, too, and pushed herself up, joining my side as we strolled through the halls.

"You know," I said, after a moment of silence. "You seem oddly at ease, considering you're about to marry a practical stranger."

She scoffed. "What's the worst that could happen?"