Chapter 112 - Diplomatic Immunity (Patreon)

Mayalyn Aloyhee

“Mayalyn, please, we need to go. We’re going to be late, again,” Olive prodded her arm in an attempt to get her to put down the stone slab covered in archaic runes.

“Yes, yes, go soon. Wait, no, where go?” Mayalyn mumbled in broken imperial, finally focusing on the princess’s shining blue eyes.

“I knew you weren't listening!” Olive scowled with her hands on her hips. Her stern expression only lasted a second before the corners of her lips lifted. “Riehnhardt is throwing a dinner party for the mysterious slayer of the rooks.”

“He here is now?” Mayalyn leaned forward, suddenly brimming with excitement.

“I don’t think so. But he should be soon. We don’t know for sure, that’s why we need to go!”

Mayalyn’s enthusiasm drained instantly after Olive’s denial. “Many person, party?” She blanched as her eyes wandered the small study they shared within the vast underground complex.

“Yes, everyone will be there. You can’t keep hiding from them, Mayalyn. You’re the representative of the People. The more they see you, the more accustomed they will become. Familiarity breeds affection.”

I know she is only trying to cheer me up but it is impossible to understand her clearly when she is so excited. How can she enjoy being surrounded by so many people who think poorly of her? Perhaps lacking the ability to sense emotions within auras is a blessing for these people. No, that is foolish. they are disconnected from one another, rife with misplaced resentment and fear. Feelings should bring clarity, not breed distrust.

Seeing Mayalyn’s thoughtful expression and assuming she didn’t understand her, Olive tried again. “Look, you need to come. It’s important, and if he’s not there, he might be soon.”

Mayalyn sighed and set down the tablet harder than she meant to. Her fists balled and her mouth twisted in a scowl as her mind raced.

She is so persistent! Why can she not go alone and bring Jiran to me when he arrives? She does not understand and I do not know the words to explain. It is not only the way they look at me. I can feel their disgust. They hate me. Most of them would kill me in a heartbeat if the Duke had not extended his protection to me.

Then, there is the Duke’s son. He is the worst. Thank the Great Mother he does not have an aura. I do not ever wish to know what emotions lurk within him. Every time he looks at me, I feel like I am covered in fetid feces.

“I stay. Work hard,” She shook her head, hoping Olive would let it slide this once.

“Absolutely not! You chose to follow us, you came here of your own will and now you must accept the responsibility. If tonight's guest is not who we think it is, it would be a grave insult for the People’s ambassador to not make an appearance,” Olive’s voice was firm, having shifted from friendly to the ringing command of her royal upbringing.

With a weary sigh, Mayalyn accepted her fate and rose from her chair. They left the cramped study, soon arriving in their shared suite where they had been staying for the last two days. Olive rummaged through the wardrobe the Duke had provided her, pulling out two gowns that she spread across the bed.

“Me no wear! No, please!” Mayalyn shook her head frantically while looking at the beautiful fabric which would be sure to draw far too much attention.

“Why must you fight me every step of the way? This must be how Mother felt when she had to pull me from training to attend events. I suppose this is my comeuppance. So be it, if you’re going to be stubborn, then I’ll just have to do as I was taught!” Olive rolled up her sleeves as she stalked toward the hastily retreating Mayalyn.

Her back bumped into the traitorous wall, sealing off her retreat. The glimmer in Olive’s eyes told Mayalyn that her friend was not at all disturbed by what she was about to do.

. . .

Mayalyn sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for Olive to finish getting herself ready. The princess had been relentless over the last half hour as she adjusted Mayalyn’s dress with her strange skill to fit her like a glove. She didn’t hate it at all. It was gorgeous and showed off her figure quite well. She knew if Jiran saw it, he would give her that look she liked so much. But Jiran wasn’t here, and And all of the people who wanted her dead were.

They had left Jiran behind. The pit in her stomach still burned every time she thought of it. She would just have to explain to him why they were forced to leave and hope he understood. Besides, he told her to stay with the royals and that was exactly what she did even if she desperately wanted to remain near the teleportation pad and wait for him.

The stories of his first arena were beyond awful. Before he left, she knew within her core that this one was going to be much worse. Did he survive? Was it him blasting his way into the city? If it was, why didn’t he come in immediately? Why stay outside for half a day killing those vile creatures?

“Your lip is bleeding! Stop biting it!” Olive rushed to her side, her own dress finally secured and resized with a touch of Forming. “If I had known how much trouble you were going to be… Ahh, who am I kidding, you’re far too much fun to leave behind. I’m glad you’re here, Mayalyn. Sorry I’m being so hard on you,” Olive wrapped her in a quick hug before pulling back to arm’s length.

“A touch of makeup and you’ll be perfect. I really hope it’s him, I can’t wait to see his face when he sees you.”

. . .

The party was far worse than she thought possible. There were dozens of new people tonight and several of them had auras. The new arrivals were warned before they entered. Yet still, their auras whipped in her direction the moment they saw her, lashing her body with vile intent and leaving behind a soup of their own twisted emotional drama.

Mayalyn was barely holding herself together when Olive was beside her. Then, that monster dragged her away under some pretense she didn’t know the words to. Now she was alone, surrounded by enemies, and unable to bear her claws at them. It would be so simple if she could fight them. Jiran’s lightning still thrummed within her, barely constrained and begging for release. They wanted her blood, but she would not give it freely.

She retreated to a corner, trying to find a dark place to hide from their misguided hatred. But there was no such place. Whoever had decorated the damnable room had placed extra lighting in the corners and behind the pillars, leaving her exposed to every eye.

I hate this place. All of their fear and anger is getting to me. I need to kill something before I go insane! Tomorrow, I’m going outside the walls to hunt.

The doors flew open and an unfamiliar butler entered the ballroom. The music dimmed as it did for the announcement of every new arrival. But this time was different, the guest of honor had finally arrived.

Jiran of Feylon

Despite Geren leading them at a comfortable speed for a tier five, Jiran felt impatience gripping his lungs. They were taken through an elegant foyer with a sweeping staircase, down wide hallways lined with sculptures and fine paintings. They drew ever closer to the sounds of stringed instruments and singing, until they finally arrived at a set of closed doors inlaid with elaborate silver filigree.

Jiran nearly threw the doors open himself when Geren paused to clear his throat. Luckily, the man didn’t make him wait as he led them into a massive ballroom. To Jiran, it looked like a street festival had puked decorations across every surface. His eyes swept across the space, barely registering Geren as the man began to speak loudly into the dipping silence.

After several painful seconds, he spotted her at the far end of the room. She was more beautiful than anyone had a right to be. His heart completely stopped, then dropped like a stone into his stomach. When it beat again, it was a wildly racing beast that churned up a dozen emotions, each sending tingles through his arms and legs before stuffing his head with a cloudy fuzz.

Jiran had no idea when he crossed the room. He was simply at the door one second, then in front of her the next. A chorus of shocked gasps fell on deaf ears as Mayalyn’s eyes flew wide, dilating in the primal, slitted way he could never get enough of. She threw herself into his arms with a barked laugh. He caught her and spun her around one time, sending her blue dress swirling, before he finally got the kiss he’d been denied days ago.

“What is the meaning of this! Unhand her this instant!” A high-pitched, nasally scratching interrupted their reunion as a tier four boy leaped after him. Jiran closed them off in his aura, blocking the annoying interloper from getting any closer as he smiled warmly at Mayalyn.

“I missed you.”

“I can tell,” She giggled while speaking in her native tongue. “I missed you too.” A second later she narrowed her eyes at him while playfully smacking his chest. “Where have you been? Why did you take so long to get here? What were you thinking, playing around outside all day before coming to find me! We could have fought them together. You’re not upset that I left… are you?”

“What? No! Of course I’m not upset. You did exactly as I asked. Those rooks are pretty dangerous and I didn’t want to risk bringing Niya into the city while they were still alive. If I were alone, I would have come right in to find you.”

“Niya, your cousin? Is she here?”

“Yeah, she’s over there. I’ll introduce you soon.” Jiran took a deep breath of her scent mixed with a heady perfume, his heart rate calming down significantly now that he knew she was safe. “A lot’s happened since I left, there’s so much I have to tell you.” The memory of a name she might know on a scoreboard of death flashed through his mind.

No, not here. There’s time for the bad news later. She got all dressed up. If I ruined this party for her by talking about her great-grandfather’s death, I’d be the worst kind of guy.

“But all of that can wait. After all, it would be a shame not to get a dance or five out of you when you look so beautiful.”

Mayalyn shook her head lightly, sending her blue hair bouncing around her face. “It is fine, we can go now. I do not li—Actually, I feel much better now. Truly the aura is the most wondrous of Madra’s gifts. A dance sounds wonderful! Though, we will have a hard time hearing the music with you blocking all the sound.”

“Right. But that means dealing with that idiot trying to punch his way in here. What’s his deal? I’m not sure I’ve ever seen someone so tired of living.”

Mayalyn chortled and then covered her mouth in embarrassment. “That is the duke’s grandson. I do not like him,” Jiran looked over his shoulder at the fuming boy. His bloodshot eyes promised violence the minute he had the power to enact it.

Cameron told me not to hit him. Yeah, he’s right. It would be way more meaningful if it came from another source. Hmm, I wonder if diplomatic immunity is a thing here.

Scanning the rest of the room, he found only two people at tier six, a dozen at tier five, and everyone else was tier four.

No wonder tier eights are considered legendary figures. Only two tier sixes? And I know the duke is seven, but if he’s a lot younger than Ravenna and she’s injured, does that mean I’m the most powerful person in the entire city?

Jiran turned back to Mayalyn after shooting the fuming noble a smirk, “I don’t like the way he’s looking at you. Why haven’t you kicked his ass yet?”

Mayalyn’s jaw fell open as she stared at him. When she recovered enough to talk, her words came out in a strained whisper. “I can do that?”

“I think so. You're acting as the representative for the People, right? They wouldn’t risk damaging the negotiations because you put one nosy brat in his place. Besides, I’m here now, you can do whatever you want, short of killing him.”

I know Olive wouldn’t want me to cause a scene but fuck that. May looked miserable when I first saw her. Whatever these asshats have done to her, it’s time they learn that she’s no pushover. Besides, she’s far from alone any longer.

When she saw the determined confidence in his eyes, Mayalyn’s nails extended, revealing her deadly claws. Her shoulders straightened with renewed vigor as she stood tall. “Will you translate my words for me?” Jiran nodded, then loosened his aura enough for sound to pass through.

The noble’s obnoxious voice cut through the air, “You will u—”

“Silence!” Jiran’s mana enhanced his voice, turning it into a deep blast of oscillating soundwaves that drowned out the boy and the music alike. The room shook, sending motes of dust fluttering down from the ceiling as the windows rattled and food crashed to the floor.

“The ambassador of the People has something to say. I will translate her words, and you will heed them.” The entire ballroom stood still, hanging on his every word, entranced by his voice.

Charisma: + 3