Despite her academic pursuits as a child (which, compared to other Master Alchemists), remained rather unfinished), there was distinctly little that Nia understood about the Rigases of Stella D’Mare, or that city’s denizens as a whole. That said, their access to an abundance of years more than what any mortal would be given at birth was not something widely explicated in books or even by word of mouth--and for good reason. If everyone knew what they knew, specifically that they were not born with an extended lifespan, but rather, granted one through the ancient magic of a single ancestor, then it stood to reason that the greedy and ambitious would come from far and wide to bully a Rigas such as Alster into bestowing those extra years upon them. In fact, considering how easily even Canaverises were able to access that information, it did come as a surprise that more D’Marians or outsiders hadn’t attempted to have those years for themselves. Surely, if Isidor Kristeva’s late mentor had been aware of this opportunity, he’d have left his tower for Stella D’Mare long ago to steal that time for himself (and would have used three-hundred or so more years to try and discover the secret to his own immortality).
That said, while Ari’s rather cavalier suggestion that she ingratiate herself to Alster Rigas was not unsound… neither was it particularly fair, or even probable that he would agree to bestow the same gift upon her that he had bestowed upon his wife. “Interesting. That’s all damn interesting. Honestly, I never would’ve thought that having some benevolent, immortal ancestor would be the answer!” Nia chuckled, and absently twirled a lock of her own hair around her finger. “Man, wouldn’t that just be damn wonderful if it was as simple as asking someone like Alster Rigas for a favour. But, see… I’ve already asked him for one. I’ve asked him to help me help you--that is, not ‘you’ specifically, since I haven’t dropped your name to him, but you get the idea. And even securing his word that he’ll help with your curse was something of a long shot. Believe it or not, when we first started to get to know each other, Alster didn’t like me all that much--shocking, right?” She grinned and snorted and rolled her eyes, an indication that she was well aware there was absolutely nothing shocking about the fact that someone hadn’t liked her. “Probably had something to do with the fact I’m working for the woman that sent him spiraling into some other dimension because he sought to have words with her in the wrong place and at the wrong time. But he did make it very clear at first that we simply could not be friends. It is only very recently that he had decided to rescind those words and try and see if he can get along with me. And for that, it was pretty fucking bold of me to ask him for such an expansive favour so early on. I’m still having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that he agreed--but it’s because of that that I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to test anymore boundaries at this time. At least not before we do something about your curse, Ari.”
Nia dropped her lock of hair to gently cup the Canaveris lord’s cheek with her hand instead, a warm smile on her face. “I’ve got Alsters’ agreement to help make this possible, and like hell am I going to do anything that might make the man change his mind altogether about helping me. There is nothing that I can think of that might convince him I’m worthy of another several hundred years of life. It’s not like I’ve done anything for the Rigases like Elespeth did, and it’s not like Alster adores me enough to want me around more than an average mortal’s lifespan--and something tells me all of Galeyn probably feels the same.” As much as she tended to make light of the fact that she was aware of the way the kingdom had turned its back on her ever since it came to light that she was employed by Locque, there was a certain sadness behind that sparkle in her brown eyes that never really went away when she spoke of it. The sadness of another potential home and community that, once again, hadn’t quite worked out. “So, for now, I’d consider that option off the table. But, of course, Alster wouldn’t be my only option. Like you’ve said, an abundance of mages might have similar capabilities for granting such a wish, at some price. And, I should note, Master Alchemists have established something of a means of expiring a little more slowly. Not to the same extent as Canaverises or Rigases, but there are a handful of ethical means of prolonging one’s longevity. If I recall correctly, the longest-living Maser Alchemist--at least, according to the books--lived to be about a hundred and twenty. That said… longevity and slowing down the aging process are two different things entirely, and something tells me the guy always looked his age. I’m not sure I’d want to live to be a hundred and twenty if I had to look like I was!” A small laugh tore from her lungs, but only briefly, before she sobered on the more serious connotations of the topic: the fact that, should they pursue some sort of future together, professional or otherwise, she would be aged and dead long before him.
“...well figure something out. Between a Master Alchemist and an entire city full of mages, there has to be some solution, yeah? I’m not like Isidor’s former master; I don’t need to live for-fucking-ever. Just long enough to see you through a lifetime--a full lifetime. Because we’re going to do away with that curse of yours, remember?” Nia raised her eyebrows and searched his face, as if almost daring him to defy her optimism. “That curse of yours is gonna be a thing of the past--and that’s a certainty, not just a possibility. So stop thinking in terms of living with it for the rest of your life, or having it cut your life short, ‘cause that’s not going to happen if I can do something about it. I mean, these years and everything I’ve had to go through to get these runes on my hands has to amount to something.”
Yes, she would make a difference in his life, just as he had already made such a long standing difference in hers. But it wouldn’t begin and end with removing his curse--that was as much for her as it was for him. To keep the single most important person in her life at her side, and to remain at his, also awarded her a sense of security and optimism for the future. Right now, however… tonight was about him, and for him. Expressing his readiness and desire to experience intimacy on a level he hadn’t achieved prior to this moment, the Master Alchemist was happy to oblige, and to tread carefully as she did so. There was nothing rough or unpredictable about this particular union, and the Ardane alchemist was conscious about keeping to the very basics. To give Ari the raw and simple experience--something upon which he (or they, if he chose to continue to be intimate with her) could build upon in the future. It was difficult to know precisely what someone liked if that very someone lacked the experience to know what they liked, and given the abysmal outcome of their last attempt to unite intimately, Nia was cautious to avoid anything that might trigger a reaction in him. It was for that reason that she opted to present this experience to him while sitting upright; neither one was dominating the other. This was simply a shared experience, an opportunity to give him a taste of an aspect of life that he had long denied himself.
At the very least, she didn’t have to fear leaving him unsatisfied. The blissful relaxation that smoothed his brow, and the slow decline of his rapid heart rate was all she needed to know. Perhaps this wasn’t the most exciting romp in the sheets (though there were no sheets to be found upon the chaise), but it was by far the most meaningful--and not only for him. “Drunk or not, feel free to tell me how much you love me anytime. I kinda like that ego boost.” She laughed, trailing a hand down his bare back as he all but collapsed against her. “But I’ll also take a simple ‘thank you’. Rest assured, though, this won’t be your first and last experience. I’ll personally make sure of that--if you’ll continue to let me.” She winked, with the hope and expectation that this would not be their first and only time together. Although, with the imminent arrival of his mother, it might be their only opportunity for a little while to come.
“So your curse prohibits you from siring children? That’s quite interesting--unfortunate, if you wished to have your own children, but from a purely academic standpoint, also interesting. Though I should note, when we finally rid you of this curse, that could change. So when the time comes, you’ll have to pay closer attention to being careful, especially if your partner isn’t. But, let me assure you…” She grinned, wide and mischievous as she ran her fingers through his hair. It felt like silk; she found she couldn’t stop touching it! “You will always be safe with me. I know well enough to always take those very precautions, whether or not my partner is capable of contributing to unwanted consequences.”
Her grin dimmed faintly at the corners of her mouth at his expression of concern regarding her enjoyment of their short tryst. No matter how she tried to explain it to the people she slept with, she had never not been faced with pity, frustration, or regret at the fact she didn’t experience sex quite the same way. It wasn’t something she’d ever thought of as being a problem… though she had to admit, one day, it would be an experience she did hope to have. “Hey, don’t take it upon yourself to solve a long standing problem of mine. I’m sure there’s a way to work out the kinks with my sexual experiences… I’ve just never had the time or opportunity to focus on it, as of yet. I’m sure I’ll figure it out, someday. I’ve never had the same sexual partner more than once, so…” She trailed a single finger down his cheekbone and smiled. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll figure it out with your help, at some point.”
She wasn’t sure exactly how much of her answer he heard, as it became evident very quickly by the slowing of his breathing and his pulse that Ari had, in fact, fallen asleep. Talk about too much excitement! Figuring that it would be rude to nudge him awake in order to encourage him to retire to bed, the Master Alchemist carefully shifted her body to lay his exhausted form across the chaise, over which she draped a blanket that had been positioned over the back of the seat. For a moment, Nia sat silently, watching his chest rise and fall with even breathing, and watched the play of firelight across his warm-toned skin. There was something about this moment that differed from her satisfied partners in the past; something that she did not want to disturb, and as a result, she lost track of the time that she spent sitting before the warmth of Ari’s fireplace that evening, reveling in a feeling she wished she could bottle up and take with her forever, for the rest of her life. The tranquility and coziness of the expansive livingroom, turned shades of amber with fire as the only source of light, save for the witchlight accents in sconces across the walls. The ornate mantle, high ceilings, and tall picture windows that served as a reminder that they were basking in luxury. The reassuring presence of the person next to her, who welcomed her company as much as she welcomed his.
It was the first time in a very, very long time, that Nia Ardane had managed to form a good memory. The first time since the death of her sisters, her family, and her flight from Ilandria. She hadn’t thought it possible, to experience such a moment of deep contentment and reassurance again; she’d once thought she would have to make due with the happiness of the past to get her through the rest of her life, holding onto the memory of her dear sisters. But now… Now, she was beginning to realize, she needn’t cling so desperately to the past, when what she had right now could also be her future. When there would be more nights of mutual passion before a warm fire, more drinking and laughing, more good food and better company. For the past decade, she had been wading in purgatory, wondering which path would lead her out of it… and then she’d found Ari. And it so turned out that Ari was both her path and her light. Her promise of a future.
When at last she fell asleep, her form atop the blanket that warmed his body, her pleasant dreams were not ones of the past, but of the future that no longer seemed so inaccessible.
It was a relief to see Rowen manage to pull herself from her pit of despondency and rise to her feet, but her question forced both Breane and Teselin to pause before responding. It appeared as though the two of them were thinking the exact same thing, but for the sake of giving Breane a break in explaining away each and every sentiment that plagued the faoladh’s heart, Teselin took it upon herself to try and explain. “I’m afraid that that isn’t a guarantee.” She spoke quietly, albeit evenly, so as to filter any negativity Rowen might derive from her words. “There is no guarantee that anyone will react favourably to acts of kindness. But that goes for everyone, regardless of their past, or what they have or haven’t done. Take your sister, for example. I’m afraid that because she has chosen to dislike me, there is nothing that I can do, no matter how kind, to make her change her mind. That is for her to decide on her own. You will find the same with many people, Rowen. Many will not respond favourably to your kindness because of your history… at least, not right away. It may take act after act of kindness to alter their perception of you. We have very little control over what people think or feel about us, but what we can control is the decisions we make, regardless of others’ perceptions. And, in time… I think you’ll find that with a stable habit of doing good, people will begin to see you differently. You may just have to give them time to adjust, just as you are adjusting. But… it sounds like you are already on to something.”
Exchanging a hopeful look with Breane, Teselin’s youthful face lit up with a smile. “As long as you are in need and in want of help, Rowen, I’ll be here. And Breane,” she glanced at the young Gardener to allow her to speak for herself.
“Of course I will stay with you, Rowen. After all, you approached me for help. It would be against everything I stand for as a Gardener to walk away now, especially when you have already made such progress.” Breane adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose. “You can count on me to help you until you don’t feel you need me anymore. Tell me, just how much of the Night Garden are you familiar with?” Her small lips pulled into a smile similar to Teselin’s, and she spared a glance over her shoulder, pausing contemplatively. “Because I can think of plenty of beautiful things to see, here. Not all of them have water, but if you can trust my judgement, you might like what you see!”
With spring well in its prime, bringing favourable weather along with it, Elespeth spent the majority of her time outdoors when she was not with Alster. Her husband was, as it were, often busy with one thing or another, either pertaining to the eventual takedown of Galeyn’s tyrant queen, Hadwin’s sickly albeit stable condition, or whatever else it was he happened to be working on with Isidor. For the sake of both of their safety, the former knight trusted Alster implicitly, and knew better than to ask too many questions, but with Haraldur too occupied being a father or a Forbanne Commander, Vega far too busy with motherhood, and Chara and Lilica keeping tightly to themselves for their own safety, it often left Elespeth bored with and with little to do, and no one to even train with. Her one saving grace was Bronwyn, who had really begun to take to her more favourably. In the days since that rather regretful encounter with Rowen, the eldest faoladh sibling often accepted her invitations to partake in exercise, simply go for a walk, or even have a bite to eat. It was, to say the least, refreshing to be able to have someone to talk to, even with the continued looming threat of Locque always on the horizon. Since she couldn’t spend every waking moment plotting the witch’s death, at the very least, she could focus her energies on something other than that frustration.
“Have you seen your sister at all lately?” She asked late one afternoon, as they strolled through the courtyard, cooling down after a run that must have spanned ten kilometers over the course of the morning, all the way past the edge of the village proper and back again. Although hesitant to bring up such a touchy topic, Teselin had been reporting shocking favourable news with regards to Bronwyn’s murderous younger sister. “Word has it from the Night Garden that she has really taken an upward turn. According to the Gardener overseeing her care, Rowen sat back and let Haraldur tell her precisely everything he thought of her and what she had done… and she thinks your sister might now be the better for it. She didn’t challenge it, but instead, resolved to actually do better. It really sounds promising, doesn’t it?”
But as all good things must come to an end, so did their uninterrupted stroll, as soon as they caught the eye of a certain annoying Master Alchmeist. It was too late for Elespeth to turn on her heel and head in the other direction before Nia spotted her and waved them down. “Hey! Bronwyn and Elespeth. It’s been a bit, hasn’t it? How’ve the two of you been? Keeping busy or just killing time?”
“Nia.” The former knight breathed slowly through her nose, acknowledging the Ardane woman without a scowl, for once. Since her first heart to heart with Bronwyn, she had been taking the time to actually try and give the obnoxious Master Alchemist a chance, instead of project her hate onto her. “The weather was nice, so we’re just taking in the courtyard now that the flowers are starting to bloom. Do…” Another slow inhale. Was she really asking this…? “Do you care to join us?”
“Damn, if only you’d asked me sooner. Believe it or not, I’ve got my work cut out for me today!” Nia sighed her disappointment, but it was all Elespeth could do not to sigh in relief. “Hey, Bronwyn; not sure if you’ve heard, but word has it your sister is doing quite well in the Night Garden’s care, yeah? Sad I can’t say the same for your brother. Really wish the physicians and mages could figure out a way to help him… I’ve lost my drinking buddy! Hey, Elespeth, how’s your husband doing on making leeway to treating Hadwin’s condition, by the way? Oh--speaking of… I’ve got kind of a weird question for you, if you don’t mind hearing me out.”
I’m already hearing you ramble, the former Atvaninan wanted to comment, and prided herself on the fact that she didn’t. Instead, she raised a curious eyebrow. “By all means. What do you want to know?”
“If you… okay, so you’re pretty damn human, right? Born with a very human life expectancy and all, no magic or bells and whistles. But here you went and fell in love with a guy with four times your life expectancy.” Nia twirled and twisted a lock of her hair, suddenly appearing decidedly nervous. “I don’t need the details, but I’ve come to understand that somehow you managed to figure all that out, and now you’re aging in tandem with him, right? That’s great! But what… what would you have done if that weren’t an option for you? If you’d still be dead with your age in the double digits while he lived three more human lifetimes? Would you…” She cleared her throat, and looked anywhere but at the Rigas woman. “Would you still have married him? Or, I mean, even allowed yourself to fall in love? Do you think it’d be worth the heartbreak, on your part and on his, knowing that you’d be leaving him long before his own time came?”
There was no hiding the shock on Elespeth’s face, the way her jaw went slack with disbelief. What in the world kind of question was she asking? And, the better question was, why? “With respect, Nia… what makes you so interested in such dynamics of my relationship with Alster?”
“Not specifically your relationship, no! I just mean… I’m talking hypotheticals, here. Just an opinion. Do you think a normal mortal should pursue a relationship with someone who will live hundreds of years longer? Would… you have done it for Alster? No right or wrong answer, here, I would just genuinely like to know...”
If Elespeth had been willing to provide an answer, Nia never had the opportunity to hear it. Just as she was finishing her query, the former knight’s husband strode up from behind to join them, at which point the Master Alchemist seemed to retreat back into herself and drop the topic entirely. “Alster Rigas! Thanks for finding that book in the library for me. Actually proved to be quite useful, and I just returned in recently. But, ah, as much as I’d love to stay and chat, I’m supposed to check in on a new arrival to Galeyn that I was instructed to facilitate. One of your own, actually! Well, a D’Marian, I mean. Anyhow--I’ll get out of your hair so you don’t have to ask me to. We’ll all catch up at a better time, yeah?”
With an overly cheerful wave, Nia brusquely took her leave of the now trio, leaving Elespeth to stare after her in disbelief. The former knight only spoke up when the Master Alchemist had completely vacated the courtyard. “That… that was suspicious, wasn’t it? I’m not being paranoid. What the hell does she want to know about relationships and lifespans? And why?” She pressed her lips together in a firm line and tossed her braid over her shoulder, and looked between Bronwyn and Alster for validation. “She must be up to something. There’s nothing casual about prying for that sort of information. Bronwyn… does your Sight tell you anything? Or, rather, is it drawing a blank?” The former Atvanian eagerly turned to the faoladh woman. “You see the good in people, right? But if there’s no good in their intentions, then… what? Would you see nothing at all, and that would indicate that something is off? What do you make of this?”
With a few exceptions, Bronwyn more or less continued to keep to herself over the past handful of days. But, contrary to the span of time prior to rekindling her relationship not only with Elespeth but with her brother, the differences between then and now were exponential in comparison.
“You’re a real social butterfly now, huh?” Hadwin mused to her one morning, during a rare moment of consciousness and awareness, moments that were becoming worryingly less common. She set aside the half-eaten bowl of bone marrow soup he made an effort to consume without choking and gave him a quizzical look.
“I come here to make sure you don’t croak prematurely, and I sometimes see Elespeth. How does that make me ‘social?’”
“Humor me for a minute, why don’t you? Trying to pay you a compliment. I’m trying to say that it’s better than what you had before. Do me a favor and keep at it, yeah? For those of us who can’t go gallivanting like we used to. Hells, don’t even hang around here. Just go and live it up.” Weeks consigned to bedrest hadn’t done many favors for the normally rambunctious and active faoladh. For one, weight and muscle mass gradually atrophied from his fever bright body, intensifying the definition of his sallow cheeks and accentuating the hollows around his hooded eyes. Also dwindling was his characteristic pep and good humor. Fewer wide, toothy grins and uproarious laughter at all the inappropriate moments. Though he tried to replicate his infectious verve and joie de vivre, he found it harder and harder to maintain, either from lack of energy, lack of feeling (in more than one sense), or both. Seeing him so far removed from his tireless and meddlesome persona actually affected her sanity, to the point where she actually missed the brash and brusque Hadwin.
Biting her tongue to prevent from injecting any false positivity into his current, nebulous situation—as he would certainly detect her bullshit—she led with a tidbit he cared to hear. “I know something that might cheer you out of your fugue. I’ve heard that Rowen is taking great strides to heed the counsel of the Gardeners and she’s determined to progress towards healing and recovery.” If one thing always reset his mood, it was reports on Rowen’s progress. Vestiges of his old self would illuminate through the cracks, threatening to spill him over entirely and cure him on site. But this time...nothing happened. Not even a twinkle. A spark. “What? What’s wrong? Isn’t that great news?”
“Course it is. Couldn’t be more pleased.” A half grin tugged on his face to showcase that he meant it. “But,” one eye winked open and a sliver of gold blinked through for the briefest of moments, “your fears and my fears are the same, right now.”
And it was the last thing he said before the eye shuttered and he drifted back to sleep.
His parting words left an impression on her, such that when she regrouped with Elespeth later that day for their daily running routine, her mind couldn’t help but fixate on the fears she suspected he was referencing. Just as she punted the thoughts aside in favor of enjoying the bask of afternoon sunlight, the aroma of spring in peak bloom, the steady thrumming of her exercise-sated heartbeat that thanked her for shedding the sedentary lifestyle she wasn’t meant to endure, Elespeth broached the subject of Rowen, and Bronwyn’s brow twisted as the thoughts swiftly came back to roost.
“I haven’t seen my sister, no. Ever since she loudly voiced how she doesn’t care to see me. Unless she specifically asks for me, I’m respecting her decision and giving her space. But I have also heard that she’s on the upswing and while it sounds promising,” she shuffled her feet together, crunching a few bits of gravel under her boots, “I reserve judgement until Hadwin returns her fear of the darkness. That’s where the true challenge for her waits. It’s great that she’s making steady progress, but...I fear,” your fears and my fears are the same, right now, “that Hadwin is slipping. I don’t know how much longer he believes he can bear this burden, but there’s not going to be much of him left if he waits too long. Rowen’s healing can’t be rushed, either, but...there’s going to be a conflict of interest somewhere down the line, and we’re going to have to choose between them. I only hope Rowen is ready for the second stage when that day comes, because it’s going to happen very soon.”
Normally, the presence of Nia and her propensity for insinuating herself where she was unwanted generated similar feelings of annoyance as in her companion, but in light of her latest conversation with Bronwyn, paired with the fact that she disseminated a bleak and grim discussion, her distracting presence was a welcome addition.
“Afternoon, Nia,” Bronwyn said, her greeting sterile and automatic. She wasn’t sure what to expect from the sudden barge-in, however refreshing the interruption. Not that Nia started on the best foot, though. Mention of Rowen pressed Bronwyn’s lips together into a firm line until she released the tension with a soft sigh. “Yes, I know. I’m more concerned about my brother, to be honest. I’m sure the physicians and Alster are doing whatever they can to help, but—“
She didn’t get a chance to finish when Nia shifted her attention to Elespeth and prattled on about an entirely different matter. It was such an unusual tangent, coming so straight out of nowhere, that Bronwyn was impelled to watch the chatty woman for strange aberrations or glaring giveaways for her Sight to catch. And catch something she did. Oh. Oh.
During the exchange—rather, monologue—she said nothing; just watched in curiosity, until a fourth figure, his reeking scent of magic and creaking artificial limb too distinct not to identify, heightened senses or not, emerged from the direction of the palace and joined the group.
“Nia.” Alster Rigas regarded the woman, a little confused as to why she shouted his name in surprise. “My apologies if I startled you. I didn’t mean to cut your conversation short. You’re welcome to continue. Maybe there’s even something I can help you with?” But she was already launching on the balls of her feet as though to sprint and get as far away from him as possible. “A D’Marian, you say? Anyone I may know? I’m not a leader anymore but this information does pique my interest. I can’t say we have had any new D’Marians crossing over the Galeynian border. Not for a good six months, at least.”
But she was on the move and waving her goodbyes before he could fully finish his inquiry. She made her exeunt, leaving the three of them alone in the courtyard. “Why do I have the feeling she wanted to get as away from me as possible?” He frowned as he looked to Elespeth, then to Bronwyn. “What did she ask you? About relationships and lifespans? That’s what she wanted to know?”
“I might be able to clarify,” Bronwyn offered, her expression far less troubled than the Rigas couple. “Yes, I can detect the absence of good, so I can tell if a person is being deceitful or malicious, but it’s...not a very refined skill. I’m much better at using my Sight for its intended purpose and...I think I have an answer. She’s in love. With,” she scrunched her face, recalling the imagery of the man she saw scrawled across Nia’s memory, “I don’t know his name, but I see his face. He’s well-dressed. Nobility? Brown skin, long dark hair. ...Pretty.”
“That would be Lord Aristide Canaveris, the D’Marian who replaced me as leader,” Alster said, realization dawning. “Canaverises can live to be two hundred years old, sometimes longer. They possess a natural longevity that’s tied directly to the earth and their magic. Not as long-lived as Rigases, no, but they still overcome a normal human lifespan. Are you suggesting Nia wants to slow down her years to age alongside him?”
“That looks to be the case,” Bronwyn confirmed with a nod. “She’s really invested in this man, to an impressive extent. She’d do anything for him. In fact, from what I can tell, she’s gathering as many resources as possible to help him cure...a disease? A curs—“
Alster coughed, loudly, snapping Bronwyn out of her analysis and spinning her gaze in her direction. It was in his blue eyes that she caught a complementary echo. An afterimage, that matched well with Nia’s visions. “You’re trying to help him, too. The two of you are working together. ...Three of you? And there’s someone else you’re trying to help. Someone who’s rela—“
“—Faoladh,” Alster’s frustrated groan startled her words into silence. “Can’t hide any secrets from you. Bronwyn, whatever it is you know, please keep it to yourself. Don’t tell anyone else. Especially Nia. You can’t let on that you know.”
She raised her eyebrows, bewildered by his swearing her into secrecy. “But this is...there’s nothing wrong or crooked about these revelations. Love and commitment and selfless service to someone who matters...it makes me want to bolster my opinion of Nia.”
“That’s not the problem,” he said, trying to school his voice into a hushed calm. The last thing he wanted was to discourage Bronwyn when she still struggled to adjust to company—the company of magic-users, no less. But also, he had secrets to keep, and he didn’t know if Ari’s pebble golems roamed the courtyard, listening in. “You only see the good, positive beats of this story, and it’s great that you do, but I have to reveal the bad. Making any of this information common knowledge will cause a scandal for the Canaveris family and I can’t have the D’Marian village descend into chaos so soon. ...Not again,” he dipped into a morose whisper, but didn’t linger on the feeling. He couldn’t afford it. “It’s fine for Elespeth to know...but no one else.”
“No, no, you’re right.” Bronwyn yanked the collar of her tunic in place. On her too-skinny frame, her clothes were always in danger of sagging. “I did it again, didn’t I? Allowed my Sight to blind me? I’m sorry. And I’m sorry, too, for blurting out secrets when it’s really not my place. I should know to keep my Sight to myself.”
“It’s not your fault; how were you to know? Elespeth asked for your opinion, and Nia isn’t as careful as she thinks she’s being, anyway. It’s pretty obvious where she goes when she’s not at the palace. It stands to reason that any coded references she makes are related to Ari. As far as I know, she has no other companions aside from your brother. Anyway, I’m sorry for the outburst, Bronwyn; that was uncalled for.” he gave her an apologetic smile. “You are not your siblings.” He sidled next to Elespeth and weaved his steel fingers through her hand. “And I’m sorry to you, too, El. Again, I’ve been keeping secrets. Not maliciously, but, considering our current situation,” in other words, Locque, “it’s better this way. But if it helps you, I have to agree with Bronwyn’s analysis. Nia’s intentions are pure.”
Something had changed between Nia and Ari on that fateful night; a change Ari hadn’t expected to happen so soon. Whether due to the introduction of the physical act of their relationship and the ensuing shift in status from “virgin” to “non-virgin,” he was well and truly infatuated with the Master Alchemist. So lovestruck was he, the days spent without her presence gracing his villa were a slow torture. The hours dragged across the floor like a wounded animal waiting for an end to the misery, be it through death or a miracle. Concentration abandoned him during critical moments. As he met with noble families, drafted new laws, amended old ones, attended and hosted luncheons and arranged walkabouts with laborers and builders to discuss how best to improve the settlement’s structures, he often caught himself reliving that moment in the parlor. The two of them, no one else, bodies entwined in the throes of ecstasy. To excuse his less-than-attentive behavior, Ari used the most dreaded explanation of feeling under the weather. Nothing contagious, he assured, and nothing grave, but the changing of the seasons often wafted in a spring cough or two. In the evenings, when relieved of his duties, he either spent his hours in his workshop, poring over his lover’s form across all art mediums—sketch, paint, sculpture—or contacting the woman herself via resonance stone, just to hear her voice. Such was the degree of his hopelessness.
For someone who prided himself in punctuality and organization, it was Lazarus who needed to remind him of Lady Nadira’s arrival at dusk. As it was arranged, he would meet her at the border, a carriage in tow, and escort her to the villa. Under the cover of darkness, the Night Steeds would gallop in double-time, an essential detail not to be discarded. His mother possessed precious little patience when it came to travel—and she had been traveling for the better part of a month.
Only when Ari received word that Nia would be personally meeting Lady Nadira at the border as a representative of Locque, he most certainly paid heed to the time and date. In a move some would consider overzealous, he arranged to depart for the borderlands well before dusk, leaving a fair chunk of sunlight remaining for when he would make his projected arrival. “Lady Nadira suffers no tardiness. On time may just as well be late, in her eyes,” he conveyed to his questioning entourage. No one disputed his caution—displeasing the Canaveris matriarch was never wise—save for Lazarus, who rolled his eyes but raised no vocal objections.
From the D’Marian village, it took two hours at regular speed to reach the eastern border that connected to Braighdath. As with every major throughway into the kingdom, each major road was heavily guarded by Forbanne, Dawn Guard, and the Galeynian palace guard. At the checkpoint, Ari handed the soldiers the necessary permit papers granting permission for his carriage to standby until his charge arrived. Nia would provide the rest of the paperwork upon her entrance—not for another hour, at least.
The long-awaited hour finally came. Over the horizon line, the shadow of a carriage carved a blot into the western sky, but for Ari, the sight couldn’t herald anything more beautiful. Before he emerged from his carriage to welcome her, Lazarus, who sat in the seat opposite, stilled his movements with a clamp around his arm.
“Ari, remember your dignity. This is a formal gathering. You can’t act so familiar around her with everyone watching. Better for you not to exit until Lady Nadira arrives.”
“Thank you, Laz; I will not forget my wits. You have my word,” he said and, sliding out of the golem’s grasp, did the exact opposite of his advice and met Nia outside on foot. She had just relinquished to the guards documentation on behalf of Nadira’s legal entry into the kingdom of Galeyn, signed in ink by the dual queens, Locque and Lilica.
“Miss Nia,” Ari bowed, making a polite show for all parties in observation. For the occasion, he wore his hair down, hoping to curtain the flush that would inevitably appear around Nia’s vicinity whenever he angled his head and allowed gravity to tumble its length over his cheeks. He bowed a second time, for better certainty. Hands clutched behind his back, tightening together. Oh how he yearned to unwind them and pull Nia into an embrace, a kiss, an encore dance in the bedsheets. “Please do relay my gratitude to the sitting queens who have so benevolently consented to welcome Lady Nadira into their home,” he managed, as professional as he could be, despite the heat surrounding his loins. “My gratitude extends also to you, for facilitating this exchange. We should expect Lady Nadira at sundown. We shall wait in our respective carriages until then.” Though it pained him to do, he turned around and retreated from the object of his affections, all for the preservation of their charade. No, he didn’t disregard Laz’s advice at all. Propriety was a virtue, one in which he readily practiced.
The two carriages did not have to wait much longer. Sure enough, as the sun sequestered and twilight painted its strokes of dying vermillion mixed with an ethereal purple, a third carriage crested the hill on which the welcoming party waited. The guards scrambled over to the small and modest transport, performing their routine series of questions and inspection. Satisfied with the responses, they waved the carriage through the border, directing it to park beside Ari’s escort. By lantern light, the woman of the hour emerged from her carriage, stepping down with the sophisticated grace befitting her lofty and well-respected position. Her skirts, as always, swished to conceal her feet, again giving off the illusion of floating down the stairs. Her brown skin flashed bronze, borrowing the lambent light hanging from the doorway of the coach. Black hair streaked in silver piled atop her head in a braided updo, and her hawklike nose complemented the hawklike gaze in her sharp, ochre eyes. The embroidered dress she donned, red and studded in teardrop jewels of crimson, reflected the origins behind her youngest son’s interest in fashion. Ari perched outside the carriage door to receive her, offering a hand as a formality, knowing well she would not take it. Instead, she veered over to Lazarus. The big man emerged from his master’s side to extend a hand, which she gratefully took to descend the last and final step.
“Thank you, Lazarus. I believe I can manage the rest of the way,” she said with a polished, ruby smile. Withdrawing her hand from the enormous manservant, she veered her attention to Ari, who, predicting her ensemble, also chose to wear red.
“Oh Ari, you do know how much I adore you in red. How you shine as the picture of health. Stunning. Absolutely stunning. Galeyn has been kind to your complexion. Bah, I cannot resist. Come here, my child.” She spread one arm wide and scooped him into a side hug, the briefest of contacts, but no less significant a greeting. “I cannot believe it has been over a year! We have never faced such a long separation before. You must tell me of your exploits as new leader of Stella D’Mare!”
“Yes, yes, mama, all in good time. We have much to discuss.” Ari broke contact with Nadira and gestured over to Nia, who was understandably keeping a wide berth from their reunion and staying out of frame. “May I introduce you to someone. This is Anetania—Nia—Ardane. Nia, my mother, Lady Nadira.”
“Oh yes.” In a microsecond, her expression shifted from affectionate to shrewd and dissecting. Her eyes roved all about Nia’s form, as though in active search for flaws or faults. “The Master Alchemist in Majesty Locque’s employ. Many felicitations to you, and many thanks for reuniting me with my son. Though, I am afraid I am rather spent from travel to engage in sustained conversation. You will have to forgive my rudeness.”
“Mama,” Ari adjusted his voice to a meaningful whisper, “there is a matter of utmost importance. It cannot wait. We shall relocate to the villa together and, before we partake in your welcome dinner, I would be much obliged if you heard what she has to say.”
“Well, isn’t this a stressful beginning to my residency in Galeyn.” She gave Nia another once-over, trying to determine if she was worth her time and energy. “Very well. But on the condition that the dinner you have prepared is nothing short of spectacular. I am famished and prefer not to conduct business on an empty stomach.”
Perhaps it was her own, deep seated bias that projected suspicion onto Locque’s Master Alchemist. Or maybe it had something to do with the undertones of secrecy in her voice, or, moreover, how she suddenly desired to make herself scarce upon Alster’s arrival when, just moments ago, she had been more than happy to inject herself into a conversation into which she had not been invited. Whatever the reason, Nia did not depart the scene without Elespeth’s scrutiny following her until she disappeared from sight. But what was perhaps more alarming than the strange topic the Master Alchemist had introduced was how it all seemed to make much more sense to the rest of her company. As far as Bronwyn went, it made sense: one who was blessed (or, perhaps, cursed as she probably felt) to see only the good in people could therefore deduce their intentions by perceiving the absence of good, should that be the case. But Alster…
Elespeth couldn’t help but furrow her brows in confusion. Yes, her husband was powerful beyond understanding, but he was not clairvoyant, and neither could he read minds, or read anything into people anymore than she could. And yet, he did not at all seem taken aback by the fact that one of Locque’s primary henchmen was suddenly so interested in extending her lifespan and longevity. Of course, one could surmise that that was simply a common goal among Master Alchemists: after all, hadn’t it been Isidor’s late mentor who had dedicated the majority of his life so as to--ironically, given the outcome--never see it come to an end? Immortality was not exactly a unique pipe dream when fear of death was so common. Although… Nia had not used the word ‘immortal’. And neither had she asked for any specifics as to how Elespeth, a normal mortal like herself, had managed to achieve the promise of hundreds of more years. She had worded her question very strangely for someone who might only be after eternal life; as if that wasn’t really the topic at hand. Rather, she had specifically asked Elespeth if she thought it was worth it for a normal mortal to pursue a future with someone whose future would long outlast her own…
But, even still… What did Alster know that she didn’t? “Why do I feel like I am the only one here who is completely confused and taken aback by what that Master Alchemist just brought up?” The former knight expelled a heavy, frustrated sigh from her lungs, folding her arms tightly across her chest. “Bronwyn, I understand why the Master Alchemist’s behaviour might not be so confusing to you, but… Alster, why am I getting the impression that this is old news to you? Who is it you are trying to help, exactly? Don’t tell me… no. That’s ridiculous.” She shook her head, as if to rid it of such ludicrous thoughts. Still… she had to ask. “Are you… are you helping Nia with something? Does it have to do with extending her life? Just what is going on, here?”
Something was going on, and now it was clear that it had to do with the Canaverises--more specifically, Aristide, which inevitably involved Nia. But why Alster hadn’t been more forthcoming with that information before, Elespeth couldn’t fathom. “I’m sorry, Bronwyn. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that; you’re not at fault for saying anything and elaborating on what you know.” She felt the need to reassure the Faoladh woman, who had been made to feel as though she had done something wrong. The last thing she wanted was for Bronwyn to feel as though she couldn’t talk to either her or Alster for fear of being reprimanded. “I… guess I can’t deny that your point of view holds merit. If Nia really cares about Aristide, then I can’t deny that her question suddenly makes a lot more sense. I knew that Aristide was infatuated with her, but somehow I hadn’t clued in that those feelings were mutual. Or that it was more than just infatuation. If she’s thinking that far ahead into the future… then we’re talking commitment, not puppy love. I guess I didn’t realize just how invested she was…”
Casting her gaze toward every direction of the courtyard to ensure they weren’t being heard, Elespeth stepped in closer to Alster and the Faoladh and lowered her voice to barely a whisper, in case there was a chance that anyone could be listening. “So… are you going to fill me in, then? What exactly is it that you are helping Nia with? And who is working with you to do this? If it is safer to keep me in the dark, then at least say so… but can you really blame me for being a little ticked off?” The frustration in her green eyes dulled, and she let out a breath to expel some of that anger, lest she end up lashing out at Alster--or worse, Bronwyn. Even worse if it led to her magic looking for a means to activate. She hadn’t lost control of the new lightning in her veins since she and Alster had all but destroyed an entire room in the palace through their destructive intimacy, but she knew better than to take a chance and put herself in a position where she might end up frightening Bronwyn, again. The faoladh woman’s friendship meant a lot to her; the last thing she wished was to put it into jeopardy.
“So… what then? What’s the consensus now?” She searched between Alster and Bronwyn’s eyes for an answer. “Is the Ardane woman an enemy or a friend? I still really can’t stand her, regardless, but if I am the only one who still doesn’t trust her… then I suppose that makes me the one in the wrong.”
Despite Nia’s hasty retreat from the Rigas couple and the faoladh woman, she hadn’t been lying when she’d declared she had business to attend regarding the arrival of a D’Marian at Galeyn’s borders. If she were being honest with herself, the Master Alchemist had procrastinated a little on preparing her dealings with Nadira Canaveris, not only because she had been distracted with thoughts of Ari since the night she had been his first taste of true intimacy, but because the guest to arrive was none other than his own mother. And it had been their agreement that they waste no time in having Nia make her proposal to the Canaveris matriarch regarding Ari’s curse. It was difficult to find the motivation to prepare for something that tied her stomach into knots, especially considering Nia never fared all too well around maternal figures.
Nonetheless, she had kept in mind Ari’s early advice where it came to dealing with Nadira Canaveris: that she be herself, as genuinely as she was toward Ari, lest his mother see dishonesty in her demeanor. So when she climbed into the carriage that evening, she had donned nothing more than her usual leathers, with her hair half-pulled back, all tied together with her scuffed boots. If no pretense was what would ultimately earn Nadira’s respect… then it was imperative that Nia hide nothing at all.
But that didn’t stop her from going over and over what she would say to the woman, in her head, and exactly how she would present her idea without letting it slip that she and Ari… Well, needless to say, the Canaveris lord had already heavily suggested that they keep their mutual feelings and their relationship a secret from the D’Marian community, as it was. No doubt that demographic also included Nadira, which posed the issue that she would be confronted with this question: why was she so invested in helping Ari at all? No doubt, she would be forced to explain her motivation for her committed desire to help him, and if that explanation could not include love… then what would be a suitable excuse?
As much as the Master Alchemist poured over it, by the time she arrived and was greeted by guards at the border, she still did not have an answer. Hopping out of the carriage, Nia presented her papers to one of the Forbanne soldiers who Haraldur had charged with monitoring travel to and from the kingdom of Galeyn. Given her status as Locque’s Master Alchemist, and the fact that Locque had signed her decree that this newcomer was granted access to the kingdom, she mercifully faced no questioning in that respect. By the time the necessary documents had been addressed, another carriage came pulling up behind her own, one that she distinctly remembered seeing often parked just outside of the Canaveris estate. Ari did not depart the carriage right away, but she hadn’t expected him to; after all, if they weren’t romantically involved, then he should see no reason to step out until his mother arrived. Nia wasn’t at all offended that she couldn’t steal a quick kiss before facing the inevitable… but nonetheless, he couldn’t quite quell the feeling of disappointment that aggravated the knots in her already nervous gut.
When at last he did step out, with the sound of horses and carriage wheels not too far off in the distance, the Master Alchemist refrained from embracing him, and instead offered her own cheerful half-bow. “Lord Canaveris.” There was nothing feigned about her smile; even under the cover of night, there was no mistaking the faint russet hue of Ari’s cheeks, only partially obscured by his inky-dark hair. “No thanks required, really! I’m just doing my job. Her Majesty Locque sees you as quite a valuable ally, and sees no harm in allowing you to reunite with family members. She didn’t even bat an eyelash when I put in your request. But, I’ll be sure to pass your gratitude along! I’m sure it’ll go a long way. Go and wait comfortably in your carriage,” she encouraged, agreeing with his suggestion. “I’ll keep an eye out for your dear mother. Shouldn’t be long now; I can hear the hoofbeats just off in the distance already!”
She wasn’t wrong. Mercifully, Nia was not left standing alone next to her carriage for more than a couple of moments. Sure enough, an unfamiliar carried pulled into view, urged to a halt by the guards so as to inspect it for anything that might be perceived as dangerous or treacherous. The woman who, at last, stepped out of the carriage was nothing less of what Nia had expected: regal, carrying herself with confidence that was borne of entitlement, and dressed quite impeccably, considering the distance she’d likely had to travel. It was no mystery where Ari got his flair for fashion.
While she did not relinquish that air of nobility, knowing well what it meant to make a good first impression in a new place, Nia couldn’t help but warm a little when the woman embraced her son--even if only partially. There was no denying the delight in the Canaveris matriarch’s eyes as she beheld Ari for the first time in a year and a half. It was too sweet a moment to interrupt, so the Master Alchemist respectfully kept her distance until Ari motioned to her himself. Well, there was no avoiding introductions. “Lady Canaveris. It’s an honour to finally make your acquaintance.” Nia swept into a half bow, knowing better than to extend a hand; something about shaking hands with a Master Alchemist tended to put people off. “I’ve heard wonderful things, and--just look at the two of you! You’re matching, like pieces from the same puzzle. You must’ve planned this, did you?”
Her attempt to find a comment that would warm the Canaveris matriarch to her failed. Nadira didn’t so much as smile when she dismissed her attempt at making small talk. “Ah--of course. I know all too well how exhausting travel can be. You’ll be happy to know, the Night Steeds can take you all the way to the Galeynian settlement in about an hour’s time. By the speed of any normal horse, it would be several hours longer!” Shut up, shut up, shut up! She was rambling again--something she was far more prone to doing when nervous, and she had been nervous before meeting this woman, who had sized her up in a heartbeat. She might well have accepted that now was not the time to discuss lifting Ari’s curse with her, until Ari himself denied her refusal of Nia’s company that evening. Well… this was certainly not how she had ever imagined she would be meeting the mother of the man she was in love with.
“I assure you, there will be no stress awaiting you at Ari’s fine abode. I’ve never been to Stella D’Mare, myself, but I have to say, the D’Marian settlement is damn impressive! You son and his people have put a lot of work into making it a new home. But you must be starving after all the travel, huh? I guarantee you’ll feel far better after you’ve had a bite to eat. I know that always does the trick for me.”
Since the horse pulling Nadira’s carriage was exhausted and in need of rest, it was agreed that the two remaining carriages would suffice to transport the party of four (not including the drivers) to the D’Marian settlement while the third carriage was taken to the palace stables for maintenance. This didn’t bother Nia initially; for some reason, it hadn’t occurred to her that she wouldn’t be traveling alone (or with Ari). But before Ari could make suggestions for carriage arrangements, considering that given Lazarus’ size, it would be far too cramped for him to accompany both Ari and Nadira, the Canaveris Matriarch made the cavalier ‘suggestion’ that the golem ride with the Master Alchemist. Of course, this didn’t seem to sit well with Lazarus, who not only loathed to leave Ari’s side, but had a special brand of disdain for Nia, a woman who had made her way into his dear master’s life. The feeling was somewhat mutual; the thought of spending an hour in a cramped space with the living golem wasn’t Nia’s idea of fun, either. And it was almost as though Nadira could sense that, considering the mildly vindictive tone she’d used to make the suggestion. If she had to put up with Nia over dinner, then it wouldn’t be without getting her digs in.
Since the Master Alchemist had no choice but to comply, Nia gracefully accepted the suggestion, wondering if it were some kind of test, and climbed into the carriage in which she had arrived, while Nadria insisted that she and Ari catch up in the carriage ahead on the way down. It was going to be one of the most uncomfortable hours of Nia’s life--followed by one of the most uncomfortable dinners.
She wasn’t wrong. “...can you not? Look at me like that, I mean?” It had only been thirty minutes when Nia finally broke down and confronted the glare that Lazarus held in her direction. “I’m not happy about this any more than you are, but the carriage is right in front of us. If Ari is in trouble, you can still be there in a heartbeat.” But that wasn’t the only reason the golem was frustrated; far from it. So why not address the elephant in the room when it had nowhere else to go, and was still thirty minutes from an opportunity to run away?
“What is it going to take to convince you I’m not the bad guy here, huh? You want my commitment written out in blood or something? Everything I’m doing tonight, I’m doing for Ari. Locque’s not involved; she doesn’t care what happens or doesn’t happen with his curse.” The Master Alchemist sank into her seat and stared out the window. “Doesn’t the fact I’m willing to sit through a dinner with that woman say anything? She’s already made up her mind about me, but am I running away? Nope. And why? Because, if I can help it, we will see the day that Ari doesn’t have to worry about turning to stone anymore.”
It would take more than talk to convince Lazarus of her intentions, she knew, just as it would take more than talk to convince Nadira. Stepping out of that carriage an hour later and breathing fresh air did nothing to calm her nerves when they arrived at the canaveris estate. Nia’s anxiety made itself known in the way she twirled tresses of her hair, the way she always felt the need to be moving, even when Ari invited them all to come in and sit down while they waited for dinner to be served. Initially, she even refused a glass of wine so as to keep her wits about her, but it wasn’t long before she succumbed to a goblet (or two) to calm her nerves. By the time dinner was served--an elaborate amalgamation of every finery that was sure to impress the Canaveris matriarch--Nia could hardly focus on the plate in front of her, let alone what was on it. She didn’t even touch her fork, which, for someone who was known for loving culinary indulgences, was indeed very strange.
Of course, Nadira would take notice of that, too, and dared to ask Nia what she found wrong with such a fine meal. This was it; the Master Alchemist couldn’t sit there in silence, stewing in her own anxiety all evening while plagued with flashbacks of her own mother’s scorn. “Lady Canaveris,” she paused only once to drain the last mouthful of wine from her goblet. While she wasn’t any calmer, the alcohol at least afforded her the courage to broach the topic that needed to be discussed. “I wished to speak with you this evening about Ari’s curse--because, according to him, we must seek your approval before going forward with anything.”
Silence. You could have heard a pin drop. Nia deliberately avoided Ari’s gaze, knowing she had utterly failed to segue into this discussion smoothly. But what was done was done, and she preferred to cut to the chase. “I am a Master Alchemist, Lady Canaveris. Upon meeting Ari, it was only a matter of time before the… complexities of his mortal composition became clear to me. And I would like to help him; to help you, your family. After all, he has become Stella D’Mare’s new leader, and the last thing a leader needs is to worry about is whether his foot’s gonna turn to stone during a speech or something. I’ve already done some footwork, and… I do think it is possible to remove his affliction entirely. Please rest assured, no one else is aware of any of this; I’ve been very discreet with my research, and I do believe it’s possible that the whole thing can be orchestrated without anyone, D’Marian or Galeynian alike, being the wiser. I hope…” She sighed, feeling as though she had gotten a load off her chest. “That you will allow me to help. It’s no secret that becoming a Master Alchemist requires a degree of darkness that leads to earning our title at others’ expense. If nothing else, I’d like to know a little good came of all my training and practice before I’m dead and buried one day.”
Bronwyn’s revelations had placed Alster in a difficult position insofar as it involved his wife. He never intended to withhold secrets from her, and not for a lack of trust, either. Simply, he found no need to refer to them in conversation. Ari and Sylvie’s curses were side-projects and not even fully-realized ones, stuck, as they were, in the development phase. Elespeth had always been his confidante, a role that would never change, but he also took his discretion as a healer seriously. To be regarded as trustworthy to those who sought his aid, he needed to maintain confidentiality, even if it meant holding his tongue around Elespeth. But he made a miscalculation. Bronwyn, like her siblings, could access visions and memories associated with their ruling emotion, effortlessly discovering unsanctioned information. But unlike her siblings, Bronwyn was more transparent in her delivery. She didn’t wield her Sight as a weapon, or tease and blackmail others with the depth of her forbidden knowledge. No ulterior motive. She honorably answered Elespeth’s questions, assisting a friend’s request for elucidation and nothing more. For her genuine call to help, Alster couldn’t be angry at her; rather, he was angry at himself for butchering his reaction.
“It’s not old news, per se, but yes, I’m helping Nia to lift a curse for someone,” he supplied, but not without first casting a silencing spell around their vicinity to ensure there were no eavesdroppers, magical or otherwise. So as not to frighten Bronwyn with the deployment of magic at her proximity, he quickly explained what he was doing and why before casting. She skirted away from him, a knee-jerk retreat she apologized for. Despite the apology, she did not close her arm’s-length distance. “I had my suspicions about the identity of who I agreed to help, but Bronwyn confirmed those suspicions and now there is no doubt. Before, I guessed it was Ari because Nia doesn’t keep close relations, try hard though she does, so there couldn’t be many candidates she’d be as desperate to help. I also noticed how much they seemed to enjoy each other’s company when we last saw them together. So I took a calculated stab in the dark; turns out I was right. Now that Nia’s mentioned elongated lifespans...well, other individual mages may have cheated death through their own merit and skill—Vitali, for instance,” he coughed out his example, “but these are isolated cases. There are only two D’Marian families who freely receive the gift of long life by virtue of birth and birthright: the Rigases and the Canaverises. By broaching this topic, Nia’s given herself away—because the likelihood she’s referring to someone of Canaveris origin is high. I suppose that explains why she fled at the sight of me.”
He could feel Elespeth’s annoyance and burrowed anger channeling through his prosthesis like an energy conduit. Out of guilt, he released his grip on her hand and scooted back a step, to give her space. “No, I don’t blame you, El. I really am sorry. I just...wasn’t sure why this was relevant to our current situation, especially as I’m not planning on assisting Nia until we take care of the bigger issue at hand.” Locque, his roundabout speech again intimated. “I didn’t want to distract us from our goals. Anyway, if Nia is still around in the aftermath and removed from her prior…’commitments,'” he chose his words carefully, spell or no spell, “then I can look to her as an ally. But if you want to know what I think presently, regarding her status...if her love for Ari is true, then it’s possible to view her as a friend by association, so long as we keep peaceful ties to the Canaveris family—which is a given, now that I’m helping her. And I really don’t mind. Helping her, that is. I don’t think she’s a danger to anyone; merely, she’s stuck in an untenable situation that she can’t really escape. I won’t cross her. And I’d like to think I’ve earned enough of her respect so that she won’t cross me, either.”
“She’s not...a bad person,” Bronwyn added, albeit carefully, not keen on stepping on Elespeth’s toes or upsetting her too much with her honest opinion. While Alster assured her that his wife’s magic was under the realm of control, she didn’t want to push her luck. “Take that however you will. I mean, I do see the good in everyone. Even Hadwin looks absolutely debonair in my unreliable lens. More than anything, she wants peace and friendship. A place to call home. She wouldn’t trample upon kindness if it’s offered to her. I think that’s why she’s in love with this Canaveris man. He was kind, and she wants to repay his kindness. Hells, she helped my brother, too, and he’s not a kind soul! Even so, one even needed to ask her. She’ll do a lot for the people she considers her friends.”
“And I’ll give you this much, Elespeth. So you don’t think I’m leaving you behind. Going where you can’t follow.” He hugged his arms, stroking warmth into the sudden chills that rendered his skin into gooseflesh. “I’ve done far too much to completely repair the holes I’ve punched through our marriage. Best I can do is mitigate future damage by being upfront with you. There are promises I’ve been sworn to keep. I don’t take these promises lightly. These promises sometimes manifest as secrets, and they are not my secrets to tell. Not even Isidor knows who he’s helping, but yes, I’ve asked him to assist me. He is the third party in our operation. In fact, I wanted to inform Nia about securing his agreement and cooperation, but she ran off before I could take her aside.” He frowned, looking over his shoulder at the door she disappeared through, half-wondering if she would reappear whenever they least expected her—or wanted her. “I’m really trying to practice healer to patient confidentiality, but now that the cat’s out of the bag, so to speak—again, not your fault, Bronwyn,” he blurted at the faoladh, who nodded, but didn’t look too convinced, “then I’ll say this, El. Ari is afflicted with a curse, a curse I’m sure he’s lived with for a very long time, if we’re to assume the secret that Chara has been carrying on his behalf bears any relation. At its worst, this is something that could kill him—so Nia believes. I won’t get into the details behind the curse, or who else I plan to help, but eradication of this curse requires a team of Master Alchemists and a skilled mage to address. In all reality...I couldn’t reject Nia’s request. No matter who she’s working for. No matter the tumultuous history shared between me and the Canaveris brothers. I...had to help.” Shortening the gulf between them, Alster took hold of both her hands, catching her eyes with a gaze that shone equal parts remorse and conviction. “I have to help. Always. Be cross with me if you’d like, but I hope you can understand. Also, I hate to even ask this at all, but,” he rounded his shoulders, suddenly self-conscious, “the question Nia asked you, about us, how...would you have responded to it?”
Bronwyn, knowing when she’d been consigned to the third wheel, awkwardly shuffled from the intense couple to give them their privacy. “I...should be taking my leave. Probably should check on my brother again, now that Teselin is spending more of her time with Rowen. If there’s anything else to be done for him, Alster,” she said, a gentle persuasion to rearrange his priorities and focus on the sickest patients first, “please do your best.”
Nadira did not easily wear her emotions for all to gawk at; that was why she donned fine jewels. Have them gawk at her shameless displays of flawless sapphire and ruby cuts, instead! People, ranging from commoners to nobility, preferred not to meet her calculating eyes, and the Master Alchemist known as Nia Ardane was no exception. “Wonderful things? You have heard wonderful things? Ari, what wonderful things have you shared about your mama?” She didn’t pause for a breath or awaited a reply; the question she posed was purely rhetorical. “My, if you have preserved the time to gossip about me, then you must be well-acquainted with my son. Well-acquainted, indeed.”
“Miss Nia is an established liaison between the palace and the D’Marian village,” Ari ventured to explain, unaffected by Nadira’s baiting comment. “For her tireless efforts to foster peace between D’Marians and the new regime, I have opened my home as a waypoint, if ever she requires rest amid her constant back-and-forth.”
“Is that so?” She raised her manicured eyebrow at Nia. “It seems as though you have gained Lord Canaveris’s generous favor. You will have to regale me with the details of your dalliances. Ah, excuse me; slip of the tongue. Correspondences. But enough of my prattling.” Enough of your prattling, came the unspoken message. “If we are to arrive at the villa within a decent hour, best we depart straightaway. I await with eager anticipation what your artistic vision has wrought to life, Ari.”
With arrangements made to ride in one of the two carriages while the one she arrived in returned to the palace for maintenance and horse-care, Nadira chose to ride with Ari, as was only natural for a mother who hadn’t seen her son in well over a year. Due to weight and space restrictions, Lazarus had to suffer the hour-long indecency of riding with Nia in her conveyance, a decision he begrudgingly accepted, but not out of love for the woman. He was perfectly happy sitting in silence for the duration, but Nia abhorred silence, apparently, and resolved to fill in the void with mindless chatter. His glare on her intensified. Why dignify her with a response? Better to let her stew in a pile of her own sweat and nerves.
But out of respect for Ari and his misinformed decision, he opened his mouth in response. “You have the greatest potential to hurt him. Good intentions mean nothing when you can’t be trusted to deliver on them. Is it not enough for you to bother Ari all the time with your distracting nonsense? Doing so reneges on your sworn duties to your mistress. You’re either loyal to Locque, or you’re loyal to Ari. You can’t have it both ways. Until you decide, I have no reason to trust your flimsy word on anything.” His brown-eyed glare deepened, heedless of Nia’s request to cease staring. “Let’s only hope your meddling doesn’t devastate Ari—else you won’t have a Queen to serve, anymore.” The stocky mass of forearm muscles visible under his tunic bulged. “And for all your talk about dematerializing me with a touch?” He leaned close to the Master Alchemist, a challenge in the lines of his severe frown. “Try it, and see how quickly that will impact your relationship with Ari.”
Having said his bit, he relaxed against the cushions and resumed his crossed-armed, stink-eyed dissection of the woman he despised but couldn’t excise. Not for as long as Ari still fancied her. He foresaw the same pathway for his master. A repeat of Chara Rigas. Ari’s continued insistence that he didn’t need protection from the woman he loved. With his services rendered unnecessary, Lazarus was helpless but to watch the decades of her abuse, mental and physical, while he, compelled into obedience by his golem nature, was left literally incapable of saving his charge, his ward, his...trusted friend. His only friend. Ari didn’t listen then, and Ari wouldn’t listen now. He didn’t know what was best for him. Worst yet, lovesickness choked the blood flow to his brain, impacting his ability to make rational decisions, a vital trait a leader must not ever lose.
Freed of the curse of Nia’s unpalatable company, Lazarus burst free of the carriage doors before the Night Steeds could even roll to a complete stop before the villa. With urgency, he reclaimed his rightful place at Ari’s side, forcing Nia to fall in step far behind them.
Nadira monopolized Ari’s attention for the duration of their tour through the villa, commenting on his stylistic choices, cooing her approval and doling her disapproval in equal measure. Upon entering the ballroom, however, the same space where he hosted the equinox soirée a few weeks ago, she gushed to silence at the sight of Casimiro Canaveris, immortalized in stone.
“Stars above, Ari,” she sucked in a difficult breath. Her hand extended, resting on the marbleized elbow of her eldest and deceased son. “It is...it is as though he were with us at this moment. I,” Remembering the outsider in their numbers, she straightened her shoulders and refastened the mask of a high society matriarch, concealing the pain of a grieving mother. “I heard tell of the hard months of labor needed to complete this piece. Labor well spent. It is your most exquisite and meaningful work yet. You are too precious, Ari. What ever have I done to deserve you?”
Ari, embarrassed by his mother’s overly-affectionate demeanor, simply smiled at her compliments and, when her back was turned, signaled his apologies to Nia, who no doubt was suffering the height of awkwardness and anxiety.
Completing their tour of the premises, they convened in the parlor for light hors d'oeuvres and aperitifs for three (Lazarus did not possess a working digestive system to partake). Because of the exclusive nature of Lady Nadira’s upcoming dinner, an event only allowing immediate family—Casimiro’s late wife and all seven children included—Nia was granted the opportunity to speak her business for as long as the wine held...and Nadira’s goblet was fast approaching empty. They sat on the chaise, the very same that supported the weight of two eager lovers (one more than the other), a few nights ago. To distract from the disturbing detail of his mother lounging in the exact spot where they...had conjugal relations, Ari burrowed his burnished face in wine and stared at the blandest-looking section of the parlor his eyes could spot, for calming purposes.
Casual conversation soon trickled down to its inevitable terminus, making way for Nia to approach the very difficult subject with the Canaveris matriarch. Sensing her readiness, Ari prepared a prompt to better guide her through choppy waters, but before he could step in with support, Nia had...tumbled into the topic. No lead-in, no fanfare. He turned to his mother, carefully watching her reaction. She betrayed nothing on her chiseled features, save for a hair-thin wrinkle appearing on her brow and the slightest of mouth twitches. Nadira had mastered the art of micro-expressions.
“I see. I thought you to be more careful, Ari,” she said airily, not yet acknowledging Nia or dignifying her with a direct response. “How did this occur? It cannot be because you are now a front-facing public figure who is too magnetic a personality to properly enforce a perimeter around your person. You seldom heed my warnings, but what is done is done and cannot be undone. Rather, I failed in my advisory role. When you most required assistance, I remained an absentee figure and allowed misfortunes to befall you. Oh, had I only accompanied you to Galeyn, nothing of the sort would have happened!”
“On the contrary, this is a most fortunate turn of events, mama,” Ari countered, an attempt to allay his mother’s lamentations. He deposited the now empty goblet on the table before them and spread his gloved hands in appeal. “A Master Alchemist has expressed her interest in eradicating my curse. We have discussed at length the procedure and its percentage of success. We could have no better blessings than Miss Nia’s expertise. Paired with the restorative properties of the Night Garden, I daresay our good chances climb exponentially.”
“Irrelevant,” Nadira waved a silencing hand at her son and shifted her shrewd gaze on Nia, unerring focus given. “I have sought the aid of mages and Master Alchemists. If they could not devise a solution, how is it, Miss Ardane of Ilandria, that you have the appropriate level of mastery for this enormous undertaking? Correct me if I am wrong, but the Ardane Master Alchemists were all but erased by the Ilandrian crown. Tell me, how have you achieved the means to continue and advance your studies whilst balancing life as a fugitive? Not to mention,” she stole a dainty sip from her goblet, “you have not uttered a word regarding payment, a funny little omission that I find fascinating. Rare is the tradesperson who peddles a skill for free. If you come to me offering charity, then I must ask: whyever for? We certainly have enough affluence to match your price. Is it your sole motivation to atone for your vilified practice, or does something else drive you?” Suspicion supplanted the neutral tones of her countenance. Suspicion and mistrust. “While I appreciate your discretion, Miss Ardane, please indulge my question. Why are you interested in helping my son? I understand that you are Queen Locque’s royal alchemist. This is a queen who, mind, implemented violence and fear to secure her place on the throne. Forgive me my rudeness, but I do have a few reservations trusting the word of an usurper’s advocate.”
I had to help. Those were the words that deflated Elespeth’s anger, following Alster’s careful explanation on exactly what he was doing in helping Nia--and, evidently, Aristide Canaveris. So strong was the Rigas caster’s desire to help, to make a positive difference in the lives of others, that he would even agree to lend his assistance not only to a less-than-trustworthy Master Alchemist, but also the man who had all but convinced the entirely of the D’Marian population to resent him, even before that stunt he had pulled with the Serpent. This had nothing to do with keeping secrets out of malice or distrust, or taking the side of an enemy; it had everything to do with Alster’s nature, one from which he could not shy away. No matter who came to him for help, he could not refuse them if he knew he could make a positive difference. It wasn’t about taking Nia’s side and hiding the truth from his wife because he was all too aware of her feelings toward the Master Alchemist that had torn her armor to shreds; it was about staying true to his morals and his code of ethics. Nia needed help; Ari needed help. And so, by his nature, he would help them.
“...no, I understand, Alster. I do. This is just who you are. It’s what you do, and if the both of you think that there is nothing to suspect in the Ardane woman, then…” Elespeth sighed and gave Alster’s hands a gentle squeeze. “I am the one with the issue, if I am unable to see things the same way. I’m… I’ll admit, I am looking for excuses to despise her, and I think it is because I can relate to her.” Dropping Alster’s hands, the former knight clutched her elbows and avoided her gaze. “We’re both fugitives; both largely removed from our own bloodlines, without immediate family to turn to. Both with a bounty on our heads. Yet she comes into peoples lives with a smile as if none of it matter: like she has already put that past behind her, and everything is fine now because she can make new friends and find new belonging, and I… I still dream of Farrin! I watched him die, and I can’t get it out of my damn head. And she’s already over it, because she’s found new sources of comfort and happiness. Why is it so easy for her to move on? How can she live in her own skin, knowing what she has done, knowing she can never return to the place she called home?”
Every word felt bitter on her tongue, now that she was admitting the truth to herself, and that was that Elespeth Rigas was jealous of Nia Ardane. Jealous of the fact that she didn’t seem to have suffered to the same extent as the ex-Atvanian, who had been dealt a very similar hand to the Master Alchemist, or if she had suffered, had managed to move past it in ways that Elespeth still could not. She did not resent Nia Ardane for the fact that she worked for Locque; she didn’t even really resent her for ruining perfectly good armor. She resented her for being stronger than she was--or at least appearing that way.
“...I envy her disposition. How it is so easy for her to be happy in spite of everything that’s happened to her. Here she is making friends and falling in love and I… the best I can do is nearly destroy my body and my life from abusing a dangerous Mollengardian herb, and lose my sense of identity from learning that I can use magic.” Elespeth’s shoulders sagged. She looked at the tips of her boots because she couldn’t bear to look at her husband and her friend. “So it’s just easier to dislike her, I guess. But I can’t deny that you both speak sound words. I’m the one being irrational.”
When Bronwyn respectfully took her leave, likely feeling awkward from the tension that resonated between the husband and wife couple, Elespeth was taken aback by Alster’s interest in her answer to Nia’s question. She wasn’t so sure she could’ve given the Master Alchemist an answer, for once, a time that seemed so long ago, she had had the very same concerns. She had confronted Alster with those concerns, not long after he had proposed to her… and right away, he’d had the answer. It had been simple, and she’d never had to spare another thought. But what… what would she have done, if now, almost an entire year to the day they had married, she hadn’t found a way to slow her aging so that she could live life to the fullest with her husband? The former knight didn’t know. But she did know that she wouldn’t have given up.
“I’d have found a way.” Elespeth rested her hands on Alster’s shoulders and drew him close. “I don’t know how, or to what lengths I’d have to go… but I would have found a way to be with you forever. For as long as your forever lasts. I… here, I hold Nia to my own moral standards, but if I am being honest with myself, I might have gone so far as to seek help of less than trustworthy individuals. Like… Vitali.” She shuddered, just uttering the necromancer’s name. “But if you’re wondering if I’d have given up or reconsidered being with you, the answer is no. I knew that I wanted to be with you forever; it was just a matter of how I’d achieve that.”
“That’s not fair, you know. I know why you’re paranoid; believe me, I get it, even if I don’t know all the details. But it’s not fair that you hold me to the same maliciousness as Chara Rigas.” That must have been it. In the darkness of the carriage, where only moonlight through the windows illuminated their faces, Nia was sure she’d seen Lazarus twitch, just ever so slightly at the mention of the notorious blonde woman who had left Ari scarred for all these years. “I don’t understand why you’d think I would want to treat him like she did. Yeah, I’m sure a careless misstep on my part could hurt Ari, especially now that he--sorry, that we--have put our feelings on the table to pick and prod at. But can’t you see it goes both ways, here? The last woman Ari trusted romantically almost destroyed him. And it just so happens that the last man who I trusted the way I trust Ari almost killed me, too. And it took a hell of a long time for me to get over that.”
She rubbed her scar at her throat without realizing it. Truth be told, Nia wasn’t over that near-death experience, any more than Ari was fully recovered from his experience with Chara. It was easy to believe that she’d left that tragedy in the past and had moved on, by her cheerful demeanor, but that scar remained for a reason. A cautionary reminder not to trust so easily, to make an effort to see and become familiar with the many faces of the people she interacted with--for that was just the nature of people. No one was static in their demeanor and intentions. There was always something to hide, something that they kept close to their chests, and sometimes, that something was very dark and potentially lethal in nature. And yet… the Ardane woman was still so easily bewitched by the faces that people chose to show. Smiles and friendliness and kindness, that all rubbed her just the right way, because of those times that she had gone so long without experiencing any of it. And if Ari were deceiving her (which was doubtful; the man was mercifully transparent, and deceiving her for any reason didn’t appear to be a priority), then it was entirely possible that she just didn’t want to see it, and therefore chose to overlook it. But I am not wrong about Ari, a strong voice in her mind that resonated all the way into her gut said over and over again. She had come too far with him, gotten to know him too well to be wrong about him. Surely, if something was off, she would have found out by now.
“I can be loyal to Locque and to Ari, and I am. And in fact, it’s a damn good thing I’m in Locque’s good graces, because she hasn’t spoken up about requiring any further shows of loyalty from the D’Marians since they surrendered.” Nia added after a beat, and dropped her hand to her lap. “If I were to walk away from Locque right now, what do you think would happen? You think she’d take kindly to that? She’d be hurt and enraged, and I really don’t want to find out what happens if she gets that way. I’m helping her ease into life here because it really is in everyone’s best interests that she finds what she is looking for. Besides, I…” She paused. Would this be news to the big golem? Certainly, Ari would have told him as much, or he’d have found out through that seemingly psychic link they had. “I have already informed Locque that I do not plan to let my roots grow here in Galeyn. Ari and the D’Marians plan to travel to their home one day, and… he invited me to go with them. So I will. Because Galeyn isn’t my home, any more than it is Ari’s home. It’s just a place. People are what make a home, and here in this kingdom… Ari is the only thing that makes it home to me. I don’t have anyone else I can trust, the way I trust him.”
Why was she saying any of this? What the hell did Lazarus, of all people, care what mattered to her? Perhaps it was her hope that full honesty and transparency would make it clearer to him exactly where she stood, which was in a place where she did not oppose Locque, but neither did she live for the sorceress, did not exist for her. And anyway, couldn’t he see that turning her back on Locque now would not end well for anyone in the kingdom, his beloved Master included? “I know you don’t like the fact I’m employed by Locque. But someone’s gotta be a mediator, here, at least until she remembers how to be fucking human. And if the Night Gardener is able to restore a serial murderer like Rowen Kavanagh to some semblance of humanity, then I have faith that it can do the same for the new Queen. You’ve gotta understand that I’m not at her beck and call because that’s all that’s left for me. I’m staying in her good graces until she doesn’t need me anymore. And that day may come sooner than you think, who knows? When it does… then you’ll get what you want from me. One hundred percent of my dedication to Ari--and that’s a promise. Not that you’ll believe me, I’m sure, but I’ll promise anyway.”
Folding her arms across her chest, Nia rolled her eyes at Lazarus’s challenge and shook her head. “I’m not gonna reduce you to your primary components, clay man. I made that threat because you threatened me first, you may recall. And might I point out, you are the one with the beef here, not me. Hating on people is too fucking exhausting and not worth my time. You’re important to Ari, and frankly, it puts me at ease knowing you’re there to help him whenever he needs it. To protect him when I can’t. So, no, I’m not going to fuck with your composition, because that doesn’t serve me in any way. It would only hurt Ari, and deprive him of a solid bodyguard. Rest assured, you’re safe from my hands.”
Unfortunately, she would only be trading one awkward conversation for another, as her chance to pitch her solution to Ari’s curse came fast approaching as soon as she exited the carriage, happy to trail a short distance behind Ari and his intimidating mother. She wondered if there was an excuse to be found to put off speaking on this topic entirely, until she had a better idea as to how to approach it with Nadira Canaveris… but Nia also realized that this might be her only opportunity. It wasn’t as though she could find a good reason to sit Nadira down at any other point in time and have her listen. So, with courage fueled by wine, carried on the desperation to just let the damn cat out of the bag and get it over with, the Master Alchemist launched into her explanation--which, admittedly, could have been more carefully worded, but she wasn’t Ari. Nia didn’t have a way with words like he did; all she could do was convey the truth.
The truth, however, might not be enough for Nadira Canaveris, and Nia was fortunate to have anticipated that before the matriarch questioned her intentions. “Ah, of course. I completely understand your concerns, Lady Canaveris. To offer up such rare skills without compensation does come across as suspicious, doesn’t it? Well, the short answer is, I don’t really need money. I’m a Master Alchemist; I can create that stuff on a whim. Pretty useful when you’ve been on the run as long as I have, and don’t always have the opportunity to stay in one place long enough to earn a few gold coins.” She smiled and chuckled nervously, for it wasn’t the first time she knew she was making a mockery of the general economy by practically pulling gold out of thin air. Well, not quite that, for there were more components involved… but it might as well have been the case. “But this isn’t exactly a matter of offering a service for compensation. To be honest, I would actually be repaying a debt to Ari. A few weeks ago, when I paid him a visit on business from the palace, I wasn’t in the best shape and probably shouldn’t have been up and about at that time. I ended up fainting in this lovely villa and hit my head pretty hard on the floor; apparently, I managed to crack my skull a little bit. Hey, I might be skilled, but unfortunately my skill set does nothing to remedy the fact that I’m clumsy.”
Nia twirled the empty goblet in her hand by the stem, all the while avoiding the Canaveris matriarch’s piercing dark gaze. “I was going to return to the palace when I awoke, but Ari insisted I rest and recuperate until I was able to stand up without falling over. He offered me hospitality for a few days, and even convinced a powerful D’Marian mage--who likely wouldn’t have helped me otherwise--to heal my fracture. Good thing, too, because I probably would’ve been a while off my feet if I’d let time heal it, but… that’s more or less the long and short of it. One good deed deserves another, and I don’t really like being in someone’s debt, so I made the offer to see what I can do about that curse of his. So don’t consider it an act of charity; really, I’m just paying my own dues to his kindness.”
While there was a very strong omission of other pertinent details in Nia’s explanation, it was not entirely a lie, which was the only reason the words slid so smoothly off her tongue. Of course, that wasn’t at all the reason why she was so invested in helping Ari, but something told her that the words I’m in love with your son would not sit well with the stern Canaveris matriarch, who, at this point, had no reason to trust her. Nia tried not to let Nadira’s further comments about her bloodline and its expulsion from Ilandria get to her too badly. It would always be a sore spot, no matter how often she commented on it herself, but she couldn’t let the woman unravel her so early on in this discussion. “You are correct: there are no longer any Master Alchemists, and no more Ardanes, to my knowledge, in Ilandria. In fact, a lot of sources suggest I’m probably the last of my lineage. Talk about a burden to bear, huh?” She forced a nervous smile and shook her head. “But to answer your question, I’m lucky in that I’m a pretty self-sufficient learner. I already had the runes on my hands by the time my family was killed and I was forced to run away, so the hard part was over and done with. It was just a matter of adding to my repertoire whenever I had the opportunity to sit down in one place for long enough to pick and books and practice a little. And, I’ll have you know, Ardane alchemists are among the very best. Back before Ilandria betrayed the lot of us, we were the highest standard: the most resilient and versatile in our capabilities. So, you could say I know a thing or two. But, to answer your other question…”
Worried that her fiddling with the empty goblet was distracting, Nia forced herself to put it down and wove her fingers together. “The reason I imagine that Master Alchemists in the past have not been able to help you and your family is because this is a job that, in fact, requires multiple Master Alchemists--and probably a mage or two. You see, in my practice, we work with tangible matter: solid, liquid, gaz, particles and energy in the air and whatnot. But magic is something that eludes us--hence the fact we are called Master Alchemists and not ‘Mages’. Put simply, my working theory is that by having a mage isolate the magical energies that are perpetuating the curse and shifting them just enough that I can get a grasp on them, I can then transform that energy into something that Ari’s body is capable of expelling on its own. Because this curse has been circulating through his body for so long, it is impossible to completely eradicate it without causing harm or possibly killing him. Therefore, turning it into something that his body can recover from naturally, like an illness, is the safest way to go. The second Master Alchemist involved would simply be there to oversee the procedure and to keep an eye on the Master Alchemist doing the work, as well as Ari, to make sure neither is compromised during the process. And, because the solution to this would inevitably cause Ari to become a little sick, it is imperative that it take place in the Night Garden, under the watchful eye of Gardeners and physicians. So, really,” she leaned back in her chair, and looked up to finally meet the scrutinizing eyes in the room, “Ari’s best chance to eradicate this curse and live a normal life is now, Lady Canaveris. While we have everything that we could possibly need for success at our disposal. And as for the other parties involved--I’ve got a few connections. But, rest assured, no one else is in the know of Ari’s curse as of yet. Not without getting all relevant parties on board. So, Lady Canaveris…”
The Master Alchemist leaned forward and unclasped her hands to rest them on her knees. “What say you? If you require a more detailed account of the process, then I would be more than happy to sit down with you so you’re fully in the know of what it will entail. I do hope you will agree to this.”
Alster nodded along to Elespeth’s disclosure, lending a sympathetic ear to her listed comparisons of the traits she shared with Nia. In hearing the origins behind her dislike for the Master Alchemist, Alster was better able to understand the animosity and from where it stemmed: internally. Elespeth, through her confession, admitted feeling less equipped, less capable, and hence, inferior when placed beside Nia’s gregarious personality and offhanded handle on the world’s grim affairs. Nia, it turned out, wasn’t the problem. She projected her frustrations onto a scapegoat to deflect the loathing and brokenness...from herself.
“You’re not the only one.” It wasn’t Alster who spoke up first, but Bronwyn. Timidly, she approached the couple from the distance she afforded them, second-guessing if she should continue. “That’s exactly how I feel towards my brother. ...Jealousy. Everything always comes easy to him, I thought. He shirks responsibilities in favor of a good time, and is awarded for it. Always laughing, always joking, he approaches every situation like a game without consequences. For years, I’ve hated him. His easy charm, his effortless ability to befriend just about anyone he meets, his infuriating ‘can-do’ attitude...The ground could be crumbling beneath his feet and he’d never lose his balance. He’d simply brush the debris off his shoulder and move on. If that were me in his place, I’d be the first to fall.” No wonder why Chief never entrusted her with complex tasks. Unlike her performance-ready siblings, she couldn’t handle the stress associated with pretending. She wasn’t capable of being false, even for gain. And that was why so few people liked or tolerated her. Though this conclusion made sense to her, it wasn’t any easier to swallow. “I don’t have his resilience or power of self-delusion. I care too much about the ground not to look down and brace myself for the worst. Why should he ignore the rules of gravity, anyway? Why should he ignore the rules at all when people, when I, have done nothing but slave and labor for all my paltry gains?”
“Because I despised him for so long, I ignored all the signs. The little tells that gave him away. The cracks in his smile. It wasn’t until recently that I allowed myself to understand: he’s not unaffected. He’s just good at diversions. An excellent liar. He had to be or the fear would eat the skin and meat off his bones. I found that I couldn’t compare him to me anymore because we’re two entirely different people and our coping mechanisms are wildly opposite, in spite of our identical upbringing.” Though she addressed Elespeth specifically, her eyes focused behind her head, avoiding direct contact out of respect for the privacy of her inner sanctum. If she could at all help it, she didn’t like to pry via Sight. The discomfort superseded the gains it brought. “I see the same in Hadwin as I do in Nia. She’s never abandoned the past. She carries it with that uncomfortable, jagged necklace she wears. She’s not over a damn thing; certainly not the deaths of her sisters, just as Hadwin never truly recovered from our mam’s death. People like Nia, like Hadwin, play confidence games with themselves. They don’t have shit figured out at all; they want you to think they do, because fooling people, fooling their hearts, is how they’ve learned to survive. Looks like it’s working.” Her voice dropped: a gentle, non-accusatory tone. “Nia’s fooled you, too, Elespeth.”
“We tend to either admire or despise our polar opposites, El, because they’re exactly who we aspire to be, or, at the very least, because they remind of us of the most infuriating parts of ourselves.” Following Bronwyn’s model, Alster stepped in to add his own thoughts. “For instance, I can’t help but feel a stab of jealousy whenever I encounter people far taller than I am, which, if we’re honest, is practically everyone.” A mock glare crinkled his brow when his head lifted to measure the women who towered him by a few inches. “On a more serious note, I can say for a fact that I dislike Vitali for far less obvious reasons. It’s exhausting to care all the time. I was both attracted to and hated how the necromancer cheated himself out of feeling a burden of responsibility or guilt over his actions. But also...how liberating, I thought. Later, I learned; no. He’s not immune to those feelings, either—though he won’t admit them out loud. Anyway, I prefer to care, because if I don’t...well, I literally become a monster.” It was no surprise that Alster operated on two modes, two extremes placed at opposite sides of the spectrum. He either worked himself sick to provide for people, or he abandoned his humanity, his morals, and retreated. Into the Serpent. Into the ether realms. Where would he retreat next if he regressed a third time? “If you wonder why you can’t present yourself with their swagger, it’s because you’re not built for deceit or self-deceit. People like you, like me, like Bronwyn,” he checked the faoladh woman to see if she agreed with his assessment, “we’re more swept up by the storm, more outwardly affected by it, because it’s in our disposition to feel things deeply. Some people default to cheer or humor, but our default is contemplative, introspective, self-reflective. No one method is more self-actualized than the other. We are who we are. You can change your attitude, but you can’t change your soul.”
On release, his hands, liberated from her own, snaked around her middle in a loose embrace. “Nia gets to make friends and fall in love, you say? El, didn’t you also make friends? Didn’t you also fall in love? With me?” His sad eyes scanned her face for a reaction. “Is what you’ve gained, what you’ve survived, not worthy of your ‘best’? For you’ve certainly brought out the best in me. Not to mention, you saved my life so many times, I should start keeping a tally!” A self-deprecating smile wore away some of the sorrow lines. “Do you regret any of it? Our time spent together? What we’ve achieved? What you have achieved? The adventure we’ve embarked on, together?” His fingers gently massaged the bumps designating her pronounced back muscles. “So you made some mistakes in the interim. As did I. And Bronwyn. I’m sure Nia did, too. No one is so perfect that they’ve devised the method to circumvent all human suffering. Nia is a Master Alchemist, not a miracle worker. But...I can’t deny your feelings, either. If it’s easier to be irrational toward her, I won’t stop you. Just as long as you can acknowledge the source of your aggravation. And you have.”
By then, Bronwyn had departed the scene. Guilty for alienating her, he voiced his apologies, but she assured them of no harm done as she exited the courtyard for the couple to enjoy in peace. “I wouldn’t have given up either, El. When it comes to me and you, nothing has prevented me from achieving the impossible. I would have figured something out for us, no matter who I’d have to ask or what I’d have to do. Like you, my morals are not so unshakable.” He peppered a kiss on her mouth. In fear of losing the moment, he suggested, tentatively, “I think, if you’re feeling up to it, you should tell Nia what you just told me. The fact that she confided in you at all means she’s worried about the outcome of her relationship with Ari. Learning your opinion will cheer her, I’m sure.”
Nadira Canaveris conducted business at a pace considered leisurely by the decisive, cutthroat rabble of society. To discredit her, detractors lambasted her leadership style, calling out her lack of initiative and preoccupation with her wines and cheeses. She never took offense to their complaints. Rather, she leaned into it, made her choices deliberate, and gleefully milked and filibustered in the company of impatient querents whose time they deemed too precious to waste. So she made them wait before acceding to their demands. Such was the degree of her spite and pettiness. With Nia, however, the reasons behind her delayed response were manifold, and differed somewhat from the tactics used on those who annoyed her. She liked to test people. Test their commitments, test their patience, commitment, loyalty, and trust--and Nia was no exception. Therefore, following the Ardane woman’s long-winded defense, Nadira sighed, sank her shoulder blades into the couch, and raised her empty goblet towards the ceiling. “Lazarus, be a dear and fetch me more of the Night Garden’s special batch. The taste is unremarkable. There is no equal, but I’ve yet to palate a recognizable flavor profile. I daresay it is a curious combination of red grapes, pomegranate, roses, black currant, and an unknown spice unlike anything I have tasted, but with further investigation, I shall crack the mystery, for sure!” When Lazarus returned with the refilled goblet, she brought her nose to the fragrant drink, admired the color, swished it around in the goblet, and, before she sampled a sip, sighed again and beseeched Lazarus for his help once more. “Could I also bother you for another wedge of cheese to go with the wine? It pairs delightfully, you see. The cheese’s nuttiness and creamy top complements the full-bodied wine and creates a pop of flavor.” Lazarus returned with a delivery of cheese atop a delicate cracker. She did not hesitate to nibble into the bite-sized delicacy and wet her lips with the wine to finish. All the while, she watched Nia, checking for a breaking point. A crack in her conviction. The wearing of her facade, and the bare truth exposed beneath the skin.
“Ah, such panache!” she exclaimed delightfully. “You have certainly chosen a bold combination to serve tonight, Ari! If a simple helping of cheese and wine has me smitten, imagine what you and the servants have prepared for dinner! Galeyn and its bounties...what a blessing! It is a haven for gourmands. Do you not agree, Miss Ardane?” Her red lips sprouted into a delighted smile, as though she were entertaining an old friend at tea. “Why did I not come here sooner, I wonder? An oversight of a mistake, I am finding, when so many interesting events have unfolded all at once. Very interesting events.” Her smile hardened around the edges. The business-side of her prepared for a screeching descent.
“I commend your impeccable sense for hospitality, Ari,” she saluted to him with her goblet. “We do not turn away an injured guest, no, especially not one who has become incapacitated on Canaveris property. To do the inverse would be quite uncouth of us. However, it seems a little...disproportional to repay Ari’s kindness with so involved an operation. One tends not to do such a thing for a business-affiliated acquaintance who once fetched you a healer, considering the cost your contributions will wreak on your own health. I am well aware of the physical and mental toll placed upon a Master Alchemist after transfigurations of significant scope—of which this operation would be, hypothetically speaking, an enormous undertaking. But you seem unworried about your safety. Of course you know better the risks to your person than I do, but I should hope you have realized your state of recovery will likely interfere with your official duty as Queen Locque's assistant. It makes one wonder of your priorities, Miss Ardane." But she didn't linger on the implications behind Nia's very confusing and unclear motivations, and moved on to the next point. "You speak of another Master Alchemist, rare an occurrence as that sounds, residing here, in Galeyn? And what of the mage you've allegedly recruited? If you expect me to understand this hackneyed plan of yours, you must express solid, tangible proof of its successful execution, starting with the names of this Master Alchemist and mage, or mages--if there is more than one.”
She was finding excuses to say ‘No.’ Already, there existed enough evidence to convict Nia Ardane as a highly suspicious subject who, if not outright dangerous to Ari, was, at best, a con-artist who wanted to worm her way into a powerful family, gain their trust, learn their secrets, and expose their scandals for gain—or to inform on her tyrant of a queen. Even if she were honest in her bid to help, and against all odds, Ari’s curse was cured, they would be indebted to Queen Locque by proxy. In a sense, they already were.
As it so happened, when she pressed for names and received them, the surprise actually registered on her face. “Isidor Kristeva, you say? Master Zenech’s pupil? I financed that man’s research, once upon a time, but the miserable man never so much as expressed his gratitude; only demanded more money. To see what became of his student would be…” but the second name shut down any amount of humoring or serious consideration. “Alster Rigas?! The man who dropped a Serpent on this village? Oh, absolutely not! I admit, you had me for a fool for a minute, Miss Ardane, but in dropping these two names, one unlikely and the other a downright insult, you have made a mockery of me and in my own home. I have heard enough.” She rose from her seat and pointed to the door. I must ask you to leave. Immediately.”
“If I may.” Ari, who remained silent for the duration of the tense discussion, sat up in his seat, raising his hand to halt Nia before she could acquiesce to Nadira’s unofficial request. “I have not formally dismissed Miss Nia. Much as I respect your decision-making progress, mama, I am the current head of this family and you must also trust my judgement. I would never even consider going forward with this procedure if I did not carefully assess the risks involved. I have, and in doing so, hereby determine this to be the strongest and most hopeful case delivered to us thus far. You cannot deny that recruiting an Ardane, Master Zenech’s pupil, and Stella D’Mare’s most powerful mage to perform this procedure within the bounds of a miraculous healing garden, a place where none can perish, is a combination of fortunes we would be fools not to employ to our advantage. Please reconsider.”
“Ari, you know the law. The incident occurred during my reign. It falls on me to decide. Do not test my patience,” she said, her words clipped. No longer indulgent or accommodating.
“Very well. Then let me at least see Miss Nia out.” Rolling out of his seat, Ari rose, slid one foot forward...and stumbled.
“Ari!” Lazarus was by his side in moments, grasping him by the arm before he took a more injurious tumble to the floor. The golem escorted his master back to the chaise and helped him into the seat.
“A flare-up,” Ari breathed, yanking up his left trouser leg to expose the calf, the skin calcifying into a bumpy shade of granite gray. Nadira saw the condition of his leg and crouched to its level, her eyes wide plates of concern.
“Heavens, Ari, when did this occur? Where is your cane? Laz, fetch his cane!”
Ari stopped Nadira’s orders with a firm head shake and raised his eyes to Nia, who had traveled halfway across the room by then, in anticipation to leave. “When I climbed to my feet, I felt a familiar dead weight in my leg. Not to worry, though. Miss Nia has been managing my flare-ups. She is able to reverse the damage with her alchemy and revert the stone to skin with ease. Please allow her to treat me. Otherwise, I will have to contend with this leaden leg for the next handful of days and losing my ability to walk is not only a hindrance, but a discovery risk. Laz can attest to Miss Nia’s skill and professional care. He has seen her assist me firsthand.”
“I...have,” the large golem said with difficulty, trapped between his loyalty to Ari and his hatred of Nia. In the end, truth won. “This alchemist woman can help him.”
Dazed by his answer, Nadira turned to face Nia and stared so intently as to try and scare the entire unspoken story out of her. There was too much conveniently left out, too much to manage her suspicions to a low boil. But she was allayed, nonetheless, by Nia’s commitment not to leave before tending to Ari’s condition, and stepped aside to give the Master Alchemist some space in which to work.
“Very well. Do assist my son, Miss Ardane. We shall see how effective your alchemy really is, per your demonstration.”
While Nadira and Laz were distracted by Nia’s approach, Ari used the opportunity to catch her eye long enough to deliver a conspiratorial wink.
You’re not the only one. When Elespeth had gone off on her brief tirade with regards to her feelings toward Nia Ardane, she hadn’t really expected either Alster or Bronwyn to be listening. And, above all, she hadn’t expected that Bronwyn would respond… with empathy. “You feel… those are your feelings toward Hadwin? The reason you can’t seem to get along?” She asked quietly, but then fell silent to allow the faoladh woman to vent her own frustrations and voice her own truths to get those burdensome feelings off her chest. The former knight had chalked up Bronwyn’s animosity toward her brother as mere sibling rivalry; after all, family did not always get along, usually for differences in personality or values. But that was not the case with Brownyn. She did care about Hadwin, and it was only recently that she herself had realized why she’d acted otherwise for so long. Elespeth’s brow softened. She’d certainly put two and two together that Hadwin and Nia were very akin to two peas in a pod; both as annoying as they chose to be, with a penchant for alcohol, and always seeming to show up at times and places when they were the least welcome or wanted. Yet, she had surmounted her difficulty in getting along with Hadwin, because she had extended the grace to get to know him. But with Nia… she had not. Not yet, because she didn’t want to like her. Because it was easier for her to hate the Master Alchemist than it was to hate herself.
“I guess… she did have me fooled. She doesn’t act like someone who’s suffered; not one bit. But… who am I to determine the right way for someone with a heavy past to act?” The proud former knight sighed and looked down at the tips of her boots, too ashamed to meet the eyes of her husband or her friend. “I don’t have any right to determine what she feels or doesn’t feel. I’ve made friends, too; I’ve fallen in love. I’ve still managed to laugh in spite of all the blood spilled in my past, but… I don’t know. Part of me feels--and I know it’s irrational--but part of me feels that she hasn’t earned it, you know? Alster, you and I have saved your people. We have saved our friends, we have helped countless others… and Nia? She works for…” Afraid that there might be too many ears listening in, Elespeth omitted the tyrant Queen’s name and lowered her voice. “She did nothing to help the people of Galeyn. She didn’t even do anything to help Bronwyn, or Sigrid, or any of us! She just… exists, and gets drunk, and cracks jokes, and now she has the right to fall in love? To find a way to extend her life to be with the person she loves? At least Hadwin has made an effort! He has actively helped so many of us. He cares for Teselin like more of a brother than Vitali. He… h-he helped you and I, Alster, when he didn’t have at all.” A faint flush coloured her cheeks; it must have been contagious, for mention of Hadwin’s unconventional “assistance” in their relationship also coloured Alster’s face red.
“I… don’t know. What it comes down to is that the difference is Hadwin has proven himself to me, but Nia hasn’t. Not even close. She…” She was being defensive again; making excuses for her anger and her resentment. But this time, Elespeth managed to catch it before she fell into the habit and sighed. “...I haven’t given her a chance to prove herself. Hell, who am I to even demand she prove herself to me? Hadwin was right: I really do need to work on this moral high ground that knighthood instilled in me so long ago. Nia owes me nothing. I don’t trust her because I don’t want to trust her. I could make the same excuse for anyone. But how… how do we trust someone who we can’t be sure is entirely on our side?”
Alster trusted her because, as he said, he cared. Because he had to care, lest… unwanted circumstances arise when his empathy was low. And that was where he and Elespeth differed: he wanted to see the best in every. Whereas she… she wanted to suspect. It was safer to suspect. “Maybe… maybe she does deserve everything that we have. Love and friendship and all that, but have you ever thought… did you ever think of what she might do if she… if she knew?” If she knew we meant to take down her employer, was the unspoken question. “Alster, are you so sure she would make the right decision? Or would she take the cowardly route, at the expense of everyone she calls a friend, at the expense of the man she loves, and stand in opposition? I’m… I’m just not convinced. Not yet. But maybe…” She heaved a heavy sigh and rested her hands on Alster’s shoulders. “Maybe… that’s my problem, and not hers. I…”
He did have a point: Nia, either out of obstinacy or ignorant, had come to her for advice. She treated her like they were pals and had shared eons of jokes and experiences. Like they could talk freely because there was an ease in atmosphere between them. However much Elespeth had given her the cold shoulder, the Master Alchemist did, somehow, see her as friend material. Enough that she had approached her with a very delicate topic that she hadn’t even been comfortable divulging to Aslter, who had demonstrated a good deal more warmth toward her. “...I should talk to her, shouldn’t I?” She didn’t sound enthused; but neither did she deny that her husband was right. “My training as a knight, so many years ago, also instilled in me the necessity of laying down my sword and admitting defeat when I am wrong. And, if you and Bronwyn have anything to say about it… I am in the wrong here, aren’t I? Damnit, I won’t lie, I really don’t want to talk to her. But if you think I should…” She shook her head and smiled, seeing the glimmer in Alster’s blue eyes as reassurance that this was the right step. “Then I suppose I will. But don’t think for a moment I’m going to chase her down! If she wants to talk… then she can come to me, again.”
Well, this would be more difficult than she’d anticipated--not that she hadn’t anticipated it would be difficult from the get-go, but preparing to please a difficult person was one thing. Coming down to executing the plan and actually swaying their opinion… well, that was entirely another. And Nia had never been particularly skilled at swaying the opinion of others in her favour. Be yourself; she will see right through falsehoods. Ari had warned her as much, but she hadn’t even constructed any falsehoods as of yet… and already, Nadira was convinced that what she had to say wasn’t enough! How much could she divulge without completely letting the cat out of the bag? The truth is, Lady Canaveris, I’m in love with your son and want to spend the rest of my days at his side, as he enjoys an entirely normal, curse-free life. Something told her that wouldn’t go down so well. But… perhaps she didn’t have to go that far.
“Ah… you’re right. That doesn’t make much sense, does it? Compared to the services I provide, caring for a person with a concussion would be a little bit disproportionate to removing a nasty curse.” Nia twirled the stem of her empty goblet, desperately wanting a refill of that wine to calm the fraying edges of her delicate nerves, but too anxious to ask, and too afraid it would make the wrong impression. Not that she’d made a right impression, as of yet… she wasn’t entirely sure that was possible. “Okay, you got me, Lady Canaveris. I’ll admit, there… is something of a selfish drive encouraging my desire to help Ari--that being that no one has been able to help him yet. I’ve always enjoyed rising to a challenge, and, well, I do have something of a legacy of my own to uphold. You seem like a worldly woman, Lady Canaveris, so I am sure it is always news to you that the Ardanes, prior to being rejected and prosecuted by the Ilandrian crown, worked personally for the Ilandrian crown for generation. Ever wonder why it has become known as the ‘Kingdom of Blades’? Well… you’ve got us, the Ardanes, to thank for that.” Nia winked and leaned back in her seat, crossing one leg over the other in an attempt to at least appear more at ease than she was.
“And our skills were not limited to enhancing weapons. I am of an elite family, one of the best in the entire world, where it comes to Master Alchemy. So did it ever occur to you that, perhaps, the reason all of the Master Alchemists you’ve approached in the past to help your son have simply been… incompetent? Ill-suited to the job? Or perhaps not resilient enough to see it through to the end?” She raised an eyebrow, taking a bit of joy in the fact that when Nadira broke their locked gazes and looked away for a split second, she must have been on to something. “Lady Canaveris, a very strong, competitive part of me wants to do this because no one else has succeeded--and because I think I have what it takes, that other Master Alchemists have not. True, some of my skills have been self-taught, but this has also required me to think outside the box more frequently and effectively than others of my unique profession. I’m a proud person, and if I can accomplish something that no other Master Alchemist has… then that will certainly be a boon to wear on my sleeve for the remainder of my days. I, Nia Ardane… I achieved the impossible. And hate me though they might, people then wouldn’t be able to deny that I’m not capable. But… but,”
Hubris alone wouldn’t convince Nadira, not even combined with the will to repay a kind gesture. If Nia was going to come across as credible at all… then she was going to have to show some of her hand. Just a little… just enough that the Canaveris Matriarch would not be able to deny her intentions, at the very least. “Much though I might be a little prideful, it’s not something that can sustain me. You’re not wrong in calling me a fugitive. I’ve been running away for a very long time; gets kind of exhausting, after a while. Her Majesty Queen Locque did offer me some stability under her employ; I’ve been in Galeyn for a year now. The longest I’ve ever been in one place since I lost my family and my home! But it… I realized, very quickly, that that just wasn’t enough. Stability and safety, I mean. I needed to feel like I belong, and Galeyn… well, for obvious reasons, Galeyn has been hesitant in making me feel that way. But Ari…” She shot a warm smile in the Canaveris Lord’s direction; only briefly, and not one that revealed too much, but the sentiment was there. “Your Son, Lady Canaveris, has been nothing but kind and hospitable to me, even in light of the disagreements and concerns he has had regarding my Lady’s rulership. He has never treated me with disrespect and, on the contrary, has helped me to feel very at home in Galeyn. This… is something that has meant a lot to me, and make no mistake, just as the D’Marians one day plan to return to Stella D’Mare, so, too, do I one day plan to leave Locque’s employ. She is a Summoner; there is very little that she cannot do on her very own, and surely there will come a day when she no longer needs me. Presently, I am only here to mediate and help her navigate relations with the denizens of this kingdom. I realize that for this, you can only take my word for it, but it is the truth. It is my truth. So, between my pride, and the fact that I do have a large amount of respect for your son, and that he has treated me with kindness and humanity when others have not… It is for this that I would personally like to make a lasting difference in his life, as well.”
Nadira was at least interested insofar as she was willing to now press for details--likely digging for bullshit, wondering if Nia did have any solid plan at all. Well, if it was names she wanted… “Indeed, Galeyn currently houses yet another Master Alchemist--a rare occurrence indeed. Isidor Kristeva is his name. I am not sure how familiar you are with the reputable Master Alchemists of the world, but he happened to train under one infamous Master Kristeva in the forests bordering the kingdom of Nairit. I can guarantee that Isidor is a very capable Master Alchemist, indeed. As for the mage in question…” Now, this might be something of a harder sell, but if Ari was willing to back up the healing relations between Canaveris and Rigases… “I have approached Alster Rigas, who happens to have a good deal of knowledge in curse removal. If you’ll let me--”
Nadira cut her off almost instantly, uninterested in hearing her out. The woman had been looking for excused upon excuse to deny Nia her expertise and this opportunity to rid Ari of his curse, and it just so happened that Alster’s name was indeed the last straw, and just the excuse she had been looking for. “Lady Canaveris… I am not sure if Ari has had the opportunity to go into detail,” she partially raised one hand, hoping to get a word in before the Canaveris Matriarch had Lazarus haul her to her feet and throw her out on her ass. “But of late, Alster Rigas and your son have been resolving their differences in favour of working together for the sake and betterment of the D’Marians. Not to mention, he is arguably one of the most powerful mages not only of Stella D’Mare, but in all of Galeyn, barring the Summoners whose magic is simply too unstable to perform this delicate operation. If you would give him a chance as you’d give me a chance…”
To Ari’s credit, he attempted to quell his mother’s anger and mediate the simmering conversation with his calm and unflappable logic. Frankly, Nia was impressed at the way he not only stood up to his mother, but even attempted to put her in her place. This was more than she’d expected of someone she’d shamefully assumed to be a little bit of a mama’s boy, and to be honest… it was nothing she could have replicated in the face of her own mother. To speak to Felyse Ardane the way that Ari spoke to Nadira Canaveris would have resulted in some dark, terrible, and probably painful consequences. But, alas, his efforts were in vain, and Nia could not pretend to understand D’Marian or Canaveris law, or whatever it was to which either of them was attempting to appeal. The Canaveris Matriarch would not be swayed tonight. Maybe she would not be swayed tomorrow, either, but one day, someday soon, by some means… if Nia could help it, she could convince her. She would find a way.
“Of course, Lady Canaveris. I understand.” The Master Alchemist of Ilandria knew well enough to understand when it was necessary to lose a battle in favour of winning an eventual war. The more she pushed, the less likely Nadira would be convinced in the future. Tonight was, unfortunately, a loss, but losses could be cut without negatively affecting future outcomes. “You are a strong-willed woman with a solid set of values, but… unfortunately or otherwise, you and I have that in common.” Nia smiled, though it only tugged at half of her face. “Ari is like a friend to me, Lady Canaveris. And if there is a chance that I can help him live a normal life, free of concern for his curse… then I’m afraid I am not finished trying to convince you. Although tonight, I will concede defeat. No need to see me out; I know the way.”
Yet, despite saying as much, Ari still rose so as to see her out (possibly to apologize for his mother’s behaviour), but did not get far before he stumbled. Nia paused, confused for a beat, before she realized what had happened… and so quickly! “Ari… please accept my apologies.” She quickly sputtered, and there was nothing feigned about her nervousness now. “Did our… did this conversation incite your flareup? I never meant for this to happen…”
As she drew near and knelt near his leg to fix the problem she thought she’d caused, Ari winked conspiratorially. Wait, had he… had he caused this intentionally?! It took a moment for the truth to set in, but Nia caught on to his ploy. Nadira did not see this opportunity as invaluable because she did not know Nia; she did not know what she was capable of. If she could demonstrate just how easily she could revert stone to flesh… this would weigh heavily in her favour.
“Of course. Ari,” with one hand, she withdrew her tiny, trusty knife that was tucked into her boot. “May I see your hand please? Do not be alarmed, Lady Canaveris, I merely require a trickle of blood to return the stone to flesh.” Ari was used to this procedure by now, and didn’t even flinch as she nicked his palm, then removed his boot and stocking to assess just how badly he’d flared up. The stone stopped just above his ankle, leaving the flesh of his foot intact, but with the muscle of his calf petrified, it left his foot useless without adequate circulation. “This should only take but a moment.”
With one hand pressed into the drawn blood, the other moved in smooth motion, almost caresses across his calf, drawing away a little bit of stone with each pass. Not an intimate moment, per se, but Nia did not miss the tint of rouge touch Ari’s cheeks at the contact, and it was all she could do not to smirk, delighted their foray into intimacy some nights ago had had such lasting effect on him. Moments later, Ari’s calf was brown and soft again, returned entirely to flesh and muscles, while the blood that had pooled in his hand was nothing more than dust. “How’s that? Can you feel pressure?” She asked, pressing her fingers along his calf and foot to ensure all had returned to normal. When he confirmed all was well, she nodded and took it upon herself to replace his stocking and his boot, before brushing her hands off on her thighs and getting to her feet.
“There; all better. And fear not, Lady Canaveris, I didn’t even break a sweat; you have to give me more credit for my resilience to the burden of my profession. I hope you will in time.” Nia offered a shallow bow, then turned back toward the door. “Thank you for your hospitality tonight, Ari. And I do apologize for postponing your dinner, Lady Canaveris. No need to see me out--I know the way back to my carriage.”
“It can certainly seem unfair to see someone undeserving receive so much good fortune. Wasn’t that one of Bronwyn’s gripes with Hadwin? He evades honest work and strikes lucky combinations for himself while everyone else struggles to get by?” Bronwyn couldn’t confirm Alster’s interpretations of her words; the eldest Kavanagh sister had departed the courtyard just a minute ago. “In discussions of deserving versus undeserving, we must ask ourselves the question, one that philosophers hotly debate to this day. Should good things happen only to people who deserve it? If so, then who becomes judge of what is ‘deserving’? Do you? What defines ‘deserving’? Someone who actively doesn’t cause harm, or someone who works hard to stop harm? If it’s the latter, then a lot of people, people who are doing nothing but living their lives and surviving day to day, aren’t deserving of anything at all—and that’s too narrowing. Unfair. More unfair than a ‘bad’ person getting rewarded for bad behavior. We don’t know Nia’s circumstances beyond what she’s shared with us. We don’t know who she’s helped or who she’s harmed in the years she’s been a fugitive, but it shouldn’t matter. All people deserve something good in their lives. Otherwise people like Lilica, like Haraldur, like Hadwin, like me...we should all suffer terribly for our past and present sins, and you don’t believe that for the simple fact that they are our friends, and I am your husband. That is all. That is the only reason we deserve good. It’s all very subjective, isn’t it?” He tried to bring levity to the topic by smiling, a supportive one as well as an encouraging one.
“I seem to recall a time you refused to see any bit of good Hadwin ever did. He made an ‘effort’ back then, too, didn’t he? But you didn’t always think so. Not until you befriended him. Maybe Nia is also making an effort. She’s trying to maintain peaceful ties because she doesn’t want bloodshed for the people of Galeyn. She’s also trying to cure a man of a very specific ailment. Whether or not you think he’s deserving of recovery after ousting me from a position I didn’t even want is a different story.” There was no question he was still bitter about the events leading up to his downfall, as well as Ari’s role in defaming him in front of the D’Marians he so desperately wanted to be accepted by. But for the sake of moving ahead, for providing a good example to the people he wronged—and to the people who wronged him—he needed to do what worked best for him. And what worked best was to focus on helping so he wouldn’t become consumed by hatred and revenge against Locque.
Elespeth posed a legitimate and fair question. How could they trust someone who worked for Locque? For Nia, that remained her biggest setback in terms of redemption among Locque’s opposers. “I thought the same, too. She works for my enemy, so I can’t trust her by default.” Though he had cast a silencing spell around their perimeter a while ago, ensuring no eavesdroppers would overhear their casual talk of insurrection, he still lowered his voice at the word ‘enemy.’ “But I believe that what she values more than her employment to Locque is the promise of community, friendship, and safety. If she can find any combination of things in us, then even if she does discover our motives, I would like to hope she won’t actively stand in our way. Maybe it will all be for naught in the end. She’ll see our aggression as a betrayal and have no qualms about attacking us in defense of her lady. Nonetheless, I’m willing to try. Hadwin believed she could be swayed, and he generally has a good read on people. If nothing else, strategically speaking, swaying her loyalties will confuse her convictions when the time comes to act. There’s nothing we lose in being friendly to her. Well...peace and quiet, perhaps?” His eyes crinkled with a bit of humor at their subject’s expense. Knowing Nia’s penchant for ceaseless chatter, it was accurate to assume there wouldn’t be a moment of calm when entering her vicinity.
“If it helps, I’ll be with you whenever you broach the subject to Nia. But I think we’ve spoken to death about this illustrious Master Alchemist, hm? How about,” he pressed his cool prosthesis against the back of her neck and delivered a small, teasing shock, “we take the rest of the day for ourselves? Just the two of us…smiling, laughing, remembering why we married each other? We can spend this time doing whatever you like, El. Though I can hazard a guess as to where it will end.” With mischief alight in his features, he sent another shock. This time, from his lips to hers, as he met her with an electric kiss.
During the carriage ride from the Galeyn borderlands to the D’Marian settlement, Ari had briefed Nadira on every relevant thing he could squeeze in the course of an hour. Separated by a great distance and an ocean for over a year, mother and son communicated via resonance stone, a convenient and useful tool, but a faulty one. While they could convey information to each other with an ease that outclassed other categories of correspondence—horse-driven courier services, carrier pigeon, or even roc-flown—the twin stones lost their efficacy the farther one traveled, especially travel through the Bismuth Sea, an energy-intense stretch of water between the port of Stella D’Mare and The Fallow Islands where anything magic-related was bound to go astray. With several factors stacked against them, resonance stone conversations remained brief and on a weekly basis, a schedule Ari took full advantage of when he wanted to conceal a few particular newsworthy topics from Nadira’s knowledge. If she later questioned his oversight, he could blame it on their faulty means of communication. “I informed you about this already, but perhaps we lost contact and my message did not transmit,” became his most common excuse. It wasn’t that he enjoyed deceiving his mother, but if he hinted at just the tiniest issue, the most minuscule of problems occurring in Galeyn or the D’Marian settlement, she would immediately cease managing the Canaveris branch house project overseas and swim to the mainland if she couldn’t secure a boat within the next five minutes. Really, it took a miracle (and expert persuasion) to stay Nadira’s arrival a few months even after he mentioned a few milestone events: his ascent to D’Marian leader, kingdom-wide surrender to the Tyrant-Queen, and a very vague reference to the Serpent, to name the most critical of goings-on.
Eventually, he knew he wouldn’t keep her at bay any longer. For as much as she grew to trust him as a competent and popular Canaveris Head, her penchant for micromanaging and worrying about his long-term performance was an itch impossible for her to ignore—and as far as wholesale faith in his abilities went, he still had a long way to go, in her eyes, before he could run affairs entirely solo. In fact, the responsibility would never have fallen on his shoulders alone if not for the fall of Stella D’Mare. Unenviably, he was charged with the task of filling her in on the deliberate gaps left out of their weekly correspondences as their horses clopped at top speed to the villa. And because it was unrealistic to cover everything relevant in an hour, by the time Nia Nadira, though flush with an overabundance of information, didn’t walk into negotiations wholly up-to-date. Some accidental omissions included the delicate matter of Alster Rigas. But if he were honest,, it would have taken him the full hour just to numb her outrage, at best.
Historically, Canaverises and Rigases didn’t get on well. Long ago, before Stella D’Mare, the area of pristine land along the sea belonged to the Canaverises—until a foreigner from the north and his gaggle of bored, noble admirers camped atop a hill without permission. One minute, the Canaverises were devising ways to chase the magically-adept intruders from the land; the next, they were fighting for their lives against an otherworldly creature whose massive thrashes split the mountain in twain and wrecked the land. To defeat the monster, the Canaverises and the foreigner nobles agreed on a temporary armistice and combined their specialized efforts. Rigel Rigas, leader of the bored nobles, sealed the monster in the mountain and the Canaverises not only built the cocoon, but reconstructed the mountainside to its former glory. But if the blight on Canaveris homeland wasn’t enough insult to injury, Rigel Rigas professed it to be his sworn duty and responsibility to remain as a guardian against the Serpent, should it awaken to finish its destructive rampage. The bored nobles followed his ordinance and squatted on the mountain, forming the illustrious Rigas family. In an attempt to make peace, the Canaverises let them have the mountain as long as the two families existed in harmony. But as renown for Rigel’s deeds spread, other settlers moved in from afar to celebrate him, his family...and no one else. The Rigases took the credit. Afraid that physical retaliation would reawaken the Serpent and invoke the wrath of the Demi-god, Rigel, the Canaverises accepted defeat with grace, adapted to the heartbreaking changes, assimilated with the growing populace, earned back a fraction of their original land, and made sure to carve their place in history as the original founding family of Stella D’Mare. They enjoyed their successes, of course, gained respect, power, and influence from the ground up, but they were always second in importance to the usurpers—to the Rigases—who never let them forget their inferiority.
If Chara Rigas was any proof of this inherited elitism, she never allowed Ari to forget just where he ranked: beneath her, always. At the very least, Ari considered himself fortunate that Nadira never learned of his long-term “friendship” with another Rigas, nor of the long stretch of abuses she made him suffer over the decades. If the Canaverises resented the Rigases now, should Nadira ever uncover the truth...the matter would fast become personal. With much bloodshed.
“Resolving differences?” Nadira looked as though someone had slapped her across the face. “We have compromised enough of ourselves for the ongoing Rigas agenda. I will not become indebted to a Rigas so they can lord their superiority over our heads and exploit a good deed to transition back into power. For the first time in thousands of years, we have toppled their mighty house, achieving the improbable. And yet, you wish to undo your wonderful work, Ari? The greatest achievement of your legacy? No, I will not have this, Miss Ardane. We are done, here.”
There was no reasoning with Nadira once she spat out her anti-Rigas vitriol. Nothing either Ari or Nia could do or say would coax her out of her unwavering mindset. Well, nothing, except…
It was a last resort. But he knew it would come to this, in the end. He was prepared.
He hunched into his lap and lowered his head, directing concentration to his left leg. Once and only once had he succeeded in inducing a flare-up on purpose, but he didn’t accomplish the feat alone. Hadwin Kavanagh scared his shoulder into stone, both figuratively and literally petrifying him frozen. To replicate the effect, all he needed was to dredge to the memory. Of Casimiro dying in his stead. He built upon the memory, imagining himself dying from the effects of a worsening curse. Dying, having never kept his promises to Casimiro. Dying, leaving his mother thrice-stricken. Husband, first son, second son...her immediate line, gone. Dying, abandoning his nephews and niece. Sylvie, sweet Sylvie, alone again without a father. Dying would upset Lazarus. Would he grieve as humans grieved? Tears in his eyes, heaviness in his chest? Dying…what would it do to Nia? She who invested so much of herself to gift him a long, uncomplicated life of good health? And oh, to be deprived of her warm touch, her warm kisses, sinking, instead, into the cold earth where nothing warm could embrace him again.
I don’t want to die.
Uncomfortable heat ringed around his calf, fever-hot and painful. The affected area pulsed, swelling to twice its size. Sometimes the preliminary rash would expand to three times its size before callusing, then hardening, into a thick, unwieldy cast. Satisfied by the effects, he shook away the residual shakes brought about by envisioning such an upsetting scenario and stood up, exaggerated his stumble, and triggered the desired event.
Everything else fell into place.
When Nia laid her hand upon the stony bastardization of his calf, even though the surface was numb and he felt nothing, just having her near, in the very spot where they consummated their relationship, was well worth the stress and strain of inflicting intentional damage to his body. At her request, he didn’t hesitate to peel off his glove and expose his naked hand for slicing, caring little for the nick of pain when he cared more about their renewed skin to skin contact. For three long days, he starved for this specialized attention, craving anything, even the slightest trace, as long as the tracing belonged to Nia. He had to contain himself at the return of feeling in his calf as she rubbed her hand over the blemish, to and fro. What pleasure, what hell, to find this interaction a type of foreplay—and in front of his mother, no less! He only hoped she linked his heated face to embarrassment, not to desire. Luckily, her eyes were trained on Nia and on his leg, her attention rapt with wonder and curiosity as the Master Alchemist seemingly buffed away the stone and restored the flesh to its former glory. At her conclusion, he lifted his leg and rotated his ankle a few turns to reintroduce circulation to his foot. “My calf is back to rights,” he announced, accepting Nia’s help in refitting his boot. “Thank you, Miss Nia. Your invaluable assistance is always appreciated and welcomed.”
“Well, well,” Nadira, sucking in a breath, climbed to her feet, taking a moment to find the words after processing what she just witnessed. “I must also express similar sentiments. Thank you, Miss Ardane. You have demonstrated tangible proof that you are capable of the feats you preach. At least, when it pertains to temporary expulsion. Permanent expulsion, however, is another manner and,” she hesitated for a few beats, still uncertain of the woman’s trustworthiness, “it will require a few more follow-up discussions on your part. I retract my last statement. You are free to return, on the stipulation that you arrive presenting further research. I welcome the service of Master Zenech’s pupil; Isidor Kristeva is a decades’ due return on my investments. Alster Rigas, however, is an addition I cannot abide.”
“Mama, he helped Sylvie.” With his leg cleared of its pins and needles sensations, Ari stood despite Nadira’s protests to rest. “En route to Galeyn from Braighdath, she fell into a ditch and broke her leg. Lord Rigas came across her on the road and healed her fracture. Sylvie swears by his kindness. We may not agree with the Rigas right to rule, but this goes beyond politics, something which Lord Rigas has the frame of mind to understand. He comes to us not as a Rigas, but as a healer without affiliation—a healer whose contributions to the success of this operation will prove indispensable. He will not gloat about this to other Rigases. If he cared about gloating, wouldn’t he have done so already, after tending to Sylvie?”
Nadira frowned, flickers of an inner conflict fighting for dominance behind her dark brown eyes. “We shall discuss this at a later date. This much, I promise you. Alas, I have overextended my time and would much like to dine and see my grandchildren before this exhausting topic plots me into an early grave. We have covered much ground tonight. In doing so, I have overlooked a lot of my own principles to entertain this conversation. Rigas involvement is for another day. Or week. ...A fortnight.”
“Very well. I shall have a servant see you to dinner, and I,” he turned to Nia, “shall see you out. You are still a guest here, and we accompany our guests to their carriages, regardless of their capabilities to manage on their own.”
Outside the parlor, Nadira bade Nia a clipped, polite farewell before parting for the dining hall, while Ari and Nia (with Lazarus always nearby, if not readily noticeable) made for the front entrance.
“My deepest apologies,” he said once they reached the door to her carriage. “I have not adequately prepared you for my mother. That could not have been easy for you to endure, but you persisted admirably. I daresay we have even made a bit of leeway. My mother is not easy to sway, but neither is she entirely intractable. She simply needs to build a relationship of trust with you, first. She will come around.” Checking to see if anyone was watching, Ari placed his hands around her waist and drew her close, planting a hungry kiss on her lips. “I have...been yearning to do that all night,” he confessed, pressing his forehead against her own. “And I would love nothing more than to resume with you, but I have a dinner to host. On the eve of your birthday, please arrive two hours before midnight. My mother tends to retire early. Meet me in front of my workshop. Take the back passageway, as we’ve discussed.” Though he loathed doing so, he detached his lusting hands and pulled away. The separation left him cold and stinging, like ripping a scab off a healing cut. “We will continue where we left off. Until then.” With a parting bow, he spun on his heels and headed back to his villa, his steps light, effervescent. In love.
Elespeth hadn’t been prepared for a lesson in morals, ethics, and philosophy, but it was precisely what she could expect from her husband upon confessing her own moral dilemma. The more truth he spoke, the more it resonated with her, and… the guiltier she felt. But, maybe, that was necessary. To feel guilty, to confront it, and to realize where she was going wrong with Nia Ardane. “No. I don’t get to decide who is deserving and who isn’t. My kingdom thought they had the right to decide who was deserving of death: first me, and then… and then, Farrin, when they thought death had come for me on my own terms and stolen their opportunity. I thought… I was different from them. Maybe, I am not. But regardless of whether she’s deserving… you’re right, you know.”
The former knight turned toward the courtyard’s exit, where Nia had rushed out in a hurry as soon as Alster had joined them at the scene. “Something tells me she wants to have it both ways: the security of working for someone who is our enemy, but also, our friendship. And not just friendship, but love, too. She wants both, and sooner or later, she is going to realize she can’t have both. And when that time comes… If we’ve done more for her than Locque has, and she realizes that she is better off with us, then we do have the potential to earn another very powerful ally when the time comes to end this tyranny. Especially if she knows that Canaveris is on our side as well. If Nia Ardane really is in love with him… then she won’t act in such a way that would compromise him. In that sense, it does benefit us to give her what she wants. If you’re right, and community and peace really are her endgame. I…”
Elespeth blew air from between her lips. “I won’t lie: I am not particularly enamored of the idea of befriending someone we might have to turn on, Elespeth. If she ends up seeing us as traitors, and retaliates, then you know I will not hesitate to take her down. We have too much at stake, and too many people relying on us to be lenient if it comes to that. But I suppose… it is up to us to make sure it doesn’t come to that, huh? To make her see that we can provide what she needs, since Locque can’t. If getting along with and being a friend to Nia Ardane is what it will take to win this war...” She hazarded a tight smile. “Then I’d better smarten up and be that friend she’s looking for. But not right now. I can really only handle her in small doses: and between what you’re doing for everyone else, here… I haven’t seen enough of you, lately.”
The ex-Atvanian let herself be drawn into Alster’s touch, both reveling in it but also feeling guilty. So many people needed him right now, among them, Nia and Bronwyn. She hadn’t missed the note of urgency in the Faoladh woman’s voice when she mentioned her brother’s condition, and how she was afraid he was running out of time. How far along had Rowen come in her healing? How much more time did she require? “...I want to be selfish. I know people need you, for so many reasons, all of which are valid. Yet, for the rest of the day, I want you all to myself.” She confessed in a breath, excitement already sparking at her fingertips from their intimate proximity. “But tomorrow… Alster, tomorrow I think you should touch base with Teselin. Bronwyn seems very concerned about Hadwin: and I second her concerns. He’s… losing himself. He doesn’t talk my ear off when I’m around, anymore. And I think we have all given Rowen ample time to show signs of improvement. I know Teselin has seen it, too, when she visits Hadwin. But I’m afraid she’s still too soft to make hard decisions of this nature. Tomorrow: let us see where everyone is at, and help influence a decision from that point. Not only for Hadwin’s sake, but Bronwyn’s. And Teselin’s. Every life our insufferable fear-hunting friend has touched. But that’s for tomorrow."
Stealing another kiss from Alster’s waiting lips, she could feel electricity dance across her skin at contact. She wasn’t sure if it belonged to him or to her, or whether it was a result of the two of them, together; all she knew was that she wanted more. “Fair warning… I can’t guarantee our room won’t go unscathed. again.”
Nia had remedied Ari’s petrified flare-ups so many times before, over the past handful of months, that at this point it required relatively little concentration on her part to restore his flesh and muscle to its original, organic form whenever it fell victim to his curse. The more a Master Alchemist worked with any given individual, the more attuned they became to that individual’s rhythms, in which case it became far easier to detect and remedy abnormalities when a baseline was established. And, of late, Nia Ardane had become very attuned to the Canaveris Lord’s rhythms--intimately so, in fact. By now, she was able to discern a heightened pulse that was influenced by fear, anger, or arousal. She could tell by the temperature of his skin just how stubborn a flare-up was, and she had adapted her methods to best reverse those flare-ups when coming into contact with his person. For every flare-up he suffered, she was becoming more and more capable of dealing with it efficiently, and every subsequent episode seemed to take her less and less time to return him to a state of a man made solely of flesh, blood, and bone.
That said, this event shouldn’t have been any different--and it wasn’t… except for the hawk-like eyes of a distrustful and scrutinizing Nadira Canaveris, who seemed reluctant to allow her to help at all, and only agreed on Ari’s attest to her skills (and because she was currently the only Master Alchemist present to lend assistance; they’d be hard pressed to summon Isidor Kristeva to perform the same service). But this was enough to make Nia nervous, and nerves always got in the way of performing well. Ari’s reassuring wink that this flare-up had somehow been intentional did little to placate her, and her own hands even trembled just a little as they moved along his petrified calf, gradually buffing away the stone to make way for bronze-toned flesh. It took longer, and she felt clumsier, for fear of screwing up could inevitably deliver a self-fulfilling prophecy. And if anything went array now, during what should be such a simple task before Nadira’s eyes… then it would completely annihilate any chance of convincing the Canaveris Matriarch to allow her to go through with her plan. Fortunately, the Master Alchemist’s practiced hands didn’t fail her, save for taking a little longer than usual to deal with the small problem, and when she stepped away to get a better look at Ari’s leg, not a centimeter of stone encasing remained. Thank the gods, she sighed quietly, knowing full well that Nadira Canaveris had probably meant to test her at some point, and Ari had provided that opportunity now, before his mother could shut down the topic of eradicating his curse forever.
“Glad to be of help, Lord and Lady Canaveris.” Nia’s confident smile did not betray the butterflies in her stomach as she bent in a half-bow. “But really, that feat was nothing. I am capable of so much more. I could go into detail of my feats over the years, but you do not strike me as a woman who likes to be told as much as you would rather see it for yourself. So… I can only hope that you will grant me further opportunities to prove myself to you in the near future. With regard to Isidor…” Her smile faltered as she straightened her posture, and rubbed the back of her neck. “If you expect to have him show up to prove himself to you as well, that may take a bit of convincing, and it won’t be on my part, because he has decided that we are not to get along under any circumstances. Hey, you can’t blame the guy for his lack of social skills or desire to improve them: he grew up in a damn tower, hardly knowing what the outside world looks like, and didn’t even leave it when his master died. In fact, the only reason it is possible to secure his help in all of this is because of Alster Rigas. The two of them are good friends; Isidor all but saved his wife’s life not a year ago, and Alster has been doting on him ever since. So as much as I can understand your hesitancy to allow Alster Rigas to take part in all of this… I’m afraid it is rather imperative that we do involve him. Not only because he is the key to obtaining Isidor’s help, but because I can’t think of a more capable mage, and one with knowledge of curses, to help facilitate all of this. I would hope,” she glanced between Ari and his mother, noting one one of them was visibly more open to compromise than the other, “that, in favour of earning Ari the chance to life a full life devoid of worries of turning to stone at the drop of a hat, you could at least temporarily put aside your quarrel with the Rigas family. Alster himself even cited firsthand that he is interested in leaving the past in the past and starting anew on the right foot. He hasn’t even challenge Ari’s rule since being ousted; surely that must count for something?”
Perhaps it did, and perhaps it didn’t. Nia wouldn’t really know until much later, when Nadira Canaveris had ample “evidence” that this plan was worth putting into fruition at all. But… it was a start. The mere fact that the Master Alchemist and Ari had managed to convince the Canaveris Matriarch to be open to further dialogue on the matter was in itself a victory. So Nia chose to take this small victory, for tonight, for it was more than she’d hoped to achieve just moments ago, when Nadira had all but shut the topic down indefinitely. “Of course, I fully understand your need for details and evidence. I have not gone too far on putting anything onto paper as of yet, since Ari informed me we would need your consent, before venturing any further, but you have my word that I will get right on that. And I will see what I can do about getting Alster and Isidor to say and do their part. Although… I’m sure that you realize, meeting with either of them would involve full disclosure of the situation and who it involves. As of yet, Alster has no idea who he has agreed to remove a curse from; I haven’t provided those details, out of respect for discretion on Ari’s part.” That much, she could say with confidence, for in her mind, Nia had been extraordinarily discreet, and wouldn’t have thought for a moment that her gestures had already betrayed everything that her words haven’t. “Of course, allow yourself some time to think on it. But I am not someone who trusts particularly easily… at least, not when it comes down to altering someone’s life for the better. I realize you can only take my word for it, but I wouldn’t have suggested Alster for the job if I didn’t think we could trust him. As for Isidor…” She puffed out her cheeks and blew a breath of air. “Unfortunately, he is our only option, so we’d have no choice but to. But, he’s got no real beef with your family, at least, and doesn’t really benefit from doing any wrong onto you. Not to mention, he likes to boast his moral high ground, so I think it’s safe to say he shouldn’t be a problem. But… I have already kept you too long with my rambling. Thank you, Lady Canaveris, for hearing me out, and do enjoy your dinner!”
Fully prepared to depart the Canaveris villa alone and deflate in the carriage, letting all of the stress of that evening filter out of her pores, Nia was no less delighted by Ari’s insistence to see her out. Having gone an entire evening in his presence without even being able to steal a kiss, for fear Nadira might see, had been disappointing, to say the least. And, evidently, Ari felt the same way. The man who had hardly been able to bring himself to dance with her some months ago now grabbed her waist and pulled her close, into a kiss that said everything words couldn’t. So that small taste of intimacy a few nights ago had awakened an appetite in him that he hadn’t been aware he’d possessed… On one hand, Nia felt damn accomplished! Yet, on the other, she was inextricably frustrated. Because with the return of the Canaveris Matriarch to the villa… where and when might they taste intimacy together again, anytime soon?
“You’re damn right you didn’t prepare me for your mother. She’s not exactly of the persuasive sort, is she?” Nia breathed when their lips parted, a smile still lingering on her mouth in the aftermath. “Honestly… it’s what I expected, though. And I’m surprised she is willing to listen to me at all. I mean, I don’t exactly come across as the trustworthy sort, regardless of who I’m working for, and I can’t blame her for being suspicious that I’d be willing to go to all of this work for someone for so little reward. Well, at least, she can’t see the reward… but I can. I… I hope I didn’t give myself away.” A flush of rouge dusted her cheeks. “I did what you said. Acted like myself and only responded in honesty, but man, for a second there, I thought that I was going to have to come right out and say it to make her believe me. That I happen to be very, very fond of you, and I’m willing to go through with this if only for the chance to ascertain that you will be around forever.”
Truth be told, she had completely forgotten about his promise to acknowledge her birthday. It had never been an event celebrated or one deemed worth celebrating in the past, so the entire notion was very new to her. And as much as she saw no sense in celebrating the fact she was getting older, and aging at twice the rate that Ari was, she couldn’t deny that any further opportunities to visit him again, and soon, were enticing. “So you really do want me sneaking around. I like the sounds of this.” Nia smirked, and cupped the back of his neck with your hand. “Two hours to midnight? You can bet on it. I have no idea what you have in mind, or how you think you’re going to pull the wool over your mother’s eyes… but this could possibly be the most excitement I’ve felt in a long time. So,” she stole one final kiss before pulling away, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I’ll see you then. I’m loving this side of you, Ari… You’re a bigger rebel than I pegged you for!”
Nia had never looked forward to her birthday. She couldn’t remember a time she’d ever looked forward to any celebration--except, perhaps, the winter Solstice, when she and her sisters would sneak out after dark completely unbeknownst to their mother, and witness the strange phenomenon that they called the solstice fireflies, little lightning bugs that strangely only ever showed up on that very eve, once each yet. But that hadn’t so much been a celebration as much as a ritual. Even Celene, the favourite child and the one who was supposed to have carried the Ardane name on her shoulders following the conclusion of her training, had never been dignified with a birthday celebration. Felyse has deemed such festivities a waste of time, money, and resources, and none of the Ardane children had ever known any better to question it, despite that they were aware other children basked in these very luxuries that they did not. None of them had ever pitied themselves about it, though; it simply was what it was, and there seemed little point in bemoaning what one had never experienced in the first place.
That said, Nia wasn’t exactly sure what the Canaveris lord would have in mind for that evening in late spring, just two hours before midnight, as he’d suggested. Certainly, throwing one of his extravagant parties would be too obvious. Asleep or not, Nadira Canaveris was no fool, and the Master Alchemist even wondered if she would pick up on anything about Ari’s demeanor that day in preparation for this secret rendez-vous, prior to retiring for the evening. However, it was the very danger in the possibility of being caught that made all of this so thrilling… and, intentional or otherwise, Nia Ardane had always been drawn to danger.
A carriage would have been too conspicuous, so as soon as darkness fell that evening, the Master Alchemist borrowed a single Night Steed from the stables and set out for the D’Marian settlement. Upon her arrival, she left the beast to rest and eat at a public stable at the center of the settlement, and walked the rest of the way to the D’Marian villa, taking care to travel via the back passageway to Ari’s workshop. In her anticipation, she hadn’t had the foresight to don her heavy invisibility cloak, but the energy required to maintain its effects might have drained her before she arrived. And she wanted all of her energy reserved for her time with Ari.
Sure enough, the Canaveris lord waited for her just outside the doors of his workshop, to which no one but himself had access. Nia pushed back the hood of her ordinary riding cloak, and crept up behind him, greeting him with a kiss just behind his ear. “I’m here, as per your request. What--who did you think would be sneaking up to kiss you? Are the other women I should be aware of?” She grinned, struggling to stifle a chuckle at how she’d mildly startled him with her stealthy entrance. “So, then, what did you have in mind for this evening, Lord Canaveris? Hopefully nothing to remind me of my age.”
Despite prioritizing Elespeth and her needs for the day, a decision he felt Hadwin would have supported anyway, Alster never abandoned his case for the errant faoladh. Since he, Teselin, and Bronwyn tinkered around in his fear-abundant mindscape, Hadwin had stabilized, but it was of the conditional kind that did not improve his situation more than it bought him time—time, which wouldn’t favor its unfortunate captor for much longer. His poorly status continued to stump professional healers and Gardeners, who oft investigated his baffling symptoms by poring over inconclusive blood samples, refining failed Night Garden tonics, and targeting healing waves of energy to affected areas, to no significant or long term change. At most, the combination of methods offered temporary relief, but nothing curative and with promises to cure.
For the last few days, Alster was at a loss on how to proceed. Every idea he implemented, modified, or suggested sloughed off the resistant faoladh like oil off a duck’s wing. Nothing was lasting enough to penetrate his stubborn layers of bone, muscle, and tissue. Apt, he thought, that Hadwin Kavanagh’s actual cells behaved exactly like the whole of him at his worst: profoundly self-destructive. At this stage, if Galeyn’s best efforts, its countless teams containing every possible healing discipline, weren’t enough, then there currently existed no other way to save him. Except for one.
To gain perspective, Alster checked on the accounts from the Gardeners and Breane pertaining to Rowen Kavanagh’s recovery progress. All reports gave hopeful signs of exponential growth. With her proximity to the sanctuary, paired with the young Gardener’s gift of treating emotional rather than physical scars, Rowen’s prognosis remained optimistic for the future. Yet…
Were they to reunite the faoladh murderess with her fears, would her potential for redemption plummet her back into the bottom of her fathomless well, where darkness reigned and darkness preyed? Or had she developed enough coping techniques and resilience to prepare for the figurative plunge? Whether the answer was yes or no, if Hadwin didn’t rectify his situation soon, then his projected odds for survival ranked at the upper end of bleak.
Having exhausted every possible angle and technique (not to mention scanning practically every medical text in the library), and fast running out of options, Alster, defeated, gathered Hadwin’s friends and relations (among whoever was available) to meet him in the infirmary for a last-ditch persuasive effort. He recruited Elespeth, Bronwyn, Briery, and Teselin, a simple enough feat. Considering the rate at which they frequented the infirmary, their routes had become predictable.
“We can’t let him dally anymore. Please, you have to help me convince him,” came his entreaty. The group loosely surrounded his bed to prevent overcrowding. Though Hadwin was asleep, the severity of his headaches usually prevented him from sleeping for more than an hour at once. Sleep for him mainly consisted of stringing naps together of various sizes. While he slept the majority of the day, helped along by Night Garden remedies, sleep seldom adhered, nor sated, and he would awaken, feeling neither rested nor relaxed. “The longer he waits, the more likely he’ll lose too much of his awareness before he has the chance to return Rowen’s fears. As is, he can’t even keep his eyes open for more than a few seconds. Teselin,” he faced the young summoner, who, whenever in Hadwin’s presence, always looked to be on the verge of tears, “you’ve had the most contact with Rowen these past weeks. Do you think she’s ready for the transfer?”
But before she could provide an answer, Hadwin’s brow twitched and a low moan rose from his throat, signaling his return to the realm of consciousness. “...I hear you all chattering over my head,” he slurred, his words slow, puttering, and hard to manage. “This better be a party and not a funeral. M’not dead yet. Or,” his mouth twitched in confusion, “...maybe I am. Waking up always feels that way, y’know. Like death. Wake up to die, sleep to live. Can’t keep track anymore. Everything flip-flops too much. Say,” He sniffed the air, a futile effort, “who’s here? Still can’t smell for shit.”
“Your regulars,” Bronwyn said. “Me and Alster, Elespeth, Briery, and Teselin.”
“But all at once? You all looking to frolic around in my head again?” He released a melodramatic sigh. “Buncha masochists.”
“Ok, we’re going to need you to take what we’re about to say seriously.” Bronwyn counteracted her brother’s sigh with one of her own, and its authenticity seemed to reach his awareness. He frowned, concentration plying his sweaty brow. Over the weeks of bedrest, he had grown terribly pale, his athletic form shriveled and gaunt, and his hair grown-out past his nape in a bird’s nest of tangles. For someone who valued his roguish appearance, he would hate to see himself in a mirror.
“You don’t have to say anything. I’m not that far gone.”
“Alright. If you know so much already, then what the hell are you going to do about it?” She crossed her arms, an attitude that translated from non-verbal to verbal. He heard the threatening underpinnings alive in her roiling voice and pulled his lips into an amused smile.
“Aw, you sound cute, Bron. Now there’s the big sister energy I’ve been missing all these years!”
“You’re impossible,” she cursed under her breath. “What are you going to do about Rowen, Hadwin? You can’t wait on this anymore. Your health is too important to gamble away. And if you’re worried she won’t be able to handle the return of her fears, Teselin can fill you in on her progress. She’s doing better. Much better. And she’s in the sanctuary, with direct contact to the greatest confluence of Night Garden energies in all of Galeyn. If she can’t handle her fears now, she’ll never be able to. There’s never going to be a good time, and I know you know this.” She bared her teeth, a flash of righteous, pinioned anger. “What more do you have to prove? You can’t surmount your condition on your own. You tried; everyone tried. We’ve done all we possibly can! No dumb luck is going to help you out of this mess!”
Following Bronwyn’s impassioned speech, Alster’s approach was much calmer and proactive. Persuasion meant little without direction, without a plan. And he had a plan. “I’ve spoken to some Gardeners. They agree that you should be moved into the sanctuary, to ensure your condition doesn’t deteriorate beyond the point of regulating. You’ll be with Rowen. If she sees how bad off you’ve become, Hadwin, and if she’s really come so far, as Breane has claimed, then she may make the decision on her own if it will spare you pain. And since the two of you will be together, you’ll be able to support her through the difficult transition once you recover. I’ve gone ahead and made the arrangements on your behalf. You’ll leave for the sanctuary tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow morning? Gotcha.” A surprising response, coming from the usually combative faoladh who argued even if he agreed with you. At his most cooperative, a normal response would fall along the lines of, ‘Well it sounds like you decided for me, Al, so I guess I have no choice, huh?’ In its place, he received a Hadwin who accepted the call without fuss. But instead of filling Alster with relief not to wrestle him in a round of verbal fisticuffs, it filled him with trepidation and unease. The fighting spirit so alive in even Hadwin’s bleakest iterations seemed to atrophy alongside his body. He had reached his threshold, and was too tired to test those limits when he’d already reached his limit weeks ago. “And you all agree. How about you, scamp?” His head turned imperceptibly in Teselin’s direction. “You’re in charge of my wellness or some shit. And you’ve been monitoring Ro. What’s your take? Because if you agree to it, yeah, I’ll bite.”
After bidding Nia a fond farewell, Ari mentally steeled himself for the next few days, not only in eager anticipation for Nia’s return, but in preparation for shouldering the brunt of his mother’s wrath. That night, she spared him a reprisal due to a fortunate combination of travel fatigue and reuniting with her seven grandchildren during dinner, a tranquilizing effect she carried to bed and well into the morning. But come mid-afternoon, the afterglow of homecoming fizzled to charcoal, prompting her to arrange a meeting of “Utmost preeminence” amid his busy schedule, stressing how it absolutely must not wait. To placate her lest she reject Nia’s proposal—and in so doing, reject Nia—he postponed his appointment with the city laborers and invited her into the parlor for a light lunch of breads and cheeses.
“Tell me what happened, Ari,” she said, no lead-up, no preamble. Straight and to the point. “How did this Master Alchemist first come to learn of your condition? If she touched you without permission—“
“—No, nothing of the sort. In fact, it was rather an accident.” Eviscerating the details, he extracted a bare-bones account of the night of his disastrous dinner party and the subsequent destruction of Chara Rigas’s statues, following which he slipped and almost fell into a roaring fireplace. “Moments before, a flare-up petrified my foot, upsetting my balance. She caught me by the arm, thereby saving me from taking an unceremonious spill into the hearth behind us. Her uncanny abilities informed her of my unstable biological makeup and...well, my secret was exposed.”
“Even so, you trust her? Trust her to make good on her promises, trust her not to botch your operation on purpose, and trust her not to reveal this information to our detractors?”
“Let me answer your three-fold question with another question.” Ari poured her a strawberry-thick beverage from a pewter decanter and placed it into her waiting hand. “How were you able to trust that the Master Alchemist who freed me from my encasement of stone would triumph in the endeavor?”
“Because he was a man who could be bought, and threatened if need be. To have a client as influential as the Canaverises meant, should he deliver on his promises, he would receive lifelong stability, funds, and favoritude within our fold, a promise worth a great deal to a maligned and oft-persecuted practice. Miss Ardane, in contrast, is a woman of questionable affiliations. She claims loyalty to her Majesty, yet in the same breath, prostrates herself to the Canaveris name. If she does not identify wholly as Queen Locque’s retainer, who, then, does she represent, and what does she stand for?” The goblet of wine hovered in her hands, it’s contents untouched. “I cannot in good faith rely on someone so fickle. And my, does she have an overinflated opinion of herself, marketing her skills as superior to that of a Master Alchemist she has never met, the same Master Alchemist responsible for the monumental feat of saving your life.” She looked across the chaise, to Ari, her eyes softening. “Yes, to eliminate your curse is a wondrous thing, and I wish nothing more for you than to be well, Ari, but she cannot compare her hypothetical contributions as life-saving. She is but improving your quality of life. Therein lies the distinction. As for the status of my decision, I shall withhold my approval, but I shall also grant her opportunities to win my support and trust. This is the extent of my clemency, Ari.”
After they both agreed on this conservative course of action as the best compromise between two differing matters of opinion, Ari, curiosities too stimulated to ignore,’ deposited his half-nibbled cheese wedge on the table and regarded his mother with the tilt of the head. “Mama...whatever became of the Master Alchemist who saved my life? Miss Nia seemed to imply that he perished in the act.”
“And heavens, I wish she would have ceased flapping her gums in lieu of stoking her engorged ego. Oh, how my fingers itched to strike her,” a snap of anger twitched at her brow, twitched at her fingers, “I had wished to spare you the details; you should not have to live with the burden of knowing the sacrifices that were made to maintain your life—none of which, might I add, are your fault. Alas, there is no hiding the truth after the heinous woman spilled it. Indeed, the man perished as a direct result of stabilizing your condition. And there is not a day I do not honor his legacy and contribution. He brought you back to me, Ari, a priceless gift I may never hope to repay, even if I should live several lifetimes.” Featherlight, she cupped her hand over his cheek, her countenance struggling to maintain its slate of placidity. “If she should insult that man in my presence again, I shall well and truly enter my boot firmly into her posterior and bar her from ever setting so much as a finger on this property. There is a reason I never supported the Ardane branch of Master Alchemists, and she certainly lives up to that reason. They are truly the Rigases of Master Alchemy.”
Nadira’s conversation so preoccupied Ari’s idle thoughts, that he hardly noticed when Nia crept up from behind him in the night, during the appointed time and place of their rendezvous.
“Ah, my apologies, Nia. I feel a fool to startle before expected company.” A sheepish smile removed the pensive stare from his dark eyes as he bowed his greetings deep and from the waist. “Many felicitations on this, your day of birth.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles, a mere brush, a tease, which showed on his smiling lips. “Come with me, to somewhere more private. There, we shall feel safer to...express ourselves on a more thorough level.”
Beckoning her to follow, Ari turned, going neither inside his workshop nor to the villa, but beyond, towards a promontory of rocks, an unnatural formation created from mining the mountainside for ore and other materials. By the glow-worm green light that emitted from a bioluminescent stone in his hand, Ari led Nia down a shallow incline until they stood at the half-dome shaped base of the mountain. Stretching out a hand, he pressed it firmly against a flush section of wall, which crumbled his touch, revealing a tunnel running into the mountainside.
“Inside contains a project I’ve been steadily working on since settling in the D’Marian village,” he explained, acknowledging the confusion (and excitement) in Nia’s eyes. “And, well, see for yourself.”
The moment they crossed the threshold, the cave awakened in a flutter of illumination, awash in sea greens and mottled blues that emanated from glow stones imbued in the coarse rock. This strategic placement reflected off a conglomerate of seashells and colored glass, a mosaic display that hung from the ceiling like prismatic stalactites, projecting undulating auroras at their feet. Carved into the walls were complex designs, spiral seashells and stylized sea stars outlined in cobalt blue light, a rich contrast amid the subtle splash of pastel blends. At the tunnel’s end, two marble statues of eggshell white shone with their own ethereal brilliance. Flecks of embedded mica lent aid to spark, star-like, beneath the statues’ powder-fine surfaces. The statues depicted two women, twin water bearers crouching by a pool to empty their pitchers, diaphanous skirts billowing wide. Trickles of water dripped from the pitchers in small, steady streams, revealing their function: a fountain, fed by a wellspring of nearby groundwater. In front of the fountain, two plush cushions, a folded blanket, a decanter of blush-colored wine, and accompanying goblets welcomed the visitors.
“Welcome to the grotto.” He swept out a hand in a dramatic flourish. He invited Nia to sit and partake in the wine, if she so desired. “My magnum opus in progress. Every day, I endeavor to add a little more to it, with the hope of eventually unveiling it to the D’Marian citizens as a public sanctuary. Presently, I’ve a long way to go before deeming it ‘complete.’ In an ephemeral sense, it will never be truly complete. It is an evolving creation, constantly changing form based on the fancies of its creator. Whimsical definitions aside, I do not make a habit of revealing an unfinished product to any personage, but in the spirit of this special evening, I decided to make a very rare exception. Seeing as no one else knows of its existence also contributed to my decision a fair amount. Let us keep this a secret between you and I, shall we?” he positioned a shushing finger over his lips and sealed their promise with yet another conspiratorial wink.
“Now, before we commence festivities—modified and truncated as they are—I must offer you your first gift.” From his pocket, he pulled out a drawstring pouch of crushed purple velvet and dropped it into her outstretched hand. “They are candied almonds, a delicacy in Stella D’Mare. Because of their smooth, outer coating, they are sometimes referred to as ‘sugar pearls.’ They are a tradition, said to promote good health and longevity when consumed on one’s birthday. I’ve taken the liberty of removing a few from the bag so the total number does not reflect your physical age. I understand it to be a sore point with you, at this time. So,” he enthusiastically clapped his hands together, “many happy returns on this, your twenty-second year, Nia.”
Every day she stopped in to see Hadwin was becoming harder and harder for Teselin. It was to the point where she never went alone, anymore; either she accompanied Elespeth, or Briery, for fear that if she were left alone, she’d crumble to tears at his diminishing appearance (although she never visited when Bronwyn was there, but that was a battle she simply hadn’t the energy to fight). So when Alster called for an impromptu meeting the next day, involving everyone who had emotional stakes in Hadwin’s health, the young summoner knew that the very conversation she’d been avoiding for weeks was finally facing her--and of course, it came down to her, because she had been the go-between for Hadwin and Rowen. Not only that, but she was involved first-hand not only in Hadwin’s recovery, but also Rowen’s. And with the knowledge she brought to the table… there was no longer any room to procrastinate. What needed to be said, needed to be said.
“Rowen… is still Rowen.” She replied in response to Alster’s question. “But she’s… honestly, I initially had little faith I’d ever see a difference in her, but there is a difference. Recently, she confronted Haraldur, and he let her have it. Told her everything she didn’t want to hear, and she just stood there and took it. She visited the memorials of those whose deaths she was directly responsible for. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but she wants to change. And Breane says the outcome looks good. I…” Teselin looked from the floor to Hadwin and back again. She had promised him that she would make this decision if he was unable. And it was time for a decision to be made.
“If I am being honest, there is no telling what returning her fears will do to her now, but Bronwyn is right. There isn’t going to be a ‘good’ or ‘ideal’ time to return what she dreads the most. What I can say for sure is that Breane is optimistic about the strides Rowen has taken, and she does have a lot of support… She is in the best position, now, to repossess her fears and learn not to let them rule her. I’m being honest, Hadwin.” She spoke her reassurances directly to the bedridden faoladh. “I wouldn’t say this if I didn’t think Rowen had a chance of shouldering her fears without becoming who she once was. I’ll discuss with Breane tonight. We can talk more about this in the morning.”
But this was not the only company to visit Hadwin that day. After that morning, when they left him to rest for the remainder of the day, another unexpected presence made himself known that night, in-between one of Hadwin’s many naps. The necromancer Vitali did not invoke stealth, and made no means to disguise or diminish his entry. When the faoladh called out, asking who meant to bother him at such an ungodly hour, the well-loathed necromancer was happy to reply.
“And here they were saying your condition dulled your senses. Not too much I see; that’s a good thing.” Crossing the room, Vitali situated himself against the wall, facing Hadwin’s cot without seeing him through the blindfold. He had certainly adapted well to lack of eyesight, to the point where it didn’t seem much like a handicap at all. “Word travels fast in this place. You’re finally giving in and giving up your sister’s fears; noble move on your part. And, as I am sure many people I’m sure will agree, the right move. After all, she’s not the only young lady who desperately needs you in her life.”
Hadwin, however, wasn’t much in the mood for a conversation; and this suited Vitali just fine, for there was some risk in what he was doing now, speaking so openly when Locque’s ears were everywhere. He knew better than to exchange literal words, but any words could be parsed as suspicious. “By all means, your time is, of course, precious. I simply need you to know this, he-wolf: any fool can smell the change in the air. It is coming, and coming fast, to the benefit of many, and the detriment of few. And this is something from which I’m afraid we cannot protect my younger sister. Teselin… you know, of course, she is of the sensitive sort. Sometimes, abrupt change can be detrimental to her… and the people around her, if you know what I mean. Kavanagh,” the necromancer stepped away from the wall and leaned over Hadwin’s caught, “I’ll need you to be there for her. Don’t let her lose herself. Even if that means breaking your own sister’s heart… I’m afraid there is no other option but for you to be there for mine. You’ll understand in the end.”
And just like that, without any further explanation, Vitali swept out of the room with more stealth than he’d entered it. The door didn’t even make a sound as it shut on his way out.
“Ah, don’t be too hard on yourself. After all, I’ve gotten pretty good at sneaking around undetected.” Nia winked and squeezed his shoulder, the mischief in her eyes betraying the fact she’d intended to sneak up on him for this very reaction all along. She loved seeing the rouge blush that spread across his nose and cheeks when he was frazzled. It was endearing to see his carefully spoken confidence shaken up just a little by being taken by surprise; she couldn’t help but be drawn to it.
But it was her turn to flush almost imperceptibly in the moonlight when he drew her hand to his lips to plant a chaste kiss upon it. Treating her as if she were actually someone of prestige, who was worthy of a bow or a kiss upon her knuckles. This was just the way Ari was, though; it was in his nature to want to make people feel welcome and significant. Even after all this time, treated again and again like some esteemed guest in his presence, Nia hadn’t gotten used to it--but she didn’t hate it. “So where are we off to on this fine evening? I guess your workshop would be a little too obvious for a clandestine rendezvous, even if you are the only person with the key… Consider me intrigued!”
Without further question, Nia followed him in a direction far past his villa and workshop, and toward what appeared to be a mining formation in the mountainside overlooking the D’Marian settlement. When at last he stopped, it appeared as though they had encountered a dead end, with nowhere else to go but to turn back. For a moment, the Master Alchemist wondered if he had somehow managed to confuse where he was going in the cover of darkness, with only the green witchlight of the stone in his hand to light their way. The question fell away from her lips before it was spoken as soon as the Canaveris lord lay a hand upon the rock wall… and caused it to crumble away, exposing a dark tunnel leading deep into the mountainside. She couldn’t help but laugh in surprise. “Well I’ll be. Didn’t see that one coming! Though perhaps I should have. Not like I wasn’t already aware of your ability to crumble rock with a single touch.” She admitted, leaning forward to peer into the darkness. “A project, you say. It must be one hell of a project if you aren’t able to work on it in the comfort of your workshop. Now, I’m really trusting that this isn’t some trick. I won’t happen to find some dangerously exquisite Galeynian beast in this cave, will I? It’d be a pretty rotten thing to do to try and off a girl on her birthday.” Nia was, of course, only joking… although the unintended tightness around her eyes betrayed that this possibility had, in fact, crossed her mind. Even for one as genuine as Ari, who’d already had ample opportunity to do away with her if that been his intention all along (how many glasses of wine had he had the opportunity to poison?), it was impossible to shake that cloying What If that nagged at the back of her mind, like uncomfortable fabric rubbing against an old scar.
To show that she was nonetheless convinced that this was the case, Nia didn’t hesitate to follow Ari into the cave, keeping close to him not only because he held their only light source, but for other, entirely selfish reasons, such as the simple desire for proximity.
They were not in the dark for long. Not too far into the tunnel, an aquamarine glow up ahead beckoned them forward, toward what could only be described as entirely, one hundred percent, a perfect work of art. Nia almost felt the urge to squint her eyes against the brilliance of this manmade grotto, the way the tiny lights reflected off of coloured glass and polished seashells. And the intricate designs weren’t even the focal point. Toward the end, a pair of beautiful twin women carved from marble crouched before an expansive, flowing fountain, whose water source was for a moment a mystery to Nia, until she touched her bare fingertips to the cave floor. Underground springs… And Ari had brought the water to the surface. He had brought this entire cave to life with his artistic touch. Even she, a Master Alchemist capable of manipulating all forms of matter and bending them to her will, couldn’t have achieved this. She wasn’t an artist; she didn’t have an eye for aesthetic the way Ari did. A work of art this truly was.
“Unfinished? So you’ve done this much already, and there’s still more?” The Ardane woman whistled, the high pitched sound of surprise echoing back to her ears off the cave walls. “Well, consider me at a loss for words. I’ve never seen anything quite like this; probably never will again. If it were me, I’d want to give in to being selfish and keep this gem all to myself. But you’re a man of your people; I understand why you’ll want to share the wealth, eventually. Still… I appreciate the private viewing. This is a better birthday gift than I could’ve imagined!”
Picking up a goblet, Nia accepted a fill of wine, and even paused after taking a sip; completely uncharacteristic of someone who was known to down a glass in just a few gulps. “This… what wine is this? It’s amazing! Better keep it out of my reach, because I can see myself getting a little carried away with that bottle. This is absolutely lovely, Ari. And… what are these?” She lowered her goblet and accepted the tiny pouch he offered, and tipped some of the contents into her hands. Tiny white ovals tumbled into her palm. “Sugar and almonds? Can’t go wrong with that. Birthday traditions always intrigue me. Never heard of eating almonds as a birthday treat, but… here’s to longevity, right?” Nia chuckled and popped an almond into her mouth, savouring the sweet flavour as it rolled around on her tongue.
“I also don’t imagine that many people aspire to spend their birthdays sneaking into a secret grotto in the middle of the night, but… considering this won’t be kept a secret for very long, it might not happen again. So let’s enjoy the privacy while we have it.” Setting the almonds aside for the time being, the Master Alchemist took a seat upon one of the cushions deliberately placed next to the fountain, and patted the one next to her to invite Ari to join her. “I never celebrated my birthday as a child… or anytime after, really. To be honest, I was always curious as to what they were all about. I always pictured bright and lavish parties with cake and guests and a tower of gifts wrapped in colourful paper, but… odd as it sounds, as much as I adore parties, I never really saw the need for them on the day that you turn a year old. One year closer to death… really morbid, isn’t it? You’ll have to forgive the dark places my mind takes me.”
With a self-deprecating chuckle, Nia sipped again from her goblet, fixing her brown eyes on the flecks of mica along the cave floor that sparkled in the witchlight. “I never had birthday celebrations, but I never missed them, either. One of the few things that other people had that I didn’t yearn for in my restricted upbringing. We didn’t celebrate being born; we only celebrated accomplishments. On the occasion, I’d conjure up a gift or two for my sisters on their birthdays to try and pretend there’s some sense of normalcy in my family, but they didn’t reciprocate. I didn’t really expect or want them to. In fact, this,” she spread her arms to indicate the sparkling grotto, the wine, the sweet almonds, “is the only other ‘gift’ I’ve ever received on behalf of being born. The first was… was my necklace.” Nia reached for her throat and cupped the unsightly, jagged steel pendant that left dents in her fingers if she squeezed too hard. “Celene gave this to me one year for my birthday, completely out of the blue. I didn’t expect it; I didn’t understand why she was giving it to me. It was on my birthday, but I know it wasn’t for my birthday. Of course, I adored it--still do. But it gave me… immediately, I just got this really bad feeling. And it was only a few weeks later, after Celene left to work with a client, that we received a message of her passing. That was when I realized why she had given it to me in the first place. She gave it to me because… somehow, I think she knew. Why else would she have asked me to survive, if she didn’t know? It’s all too uncanny…”
Following that observation, Nia fell silent for a moment afterward, brown eyes fixed on the glimmering, dark ceiling of the grotto. When Ari finally asked after her lack of words, with a concerned furrow in his brow, she shook her head and smiled. “Oh, I’m fine. Just… remembering. The little flecks of mica, the way they catch the light… They sort of resemble fireflies, the way the light catches them, and they flicker in and out. Fireflies happen to be near and dear to me. Have you ever heard of Ilandria’s Solstice Lights?” Of course, having not grown up in the kingdom of blades as she had, he was not familiar, so she proceeded to explain. “This weird phenomenon occurs on the Winter Solstice in Ilandria where, on the eve of the Solstice, deep in the woods, you’ll find at least a hundred fireflies flickering in the dark of night. Totally out of season, and they don’t show up any other time of year; just that particular time in the winter. Since it’s all so weird and no one can understand it, there’s an old wives tale that they’re not actually flies at all--they’re wishes.” The luminescent witchlight caught her own eyes when she looked to Ari, and they glimmered with childlike excitement at the memory. “Rumour has it, if you catch one in a jar, make a wish on it, then put that jar on your windowsill overnight, if in the morning you find it empty, then you have caught a wish, and it will come true. If you find a fly… well, then you’ve only caught an ordinary bug, and good luck next time.”
Sipping thoughtfully on her wine, she pressed her shoulder against Ari’s and returned her gaze to the ceiling, captivated by the sparkles. “When I heard about the rumour in town one day, I told Celene, and I begged her to come with me to catch some of those wishes on Solstice Eve. I think she thought it was ridiculous, but… she did it, with me. Later, when Palla was a little older, she came along, too. We’d sneak out in the dead of night, and trudge through the woods with snow up to our thighs trying to catch these lightning bugs-turned-wishes. I can’t remember if I actually caught any, but that’s not important. It was just… I think it was the best time of my childhood. One of the only chances we ever got to be children. When our fingers and noses grew too cold and we couldn’t stop our teeth from chattering, we’d take our jars, sneak by inside as quietly as we left, and steal chocolate tea from the kitchen. We drank it in Celene’s room, but we were so damn cold from being outside that we just ended up huddled together in her bed until morning. Never even got in trouble for it; I don’t think my mother ever caught on to what we were up to, and if Celene said it was fine for us to sleep next to her, then Felyse wouldn’t say a word against her favourite child. Just one night of the entire year… but it got me through. Looking forward to it as early as the summer got me through more difficult times. I never stop thinking about it when winter comes around again; always gives me the urge to go back out on the Solstice and see if I can find those damn bugs. But it’s a phenomenon exclusive to Ilandria; I know I won’t find them. So I just don’t try.”
With her free hand, Nia covered one of Ari’s, brushing her fingertips over his knuckles. “If you had to get me anything for my birthday, then this is absolutely the best gift I could ask for. Not just bringing me back to such a cherished memory, but making another one. Here’s another moment I get to hold onto, forever… Another weapon in my arsenal for when times are hard. I’m not sure how many more opportunities I’ll have to find myself in a glittering grotto with a man I’m very much attracted to.” With a smirk on her lips, Nia closed the breath of distance between them to steal a slow, sensual kiss from the person who was very quickly and very thoroughly becoming the shining star in her dark, night sky.
“Then there’s no beating around the bush anymore, huh?” Hadwin’s smile was one of finality, a halfhearted ghost of the original, which would typically split his face in half and flaunt his brilliant canines to the point of derangement. However much he failed to deliver a modicum of his bombast and poise, a crinkle of something creased around his closed eyes. In certain lights, it resembled relief. For the first time in weeks, he saw an end that looked promising. Cautious optimism notwithstanding, there was a chance of getting everything he wanted out of his health-risk misadventure, one of his boldest and ballsiest gambles to date. And oh, how he swam in his fair share of them! But he could count on one hand few things riskier, more potentially loss-heavy and disastrous, to himself and to others, than losing Rowen permanently to the darkness he worked lifelong to prevent. If he could harbor her fears for longer, he’d do so in a heartbeat, but the major problem lay in self-sustainability. No person was equipped to survive what he’d endured the past several weeks. Not for a lifetime. Who would willingly choose it, a life of a permanent bed-warmer, medical curiosity, and resource guzzler who suffered not only excruciating pain at every turn, but the pain of loved ones looking on, devastated and helpless to watch the slow deterioration into nothing? And yet, he chose it. Chose sickness, confident in his ability to pay the price while forgetting to factor in the steepest price of all. He could push through if need be—granted, at the expense of everyone’s sanity. His regressed teenage self was no walk in the park to treat. But could Teselin push through? Could Briery?
“So we’re doing this, then?” For the first time in some days, a shadow seemed to lift from Hadwin’s troubled brow, paving the way for the allowance of hope. And with it opened the floodgates of his requisite chattiness. “Well, phew to that. I’ve been sweating it out for weeks, here. It’ll be good to get on my feet again. Y’know, if it’s as you claim. And I ain’t gonna dispute your claims, Tes! Gotta give me credit, though. I really held out. And I could have kept going, too!” His reassurances fell a little flat when his failing body couldn’t collaborate on the tail he spun. Nonetheless, his chest looked puffier, inflating on nothing more than the might of self-delusion, a powerful supplement that nourished him when food was scarce. “Say what you will about your contributions, I mean, I ain’t gonna poo-poo them cuz I’d be far worse without everyone’s tag-team efforts, but they would’ve meant shit if I wasn’t holding up the fort over here. If there’s one takeaway to be had from this little journey, it’s that I’m a damn beas—“ He spoke too much, and too soon. As punishment for overexerting himself and forcing too much strain on his throat, he devolved into a series of choking coughs so severe, the water Alster tried to feed him dribbled uselessly down his chin. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how one interpreted the situation), the cough escalated his ever-present headache to levels far too acute to process while conscious. And so, with one last-ditch hack, (which dislodged whatever spittle caught in his throat), Hadwin lolled back into temporary lifelessness.
When he came to again, some hours later, it was to the sound of approaching footsteps. If darkness had a sound, he would attribute that sound to Vitali Kristeva, a man so comfortable with the shadows that he never bothered to remove his blindfold, not even to check if the Night Garden’s light-sensitive curse ceased affecting his eyes. He embodied the whispers of bat wingbeats.
“Hm. Wondered if you’d ever show and wish me happy convalescences,” he said of his visitor, not at all surprised by his arrival. No one was immune to fear and Vitali was no exception, though he hid it expertly. “But as much as I’d love to shoot the shit with you, I gotta ask you get to the point. My windows of consciousness and lucidity are getting pretty narrow and I probably wasted the lot of it just in saying ‘Hi.’”
The necromancer wasted no time filling him in on what amounted to...a request. Interesting. Where did he think he was going? Wherever the destination, it was somewhere Teselin could not so readily follow without taking very drastic measures. And that was something neither of them wanted.
“I hear you, ghost-whisperer. Leave the scamp to me. I ain’t gonna let her lose her footing if I have anything to do about it. Just don’t forget your own promises, yeah? Oh,” whether spurred on by delirium or dead clarity, Hadwin added, “and tell my mam I said ‘Fuck off.’ She’ll appreciate the joke.”
Following Vitali’s silent departure, Hadwin immediately fell into a feverish half-state. On the cusp between sleep and wakefulness, he assimilated dreams with memories such that he couldn’t parse the imagined from the reality. Did Vitali visit him in the night, or did he fabricate the entire exchange? Was he floating in mid-air, or were people carrying his limp body from one place to the other? He could hear the susurrus of voices surrounding him, muttering his name amongst themselves, prodding him with cold hands and cold instruments. Meanwhile, his mind separated from his body and twisted the air in an ever-spiraling limbo, entering some distortion world of mirrors where he saw familiar people and places, but not as they appeared.
He was standing, swaying, before the Missing Links’ caravan. A crowd closed in on him, shouting their demands.
“Do it, do it!” They roared, bulbous hands inflating into unstable cysts, puss oozing and ready to burst.
“Give the people what they want, Hadwin.” Briery said beside him, a deconstructed mess of unattached limbs strewn across the stage. The grotesque abstract somehow handed him a dagger and spun him around to face a painted bullseye on the side of the caravan. Fresh paint coated the target. Fresh paint bled down the splintered surface in sticky globules. The color shifted, introducing Red into his colorblind world of muted, muddy tones. It saturated; it stung his eyes. He squinted against the unrelenting contrast, hardly able to see the shape of someone nailed in place against the center of the drowning target. Rowen.
“Do it, do it,” the crowd wailed. The dagger began to sweat in his vacillating hand. “Don’t you dare miss,” their wails hissed, turning plaintive. Demonic. “Finish what you started.”
A wash of revitalizing energy dispersed the cursed imagery, akin to a fresh breeze wafting away the haze of toxic smoke. Freed from the fumes and his limbo, Hadwin opened his eyes—he found that he could open his eyes—and took in his new environment.
The sanctuary looked as he remembered it; a small, rustic cottage space with walls coated in vines and ivy. In consideration for his sensitive eyes, the curtains had been drawn shut, allowing thin slivers of suffused light to pass through the windows from their heavily-foliaged view of outside.
He was not alone. Rowen sat at a desk across the room, her guarded face drawn in equal parts uncertainty, longing...and fear. And it was precisely what he had feared. In his clumsy attempts to help her, like in old times, he had supplanted one terror for another. Fear of the darkness became fear of receiving the darkness, and the driving force of the latter rivaled the intensity of the former. Nothing...nothing had changed. Fear continued to be her sole motivator; it merely shifted from the right hand to the left, but the body it belonged to was the same. Dammit; he knew better than to believe removing a fear presented a donkey’s lick of a solution! Too simple, too naive. Too doomed to fail. The problem differed at second glance. Instead of worrying about granting her enough time, he should have worried about giving her too much time. Now, weeks removed from the nucleus of her hauntings, she’d adapted to the absence of darkness as the new normal. Was his radical, self-inflicted tactic all in vain?
...He couldn’t make a snap judgement. Not yet.
“I must look like utter shit. Tell me honestly, Ro.” Though it hurt his head to smile, he aligned his teeth into a winning grin. “Can I save my look if I flash enough of my teeth, or is there no distracting folks from my plaguey disposition?”
Rowen kept her eyes trained on the floor “...No, there isn’t.”
Hadwin feigned a balk. “Well you were right quick to answer! Couldn’t spare a few seconds of hesitation for my hurt feelings?”
A courageous breath filled her lungs. “No. But...I have just the thing to complement the look.” She grabbed something from the desk and tucked it behind her back, out of view of his squinting scrutiny. Nearing his bed, she squared her shoulders timidly. “Which...which hand is it in?”
“Ooh, a guessing game! I’m ace at these. Well, kiddo, it’s gotta be your left hand. And don’t pull a fast one on me! I may be crippled and out of sorts, but I can still tell if you’re switching.”
“No...I guess I still can’t pull one over you.” The smallest of smiles touched her lips as she uncovered both hands. Sure enough, in the left, a bulky bundle of fabric unfurled to its full length, revealing its function as a scarf. Though the edges could not agree with each other and disputed their territory in rippling, uncoordinated borderlines, by all definitions, it was a scarf. “It’s red, if you can tell. Here.” She awkwardly wound it around his neck, taking care not to disturb his head in the process.
“Well damn, Ro, you made this?” His eyes lowered to take in the design: amateurish and clunky in execution, but no less heartfelt.
“It’s supposed to be ugly,” she supplied, mumbling into her shirt collar.
“Yeah, you succeeded; and that’s exactly why I love it. Did you take up knitting just to make this?” Rowen nodded mutely. “Aw, kiddo. If my arms could move, I’d throw you into a bone-crushing hug right now, but you’re just gonna have to contend with words.” Damn it. Rowen wasn’t making the next bit easy for him, not when her gift-giving gesture, touching as it was, had the misfortune of rotten timing. But he wouldn’t be manipulated. He already made too many concessions for Rowen, too many compromises...
Even if it means breaking your own sister’s heart…
“Ah, so Ro—“
“—Don’t say it,” she interjected, her slight form tensing in dread, in anticipation for the conversation.
“Well we gotta talk about it, pipsqueak,” he said in as soothing a candor his hoarse voice could muster. “I held out as long as possible. Pushed myself as far as I can go. But I’m reaching my limit. Now it’s your turn to help me. Help me out, Ro. Take back what’s yours. You’ve shown everyone you can handle this. Getting your fears back ain’t the death of progress. The Night Garden’s got you. So do the Gardeners, and so do we. You’re proving that your Sight doesn’t control you or who you wanna be.”
“No...no!” She roared out like a wounded lion, cupping hands to her ears to buffer his words from reaching her. “You’re wrong. I can’t do this if the fears return. I only got this far because they were gone. They stopped standing in my way. You bring them back and it’s...it’s over.”
“Ro,” he clicked his tongue patiently, “nothing’s over. I won’t lie to you, it’ll be a little rough at first to readjust, but you’re in the best possible position for recovery. If you’ve trusted the Night Garden this far, trust that it’ll see you the rest of the way.”
“The Night Garden will see me to my death if I so much as become that person again. You’ll see to my death if you do it. And you do want it, don’t you, Hadwin? For me to die? To kill me?”
“Fuck, Rowen…” He was too unwell to match her intensity or meet her halfway. Patience was steadily slipping. “You think I want to? Think that’s something I happily fantasize about doing? What I want is for you to overcome the pull of your Sight, but that’s something you have to do yourself, for yourself. I can’t be your storage. This was supposed to be temporary. You gave me your word that when the time came, you’d take ‘em back. Well, it’s time.” He blew out a long, forlorn sigh. “I’m winding down. I don’t know how much more I have left in me before I’m nothing more than a vegetable.”
“Then you should have thought twice about doing it. Now pay the consequences!” Before he could get in another word, she ran to the door and flew out of the exit, putting as much distance between her and her brother as possible.
Nia’s throwaway comment elicited a slight frown, marring Ari’s otherwise placid features, but it didn’t last. Nor did it capture the attention of the glow-stone, which, snug in his hand, shone the path ahead and not the face behind. Somewhere beneath her trusting nature lurked equal measures of mistrustfulness, a source about which he knew and understood the origins. As a fugitive wanted dead by the crown of Ilandria, her trust came at a premium, and at the risk of her safety and life. For Nia to invest so much faith in him was an honor not quite deserved. Therein was what caused him significant distress. Here he was, secretly opposing the little stability she managed to achieve by allying with Locque whilst he pretended nothing was amiss on his end. That his affections existed free of the burden of the tyranny Nia helped perpetrate...was a lie. In spite of the tyranny, yes, he fell in love with the wrong person. Again. But just because he allowed his heart to lead didn’t mean he would ignore or forget the reasons he fought.
She was right to question his intentions. So long as Locque remained at large, he and Nia entertained a fantasy. To liberate the fantasy and salvage their relationship as something mature and earned, the truth must prevail. Alas, Ari couldn’t tell her the truth, and it steadily broke him, day after day. I oppose you. I oppose your choice. Because you chose her.
If only they’d met sooner. Before Locque. Before everything. Perchance he might have enticed her to belong to the Canaveris family, instead of to an unstable witch.
Blessedly, his prominent thoughts retreated to the shadows as soon as the cave pulsed from darkness to gentle, lambent light, bringing with it Nia’s wide-eyed wonderment, a reaction Ari cherished. Her childlike delight eclipsed all other light sources, beckoning him to her side like an entranced moth, greedy for its love of the brightest, the warmest thing in its path. “Thank you for that, Nia. I thrive on praise; it is perhaps my most selfish reason for choosing ‘Artist’ as my primary vocation. If it brings people joy, and they express it so...then I have done my duty and I am content. Leadership, on the other hand...it is a tad more volatile an experience. People love and hate you and there exists no consensus on how best to please everyone at once. But I digress.”
Lowering to his knees, he lifted the decanter of wine and poured the blush-colored beverage into the two goblets, resembling, in many ways, the twin water bearers emptying water into the gurgling fountain. He offered her the goblet, as well as the accompanying velvet pouch, and clinked his drink against her own in a toast to the occasion. “I am glad you are enjoying the wine,” he said, savoring the liquid in his vessel with measured half-sips. “It is a special selection. One of few bottles remaining from my Stella D’Mare collection. It is a hibiscus mead. The pomegranate-reminiscent tartness of the hibiscus flower combines with the sweetness of the honey, offering a complex balance of two complementary flavors, no one overpowering the other for dominance. It pairs well with candied almonds; try them together for a rousing combination.”
As they sat and sipped, enjoying the ambiance of the grotto and their hip-to-hip proximity on the cushions, he thumbed the stem of his goblet thoughtfully, meditating on her musings on birthdays and death. “What are birthdays, but a funeral of another year? Yet, are not funerals a ceremony of guests and gifts, offerings of victuals, libations, memorializations shaped as flowers, candles, statues and gravemarkers, and paeans for the deceased? Mayhaps we do not celebrate the advancement of age more than we honor the memory of the year before by laying it to rest, trussed in pomp and exultations. Do so for yourself, Nia. Let rest the year previous, and nourish the year to come.” He raised his goblet for a secondary toast. “To the funeral of another year, and the birth of the next!”
But Nia had much more to reminisce about, concerning birthdays and her placement among her family as a being of worthiness and not so a being of love. The problematic aspects of her austere and utilitarian upbringing notwithstanding, it warmed him to hear her share fond memories of her late sisters despite their lifestyle difficulties. It warmed him all the more to hear why she offered him such a private and treasured moment in her childhood. The grotto, its colored glass and iridescent seashells glittering overhead in variegated shades of greens, purples, and blues, reminded her of the twinkle of Solstice fireflies...and importantly, her sisters. What better compliment could an artist receive than for a viewer to not only announce her deep and intimate connection to the work, but to sublimate it as a masterpiece deserving of a place in the heart, alongside others as rare and dear?
“Then I suppose I have nowhere else to go but down from here on henceforth,” he said, his dark eyes flashing a rich amber in the wink of the fairy lights. “My, have I reached my peak, already? Now you will see me as nothing more than a raging disappointment of potential, the blight of artists everywhere. Be that as it may,” mirth reflected in his honey-toned gaze; mirth and desire, “I can think of no greater hill to die on than this one, for I know you mean what you say—and I am sated with gratitude to have provided you a sanctum of solace and happy remembrances. Until I open the grotto to the public, consider this place your own. You need but ask, and I shall open the cave. And...it may not amount to the same as Solstice fireflies, but summer is nigh, and the standard variety have their season in Galeyn. If I am not impinging on a sacred memory, perhaps you can steal me away into the forest and show me your best methods for capture? Either way, thank you for entrusting me with your story.”
Closing his eyes, he leaned into Nia’s kiss, savoring every drop as one would a fine wine. He tasted it on her, the tang and honey of their shared beverage, and oh how he wanted to press on and forget himself…
“Wait,” he breathed, disengaging from her lips to draw a revitalizing breath. “Before we resume, I do have two more gifts to present. And...well, a request. Nothing perverse,” he spluttered, suddenly self-conscious, “but...I do not wish to ruin your evening and I fear that I will if we resume our carnal relations while I am sober. Call me suspicious, but our successes from a week ago were due in part to my wine-addled mind. To replicate our successes, I feel I should also be adequately intoxicated. Would you mind a brief intermission? I shan’t take long.” To prove his point, he did something rather unlike the sophisticated Lord Aristide Canaveris; he pulled a flask of indeterminate origin from under his well-tailored coat, unscrewed the top, brought the mystery liquid to his lips, and guzzled the acrid, burning drink until forced to stop and clear his sinuses.
“Halfway there,” he croaked, punctuating his progress with a slight cough. “In the meantime, please open your remaining two presents. By your admission, they cannot possibly outdo your enjoyment of the grotto, but nonetheless, I hope you derive some pleasure from these little indulgent tangibles.” From under one of the cushions, he pulled out a small, rolled-up parchment fastened by a trailing, mint-green ribbon festooned with embroidered designs featuring lush red and pink roses woven together by twisting vines. “The contents of this parchment should not surprise you. By special request, you have yourself a portrait of the artist. I rendered it on high-durability parchment, susceptible to the elements and wear so that it may treat you well if ever you are in the midst of travel. The ribbon...you have Sylvie to thank for the addition. She has become quite a gifted embroiderer and...well, little escapes her gossip-attuned ears. She learned of your birthday and wished to contribute a small token. She noticed you occasionally weave your hair to resemble a rose and thought you might find this ribbon a useful accessory.”
Teselin didn’t like the idea, and despite what she had said to Hadwin and the group that surrounded him the other day, she was not at all convinced that Rowen would be able to weather the return of her fears, and continue to make progress the way she had been. The youngest faoladh, for all the promise she’d shown, was still wildly unstable, and not once had she hinted at the fact that she was ready to take back what was hers--the fears that had haunted her all her life.
But seeing Hadwin in his deteriorating state, asleep more than he was awake… Perhaps it was a selfish move on her part, but the young summoner needed him back. So often he had been a pillar of support for her, there to catch her when she fell, that she had realized, in his absence, just how much harder it was going through day to day still suffering her own identity crisis, never knowing if she would know who or what she was, or how she would tame the power that had caused so much destruction. Vitali… well, all the hope she’d invested in reuniting with him had been dashed long ago. He couldn’t help her; perhaps he was telling the truth in that it was beyond his capabilities. But even when she encountered him in the corridors of the palace, the words they exchanged were always brief. For a voluntary blind man, he certainly had his fair share of other priorities that required his full attention. He was never dismissive of her; his smiles were real, as were his words of encouragement. But… it wasn’t the same. Hadwin had sworn a place at her side, and he… he had not. In fact, many a time, it appeared he had better places to be, better causes (or whatever Locque had him up to) to address. Connection by blood did not have to mean anything; perhaps that was the hardest lesson she’d come to learn.
And if that were the case… then Hadwin was her family, and perhaps the only real family she had. For as much as she tried to be close to Isidor, the Master Alchemist, especially of late, had withdrawn himself from the rest of the world. Whatever burdens he was shouldering… she didn’t want to be another one of them.
It was for this reason, for her dedication to Hadwin (just as he had been dedicated to her), that Teselin informed Breane and the other Gardeners of what needed to take place, early that morning. Understandably, the young Gardener was deeply concerned, and felt impelled to weigh in on the matter, herself.
“But Teselin, she is already at such a pivotal point… this could undo all of the progress she has made.”
“That’s a possibility, I realize, but Breane… we have to try. What is the sense in saving one person at the expense of another? Just…” The young summoner sighed, and turned her head at the sound of what had to be Hadwin’s arrival. Gardeners’ and guards’ footfalls, making their way through the Garden and toward the sanctuary with the listless faoladh. “Just, go and see Hadwin for yourself. You’ll understand. But… we should leave it to him to explain. I think it’s best that the two of them talk. After all, beneath all of her damage, Rowen loves him just as he loves her. Maybe he will be able to convince her what is best by some means that no one else can.”
Well… that had been wishful thinking, at best.
Teselin and Breane, among a handful of other Gardeners, waited outside the sanctuary after Hadwin had been moved to a cot. None of them could hear exactly what was being said, so it was difficult to gauge the situation and how well Rowen was taking it all, but that curiosity made itself known the second the youngest faoladh burst out the door of the sanctuary, running straight past her, Breane, and the other Gardeners. “Rowen!” Teselin called, and she did not hesitate to make chase. But Rowen was fast, so fast, and the young summer was hardly able to keep up…
In the end, it all came down to luck; dumb luck, but good luck. Rowen had managed to run well beyond Teselin’s range of vision, but in her hasty flight, ended up tripping over a root at the base of the Sentinel tree, sending herself sprawled across the ground--and just feet away from Elespeth and Bronwyn, who had been on their way to check up on the situation.
“...Rowen.” The former knight furrowed her eyebrows in confusion--and deep concern. “Why are you running? Shouldn’t you be at the sanctuary?”
“Elespeth--stop her!” It was Teselin’s frantic, exhausted voice that validated the suspicion stirring in Elespeth’s blood, upon seeing Rowen so keen on getting away. “She needs… she needs to come back to the sanctuary!”
That was all the confirmation Elespeth needed. Kneeling, she helped the thrashing young faoladh to her feet, but held fast to her forearm. “Rowen, I thought you trusted the Night Garden and the Gardeners to help you. What are you doing running from them? If this has to do with Hadwin… then please, hear us out. No one is giving up on you, if you do not give up on yourself. Come on.” For fear that Rowen would lash out, she seized her arms in such a way that lashing out would be difficult, at the very least. “Let’s go back to the sanctuary, together. We’ll figure out how to set things right for the both of you.”
“Reached your peak? Oh, no--no, no, of course not! Come on, you should know me by now to realize I’m not implying you’ll never impress me again after showing me this place!” Nia nudged Ari gently in the ribs and grinned. “Truth be told, you never cease to impress me! Every time I think you’ve really reached the top, you manage to pull something else out of your sleeve. I mean, I suppose it doesn’t hurt that I’m easy to please. Like I said before, you don’t need to shower me with luxury to win me over… You’ve already accomplished that by just… Well, by just being you, Ari.”
All that said, however, she truly did not mind how he went out of his way to impress her. No one had ever gone out of their way to win her favour or her heart, and it was such a novelty that she really couldn’t help but feel delighted by it all. “You’re right, though. Birthdays are just kinda like miniature funerals--acknowledgement that, sure, we survived another year, but that we’re also marching headfirst toward death, anyway. Kind of a big paradox, isn’t it? Or maybe people just like to find excuses to celebrate, and this is as good an excuse as any. Whatever the reason--I’ll take it!”
Ari’s further validation of her happiness, at that memory she’d shared, even made her blush a little. How many times had she gone off about those few pure moments in her past, and instead of rolling his eyes, he listened, and provided feedback? “I’ve never told anyone about that. When I go over it in my head, it always seems so… trivial. Kind of stupid. You must be tired of me rambling on about my sisters all the time, huh? I really planted all of my happiness in the past. As much as I like to think I’ve moved on… I’m still there. But, if I’m being honest,” she looked away from the sparkling mica and seashells embedded in the ceiling, and instead focused her eyes on her precious company. “I feel safe telling you these things. Things I’ve never told anyone before, because I was afraid the memories would lose their sanctity. Instead, you validate them… and me. And if you think they’re stupid--well, you’re doing a pretty good job hiding it.” She winked and rolled her shoulders back, before bringing her wine to her lips once again. “If you’re fool enough to want to go hunting for fireflies with me… then consider it done. In fact--I’d love to do that with you. Even if we won’t be up to our knees in snow, and might take to wine instead of chocolate tea afterwards. I’ve been thinking…”
Nia trailed off, and for a moment, it looked as though she might reconsider her words. But at Ari’s prompting, she ultimately went on. “I think it might be time for me to stop living in the past, anyway. To stop holding onto memories decades old to get me through. The other week, when you sketched me, and the two of us got ridiculously drunk before a roaring fire… I won’t ever forget that. Thinking about that makes me feel almost the same as thinking of the Solstice fireflies. I haven’t had a fond memory since my sisters died… until now. Until… you. You give me hope that there is hope in the future for riffraff like me.”
To show her gratitude more thoroughly, the Master Alchemist leaned in for a kiss, one that the Canaveris lord first accepted with gusto. Such was her surprise, then, when he suddenly pulled away. Doubt dropped like a stone in her gut, and her smile faded. Well, fuck, she thought, worried that somehow, she’d done something very wrong. Did I just royally fuck this up? Should I have held off? But he was so open and eager last time…
Her concerns weren’t exactly assuaged when Ari proceeded to explain his reason for the delay, but he was good at deflecting the subject. “More gifts? Ari, when I agreed to let you dote on me, I didn’t expect you to spoil me!” She laughed, initially in relief. “You don’t need to win me over--you’ve already got me! But if you’ve already got the gifts and went to all that trouble, then of course I’ll accept them.” Nia accepted the rolled up piece of parchment, that had been secured by an ornate ribbon that must have been intended for something more than containing a gift. When she unwrapped the paper, she set the ribbon aside carefully, so as to remember to take it with her when she left. She was not at all disappointed by what she saw, drawn with such intricate love on the paper. Ari had not been shy in accentuating his most appealing features, the high cheekbones and slight upturn to his dark eyes, or the handsome way he pulled his raven-dark hair, the sly smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. Everything she loved aesthetically about him, every inch the handsome prince who she never imagined would feel the same for her that she felt for him.
“Ari… how disappointing.” She feigned displeasure, despite the delight in her brown eyes, and forced her grin into a frown as she turned to the Canaveris lord, holding the drawing. “Here, I requested an exquisite self-portrait of an exquisite artist… and here you give me a drawing in which you are fully clothed! And you already have a portrait of me, naked at my finest. How is this at all fair?!”
Knowing full well that her reaction would elicit horror in the artist, who took such meaningful pride in his work, she didn’t keep the facade up for very long at all, and laughed to break the tension. “Ari--I’m teasing you! I love it… even if I don’t get to witness artistic nudity. Guess I’ll just have to make up for that by enjoying it in person.” Nia winked, and then added, before she could forget, “Do tell Sylvie that I adore the ribbon. I’ve never had something so exquisite to tie back my hair. I’ll be sure to wear it the next time I stop by. But, Ari…”
Nia rolled the parchment back up and set it safely aside next to the ribbon. Her eyes were on the nondescript silver flask that must’ve contained alcohol far more potent than the honeyed mead. A wrinkle formed between her eyebrows. “Do you mean to say… that you were only able to have sex because you were drunk? I’ll be sure to try not to take offense to that!” It was a joke, but it landed rather flat, as it was too quickly chased with concern. “That’s not… I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of you for trusting me enough to take care of you, the other week. And for finally going all the way--that’s a huge step for you! It should most definitely be celebrated. But if you’re sure you could only go through with it because you were drunk, that’s… that’s not as hopeful as I thought.” Without asking, the Master Alchemist took the flask from his hand and sniffed the contents, then promptly leaned away from it, holding it at arm’s length.
“Whew. That’s strong, Ari. You sure you’re gonna be able to walk out of here if you finish that?” The note of concern didn’t diminish from her brown eyes when closed the flask and set it down, as opposed to handing it back to him. “Let’s try to dissect this, here. What did the alcohol do for you that made you capable of taking off all your clothes and seeing it through, huh? Was it that you felt more relaxed? Cared less about what was going on around you? Because if that’s the case… we can work with that, and get the same results without alcohol. Let’s try something a little different.”
Removing her fingerless leather gloves, the Master Alchemist sat across from Ari and slid her hands beneath the hem of his tunic. “Relax--we’re not going there yet. Last time we moved pretty fast, but this time, no one knows we’re here, no one is gonna walk in on us, and we have the entire night to do whatever we want. Do you trust me?” She searched for consent in his eyes, and once she found it, she slipped off his ornate overcoat with the long sleeves that covered his gloved hands, and eased the tunic over his head. She even took care to set both garments aside in such a way that they would not get wrinkled or damaged in their ‘carnal relations’.
“Something I’ve happened to notice is an increase in muscle tension throughout your body when you get flare ups. I don’t know enough about curses to understand if they precede it or not, but if we need to get you relaxed and without a care in the world to have a good time… then there are ways to get you there. Why don’t we experiment a little?”
With a classically ‘Nia’ smile, the Ardane woman slipped behind her beloved artist and ran her hands and fingers down his shoulders and back, feeling for the tenderness or firmness of muscle beneath the skin. “Fair warning, I’m not trained in massage… but I know how to locate a knot or two. And you don’t have to be trained to have a little fun, right?” Her thumbs rubbed gentle circles in the firm muscles above his shoulder blades, which felt a little tight, but not alarmingly so. “Don’t be afraid to lean into me. Let yourself go; I’ll take good care of you.” The words were murmured in his ear, her lips just barely brushing the lobe while her hands explored the expanse of his back, applying gentle, rotating pressure wherever it was needed.
“Think about how easy it was last time,” she purred, using one hand to lift his raven hair from his neck so that she could plant a slow kiss there. “Think about how you felt, how you let go without any repercussions… we can do that again, right here, tonight. Don’t focus on doing; just on feeling. You know, something that you come to learn when you’ve had as many partners as me…” One hand suddenly fell away, and the remaining one trailed its fingertips down his back. “Everyone’s got one special spot on their body that drives them absolutely crazy. And I’ve found them all; everyone I’ve been with. Sometimes it’s as obvious as somewhere on the neck; or as unpredictable as the inside of the elbow. I’d…” The sound of fabric falling to the ground interrupted her velvety tone. When she returned her hand to the back of his shoulder, so too did she press the rest of her torso--her bare torso--against his warm skin. Yes, she had quite literally single-handedly, and very suave, removed half of her clothes without taking her attention off of him for a moment. “...love to find yours.” Her roving hands slid down his ribs, and circled around to rest against his chest. “If you’ll let me.”
It was the cowardly thing to do, but she didn’t care. Rowen banished all thought, save for the most imperative. Run. Run far. Run fast, so they can’t catch you. She was only doing what Hadwin taught her, early on. To survive. And sometimes, to survive, one had to screw over other people, even if those people showed kindness, empathy, and patience. No doubt Hadwin exhibited all three, but he also exposed weakness. Vulnerability. It was his own damn fault his fear eradication trick left him in a sorry state, and it was his own damn fault he used it on her. She merely reaped the benefits of his sentimentalities. But there would be no more benefits to reap if they caught her. If they found her.
She was on her own. Locque wouldn’t help her. Locque...never helped her. She, like Chief Kavanagh, used her as a handy tool of destruction and, after ascending the throne and crusading on some superficial quest for respectability, Rowen’s knack for murder ceased its advantageous edge, which rendered her irrelevant. Not once did Locque ask after her, or pay a visit, or request an audience. Nothing. Silence. As though to bridge a distance from her violent past as much as possible, the usurper Queen did away with the assassin on her team. The one who did her dirty work. The message, or lack thereof, was clear. There was simply no place in Galeyn for this current iteration of Rowen Kavanagh. She couldn’t exist in a peace-loving kingdom as a ruthless, remorseless killer. So she resolved to change, and she changed, but it wouldn’t be enough...to escape the darkness always, always biting at her heels, ready to take her down.
The darkness found its opportunity and struck.
With a yelp, she lost her purchase over a jutting tree root and vaulted, headlong, into the turf, knocking the wind from her lungs. Though she managed to catch herself on her hands before sustaining any scrapes or sprains, she’d been deposited, to her horror, directly in front of Elespeth Rigas and...Bronwyn.
Emboldened by the ring of Teselin’s warning and call to apprehend, the she-warrior hauled Rowen to her feet and snatched her arm quicker than she could counteract it via an artful dodge or a brusque push. “No,” she growled, pestling hard on her jaw as Elespeth wound both arms behind her back and marched her forward, en route to the sanctuary. “I’m not giving up on myself; don’t you see? This is my only chance to be free!”
“El—“ Bronwyn‘s tense voice clipped short, lost in the clamor of everything happening at once. The loud, cacophonous cracking of bones heralded Rowen’s point-blank transformation into a wolf. Clothes shredded and tore from the slight girl, inviting the growth of muddy-black fur and paws in lieu of hands. They clawed out of Elespeth’s surprised grip, leaving scratches on the skin, and clenched the ground in preparation to bolt on legs built to far outpace a human’s gait.
As she sped away, Bronwyn was not far behind. Anticipating her sister’s tactic, she too shifted into her wolf skin, scattered fabric and busted strips of shoe leather littering the perimeter. Kicking up her back haunches, the chestnut-colored wolf launched after the black wolf, steadily overcoming the latter’s slight headstart. With a grunt of effort, Bronwyn burst forward, nullifying their distance, and tackled Rowen, knocking her off balance bringing her down. For the second time in minutes, the youngest Kavanagh sibling was dispatched, and the frustration of thwarted escape after thwarted escape made her desperate. Instead of trying to get away from underneath Bronwyn, Rowen rolled over and snapped her jaws at her sister’s throat. Bronwyn swerved her muzzle, narrowly missing the attack, but did not counterattack, leaving her a victim of a one-way flurry of assaults. Rowen, a frenetic demon unleashed, possessed of the hunger of having nothing left to lose, held nothing back. Aware of their forced proximity, she took advantage of this fact, aiming her jaw at strategic points meant to throw her opponent off balance and forcing her to make a decision; to protect herself or surrender the high ground and release her captive. She chose the former, but chose it poorly, unable to defend against Rowen or to match her possessed ferocity. Homing in on a calculated and self-created weak point, she broke the grapple, wrestled out of Bronwyn’s underpinning paws, and sprang onto her back, sinking teeth in deep in a bid to identify her spine and sever it with one devastating crush. Bronwyn yelped in pain and twisted her body to fend off her sister, but Rowen’s clamp was absolute, unrelenting, and set to kill.
Something whistled through the air, making contact with Rowen’s side. A dagger bit, hard, embedding itself through layers of fur and marking its target in blood. By itself, the blow was far from fatal, let alone damaging (not to a faoladh), but curiously, Rowen’s jaw loosened, her red-amber eyes drooped, and she slid uselessly off Bronwyn’s back, her speed and awareness reduced to a torpor of uncoordinated limbs and senses. From behind a stand of trees, Haraldur Sorde emerged, dropping an oozing stalk of a plant. In his other hand, a second knife was clenched and at the ready, its tip slathered in the same green ooze that bled from the discarded plant. He trotted on the scene, warily sidestepping the nearly unresponsive Rowen in favor of crouching to check on Bronwyn’s injuries. Between a faoladh’s natural healing ability and the Night Garden’s restorative energies, the eldest Kavanagh sibling was well on her way to recovery, albeit suffering mild blood loss and a sore back from where Rowen’s teeth grazed her spine.
“Bronwyn, are you able to stand?” The wolf, dazed by the whirlwind velocity of the battle and its just as sudden end, shook her mane of fur and experimentally rose on all four paws. She looked haggard, tufts of fur either torn or in disarray, but otherwise, she was in stable condition.
By then, everyone else had caught up to the scene of the attack: Teselin, Breane, Elespeth, and Alster, who stepped out of the palace at the first signs of trouble. Climbing to his feet, Haraldur looked to the gathered assembly and tried to explain, best as he could, what he did to Rowen Kavanagh.
“She’s…she’s fine,” he said of the twitching, barely conscious wolf at his feet, sounding not too confident about his assessment. With care, he pulled the blade out of Rowen’s injured side, the blood intermixing with the slimy plant ichor. “I injected her with a substance that I’ve taken to understand will have a sedative effect on her. It’s from that plant over there,” he jerked his head to the discarded stalk on the ground that, to a layperson’s eye, looked nothing more than an innocuous leek in appearance. “She shouldn’t pose any trouble for a while, but...that’s not exactly my call to make. I defer to the Gardeners on this one.”
After Gardeners on-site determined her as safe to move, Haraldur wasted no time hauling the fairly lightweight (for her size) wolf across his back and hiking her back to the sanctuary. As opposed to half an hour ago, the small, once quiet hut was flooded with spectators, fast filling to capacity. Hadwin, bound in paralysis to his bed while the chaos unfolded outside, flicked his gaze from wolf-skin Bronwyn, to a drugged wolf-skin Rowen hanging off Haraldur’s back, and quickly inferred what happened.
“Yeah. Thought so,” he said, so entirely devoid of pep or humor, or anything but grim resignation. “Well, lay her down somewhere close, so I can get a good look. Her eyes are half-open and she seems awake, so this’ll work. I mean, I don’t know. Never tried this on a wolf, before. Someone, hoist me up.” As Haraldur set down the wolf, positioning her head at an advantageous angle, Elespeth stepped forward to help Hadwin upright. Immediately, a rush of dizziness and nausea assailed his headache-stricken head, impelling him to lean against his helper for support. Shallow breaths puttered out of his mouth. “It’s now or never,” he wheezed, as his eyes raised and met Rowen’s. The wolf, partially aware of the proceedings, grew her eyes wide at the realization of what was about to occur. Low, whining whimpers escaped her muzzle, and the entreaty in her pleading, overbright gaze was missed by no one, especially not Hadwin. Don’t do this, they begged, their fear and betrayal so profound, the recipient bowled over from the stabbing psychic pain, almost losing consciousness and rendered temporarily blind from the discolored spots assailing his vision.
“I’m sorry, pipsqueak. You know I am,” he intimated, leaning on the notes of apology with all his being. And despite the agony weighing on him from all sides, physically, emotionally, and mentally, he unhooked the borrowed fears from their place of safekeeping, let them float into the backs of his burning eyes, and, in a flash, sent them sailing towards where they rightfully belonged: into Rowen. The transfer happened instantaneously, as was her reaction. From her throat, a mournful howl rippled, its sound trapped, amplified, in the tiny space. It was the kind of sound too haunted and distorted to ever leave your ears. A sound ripe for spinning nightmares into fruition when sleep descended.
“Give her something for sleep. Let her rest,” Alster, shaking away the effect, nodded to one of the Gardeners on duty. “This can’t be easy for her. Nor can it be, for you.” He turned to Hadwin, who no longer seemed to be fighting for his life. Separate from Elespeth’s aid, he recovered enough strength to remain partially upright on his own merits. To further demonstrate his ableness, he lifted a hand to touch the scarf around his neck. Feeble and shaky though the attempt, it aptly demonstrated his freedom from the burden of paralysis. “How do you feel?”
“Equal turns better...and fucking horrible. But...it’ll pass, yeah?” A wistful smile crossed his face as he watched his youngest sister carted off to the realm of slumber by way of a Gardener’s needle. “It’ll pass.”
“Of course not, Nia. On the contrary, I quite enjoy your recollections of the past,” he said, and the sentiment was not mere lip service. Ari, ever polite and validating, spoke to Nia in the same, oratorical speech style he adopted for every person and occasion. In that sense, he treated her just as he did everyone else. But, despite how he often carried himself as rather self-important, no manner of polished words could mask the sincerity and emotion that drove him to share his deeper insights. He conveyed them to her, and only to her. “They provide a window into the origins that comprise your present. In them, I see, clearly, your values. Your wants, desires. Do not feel the need to stifle the connectivity to your happiest memories just because they will never again repeat. Surely, they have not ceased their relevance in your heart. I see nothing wrong in elating the past while simultaneously celebrating the present. Is that not the conclusion we’ve reached regarding birthdays?” Together, he joined his gloved hands, producing a muffled clap, a stance that also resembled one’s attempt to catch a firefly. “Past and present collide, creating a space in which to marry the sanctity of one’s birth with the promise of growth and possibility. Use this day to employ both modes of reasoning, Nia. Move forward, but never forget your upbringing. That said,'' something akin to childish glee overtook the solemnity of his motivational speech, “I must experience this firefly phenomenon with my own eyes. Stella D’Mare, by virtue of its proximity to the ocean, is too breezy to host the luminous critters. Certain celestial mages may replicate the experience via baubles of light, but I say, magic falls flat to the genuine, would you not agree? You and I, this will be done. We shall begin a new tradition, yes?”
Out of fear of ruining the moment he oft dreamed about since the night following their premiere act as a couple, Ari, had, unintentionally, ruined the moment by delaying their kiss on the grounds of his inability to perform. “Oh, no, it was never my intention to come off as insensitive, Nia,” he hastily explained, not wanting to cause disappointment or insult in the woman who strove hard to foster a welcoming setting for his first times. “Please forgive me. I attribute my successes to you, primarily, and doubtless I place utmost faith in you and in your expertise. My gratitude is bottomless. Alas...I suppose I do not trust myself to uphold my half of the exchange. My...extremities have hardened not once, but twice in pursuit of coitus, and seeing as the third time was not a repeat of the previous two instances, I sussed out the outlier. Excepting your alluring presence—for it naturally reigns as the root cause of success—it also amounted to alcohol. I simply wish to replicate what worked well, so we may continue to enjoy other intimacies to come.”
Ready to debunk the true potency of the alcohol, he took an experimental sniff of the remains in his flask, and his nostrils burned too much to pass off the astringent liquid as a moderate, let alone an extreme choice. Already feeling the intoxicating effects reach his head, he relinquished the flask to Nia. “Perhaps I came a mite overprepared,” he admitted as he reconsidered finishing the contents of the flask. In terms of sober to sloshed ratio, he just tipped the scales to happily tipsy, placing him into a relaxed state—enough to invite in him a calming, conflict-free center. “But it is only so I do not incite a flare-up. It,” he hesitated, unsure on whether he wished to continue, “I do still nurse several negative memories. Chara’s...roughness tends to leave an imprint. That is her style. To ensure she is forever remembered. I cannot have her in my forethoughts as we engage. So I endeavor to drown her influences and prevent her from manifesting in our union, as it did during our initial attempts. This is why I turn to alcohol. To calm my nerves, yes, but primarily, it is to release that woman’s branding fingers from my arms and wriggle free, if for a moment. You,” he clutched his upper arms, territory that once played host to a literal branding grip from Chara’s etherea-heated hands, “you must think me pathetic, to be so affected by this one incident when it happened decades ago. I understand you suffered similarly, and yet, you have devised methods to move forward despite that trauma. Whereas I...well, I suppose I, too am firmly entrenched in the events of the past. You must forgive me...for turning to such an unstable coping mechanism. Forgive me, still, for continuing to implement it until which time I may feel clear-headed enough to pursue,” he gestured to the both of them, “us with impunity. Ah...I truly did not wish to burden you, especially on your birthday.” He lowered his head, shamed for sharing such mood-destroying thoughts aloud. “My timing for relaying such dismal news is horrid. Please disregard what I said.”
His breath hitched in his throat, a knee-jerk reaction, when her bare hands traveled beneath his tunic. Vulnerable from confessing what he never uttered to another soul, he forced himself to swallow the lingering tenseness and open up to his partner, physically. “I...trust you. I would not have said as much if I didn’t. But you must forgive that I have arrived now, in a position of partial inebriation. It will not undermine the effectiveness of your achievements, I assure you, for no other can do for me what you can.”
Closing his eyes, he surrendered to Nia’s gentle tugs against his coat and tunic, helping her along by unbuttoning each layer for easy removal. A reflexive shiver raked up and down his spine as exposure to the cool, dank cave air smacked his naked skin. But the sensation was short-lived after Nia’s warming hands (how were they so warm?!) kneaded his knotted shoulders and her sultry breath steamed, inciting hot air across his neck, his ears. As per her instructions, he sank into her touch, concentrating on the pattering of her fingers. Warm, warm, not burning hot, not on fire. They glided and dimpled the skin; they did not brand, stab, or scar. Nia’s cooing words were soft enough to soothe a raging bull, impossible not to elicit a tingling response from the crown of his head. Her massaging touch not only worked his eager flesh, but it penetrated him from the inside. From within, he carried her essence, which swirled in his ears, behind his eyes, and intermixed with the alcohol that had buoyed to his brain like an effervescent, sparkling wine. He felt fizzy...and ready to pop.
“If I possess ‘one special spot,’ at this rate, you may never find it,” his breath staggered as he tried, and failed, to maintain his composure. “Everything responds to your touch, Nia. Everything.” Briefly, he was propelled out of the moment when her liberated breasts pressed, pert and excited, against him. “When did you…” He craned his head over her shoulder and, sure enough, Nia had somehow disrobed the top portion of her leathers without ever removing her roving hand from his back. “You have undressed. How...you never cease to amaze me, Nia Ardane.” Swerving around to face her, he removed his white gloves and weaved them through her hair, holding either side of her head steady and directed to meet his thick-lashed eyes. “People will talk if they find a naked portrait of me on your person, but you are correct to assume that you are in possession of an authentic representation of the nakedness you so desire. You can touch and interact to your heart's content—and no one is nearby to judge.” And, leaning forward, he silenced his words with a hungry kiss.
Why it hadn’t occurred to Elespeth that Rowen could (and would) find a means of escaping her hold was anyone’s guess. Before Bronwyn even had a chance to call her warning, the youngest faoladh transformed within her hold, scraping at fabric and skin with her massive claws as her human hands turned to canine paws. The former knight was in too much shock to even register the pain and what superficial damage those claws might have done, and hardly had a chance to react before Bronwyn followed suit, and chased after her sister as a slightly larger wolf. “Bronwyn!” She called after her, afraid of what Rowen might do in her struggle to run away, but regardless of the danger, it was Teselin who made chase shortly after.
“We have to follow them!” She called to Elespeth over her shoulder. “We can’t leave it to Bronwyn alone… and we can’t let Rowen get away. We need to do this for Hadwin!”
Elespeth didn’t need convincing. She took off after the wolves alongside the young summoner, whose smaller legs struggled to keep up, but not once did she complain. Unfortunately, by the time they caught up and it appeared that Bronwyn had been successful in apprehending her younger sister, they were quick to learn that that was not entirely the case, and all was not well. “Rowen--stop!” Teselin cried when she stumbled to a halt, noting that Rowen’s jaw was clamped onto her older sister’s shoulder. And neither she nor Elespeth had the means to intervene, considering a sword was useless when it came to saving one wolf from another wolf and ensuring not both of them weren't killed in the feat.
Something cut through the air, just as the young summoner feared that her emotions would call upon another deadly storm, and in seconds, a knife embedded in the youngest faoladh’s side. Searching for the source of the weapon, both Elespeth and Teselin were surprised to see Haraldur step out, holding a plant that likely no one but the Gardeners themselves could identify.
“What’s happened? What did you do?!” It was Breane’s voice that cut through the silence. The young Gardener was accompanied by Alster, who must’ve been alerted to the commotion and came to lend a hand. When she took note of the plant Haraldur was holding, she appeared to recognize it and relaxed, but just a little. “This… this breaches so much trust,” she said, once it was confirmed that Bronwyn was a little sore, but relatively unharmed, thanks to her rapid faoladh healing. “We should have taken the time to prepare her better for this. To just spring it on her--”
“She could’ve killed Bronwyn, Breane; and she knew what was coming. She always knew that this would have to happen.” Teselin argued, firmly but not unkindly. “And it needs to happen now. You can’t tell me that it is worth it to heal one person at the expense of another. We’re in the Night Garden. Rowen will live and she will be fine. Maybe… it just means she’ll make slower progress.”
“I don’t know.” Breane shook her head and wiped the lenses of her glasses on the hem of her sleeve. “I don’t know anymore; so much progress undone… I can’t tell you anything for sure.”
From the moment that Rowen fled, to the moment she returned with her entourage of Gardeners and those who supported Hadwin, was a blur to Teselin. She knew that it would come to this someday, and that day had to be now, but any idiot could see the pain in Hadwin’s eyes when he had to go and do this to his little sister. To give her back her pain, and begin his own journey of healing, after suffering for so long. He didn’t want to do it, but in the end, he did. What made it all worse was how Breane’s spirits seemed to fall. She did not argue that this couldn’t happen because, like everyone else, she was aware of its necessity. But Rowen had likely been her very first charge, and this turn of events must have caused the Young Gardener to feel as though she had failed her. Failed not only her assignment, not only a person, but failed the Night Garden that had chosen her to heal in a way that no other Gardener could. After Rowen was sent into slumber upon one of the cots, still wearing her wolfskin, Breane took a seat on a stool next to the cot and clasped her hands together.
“It will be alright. I’ll stay here with her.” She said to Hadwin without looking at him, knowing and feeling that he needed the reassurance more than anyone--even if she herself didn’t fully believe it. “She came to me for help, and I told her I would be here for as long as she wanted me to be. I need her to know, when she comes to… that I haven’t given up on her. And I won’t. It’s my job to help her overcome this. I don’t have another purpose. I’m going to be here for her… and help her make it right. No matter how many setbacks there are, or how long it takes.”
“Breane… I understand your thoughts. But I am not sure that is such a good idea.” Although it was Elespeth who spoke the words, everyone in the room felt the same; particularly Haraldur, who bristled at her declaration. “Rowen hurt her sister before her fears were even returned to her. There is no telling state of mind she’ll be in when she comes to. We know she is your charge, but she is also a…” A killer. A murderer. But she couldn’t say that. “She can be dangerous. You could get hurt.”
“We are in the Night Garden--in the Sanctuary, at that. No one can die in here.” Breane argued. Exhausted, she took off her spectacles and placed them atop her head, but didn’t take her eyes off of Rowen. “I’ll stay.”
With the grim realization that there was nothing anyone could say or do to convince her otherwise, Elespeth nodded solemnly and adjusted Hadwin’s weight as he leaned on her for support. “How is it that you’ve been beadridden this long and you weigh a tonne?” She teased, but her humour was short lived as she turned to the other end of the room, where Bronwyn had reverted to her human form, and had wrapped blankets around her as a handful of Gardeners had left to fetch her something to wear since her clothes had been destroyed from her transformation.
“Bronwyn… are you alright? I know you faoladh are fast healers, but it looked like Rowen really got you bad.” Her eyes were equal parts sympathy and guilt as she sighed. “I’m sorry, by the way. I probably… should’ve just let you handle Rowen from the beginning. I should have known better than to think she wouldn’t transform to get away. If it had been me in her jaws, and not you, this would’ve ended a lot more poorly, and all due to my folly.”
Ah. So… It wasn’t just about the flare-ups, or his fear of their potential to occur. Their relationship had been steadily heading in such a positive direction that, for this moment only, Nia had completely forgotten what was perhaps the most pertinent reason why Ari was still relatively inexperienced in the realms of sex and pleasure: that reason being Chara Rigas. No amount of massages or encouraging words of relaxation would erase his scarring experiences with that woman, just as nothing would ever erase the events of her first intimate experience. The difference was, she’d largely set aside her mental scars, which were there, but hidden, and only acknowledged the physical scar on her throat as a remnant of that awful time. A time that had literally become the biggest mistake of her life. Could she really blame Ari for wanting to drown out a voice in his head that had been echoing in his ears for… years? Possibly for as long, or longer, than she had even been alive!? It would be a lie to claim that her first catastrophic experience didn’t still haunt her, sometimes. Nightmares, waking up in the middle of the night with the scar at her throat aching… but that wasn’t the same. The ghost of the man who had sought to take her life did not haunt her during her waking hours, even if a part of him forever remained dwelling within her cautious subconscious mind. But the same couldn’t be said for Ari. Everyone processed trauma differently, and his demons still hung over his head in the air like a raincloud, ready to release a deluge at any given time.
“...I’m sorry. You’re right to handle that in any way you see fit.” She told him at last, her tone a little more somber than before, a sentiment that reflected in her brown eyes. “Drink as much as you want, for now. Not my place to tell you how to deal with your demons, especially if all you’re looking for at the moment is a good time. But eventually… we’ll work on finding things other than alcohol to get you in a good headspace. Maybe,” her eyes darkened with a sultry hue, and she ran one partially gloved hand through his hair. “Maybe, all you need is a little more practice. Or lots more practice. I vouch for lots, but… with your mom hanging around, I’ll take whatever I can get.”
Nia’s ministrations were deliberately slow as she removed all garments from Ari’s upper body. Part of it was purely selfish; she loved the way he responded to her touch, how he almost seemed to melt beneath her palms and fingertips, a stark contrast from how he used to respond to any form of touch. But she wanted to feel him as much as he felt her, and impatiently stripped her upper leathers from her torso to relish the warmth of his back against her bare skin. Her stealthy feat must’ve caught him by surprise, for he turned with a look of such confusion that she couldn’t help but laugh. “Didn’t I tell you I’m good at taking off my clothes? Shame that’s not exactly a talent that I can sell… but I’m glad you enjoy it.”
With a sly smile, she slid her hands from his shoulders and down his chest, where they came to rest not-so-innocently at his hips. “Yeah, you might be a little over-stimulated if you’re new to this. Everything’s exciting the first few times… but don’t doubt my ability to find out what it is you’ll love the most. Mark my words, everyone’s got a special little spot that likes all the attention. But… hey, you think I’d be reckless with a nude sketch of you? I’d hold that near and dear to my heart! Like hell would I let anyone else get their hands on it. You sure I can’t convince you to…”
Her words were cut off by his hungry kiss, which Nia was willing to oblige. She wanted to lose herself in him, in this moment, as much as he wanted to lose himself in her. To replace Chara’s voice, Chara’s face, with hers. If they were ever to help him associate intimacy with sentiments other than pain and fear, then she’d have to reset the precedent. Draw an association, instead, to pleasure, to excitement… to love.
Eager hands loosened the belt at Ari’s waist, and Nia managed to slide them over and off his legs without ever breaking their kiss. Evidently, her skills of undressing were not limited to stripping down herself. Well, she could see why Ari was so intent to dive right in: he hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d explained how he responded to her touch. Frankly, she took it as a compliment that a mere caress of her hands across his shoulders could elicit such a response in his netherregions, but eventually, one day, maybe he’d warm more to the concept of foreplay. When he trusted, fully and implicitly, that being with her would not harm him in any way.
And that was when the Master Alchemist realized something pertinent: that what they were doing tonight, right now… was as far as she had ever gone with any sexual partner. Anything beyond this night would be completely uncharted territory for both of them. That she was thinking about the future at all, a future with a single person, was uncharted territory. Was she moving too fast? Was it foolish to invest so much faith in someone, given that her trust in the past had yielded results that were far from ideal? Don’t second guess yourself. Ari is the real thing. This is real, all of it, and you can finally have it. Isn’t this exactly what you’d hope to find when you stopped running?
“People can judge all they like. If I’d let peoples’ opinions get to me, I’d have been done in long ago.” Finally parting from his lips for the sake of drawing breath, Nia sat up on her knees to discard the remainder of the leather that clad her lower body. Although springtime was now in full blood, the temperature of the cave remained cool at present, and her skin tightened in response to the drop in temperature. “We might catch a chill in here without our clothes on if we’re not careful,” she chuckled, as she settled herself comfortably in his lap. Her sultry, half-lidded eyes found his, equally as full of desire. “Let me keep you warm…”
In much the same fashion as before, the Ardane woman gripped his shoulders and slid onto his erect member, slowly but comfortably, and began to move at a slow rhythm. Ari was excited; too fast and it would be over before it began! And she wanted him to enjoy it, the whole experience just as if it were the first time all over again. It was so much more than a simple climax, and in time, hopefully Nadira Canaveris would keep her distance just enough to afford them further opportunities to explore their intimacy.
She didn’t remain chilled for long. Pressed against Ari’s body and maintaining her rhythm, Nia grew warmer and warmer, her fervor fueled by the racing of her partner’s heart and the electricity she could practically feel on his skin. No fear, no hesitation, and like before, he’d completely given himself over to her. She could taste salt and the sweetness of the mead when she kissed him, no longer a trace of that hard liquor from his flask, and just as she was about to gently inform him he didn’t have to hold back for her benefit, she felt him rise and finally come crashing down in waves of white hot satisfaction. As his heat rate finally slowed, and his breathing grew less erratic and more even, Nia carefully slid from his lap, and gracefully collapsed back on her elbows upon the cushions he had set out.
“You know… this is as far as I’ve ever come with anyone. Before I’d stop believing they were safe, and run away.” She blew away an errant tress of hair that had settled over her eyelashes, and gently took Ari’s arm to pull him down next to her. “It’s never been safe to risk planting any roots, before. Or to get attached to anyone. Once they got to know me a little too well… that’s when it was time to take off. You know, before any of the bad stuff happened, and I ended up falling for the wrong person again. But not anymore… not here. Not with you, Ari.” Righting her posture, she touched the side of his face and stole another kiss. “And I’m… I’m so glad. Do you know what it’s like to be running for a decade? To have to break your own heart and others hearts over and over because it was too risky to take a chance? I never want to go back to that. My past… I hold onto it the way I do because it’s always been my only safe haven: my sisters. Remembering them and what we had.” Her opposite hand slid to her throat, over the unsightly star pendant. “I always will remember them, but what I’m feeling now, with you, in this beautiful secret place… it makes me feel as though I don’t have to turn to the past anymore. It’s over and gone. But you’re still here--and I’m still here. So who says my best days have to be behind me?”
Her hand fell from his cheek as she took a lock of his dark hair in her fingers and smiled. It was a different smile on Nia; not one of cheeky mischief, but… one that reflected hope. “I doubt we’ll find any fireflies on the winter Solstice in Galeyn, but summer is nigh. Are you really telling me you’ve never seen them before? We’ll go and catch some and make wishes on them, winter or not; can’t hurt to try. And that…” Nia paused, her eyes searching his face in all its afterglow. “That is a promise.”
Everyone harbored strong opinions and reactions to Breane’s conviction to stay alone in the sanctuary with Rowen, and none of them differed by much. Even Hadwin, who held one of the more favorable views of his sister among anyone else in the room, frowned a little, not quite sold on the idea.
“Call a spade a spade, Elly. Ro’s a killer. And when she’s backed into a corner, like she is now, killer’s her default. I don’t have to tell you twice to be careful, Breane. Or, well, the target’s on my back more than it’s on yours, but my statement stands.”
“I’m stationing soldiers outside the sanctuary.” Haraldur, not up for compromise, stated his plan of attack, no-nonsense and succinct. “Rowen has demonstrated that even when she’s in the midst of recovery, she’s still too dangerous to leave minimally attended. Look at how she lashed out to bad news. She ran away, and anyone who stood in her way, she had no qualms over taking them down. We all saw it happen; she could have gravely injured Bronwyn.” He gestured to the privacy curtain where the eldest Kavanagh sibling had retreated to revert to human skin. “This can’t happen again. It’s fortunate this took place in the Night Garden where Rowen could be stopped, but if we continue to overlook security, a repeat of this incident is more than a possibility.”
“We know and understand that you’re invested in the welfare of your patient, Breane.” Alster’s gentler disposition culled some of the edges off of Haraldur’s martial-oriented mindset, which didn’t always resonate with the values of largely peaceful Galeyns. “But it’s also important to consider the welfare of those who may become victimized by your patient. We have to prepare for and defend against a future scenario in which she acts out in aggression. It’s not an objectionable thing to both care for your charge while also protecting yourself against her tendency towards violence. You can’t be there for her if she’s the reason you’re out of commission.”
“Then it looks like I’m going to hunker down and stay here and assist,” Hadwin announced, to the likely protests of everyone. “Long as I’m wanted, anyway, which’ll be short-lived, if Ro has any say at all. But before any of you panic...the responsibility falls on me, doesn’t it? I should’ve just let the Night Garden work at its own pace, but instead, I whisked away her fears and compounded the problem by introducing an instant cure-all that didn’t…it was just one big tease and,” he huffed in frustration. For someone who always had an abundance of words nocked and at the ready to fly, it was strange to see Hadwin so tongue-tied. “Damn, there’s no need to mince words. I really fucked up. There’s the short and simple of it. So I’ll stay and try to fix my fuck-up, best I can...and pray shit doesn’t get worse.”
“Don’t you dare.” The privacy curtains popped open and Bronwyn, draped and pinned in towels for decency, carved a severe wrinkle of disapproval in her brow, above her flashing amber eyes. Her hair, let free from its standard ponytail, as she lost the cord mid-transformation, framed her face in wild, frazzled curls, making her look rather rough and feral. Coupled with the simmering delivery of her admonition, Bronwyn had, at last, snapped her patience in twain regarding the ongoing missteps of her estranged sister. Considering what she just encountered, no one could rightly blame her. “This ends, Hadwin. You’re done. She doesn’t care about you. She only cares about what you can do for her. I mean, she was prepared to scamper off to gods knows where and leave you in agony indefinitely! If you need me to run down what’s good about Rowen, then her love for you is abysmally low on that list. In fact, if I had to bet, and I don’t do bets, she didn’t even flinch when she saw you looking like a ragged dishrag that gained sentience. I know you can corroborate on my analysis. She’s too afraid of everything to feel anything else but the drive for self-preservation. Staying here won’t help her and it sure as hell won’t help you. So let it go!”
Give up. Succinctly summed, Bronwyn’s argument amounted to that two-word assertion. Give up, she inferred. Break your sister’s heart, Vitali had said. Run away, like the coward you are, Fiona’s vengeful spirit whispered into his ear. And live with it, Hadwin. You’ve done nothing but break your little sister over and over and over again. Your choices: run and break her, or stay and break her. That’s how much damage you’ve done. This goes beyond fixing, and you fucking know it!
There’s something I haven’t damaged yet, mam. Not irreparably. His careworn gaze fell on Teselin, whose frazzled expression looked liable to snap from emotional stress if one more bad thing manifested in front of her. For her sake, he couldn’t keep pushing her over the edge, and not just because he wanted to prevent the resurgence of her destructive magic. He’d done enough to her over the last few weeks. It was time to focus on what, who, was truly important. And it extended beyond Teselin, too. Bronwyn...cared. Unlike Rowen, she actually gave a damn what happened to him.
“I can’t believe I’d ever say it, Bron, but you’re right.” To deflect the weight and the borderline devastation scorching his insides to a blistering pulp, he forced an amused smirk to bloom to the surface. “What a trip. Sometimes...you gotta know when to call it quits. So I’ll do it. I’ll bow out. And before I change my mind,” he nudged Elespeth, a playful headbutt against her bolstering shoulder, “escort me outta here, will you? I’m not carting around the headache to end all headaches anymore and my limbs can move freely, but I’m all noodly and uncoordinated so if worse comes to worst, you’re gonna have to carry me over the threshold like a new bride. Think your husband can handle it?”
“I don’t know, Hadwin. Depends on how beautiful a bride you make in Elespeth’s arms. I might just lose all control,” Alster, crossing his arms over his chest, gave the faoladh a faux jealous glare.
Unfortunately, it played out how Hadwin had envisioned. Though able to rise to his feet, he sank heavily against Elespeth. Two wobbly slides of his feet left him out of breath, and dizzying waves of vertigo destabilized any semblance of balance he’d achieved alongside Elespeth as his human crutch.
“I think...you’ve got it backwards, Elly. I ain’t heavy; you’ve just gotten wimpy,” he managed to quip right before his legs buckled and he fell, almost taking Elespeth down with him. Since they scarcely cleared the room, his fall interacted with a cot, which caught him before he slid the rest of the way to the floor. “That’s as far as I can go.” He flopped the rest of his beleaguered body atop the cot like a seal beaching on the shore. “Pretty pathetic, but that’s how it is.”
“Looks like you’re in need of some rehabilitation. Your muscles have atrophied from their weeks of disuse. I’ll go fetch the stretcher we used to get you here,” Alster volunteered, heading for the door. “Healthwise, you’re not out of the woods yet, so you’re going straight to the infirmary for observation.”
“Goodie. More convalescing. I bet he's punishing me for what I said about you,” he whispered to Elespeth as Alster departed.
While the majority of the room was occupied with Hadwin, Haraldur closed the space between himself and Breane, taking care to stand on the side opposite the sleeping wolf. So as not to draw attention to their conversation (or to stir Rowen), he kept his voice low. “I wasn’t trying to undermine any of Rowen’s progress, Breane. Violence was happening in front of me. She was going for Bronwyn’s spine. To crush it or sever it, I don’t know. But the Night Garden...I think it wanted me to end the fight.” His hand clutched the hilt of the striking dagger, since cleaned of its substances and safely sheathed in a holster on his belt. “I just felt this strong sense that the stalk I was standing next to would stop Rowen if I coated its resin over my dagger and threw it at her. Maybe that’s not how the Night Garden is meant to be used. Maybe I did wrong by weaponizing a plant to neutralize a threat, but...if that option wasn’t presented to me, I would have gone out there...and I can’t say how things might have escalated. I couldn’t tell you if preparing Rowen for the transition would have helped. I’m not a healer. But if I were to offer my opinion, then I’d say no amount of preparing her would be enough, because Hadwin’s health wouldn’t have lasted by the time she came to terms with the transfer. But that’s all in the past. Right now, I need you to listen and listen carefully.” An urgent whisper replaced his low tone. “Don’t be alone with her. You may see it as just a precaution, but there’s no benefit in risking your safety. I’m sending soldiers here, Breane. They’ll watch over you and make sure nothing of this nature happens again.”
“Ah...Prince Haraldur Sorde? Excuse my intrusion.” A bashful voice inserted itself into the natural lull of his and Breane’s hushed discussion. Bronwyn, torso still swathed in towels, approached with caution, one hand busy bunching the loose, makeshift garment into a snug, slip-free hold. “For earlier…thank you. Even if you only did it out of a personal vendetta against my sister, you’re the reason my spine isn't all chewed up and I can still walk.”
“Oh. No need to thank me. And formalities aren’t necessary,” he said, experiencing a dash of second-hand bashfulness for the favorable recognition. “I just didn’t want anything bad happening to the most tolerable of the Kavanagh siblings.”
“That’s a backhanded compliment,” she tittered, a stale attempt at a joke. “That’s like saying, ‘you’re not half-bad, for a Kavanagh.’”
He couldn’t help but crack into a small smile. “Well, you’re not wrong. I guess we started on the wrong foot. I’m sorry my Forbanne apprehended you, on your arrival. And that my cousin tackled you.”
Before she could comment, Elespeth joined in to express her own thanks for Bronwyn’s involvement in the earlier scuffle outside. “No, you don’t have to apologize. Really, I should have acted quicker. If I did, maybe I would have been able to subdue her without the need for Prince Sorde to step in. But I’m fine. A little sore, but Rowen’s incision has already healed up. She didn't get to my spine. I…” her eyes met the unresponsive wolf laying, supine, on the cot, her legs and nose twitching, seemingly in response to a nightmare. “If this didn’t take place in the Night Garden, she...she could have killed me. It was too close a call. In case there’s a repeat of today, I need to get stronger. Faster. Fiercer.” She looked earnestly at Elespeth and Haraldur. “Will you help me?”
“I do need to revisit my training regimen. Fatherhood has made me a little soft in the middle,” Haraldur confessed, rubbing his aforementioned middle, which, thankfully, no one could detest underneath his clothes and armor. “If I can free up some time, count me in. And if you’re really serious about getting into top form...there is the Forbanne approach. A modified approach, of course. Even so...it’s not for the faint of heart.”
It was over as quickly as it had begun, but Ari didn’t mind. The quantity of time mattered less than its quality, and he relished every previous second of Nia’s specialized attention. The rhythms she delivered washed over him like a summertime wave, all sparkling in sun-reflected warmth and tickling with seafoam. As opposed to his first time when he let her do all the work, he tried to match her syncopations, an up and down pulse to complement the tempo she initiated upon first sliding herself into him. He discovered something complementary, a counter-melody to her melody, but his contributions were a little unrefined and rife with uncertainty. It felt like a natural progression for him, steps to a dance, even, but he questioned the movements, wondering of their correctness. Contrary to a waltz, a dance he butchered upon holding Nia’s waist at her insistence and spinning around a nearly empty ballroom, there existed no learned maneuvers, no foxtrot or squared dance to follow and perfect. All that mattered was his partner. Her pleasure. Her proximity. The way she arched her graceful neck and lifted her head to the heavens amidst the act. The hands that cradled his back and beckoned him closer, closer, ever closer. The closing of their lips, such a small yet sacrosanct gesture imbued with passion, trust...and love. Those worrisome thoughts he feared would bloom, twisted and thorn-heavy, dissipated to mist, leaving no trace of scars or scratches or bloody trails of a breached and turbulent union. True, once he reached the highest of heights, the wave descended and all was over, but he never felt disappointed in its end; rather, he was elated to have been granted the experience in the first place—an experience where nothing interfered to whisper: You are broken and no one will ever want you into ears spotted red with his blood, said by a pair of teeth stained red with his blood. No, this was pure, and beautiful, and he wanted more, wanted more of her, but his body collapsed against his partner the moment she pulled free, refusing to engage in another round so soon after the first one had reached its terminus.
At her summons, he joined her atop the cushions, reclining on his side at an angle more advantageous for gazing into her half-closed eyes, kittenish with contentment. From his transfer to a more vertical position, hanks of his silk-fine hair tumbled, settling across his forehead and his cheeks in a glossy cascade. He raised his fingers to swipe a few errant strands free from his eyes, but she beat him to it, weaving a section through her gentle fingers.
“I had wondered about the likelihood of a second foray between us,” he said, his eyelids fluttering in peaceful, slow blinks as she continued to play with his hair. Meanwhile, he reached out to fiddle with the chain of her necklace under the pretext of fixing the clasp, when he really wanted the excuse to caress her neck, her collarbone, the underside of her chin. “Forgive me, but I worried that you would lose interest in me, carnally, now that I have been...well, deflowered. It is not fair to you, I realize. However, my assertion from last week still stands true. Even if we only merge once, I am grateful, and doubly grateful because it happened with you. Now that we have been together twice, I am still grateful, but I hope...we can continue together like this. I know we have a long way to go, but please bear with me. I shall surmount this obstacle and improve...for us. Nevertheless, you always have a safe haven here. If not in the villa proper, in the presence of my mother and her vigilant eye, then you shall have it here, with me. Please understand and understand well.”
Following their kiss, Ari’s sleepy tone sharpened to a solemn declaration, one that demanded her full attention. He rose on his elbows, giving literal height, a platform, to his weighty oath. “Whatever the future may bring, whatever doubts cloud your mind in the days to come, never forget: I am on your side. I shall fight for your welfare, always. I, Aristide Canaveris, swear this to you, Anetania Ardane, on my honor.” For emphasis, he placed a hand over his chest, his heart. “Before you dismiss my words as the asinine ramblings of a love-drunk fool, I proclaim them entirely in earnest. I pray you remember this conversation, for I will not soon forget it, either.” To check for understanding, Ari tilted Nia’s chin and scanned her rich, brown eyes. “I do hope I have made adequate sense, for I cannot stress how important it is that you understand. Because,” his fingers lightly traced her lips, “I believe that I love you, Nia. Ask me again when I am sober, and I shall answer the same. I...love you.” Nuzzling her neck with his nose, he planted a tender kiss on the nape. “So much so, that I am considering your request for a naked self-portrait.”
There were so many voices in Breane’s ear, voices who had given up on Rowen--and thereby had also given up on her to make a difference for Rowen. Even the handful of other Gardeners who were in and out of the now very cramped sanctuary did not speak up in protest when practically everyone weighed in on exactly what they thought of her staying next to Rowen, so as to be there when the faoladh awoke. She’s a killer. Look at what she almost did to Bronwyn. Look at what she didn’t do for Hadwin. Think of what she could do to you. Irredeemable. Lost cause. But… how could that be true? The Night Garden never wrote anyone off as a lost cause. Only once in many, many centuries had it allowed anyone to die within its enchanted forest, and only because a certain Gardener had decided to manipulate its energies and shift it to suit her own means. But it hadn’t given up on Haraldur, when he had very nearly died. It hadn’t given up on Elespeth, or Alster, or even Isidor, who had taken the time to convalesce following the tricky procedure to save the former Atvanian woman’s life. So why, then, would it--would she--give up on Rowen? Wouldn’t that go against everything she had come to believe as a Gardener?
“Nobody is a lost cause.” The words from her lips were spoken for her, but spoken aloud, nonetheless. The young Gardener did not take her eyes off of the unconscious wolf upon the cot. “I do not… blame anyone for what has just occurred. Prince Sword, you should not second guess your actions, particularly if they were instructions from the Garden itself. I already know that the Garden speaks to you, and you… even if Bronwyn had not perished at Rowen’s hands, an injury like that which she would have suffered would have taken even the Night Garden a good deal of time to heal. You did what was best in that given situation; and you did not harm Rowen. But… please, do not misunderstand me. And don’t think me so naive.”
It was perhaps the first time that the young Gardener acknowledged what many certainly thought behind her back without saying aloud. That she was too young, too inexperienced, too naive to fully understand her responsibilities as a Gardener. Maybe it was true, to a certain extent, but not in this case. She was not being foolish by remaining at Rowen’s side: she was being responsible. Taking responsibility for her charge, and seeing her treatment through to the end, as long as Rowen agreed to continue to allow her to help. “This is my job. The Garden gifted me with the ability to help others heal… but not physically. No one else, except for the Sybaian healer at the palace, is capable of bringing Rowen out of the dark and back into the light. I am not saying that it will be easy, nor am I implying that Rowen isn’t, at present, dangerous. But I believe that I can make a difference--and I believe that she can still heal. After all… she was showing signs of progress even before her fears were taken away.” She glanced pointedly at Hadwin, but not in a way that condemned him. After all, he had only been trying to help his sister, and she could not begrudge him that.
“In any case… I seldom leave the Night Garden. And so long as I am here, she cannot end my life, even if things get out of control. So please… understand why I must stay. And why I must not give up.”
Her mind was made up, and there was nothing that anyone could say to change it; that much was abundantly obvious. On one hand, Breane spoke reason… but no amount of reason could quell the concern that almost everyone in the Sanctuary felt for the young Gardener. Optimism was a beautiful thing, but too often, it could also be a curse. “We understand, Breane. But I wish… I wish you would reconsider.” Elespeth said, ever so gently, intent to beat around the bush for Breane’s sake contrary to Hadwin calling it like it is. “Alster also has a point. Rowen may not be able to kill you in the Night Garden, but she also won’t be your one and only charge forever. If you want to be able to help others just like you helped her, you have to have a certain degree of selfishness in that it’s imperative you look out for your own safety. We aren’t saying as much because we don’t believe that you can help Rowen. On the contrary, you are an asset to the Night Garden, and it needs you around for others. We are only advocating because we see your worth.
“And you, Teselin?” Breane finally looked away from Rowen to lock eyes with the young summoner, who had remained silent in the aftermath of Hadwin releasing his sister’s fears. “You brought Rowen to me in the first place. How have your feelings changed?”
She knew she deserved it. To be put on the spot when it had been she who’d set this entire scenario up to begin with. Only because Rowen asked you to, she told herself, but… who was she kidding? Could she really pretend like she hadn’t thought the young faoladh had a chance? “I trust in whatever you feel you must do, Breane. That hasn’t changed.” Teselin said at last, her voice small, and barely above a whisper. “Just… just, please, be careful. Even if Rowen doesn’t intend to do harm, it is unfortunately in her nature. And whether she realizes it or not, she is indeed lucky to have you.”
Noting the Elespeth struggled to assist Hadwin on his way out the door, Teselin then stepped in to take his other arm and throw it around her shoulders. “Alster is right. You’ll need to work yourself back up to the way you were before. It’s been too long that you’ve been bedridden… but I’ll help you, I promise. After all…” Her dark eyes stared down at the toes of her boots. Ashamed, and… maybe, just a little remorseful, even if she hadn’t forced him to absorb his sister’s fears. “I vouched for Rowen… so I am partially responsible for your decline in health. You can’t tell me otherwise, so don’t try.”
In a short amount of time, another Gardener briefly stepped in to drop off a simple tunic and trousers for Bronwyn, whose clothes had been eviscerated in her transformation. Confirming that she required no assistance in dressing, everyone within the sanctuary allowed her privacy behind the curtain to don her new clothes, and soon after, she reemerged to have a brief word with Haraldur. The clothes were baggy, to say the least, and the trousers required a sash tied around her waist to keep them from falling down completely. Elespeth offered a sympathetic smile when the eldest faoladh turned to her. “When we get back to the palace, why don’t we pay a visit to Briery?” She suggested, nodding to Bronwyn’s tunic, whose sleeves were too long for her arms. “She did a pretty good job throwing an outfit together for you in a short amount of time, before. You don’t have to struggle around in that for long.”
Baggy attire, however, wasn’t the first thing on Bronwyn’s mind, and her next request almost too Elespeth off guard. “Stronger?” The former knight repeated the word to make sure she’d heard correctly, but the faoladh woman was being serious. “Bronwyn, I personally think you’re plenty strong. You’ve been keeping up with me and my exercise for weeks, now, and I consider myself to be in pretty good shape. What happened to you… it was not for lack of your strength. You were taken off guard--we all were. Do not blame yourself or insist you are lacking because of what happened.” In any case, she wasn’t sure that she was the prime candidate to help her ‘become stronger’. Elespeth’s strengths and talents almost exclusively revolved around her swordplay, and Bronwyn did not wield a sword: she wielded fangs and animal-like speed. What could she possibly teach her that would be of use to both a human and a wolf?
At the peak of her self-doubt, Haraldur, to her surprise, stepped up and made a suggestion to Bronwyn’s plea. Considering how preoccupied the Forbanne commander was with being a commander, on top of a prince and a father, it rather took her by surprise. “That… sounds like quite the challenge. Bronwyn,” her green eyes mirrored a little bit of concern for the faoladh. “You are aware of the nature of the Forbanne, are you not? Whatever training regimen Haraldur has in mind, even modified, I can only imagine it will be a challenge like none other.” But that was precisely why she seemed to want to do this; to be challenged. To know for certain that, if ever she were to fail again, it would not be for lack of strength. And Elespeth couldn’t help but admire her for that, so much that she made a decision, herself.
“Well… if you are determined, then count me in as well.” The Rigas woman nodded to Haraldur resolutely. “After what I put my body through… I need to push my own limits. Alster has been mentoring me on the magical front, but I’m no stranger to training with you, Haraldur. I can’t see any harm in being over prepared for whatever the future might bring for this kingdom… and for us.”
Ari’s small confession warmed Nia’s heart, enough that she couldn’t help but laugh at the insecurities he’d confided. And not because she thought him foolish, but because the entire idea of her ‘losing interest’ in him was completely ludicrous. “You’re not serious, are you, Ari? You think I would lose interest in you? But why? You afraid that I’d get cold feet from falling in love all over again? Well…” Her smile dimmed around the edges of her mouth, and her hand slipped to his shoulder. “I suppose you do have good reason to be concerned about that. And so do I. Didn’t exactly end well, last time, but I was also a lot younger and a lot stupider. If you really wanted to hurt me, you’ve already had ample opportunities to do it already. And if you’re worried about your lack of experience--don’t forget that I prefer virgins and people with inexperience. That said…” Her brown eyes, half-lidded and sultry, took in his naked form, head to toe. “I’m also someone who’s open to change. And I’m not opposed to round three, four, five, or infinity with you. Yeah, it’s a little weird to think about, since I’m breaking my own rules and all, but this… is different. You are different. The whole situation is different.”
Adjusting her bodily position, the Master Alchemist gradually relaxed her elbows to completely recline against the cushions. Her gaze turned upward at the glittering ceiling again, so reminiscent of those fireflies that had singularly harboured all of her childhood hopes. “The difference is, I’m not running anymore. I don’t have to look over my shoulder every step of the way. Even if Ilandria is still out to get me, it’s not like their mercenaries will be able to make it into Galeyn anytime soon. I’m able to stop and plan ahead, now. Stop and actually dream of the kind of future I want… and it’s all because of you.” Her gaze returned to his face, which was illuminated by the witchlights reflected off of flecks of mica and off of the gently flowing fountain water. He looked nothing less of ethereal, and it momentarily left her speechless.
“I know what I want, now, for the future--exactly what I want. Can I tell you? Promise me you won’t laugh, and if you think it’s impossible or too farfetched a dream, then don’t tell me that right now. Let me dream for a little longer, believing that the impossible can be possible. But, here’s what I want.” Nia lifted one arm and rested her hand flat against his bare chest, directly over his beating heart. “I want Locque to find a means not to need me anymore. To find her humanity and a better understanding of this kingdom and its people so that I don’t need to be her go-between. And when that happens… I want to come back here. I want to stay in the D’Marian settlement, and even if it can’t be with you, somewhere nearby, so that I can see you. I want to convince your mother to give her blessing to rid you of your curse, and once you are no longer cursed… maybe, just maybe I’ll win her over, and our union won’t have to be so secret. And once we’ve surmounted the obstacle that is your esteemed mother, I want to be even closer to you. I want to help in any way that I can as you oversee your people, and eventually… when the time comes, and you must return to Stella D’Mare, I want to go with you. Because no matter where the future takes you, I want my future to be a part of yours. And whenever those fireflies happen to be in season--well, I want us to chase them. Make new memories that are even stronger than the ones I’ve been holding onto. And, somewhere along the line, I’ve gotta figure out how to stop this aging thing.” Her mouth quirked in a half-grin” To keep up with your damn youth! You’ve given me a reason to be hopeful for the future, and that… that is all I’ve ever wanted. For years of running to come to an end, and to finally fall in love with the right person. Is all of that foolish? If you think I’m dreaming too big, here… then tell me later. Because I don’t want anything to sully this memory. The here and now.”
On the contrary, Ari did not imply that any of her aspirations were foolhardy or impossible, but gave her all the more reason to hold onto her new hope for a bright future. Nia listened to every word, surprisingly not speaking up until he was finished. “Ari… you don’t need to convince me of anything!” She almost wanted to laugh, but decided against it, noting the sincerity in his tone and not wanting to hurt his feelings for the emphasis he placed on every single one of his words. “Yeah, I may have heard the ‘I love you’ a few times before from satisfied virgins. It’s not uncommon to profess your love to the first woman who shows you a good time. But, drunk or not, I know you mean everything you say to me--I’ve never had any doubt in my mind. You’re… different, from anyone else I’ve temporarily been with. And, to be honest, I’ve never doubted for a moment that you’ve been on my side! Yeah, you might have a penchant for prettying-up your words and all, but I’ve never detected any deceit from you. I don’t think there’s a single person in this kingdom or this world who could ever convince me I was wrong about you.”
To punctuate her words, she lifted herself onto her elbows again, and stole another kiss from his waiting lips. “All of this feels so right. But I don’t need you to fight for me, Ari; I’m a big girl. I can take on the bullies.” She reassured him with a chuckle. “Just be there--and be you! Because everything about you makes me so damn happy. Anyway, it’s not like I’m fighting any uphill battles anymore. Probably won’t have to ever again, if my luck doesn’t run out. Although… if you feel the need to further prove your point by obliging me with that nude self-portrait,” her grin turned sultry, “then you can damn well bet I am going to encourage you, and I’ll expect it as a belated birthday present. After all, something has to get me through during those times when we’re not together! And who knows how long that’ll be, with your mom sticking closeby. I can’t rely on my stealth all the time to sneak in and be with you undetected.”
“No one’s saying she’s a lost cause. Well, at least I’m not.” Hadwin, now resting in one of the cots after his failed attempt at walking, weighed in on the debate questioning Breane’s ability to help Rowen recover. “I can’t do that. She’s still my sister and I’m responsible for everything she’s grown up to become. Yeah, I’m retreating, but not because I’m done with her. It’s because I’m handing the reins over to someone else. Someone more apt to give her a hand, a boost up, into becoming her best self. I’m not telling you to stop or to give up. Just to take into consideration exactly who you’re dealing with. She ain’t a cute and cuddly dog—but you already know that. When she’s distraught, like right now, she has the potential to inflict a lot of damage. Physical and psychic damage. Don’t forget about that last part. She can get into your head and declare emotional warfare. Look no further than Papa Sorde, over there.” Haraldur, not pleased about being made an example to demonstrate Rowen’s ruthless manipulation tactics, pursed his lips, but said nothing in protest. “She fucked with his mind so much, he, well...you’re no stranger to the details of that outcome, I’m sure.”
“I say she’s a killer not to write her off as beyond redemption. I’m just telling you what she is. What she sees herself as. A killer is what she defaults to when she feels the world’s betrayed her own skewed sense of right and wrong. That’s why it’s important to take precautions. Yeah, a gentle hand will go a long way, but so will a hand of steel. Not a literal one like Al’s, ‘course, but you know what I mean. Why do you think she took to Teselin? Because she’s empathetic and also a magical force to be reckoned with. Ro values strength. She allied with Locque for a reason. Also why she didn’t make a peep when Papa Sorde gave her a piece of his mind a few days back. Because he stood up to her. Hells, the reason she ran from me was because I couldn’t make a compelling enough case for handing back her fears while I was so physically weak. If I’d been at my peak strength, then it would’ve gone differently between us. Likely I would’ve had to fight her, but if I won, she’d have conceded. Because then she would realize it was meant to be.”
“So that’s my advice to you, Breane. You’re not a quitter and I’m not telling you to quit. I’m telling you to flaunt your strengths. And here’s a strength you do have. The Night Garden.” He reached behind him, resting a hand on a robust vine spidering up the wall. “She’s afraid of it. Afraid of what it might do to her. She’s afraid of Haraldur, too, because she views him as a vengeful agent of the Night Garden made flesh, sent to punish her for her crimes.” The Forbanne commander’s eyebrows raised, intrigued by the information. “If you have to, use it. You know what they say about fear being an ace motivator. Well that’ll motivate her, alright. ‘Behave or the big, bad Night Garden will get you.’” He wrinkled his nose at the Gardener, doubting her ability to resort to threatening his sister into submission. “Yeah, that’s not your style, but all I’m saying is you’ve got plenty in your arsenal to fight back against Rowen before she has the chance to fight you. And you’ll want to strike first, believe me. But...the rest is up to you. I leave the healing part in your very capable hands.”
In concluding his instructions and suggestions to Breane, he rerouted his attention to Teselin, who had aligned by his bed following her and Elespeth’s short-lived attempt to guide him out of the sanctuary on his overwhelmed legs. As was typical for the summoner, she looked like she hadn’t slept in days, and any sleep she did manage was ridden with nightmares. It wasn’t far from the truth, his Sight revealed. “Don’t even try, huh? If you wanna take partial responsibility, fine, but if we’re going by percentages, ten percent of responsibility pales in comparison to the ninety percent role I assumed. This shit falls pretty damn heavily on me. It goes even further back than that day. I raised the pipsqueak. Sure, she’s her own person and all, but a person influenced by my ideologies of the time. I couldn’t spare her the harshness of reality, so I didn’t. I told it like it is. Tried to sprinkle in some hope in there, too, but it didn’t stick. So spare yourself, Tes. Hells, I should probably spare myself, too. People may influence her direction, but in the end...she chooses what to do, and where to go. You can only blame your Sight for so much. That’s Ro for you. Everything and everyone else is at fault. But not her. She’s just a victim. So tell me you won’t blame yourself, kid. You’ve got enough to worry about.” You’re going to need to preserve your energy for what’s to come. If Vitali’s warning was to be believed (and he still couldn’t parse if the necromancer was a fever-dream manifestation or of flesh and bone), then things weren’t going to improve for Teselin in the immediate future. “Say, if I’m a really good model patient, maybe they’ll let me move back into your room after a day or two. Whaddaya say?” He sharpened a grin, just for her. “Ready for a wolf to invade your space again?”
As the cramped sanctuary began to disperse, Haraldur, Elespeth, and Bronwyn (who had been given an overlarge outfit to don) followed suit and took their discussions outside. The faoladh fiddled with the cuffs of her sleeves, which almost slid off her much smaller shoulders. Whoever the clothes were made to dress, they were obviously meant for a much bigger person. “I have two more perfectly serviceable outfits in my room. Faoladh have to be prepared for sudden transformations. Briery’s no stranger to this, I’m sure, dealing with my brother as long as she has, so she gave me plenty of options,” she explained to Elespeth. “But maybe you’re right. I should upgrade my outfits. To something more comfortable or...battle-ready.”
Now that she hinted as to what was truly sitting on her mind, she changed the topic to reflect her desired-for request. “Elespeth, you flatter me, but as I am now, I’m just passable. I can keep up with you, but that’s about it. I hunt, but exclusively as a wolf. If need be, I can hold my own with my fists, but otherwise, I can’t really fight. When Rowen was clamping down on my back, I felt so...helpless,” she looked down at her feet in shame, uncomfortable for admitting something so private out loud to not only a friend, but in the presence of a relative stranger, as well. But knowing Elespeth’s past relationship with the Sorde prince, and the strong desire to protect and assist written into his olive-green eyes, she could sense that he wasn’t the worst person to confide in. Didn’t she also admit as much to Isidor Kristeva, a man she had no business confessing anything to, let alone her struggles with self-worth? Why had she been so interested, of late, to cut herself open and bleed all over amiable outsiders, when a scant year ago, she would casually shun anyone who was not of the clan? How lonely and pathetic your life is, Bronwyn Kavanagh, to look for surrogates to fill in the void of a community that never wanted you. Will you take just about anyone who shows you a shred of kindness, now? “Since I’ve arrived in Galeyn, I’ve been grappling with that feeling nonstop. Helplessness and uselessness, vising my head. No,” she sighed, contradicting herself, “maybe I’ve always felt this way. To my clan, to my father, I was good for one thing: grunt work. The work no one ever wanted to do fell on my shoulders. And I never complained because I wanted to be seen as helpful. Useful. To know my contributions were making a positive difference. How ironic,” she barked a half-drowned laugh. “To strive so hard to be something, only to have achieved the opposite. I’m sorry for the verbal assault. I’m sure you have places to be. Children to care for,” she nodded at Haraldur. “My point, what I’m trying to say, is that I want this opportunity. To strive towards something. I can no longer sit here, twiddling my thumbs while wondering why I keep getting overwhelmed or defeated. I understand the Forbanne’s tendency towards...extremes. I’ll admit, they terrify me. Even so, I’d be honored to be given a responsibility that isn’t just strings of menial tasks with no reward. I’m hardy and I heal quickly. I can handle it.”
“Consider it done. Both of you. You don’t have to apologize for or explain your reasoning, either,” Haraldur assured. Nevertheless, he nodded to acknowledge and recognize the deep meaning behind Bronwyn’s disclosure. “I get it. We all have our motivations for becoming stronger. Come to the Forbanne barracks tomorrow after lunch. I’ll oversee this entire process in the beginning. I can’t always guarantee that I’ll be around. Obligations and all. Kids to feed. But I’ll give you the essential foundations to get started, and pair you with my most trusted, and safest, soldiers. Oh, and Elespeth?” He turned to the warrior mage, his eyes softening. “I look forward to it. Training with you, like old times. Before everything got so...complicated.” Before we became something else entirely, came the unspoken, yet heavily inferred, sentiment.
Shortly after their plans for a meetup had concluded, Alster returned with a wheeled chair, the very same once belonging to Elespeth and before that, Lysander. “Huh, this chair really gets around,” Hadwin commented as Elespeth and Bronwyn helped him into the seat (Haraldur had since departed for his family’s chambers) and wheeled him to the infirmary for aforementioned tests and observation. With all the hype and excitement thus dispersed, Gardeners returned to their duties and the sanctuary faded back to relative normalcy. Save for the three soldiers Haraldir allotted to keep watch outside, the interior of the small hut housed Rowen and her lone overseer, Breane.
Some hours later, Rowen, shaking off the effects of the sedative, snapped her wolf eyes open and analyzed her surroundings. Confusion quickly gave way to dead realization when she felt the familiar cloying sensation behind her eyes and the seizing of her fluttering chest. A filter seemed to cover her vision, painting everything in a cloudy, gritty monotone. Colors bled and little joys receded, leaving naught but messy leftovers on the floor where fraught, fragile hopes gasped for the breath of life. Despite bearing witness to this spiritual death, Rowen felt...nothing. She was better off this way. Allow nothing to penetrate and perhaps, the fears wouldn’t swarm her like a band of sharks on the hunt for blood. If they couldn’t sense her weakness with their impeccable noses, she would be safe. For now. Give them nothing and you’ll receive nothing.
Sitting up on her paws, she shook her mane of fur and assumed her human skin, a disturbing clamor of cracked bones shivering through the sanctuary’s shroud of silence, startling the young Breane from whatever superficial nap she didn’t mean to take.
“You’re still here,” Rowen stated in a drone of a voice. Her impassive features betrayed nothing of her feelings regarding the events of several hours ago. “I see my brother turned tail. Not surprising.” She stretched her muscles, sighing as a series of pops relieved the tension in her human shoulders and realigned them to their fluid functions. Though naked and exposed, she made no attempt to cover herself in blankets. She merely sat upright and spoke to Breane, unbothered by her immodesty.
“There’s no reason for you to be here anymore, Breane. Effective today, I discharge myself from the sanctuary, and from your care. I’m returning to my chambers in the palace. I’ve taken too much time off and Locque will be wondering if I’ve shirked my duties. So,” she climbed to her feet, searching the room for a halfway decent outfit to don, “I’ll take my leave of you, once I find something to wear. If not, I’ll head on out as is. Makes no difference to me.”
“I do not intend to remain inexperienced for long, Nia,” Ari gave her a mock look of affront. “And when that day does arrive, may you gird yourself in preparation for the change. I, too, possess a lofty goal.” Smiling slyly, he flipped over on his hands and knees and crawled over her reclining body, lowering his face to whisper from on high into her ear. “I will pleasure and ravish you, yet.” He didn’t maintain the position for long. Flopping on his back beside her, he linked hands with hers and stared at the cave ceiling, lulled by the gentle pulse of the variegated purples and greens striking against the colored glass to create nebula-rich clusters. Above them was an approximation of a night sky as though rendered by a cave dweller who had heard descriptions of the stars and the aurora, but had never experienced them for himself, and could only replicate the spectacle using whatever trinkets and knick-knacks were at his disposal.
As he trained his eyes on the mesmerizing shifts in color, imagining how Nia interpreted them as fireflies dazzling a winter deep, he listened to her many dreams, nodding along, but never judging. “Never would I denounce you for having dreams, Nia. Whatever form of beast do you think I am? As an artist, I translate dreams and bring them to the fore; I do not trample them. Dreams, by their nature, are far fetched, but the ones you pose are not impossible.” Not even the part where you honestly believe Locque can rediscover her humanity and rule with compassion, he thought, but did not express. After all, he was not in the business of trampling her dreams. Not yet. Not at the height of her happiness and serenity. “You will find that your dreams are congruent with mine. I, too, wish for the same. You have given voice, and beautifully, to that which I yearn for: a future, with you, wherein we may live in sight of my mother and of other D’Marians, accepted by our peers as a darling ensemble of two as we dwell among the terraced seaside of my beloved homeland—content and fulfilled. As we speak, I am making inquiries regarding your longevity dilemma, so rest assured,” a confident smile stretched across his soft features. “You will obtain what you seek. Alas, before we strive forward with our wondrous plans, we must first stand beneath a storm of fireflies, to catch and consummate our collective wishes—for luck.”
Hopeful though his musings were, which offered a gentle complement to Nia’s infectious optimism, the urgency never quite departed from his previous statement. Yes, he announced his love, perhaps prematurely, but that wasn’t the point of the message. He was trying to both warn her and to reassure her, and frustration abounded when she didn’t quite seem to understand, and all but waved off his concerns. Oh, how he wanted to show complete transparency as she did with him. To announce, point-blank, his intentions to overthrow—and abet in killing—the employer responsible for Nia’s temporary cessation of her fugitive lifestyle. But he couldn’t, and so, it was for the best that she didn’t parse his coded meaning. In fact, she said something else, and it nearly made him flinch with guilt.
I don’t think there’s a single person in this kingdom or this world who could ever convince me I was wrong about you...
The guilt compounded upon itself. It feels so right because it is right...while simultaneously feeling so, so wrong. You will soon see, Nia, if I am worth my word, or if I am nothing more than a purveyor of pretty words. A spinner of fanciful dreams...that die upon awakening.
Speaking of dreams, he wasn’t long for the conscious world. And with one final, loving kiss upon her open mouth, Ari rolled to his side, scooped her naked body in her arms, pressed his forehead against her shoulder, and drifted to a sleep that was equal parts fulfilled...and conflicted—for the future was not so rosy as Nia postulated, and he hadn’t the heart to tell her that it would be...because of him.
Breane quietly listened to Hadwin’s cautions, though many of them were not brand new news to her. It was difficult not to be aware of what the youngest faoladh was capable of, when the tragedy that had occurred in the fall was still so fresh in everyone’s minds. When the Gardeners still tended the memorial flora of Cwenha, Naimah, and the other fallen Galeynians whose blood was on Rowen’s hands. Frankly, it would have been smart to be wary, and even wiser to choose to walk away. You are in over your head. Too far over your head, a nagging voice at the back of the young Gardener’s mind hissed. It said everything that the adults surrounding her were too polite to voice. Who will resuscitate you when you drown?
“But I have nothing to flaunt.” Came her eventual reply to Rowen’s brother. Not once did she take her mind off of her sleeping charge. “The Garden is not here to intimidate. It is not designed to intimidate. I understand your reasoning, Hadwin, but in my experience, intimidation is met with intimidation, and violence is met with violence, when it comes to people like Rowen. Not to mention, we cannot force anyone to receive treatment from the Night Garden. They must agree to commit of their own volition. I cannot keep her here if she does not want to remain and see her recovery through… but I am going to try. I’ll do everything I can to convince her that now is not the time to give up… although, I’m not sure that what I have to say will be enough. Not after…” Breane trailed off, quietly sighing and gesturing to the unconscious wolf on the cot. She didn’t need to go into detail about what she meant. Not after everyone she was beginning to trust betrayed her--even me. Because I did nothing to stop any of you… I let this happen to her.
“You don’t have to do it alone, Breane.” Teselin piped up quietly, her voice laden with even more profound guilt than then young Gardener must have felt. “I am sure Rowen won’t want to have anything to do with me, but just in case… you can tell her that so long as she is not willing to give up, then neither am I. I promised I would help her, as well. That offer still stands, especially now that Hadwin will be on his way to recovery. I won’t feel so torn between tending to two people at once.”
All of this was spoken, however, with the anticipation that Rowen would want nothing to do with her in the days to come. And Teselin could not blame her: how could she expect trust from the person whose capture she had openly advocated for, not an hour ago? But truth be told… Teselin was not offering on behalf of Rowen. Rather, she wanted to be there for Breane. For the young Gardener, whose life she now feared for, along with everyone else in the vicinity. She had gotten her into this; she had taken Rowen to her, made her her charge, in the first place. To not assume a modicum of responsibility for the way things had panned out would be beyond irresponsible.
“Thank you, Teselin,” came the young Gardener’s reply, before everyone slowly filed out of the room: Hadwin, with some assistance, and Bronwyn who mercifully didn’t appear to be too worse for the wear. While knowing full well she was not entirely alone, with those who stood on guard just outside of the Sanctuary, ready to take action should it be needed, Breane was no less relieved to be free of the clutter within the tiny healing space. It gave her room to fully experience what she was feeling; to open herself up to the Night Garden, in hopes that it would show her how to stop feeling that way. To apply balm to her guilt and disappointment, just as one would apply a cooling salve to a burn. I messed up. I know I did, but I still tried. I’m still willing to try. Can’t you take this away? This feeling of failure, when I am not ready to give up?
Her silent pleas to the Night Garden went unanswered, at least for the time being. Perhaps it had better things to do, more important issues to tend to. Or, perhaps, it did not see fit to help her at all. Perhaps this was her punishment for failing: to feel it, and feel it hard, so that she did not fail anyone in the future.
She wasn’t quite sure how long she sat there, stewing in sadness and guilt, before Rowen finally began to stir. The young wolf twitched first, then looked up, taking a moment to remember where she was, and what had happened. Everything came back to her quickly enough, and she shifted back into her human skin, evidently surprised that Breane was still there with her.
“Of course I stayed. I told you that I would stay by your side to help you, Rowen.” The young Gardener explained, and hazarded a small, weak smile. “Healing in any capacity… it can be a long and arduous journey, and not one that needs to be experienced all alone. This… today…” She wrung her hands nervously. “It was a setback, and I… I am so sorry for it. I didn’t want it to happen to you, but neither was it my place to stop it, because your brother was in need. But it isn’t the end--it doesn’t have to be. We can still…”
She didn’t have time to finish her thought. Rowen had her own words--and they were just as Breane had feared. The young faoladh had given up, and was not willing to proceed any further with her treatment or recovery. “Are… are you sure, Rowen? We don’t need to stop just yet. Look at how far you’ve already come. If you are concerned about Locque… I could talk to her, for you. Surely she will understand...”
Was there anything she could possibly say that would change Rowen’s mind? The truth was, Breane knew the answer very well. But she wasn’t ready to accept it.
Words flew through her mind as Rowen searched for something to wear, found an outfit that had been brought for Bronwyn but had been a tad too small, and then proceeded to make her way toward the door. That was when the young Gardener found the strength in her legs and sprang to her feet. “Rowen, wait!” Her voice was louder, bolder than it had ever been before. She hadn’t even been aware that she was capable of such volume. Neither had Rowen been, by the looks of it, as the young faoladh stopped in her tracks and looked over her shoulder. “If you reconsider… I mean, I hope you reconsider. You should. Because I really think we can do this… together. Get you to where you want to be. Help you find everything beautiful you’ve been missing out on. I told you,” her tone softened, and her shoulders fell into a slump, realizing the futility of it all. “That I wasn’t going to give up on you.”
But it wasn’t up to her, if Rowen had decided to give up on herself.
“So we’re on the same page, then.” The delight in Nia’s eyes sparkled like the walls and ceiling of the cave. “That’s actually one hell of a relief. ‘Cause, I mean, if your dreams and mine weren’t congruent… then I wouldn’t have much in the way of my dreams. But, what do you think? Does it sound like just a stupid dream, or could it be… more than that?”
When he mentioned that he had already put his search for a solution to her own longevity, it was all the answer she needed. It wasn’t a farfetched fantasy--at least, it didn’t have to be, if they were working toward the same goal. “You know, you don’t need fireflies to make dreams come true.” The Master Alchemist smiled softly, and gathered the Canaveris lord in her arms as he pressed his forehead to her shoulder. It was… a little endearing, how sex appeared to exhaust him, so. She could only imagine how spent he would feel if he ever decided to be the one on top! “But, I already said I want to go catching fireflies with you… so we might as well wish on them, right?”
Ari didn’t answer. After a few moments passed, it was clear he had fallen asleep… and oh, how she wished to join him, again! But if she waited until morning like last time, not only would that mean a full day’s carriage ride back to the palace (which would not put her in good standing with Locque), but if the two of them were spotted by anyone leaving the grotto together come morning, such news would no doubt reach Nadira’s ears… Well, both of them would be in hot water. So Nia stayed for a little bit longer, listening to the trickling water and watching the ceiling sparkle, before gathering her resolve and gently dislodging herself from Ari’s embrace. She gently eased his form onto the cushions, and pulled on her leathers, but she left her riding cloak, using it to cover his naked form. From there, she made sure to retrieve the ribbon from Sylvie (which she tied into her hair for safe keeping), along with the almonds and Ari’s self-portrait, and then turned to the sleeping form of the man she had fallen in love with one more time.
“Thanks for reminding me there are still beautiful things in the world.” She whispered fondly, before quietly taking her leave. It pained her that he would wake up alone, but there would be more nights like this, sure enough. He seemed as fond of sneaking around with her as she did, deriving some thrill from their clandestine affair. Finding her way out of the grotto, she retraced her steps to the communal stables where she had left her horse, and rode back at otherworldly speed to the city proper, feeling lighter than she ever had in her life.
But she would soon wish she had stayed beneath the glittering ceiling of the grotto, safe and content in Ari’s embrace.
Upon her return, Nia took it upon herself to tack the Night Steed at the palace stables, considering the stablehands were no longer awake at this ungodly hour--but someone certainly was. No sooner did she set her foot upon the marble floors, forever marred by Queen Lilica’s hellfire, that she turned a corner, only to come face to face with Locque’s personal bodyguard--and primary hostage. “Fu--sheesh, running into you is like running into a wall,” the Master Alchemist commented, stumbling back clumsily after colliding headlong with Sigrid Sorenson’s chest. The leather armor she wore (which she had alchemically reinforced) completely negated the cushioning of breasts, which would’ve made the collision hurt a lot less on her part, otherwise. “What are you even doing, lurking arou--hey, hey! What’s going on?”
“You are wanted.” The once Dawn warrior explained monotonously as she gripped Nia by the arm, and pulled her along. She didn’t stop until she reached the rather empty looking chamber where she herself slept, nothing in it but a handful of outfit changes, the accursed sword that only she could wield, and--
--and a body. On the floor, unmoving, and presumably dead. But not just any body in particular…
“...what the actual fuck.” The words slipped out of her mouth in a hiss before she noticed that Locque also occupied the room, standing just off to the side of what looked to be a very dead necromancer. The Summoner was shrouded in a tight air of anger, hostility… and fear.
“I was hoping,” Locque began, her tone even, but deadly, “that you could explain this, Anetania. You seem to have a better understanding of what goes on around in this palace than I do.”
“I--what? I literally just walked in on this.” Nia stammered, struggling to comprehend the situation. “You wanna tell me what’s going on, first?”
“He touched Gaolithe.” Sigrid filled in the glaring blank, that explained why Vitali Kristeva lay unmoving and not breathing in her room, facedown, ornate waistcoat fanned out around him. “Seemed to think he would not wake me. But I saw him make contact, and fall.”
“Right. I always forget you fucking sleep in armor.” Nia scoffed, but it was only in an attempt to collect herself. The almonds and portrait were still in the satchel at her waist. How the hell did she transition from such a beautiful evening to this?! “I’ve been gone for hours,” she said at last, to Locque. “And even if I’d been around--do you really think I have any idea as to what goes on… what went on in that man’s head? It’s not exactly a secret that he wasn’t particularly fond of me, you know. I wouldn’t be his first confidant.”
“Then who would be?” The new Queen asked, fire burning in her eyes. “I will tell you this much, Nia; I believe you. But, I also believed that the necromancer… well, I rather thought he wasn’t quite so stupid. I’m not sure what he was looking to prove by wielding Gaolithe when he knew full well he couldn’t. However, that makes me wonder who else might know a thing or two. If Vitali Kristeva, one whom I thought to be an ally, was potentially thinking to try and end me with that sword…” The fire in her eyes grew. “Who else might be?”
Nia touched her forehead. “Alright. I get it; you want me to suss out suspicion. But, I mean, are we even sure he’s actually dead?” As if she had to know for herself, the Master Alchemist knelt and flipped the lifeless body of the necromancer over. He was unresponsive, his skin was cold, and she could neither feel breath nor a pulse… And yet, just to be sure, she tore the blindfold from his eyes, just in case the bastard was some expert at playing dead.
Two dark, lifeless, unblinking eyes stared up at her. If he were alive, he’d be in excruciating pain from the torchlights and witchlights, alone…
“...I’ll see what I can do. I’ll talk to people. But not the summoner kid--not yet.” At last, the Master Alchemist agreed, feeling chilled and dirty at the realization she’d just touched a cadaver. “Eventually, not yet, but if anyone doesn’t know what’s going on, it’s her. She fucking doted on her brother. You think she’d play it cool if he had a plan that would get him killed? We all know what can happen when she’s in a state of emotional distress.”
“I don’t care who you talk to, Anetania, but I want answers by morning.” Locque turned to the stoic figure of the once Dawn Warrior, and sighed as she placed a hand upon her arm. “I am beginning to wonder if the only ones I am able to trust are those under my thrall.”
“You know that’s not true. No one--except for this asshole, apparently, is going to take up an agenda against you. Just… just let me see what I can find out.”
With the bitter taste of an evening gone sour at the back of her throat, Nia left the room and made directly for Queen Lilica’s chamber. She rapped loudly on the door until finally, Chara--who had been sleeping previously and did not look happy to be awake--answered. “Lady Chara. Hope you’re having a good evening; I’m sure as hell not.” Nia greeted her with a tight smile. “Don’t go back to bed anytime soon. And inform your Queen lover that I need to talk to you, and to her. Actually, I need to talk to a whole fucking bunch of people, so we might as well all congregate here. So sit tight, while I round up some more visitors. Believe me--you’ll want to go along with this. You think I’m a pain in the ass to deal with?” She arched a knowing eyebrow. “You don’t talk to me, you’ll be talking to Locque. So sit with that for a moment.”
In a matter of minutes, Nia made her way around the entire palace, rousing anyone and everyone who had ever had dealings with the necromancer (to her knowledge), or were associated with anyone who’d had dealings with him. Before long, she had returned to Chara and Lilica’s chambers, which was now filled to the brim with other familiar company: Alster and Elespeth Rigas, Isidor, Vega and Haraldur Sorde, even Elias, Daphni, and Senyiah, who had once attempted to treat Vitali for his cursed vision. The only parties missing were Hadwin and Teselin, and the only reason Hadwin wasn’t present was because Teselin would have to be, as well… and Nia was not about to open that can of worms with the young summoner.
“Thank you and good evening, everyone. Sorry to rouse you all from your slumber, but I’m afraid there’s a bit of an issue to discuss, and I’m hoping that you’ll all be forthright with me so that we can just go back to bed soon. That, and I’m doing you all a damn favor in sparing you the wrath of our other Queen.” Nia paced the room, nervously tapping her hip and fidgeting with the star pendant around her neck. “So, here’s the thing. Vitali Kristeva just turned up fucking dead, and no, he’s not faking. Evidently, the moron went straight for that Dawn Warrior’s accursed sword, and it killed him right there, on the spot. I… I can’t even venture to fucking guess what is going on. So, I’m hoping, for all our sakes, that one of you knows something about that. Even enough to convince me he was just working alone. I’m supposed to have some answers by morning, so if anyone knows anything at all, or has anything they’d like to confide… believe me, you’re going to want to tell me, and not Locque.” She searched the faces of everyone in the room, who appeared just as baffled as she had been at the news. “Because, through me, you’ve got a mediator--and one you can save your ass, if you cooperate. I know how to talk to Locque, and she listens to me. So let’s spare us all further misery and suffering, and start dishing out some facts.” Exhaling a long sigh, she pressed her back to the opposing wall, next to the fireplace. “I’m waiting.”
If possible, Chara Rigas’s reception to Nia’s midnight disturbance couldn’t be any chillier. She already made up her mind regarding the rankling Master Alchemist, and nothing in her mind reserved the tiniest iota of good tidings, warmth, or even the barest of tolerances. Her glare was borderline hostile as she opened the door to receive her unwanted guest, but she didn’t argue. If the directive came straight from Locque’s mouth, then there was little anyone could do to counter it—late hour be damned.
Nia gained her cooperation, and by extension, Lilica’s cooperation, but cooperation was the extent of her clemency. She lifted not a finger to help Locque’s lackey gather the personages necessary to commence her interrogation, or whatever it was she planned to do. Not that Nia bothered to inform her or Lilica the reasons behind their emergency meeting. She only hoped it had nothing to do with Alster, who had been in a froth to revenge Locque since relocating from the farmhouse. But when her cousin was one of the first to arrive on the scene, with Elespeth close behind, Chara wrote off his involvement, and the relief was palpable enough to show in her eyes for a second.
Lilica’s chambers were roomy, but not to the extent of accommodating eleven people. A lack of chairs, couches, or sitting space meant that a majority were left standing and huddled in clusters with their associated partners and friends. To account for the influx of bodies and the uncomfortable heat they generated, Chara opened a window and smothered the hearthfire, allowing a welcoming breeze to try and cool the escalating tension and confusion. Fortunately, Nia, once satisfied with the numbers she’d collected, drove straight to the hot button issue.
She wasn’t sure she heard correctly.
“Wait...are you serious? Vitali is dead?” Her incredulity almost detached her eyebrows and floated them to the skies. “How is that even possible? For all that dreaded man has cheated death, I cannot for a second believe he is affected by the staid, stale rules of mortality. Are you certain this is not some trick or game he is employing to make us all look like fools?”
Haraldur, who, across the room, had been leaning casually against the wall, rose to full, upright attention, both rattled by the news...and a little buoyed. “No. That’s…If that’s true, I can’t say I’m sad to see him go at all,” he shook his head, along with the impact the news delivered for one who despised the necromancer most of all. He wanted to invite the refreshing waft of springtime relief drifting from the open window. It was as he said to Breane; he wasn’t above wishing someone dead, and Vitali was no exception. Evenso, something didn’t sit right with him. Not just his conscience, which helpfully pointed out he wouldn’t be alive if not for the necromancer’s interference (and he still carried that wretched rune-scar on his chest as an unwanted reminder), but another detail of Nia’s account jumped out and bit him on the neck. “He touched Gaolithe? Why in the hell would he do that? Vitali is the definition of self-preservation. Did he have a secret death wish?”
“It could be he cast a spell that went horribly awry. I understand that Gaolithe houses many trapped spirits. Perhaps he learned the source of its power and wanted it all for himself,” Chara harrumphed, also not entirely heartbroken about learning of the necromancer’s demise. “Mere speculation. I have no answer for you, Alchemist.”
“You can see for yourself, Nia; this news is a shock to us all,” Alster said, trying to suspend the disquiet before it had a chance to expand and deafen all progress towards a civil discussion. “We don’t know anything. The only person who ever spent plentiful time with the necromancer is the star-seer, Tivia, and she’s not here to answer for his behavior. All I can give is an account of his general disposition. He’s an enigma, even to those who know him. Rarely does he show his hand...unless it benefits him. Whatever his dealings with Gaolithe, I can’t divine his reasoning, nor can I determine if he even succeeded in his goal. If you need answers, the most I can do is have a look at his body and check for any clues he might have left behind, wittingly or unwittingly.”
But before Nia could respond to Alster’s attempts to comply with the investigation, the chamber door rattled furiously, heralding the arrival of an invited guest. Unfortunately, no one thought to lock the door before in barged Rowen Kavanagh. Freshly discharged from the sanctuary, she sported borrowed, clinical clothes that draped off her thin frame, more a shroud than an everyday, voluntary outfit, her face bearing the quiet anger of one who had just been jilted. Yet simultaneously, she exuded a deadpan, lethal finesse, a mainstay of her character that weeks spent in the sanctuary hadn’t managed to dampen. Her sonorous eyes boldly met each person in the room as she stepped through the threshold and clinked the door shut behind her, focusing her knife point’s edge on Nia.
“You know, it’s funny to learn secondhand about this highly important meeting and not even be considered for an invitation. Whose fault is that, I wonder?” She sidled beside Nia, not deigning her with a glance. “And please spare me your excuses. I was getting treatments in the sanctuary. I wasn’t some fucking unresponsive vegetable incapable of doing my job. Not that my status matters anyway. My brother returned my fears and I’m no longer a Gardener’s pet project. So there’s no need to keep discluding me.” She sniffed the air and her face wrinkled from the odor emanating from the Alchemist’s clothes. “Honestly, Nia. Were you too busy fucking Lord Canaveris to screw your head on straight for just a minute?”
“Lord Cana...Wait—what?!” Chara threw her arms out to their sides, and not outrage, but bewilderment—and a dose of unease—peppered her exclamation.
Rowen ignored her reaction, her vitriol firmly focused elsewhere. “Locque entrusted you for this task? You? You’re the wrong person. I can’t even,” she hissed low in her throat, pressing two fingers to the bridge of her nose as if nursing physical pain. “What in the hell was she thinking?” She tried to manage the hurt in her voice by replacing it with frustration—frustration aimed entirely at her current source of frustration. “Any dumbass with the proper tools can see that they don’t know anything. They’re just as clueless about this as you are. But you know who does, who did know about Vitali? I did. Me.” Her mouth parted in a grimace large enough to expose her canines, the very same that almost crushed Bronwyn’s spine. “I warned you and I warned Locque, from day one, not to trust the necromancer. I told you to keep an eye on him. That he allied with us only because he wanted to get close to something. You only have yourselves to blame for being so damn gullible to accept Vitali when it was clear as day he was going to betray us. Whatever he did to Gaolithe, mark my words. He planned it. This was a premeditated act. There’s your answer. Believe me or don’t believe me; you tend towards the latter persuasion, anyway. But if you want proof of the necromancer’s nefarious plotting, look no further than my brother.”
“Your brother? What do you mean?” Alster kept his timbre gentle so as not to incite Rowen’s borderline volatility. “He’s been bedridden for weeks. What does he know?”
“He’s the last person to have seen him, alive. My Sight grows stronger,” she said, by way of explanation. “I used to see just the ‘what’ behind one’s darkness. A statement of fact and nothing more. Now I can see the ‘why’ and the ‘how,’ and sometimes the ‘when.’ Memories. They sharpen in detail, becoming ever clearer. This morning, when I looked into my brother’s eyes, I saw that he would choose Teselin over me. And why? What motivated him to return my fears so speedily, without giving me a fucking second to breathe? What was so important that he couldn’t wait another minute? Some would say his health was declining, but no, that’s not even the primary reason. It was to fulfill some dark promise he made to the necromancer...last night. Go ahead,” she pointed to the door, “and ask him, yourself. He’s in the infirmary—alone. The summoner retired to her chambers, in case you fear the next cataclysm. Now if you’ll excuse me,” she not-so-subtly shoulder-shoved Nia and wrenched open the door, “I’ll let you continue to conduct your private meeting in peace since I’m obviously not a desired contributor to this party of yours. Good night.”
Unlike her brother, Rowen wasn’t keen on generating unwanted noise, as demonstrated by the muffled door-clatter of her egress. When her soft footfalls diminished down the hallway, the room, hushed to funereal silence, jolted awake. And several voices thrummed up at once.
“We should check up on Hadwin. Let him know what happened-“
“What of Vitali’s body? And Gaolithe?”
“Does it even pay to bury his body? Or cremate it, as the Gardeners do? Is he getting a flower bush? He’d better not be getting a flower bush.”
“—and how do we inform Teselin of this? And when?”
“—That wolf girl hates your guts,” the last voice, Elias’s, cut through all the others, regarding Nia with offhanded interest. “Tread carefully, lest you find yourself in an infirmary bed. You wouldn’t want to be a patient of mine.”
“I do hope you like rose tea.”
“Ah—thank you.” He gratefully accepted the proffered cup of porcelain and set it at the base of a mountain of books, all earmarked with slips of paper too numerous to count. “You didn’t have to.”
“It is no bother.” Naimah took a seat in the empty chair beside him. “I understand you are in the midst of your research, but have you uncovered anything relevant since the last time I was here?”
Alster abandoned his reading and turned to his inquirer, brow still furrowed in concentration, an expression he often wore while reading.
“Oh! I did not mean to disturb you. Forgive me.”
“No, no.” He placed his prosthesis over the reading and rubbed on a reassuring smile. “Nothing of the sort. This is all hypothetical, and it may remain hypothetical, as there is no way of testing it beforehand, but...We know that Gaolithe traps the spirits of its wielders and obliterates their existence from the minds of others, right?” The Kariji woman nodded. “There might be a method of freeing those spirits from the blade, and if my postulations are true, freeing those spirits will slowly deactivate Gaolithe of its power. It feeds on their souls, growing ever more formidable the more innocent lives it absorbs. It stands to assumption that if every last soul evacuates, this cursed weapon will eventually lose its energy source. Knowing this, if one can infiltrate Gaolithe from the inside, if they know where to look, it may be possible to destroy whatever seals and wards keep these poor souls imprisoned. And if the imprisonment mechanism is disrupted, destroyed, or otherwise compromised, then it can’t claim Sigrid’s life, even if she uses the blade for its intended purpose.”
“It sounds promising, Alster. ...What is the caveat? A ‘but’ is forthcoming, is it not?”
“Yes.” He sighed and reached for the cup of steaming tea. “How does one infiltrate Gaolithe from within? I’ve thought about separating my spirit from my body and entering the blade that way, but I fear that, even as a spirit, Gaolithe can detect my composition as alive and, though I’m not physically touching or interacting with the blade, proximity to its energy field will still kill me. It’s a risk I can’t take.”
“No, I understand. I wouldn't want to see you put in harm's way.” Naimah lowered her gaze to the table, disheartened. “Then...what can be done?”
“As I see it now, only the dead can access Gaolithe and evenso, they’d still have to penetrate Gaolithe’s strong force-field. Alone, a dead spirit couldn’t manage such a feat. Not without the help of a medium, and,” he paused to take a sip of tea, “no medium I know would risk their lives to touch Gaolithe and make it happen—and most certainly not on a whim of an idea.”
Except, apparently, Vitali.
Those were the thoughts circulating Alster’s mind when Nia announced the necromancer’s death, along with the strange circumstances behind his death. Could it be…? It explained Vitali’s odd visitation to Isidor and whatever conversation transpired between him and Hadwin last night, per Rowen’s claim. If what he suspected was true, he couldn’t let the truth be known lest he, and everyone else, by association, fall into danger.
Fortunately, his mind shield spell seemed to have worked. Rowen Kavanagh’s dead eyes bore deep into his darkness...and saw nothing. No damning evidence of his deceit. Just the run of the mill horrors he let her see. Dead parents, decimated armies, pacts with eldritch gods...the typical life of Alster Rigas, on easy display.
And then she was gone. Somehow...he had survived her scrutiny. But he couldn’t breathe out a sigh of relief. Not yet.
“We should pass the news to Hadwin,” he agreed with the general consensus bouncing around the room. “Because I believe he should be the one to handle delivering the news to Teselin. Historically, he hasn’t been...great at revealing harsh truths to people,” he admitted, “but he’s always gentle with her. She should hear about her brother’s death from someone she trusts. Someone who can provide comfort and snap her back to reality if she begins to lose control. They’ve always been good at pulling each other out from the brink. I don’t think we should do this right away, and it might behoove us all to stage this confession far from the center of Galeyn, but we’ll hear his opinion on the matter. As for Vitali’s body,” he looked to everyone else for their opinion, “I don’t know what we should do with it, but it wouldn’t hurt for us to examine it.” He motioned to himself, Daphni, and Elias. “If we’re done here, Nia, feel free to lead the way to Sigrid’s chambers.”
To the Master Alchemist’s credit, she didn’t keep them lodged inside any longer against their will and adjourned the meeting. As people filtered outside, some retired to bed while others either searched for Hadwin or joined the expedition to Vitali’s death site. In the end, they decided to keep the latter crew relatively small, with the original trio (plus Nia) heading for the corpse. Upon arrival, and entrance, no one expected that Locque would still be presiding over the scene, having not moved from earlier.
Alster froze in the doorframe and his eyes grew wide. “Y-your M-majesty,” he wheezed, reduced to a shiver before the woman who unmade him, who featured in his recurring nightmares, who seldom departed his conscious or unconscious mindscape. She, his new monster, coiled in the cavern where once housed the Serpent and Its fear-scrying, all-knowing eyes of caustic orange. I know you. I’ll always be here. And you can’t run from me. Rising panic hitched in his throat. He lost all sense of up and down, of words, of existence. The only physical indicator of his corporeality was the clawing, cloying of his neck and the loss of precious oxygen as he forgot to breathe.
He felt a heavy clap on his back. Snapping out of it, he looked to his right. Elias, who wasn’t known for his supportive gestures, seemed to understand Alster’s downward spiral and took charge of the situation. “Your Majesty,” he bowed, “though we understand the necromancer’s cause of death, we are nonetheless here to examine the body to determine if there resides other clues of his passing. After we complete this inspection, and with your permission, we will remove him from these chambers and prepare him for burial. Does this course of action meet your approval?”
