As much as it came as a relief that the Canaveris lord hadn’t suffered any further flare-ups from addressing the very angry crowd (or confronting Chara Rigas, that day), it was clear that the events of the past twenty-four hours were still weighing on his mind--and rightfully so. She wished she had the power to take that stress away, and undo all of the damage that Rowen has purposely caused that day… or, at the very least, she wished that Ari had been left out of the wolf’s tirade. Had this not included him, she would not have so vehemently sought to discredit Rowen Kavanagh before a crowd. Something which, ultimately, backfired and did the exact opposite of what she had thought.
Without question, she followed Ari back to their sacred space, remembering well that their last visit to the grotto had not been quite so stressful. It looked exactly the same as she remembered: the ceiling glittered with the mica that reminded her so dearly of those magic little fireflies on the winter solstice. But the air surrounding the Canaveris lord this time was anything but relaxed, and she knew before he even started speaking that he was not looking to lose himself in her embrace tonight.
“Ari, I… I can’t begin to apologize for what happened today. Not just for what Rowen said, which was none of her business, but for everything. Including what I said to your people.” Nia pushed breath from her lungs in a sharp sigh. “I thought it would help--I thought I could help, but I guess I’m not much help if people don’t trust me to begin with. I just wanted to deflect some of the attention away from you and Chara. But I only made things worse… I should’ve known that dealing with D’Marians was a whole other element ” Because nothing you do or say, and nothing anyone else does or says, will win anyone over in your favour. Her inner voice ridiculed her, but she couldn’t even deny the words that rang in her mind. If Galeyn ever became her home, it would only be because she found a home in Ari and his inviting demeanor. Otherwise, under Locque’s rule… this place would never accept her.
None of that matters, as long as I have Ari. Galeyn’s not home. Ari is my home.
“Look, don’t stress yourself out of swaying public opinion in my favour. That’s not why I’m here; anyway, I’ve become pretty used to being unpopular.” The Master Alchemist assured him with a dismissive gesture. “I came here to make sure you’re alright. And to help you make things alright, as best I can. But your people… they’re right to be concerned. I can’t defend what happened, even if Locque did sanction it, but it looks just as bad that I stand against Rowen. Please understand, I’m doing my best to balance the scales here. And I will balance them. It was my fault for not paying close attention to what was going on behind the scenes lately: I was too preoccupied with the necromancer’s death… I didn’t realize just how much the wolf brat was influencing Locque. That was my mistake. I’ll own that. But I don’t think it’s too late.” Taking one of Ari’s hands in her own, she ran her thumb over his knuckles. “Locque will listen to me. When I make it clear to her how detrimental this whole thing is to everything she hopes to accomplish, I’ll get her to make a public statement. Even she isn’t beyond an apology. Hell, if we could get Chara to do it, then anything is possible!”
She thought she had the power to reassure him. She’d hoped her words would be enough… but nothing prepared her for the impossible request he made of her shortly after. Nia’s fingers weakened their grip on his hand, until her arm fell away entirely. This was… was he joking? Surely he couldn’t be serious in what he was asking her, but the desperation in his coal-dark eyes… no, there was no mistaking that his plea was genuine. Although Nia would be hard-pressed to deny Ari anything, this was not a promise she could keep.
“Ari… I don’t think you understand what you’re asking me.” She spoke softly, preferring to assume he simply lacked the foresight to understand the implications of her walking out of Locque’s service entirely. “I can’t… it’s not like I can just walk away right now, over this incident. Yes, I’ve already mentioned to Locque that I’m not going to be adhered to her side forever. Hells, she won’t need me forever, but it’s already clear she’s not ready to take on responsibilities with public relations without a voice of reason. I’ve gotta stick around to do what I did today--to be that damage control. And if your people want to make me as guilty as her… I mean, that’s their prerogative. I don’t blame them. I can only hope to convince them that I’ll fix this--I’ll make it better…”
But maintaining order was not the only reason that Nia could not walk away from her servitude to Locque, and surely, Ari was aware of that. At least, she had thought he was, but… perhaps, somehow, she hadn’t made that clear. Or the implications of what might happen to her if she abandoned Locque’s ship now, of all times. Especially when tensions had grown so high over Vitali Kristeva’s mysterious and very suspicious death. “Listen. Say I step away now. Say I take a Night Steed, ride back to the palace, and tell Locque this is uncalled for. Tell her that this is grounds for me to quit, and there’s no going back from this transgression. What do you think will happen? Just think. Vitali’s death has gotten her paranoid that he might have been working against her while working for her; her paranoia is sharp right now. I realize this is bad, and I know how bad it is, but we’ve all got to tread carefully. Especially me… especially me.” Now wasn’t the right time to tell him that she suspected the summoner queen was growing jealous of all the time she spent in the D’Marian settlement on behalf of Ari. Her feelings for the Canaveris lord were certainly no secret to Locque… and, frankly, probably weren’t a secret to Rowen, either. Which only gave her pause to be doubly cautious and tread as if she were walking on eggshells. Walking away now, of all times… well, she didn’t want to think of what the consequences might be. Locque had the potential to sort things out; a part of Nia did believe that, with the right guidance, she had the potential to learn to be a fair leader. But abandoning her now could threaten to unravel all of the progress she’d made.
“Look, you’re gonna be way more effective at talking your people down than me. Tell them… reassure them that this is being taken care of. I’ll talk to Locque. And I’ll deal with Rowen, myself. If she wants to blast it to the entire kingdom in retaliation that I’ve had to step over some dead bodies to get to where I am today… well, it’s not like that isn’t what was expected of me in the first place. And isn’t something I’ll defensively hide if I’m confronted. But whatever you do, don’t let this get out of hand. That truce is protecting you, and technically… technically, no one got hurt. Not really. I know I’m grasping at straws, here, but no one else has lost any blood. Let’s keep it that way. Let me talk her down.”
She hoped it didn’t register on her face, but something in Ari’s words and tone made her heart sink a little: I cannot guarantee you asylum. But of course he couldn’t--not when he had worked so hard to earn his peoples’ trust and respect. Their security came first and foremost, and with his mother finally stirring herself into the mix, he had even less liberty to do as he might have liked. It was what it was: if it came to that, if he would turn his back on her to support his people. If they all rose up, and told him that they’d reject him as their leader if he continued his friendly relations with her… they both knew what choice he would make.
And that hurt. Because for all Nia was employed by Locque, and considered an ‘enemy’ to so many people… she had already discussed her own boundaries with the summoner queen. And she knew exactly what decision she would make if she was forced to choose between Locque and Ari.
“...I’ve never depended on you for protection, Ari. That’s never something I’d have asked of you, let alone assumed you’d offer.” Nia sighed, her typically boisterous voice going soft and uncharacteristically weak. “But… can’t you see? The only reason I am safe is because Locque provides that safety. As much as you despite her, I owe her for that. I owe her for making it so that for the first time in over a decade, I can stop running. I can catch my breath and I can actually enjoy life instead of watching it pass me by. No mercenaries or bounty hunters out to bring my head back to Ilandria. I can drink and party and socialize with people who will tolerate me. I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt so free! But, that promise of safety… You do know, that if I pull away now, out of Locque’s services, it isn’t just that I will lose that safety. I’m one of the only two people she trusts. Do you really think she would let me walk away right now without… repercussions? But, I’ll tell you this much.”
Bringing a gloved hand up to her throat, she worried the steel star pendant so forcibly that she could feel the sharp, pointed edges cutting into her skin. “I’ve got boundaries; limits, if you will, and I’ve made those limits very clear to Locque. For one, I’m off limits when it comes to violence. Struck that off my list real quick when she told me to slow down Elespeth with a knife sometime back: I’m not a fighter, and I’m done with spilling unnecessary blood. But my terms aren’t limited to refusing to fight. She knows I am not for anything that threatens keeping the peace in this broken kingdom. Especially not… if it threatens your peace.” Dropping her pendant against her chest, she reached out to lay a light hand on Ari’s arm. Is this really so one-sided? Have I… made a mistake, again? “The moment your safety is on the line, that’s when I walk. And Locque--let’s face it, she can’t afford to lose me. So that is a bargaining point, if nothing else. I can’t ask you to do the same for me, since you’ve already made your position clear, but maybe… Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to convince your people not to shit on my desire to help them, and play cards in their favour. Help me to help you. Trust me to fix this bullshit.That’s all I ask.”
It was inevitable that she would be leaving the grotto that evening with a bitter taste in her mouth. The best she could hope for was to end this before it tasted any fouler. And to think, not a week ago, she’d shared vulnerable dreams beneath the safety of this beautiful, star-flecked cave. “I should go. The longer I leave this to fester, the greater chance Rowen has to make things worse. I’m not going to sleep tonight until I speak with Locque. With any luck, I can have things sorted out tonight, and maybe even get an apology for tomorrow.”
Turning, she took several steps toward the entrance, before pausing to glance over her shoulder to add, “And, for the love of all that is good… convince your mother to retract her claws and stop demanding public executions! I don’t care how badly she’s taking this, her anger isn’t helping anyone’s cause. Spilling any more blood out of revenge or retribution is only gonna beget a cycle of violence that this kingdom may not then see an end to.”
Nia didn’t wait for Ari to reply before she left the grotto, taking long and quick strides to make it out as fast as possible. Before she could let her emotions get the best of her. Before she could let herself feel betrayed. What were those dreams to you, Ari? Why did I bother telling you, if all along, I was disposable compared to your angry mob of citizens? It wasn’t a fair comparison to make. Ari was a leader: he had people depending on him for safety and security. At the end of the day, he was a civil servant beholden to their wants and needs, and if they neither wanted nor needed her…
That was a discussion for another day. When the dust settled, when Rowen Kavangh was under control, and when Locque admitted this had all been a terrible mistake that needed to be rectified… maybe then she would find the opportunity to sit down with Ari and really discuss the feasibility of where they were going. But now was not that time, when there were still blazing fires to put out.
The D’Marian stables typically kept at least a Night Steed ready to be mounted in case of emergencies that required a direct route to the palace. Nia didn’t hesitate to commandeer the horse, considering that this very well constituted an emergency, and found herself back in central Galeyn well within an hour. Even at the late hour, well past midnight and beyond the time most people should have retired to their chambers, the palace was still buzzing with a few choice people. While no crowd remained at the gates, demanding answers, it was clear that the mayhem of that morning was far from having been resolved. Nia couldn’t help but wonder how Lilica was faring; what she had done or said to deescalate the rising tensions among her people. She made a mental note to check in on her later, because if she was fighting this ill-informed smear campaign, she couldn’t speak out exclusively to help Ari.
But first, she had to address the problem at its source.
She found Locque in the council chambers, standing at the window that overlooked one of the villages at a lower altitude. Nia cleared her throat to make her presence known, but did not wait to be invited in.
“...I don’t know what’s going on. Or if you condoned it. But, a lot of damage was done today. Not just to Lilica Tenebris and Chara Rigas--to you, Locque. People are interpreting this as a threat. You swore no harm to Galeynians… but, isn’t Queen Lilica Galeynian, by birth?” Nia kept her tone even as she crossed the room. The best way to get through to the barely-human queen was to speak reason. The moment she let her emotions overwhelm her, any negotiating would be lost. “I just got back from the D’Marian settlement. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but the D’Marians are convinced that this could count as a breach in trust. A breach in your agreement to do no harm, onto Galeynians and D’Marians, on the condition that they surrender. Remember… Chara Rigas is D’Marian. So… why?” The Master Alchemist sighed and collapsed in one of the seats at the long table. “Why compromise everything we are trying so hard to build? That trust… that peace? If Rowen told you that making Lilica and Chara look back would brighten your image in the eyes of the people, then I’m afraid you’ve fallen for her manipulation. It only makes you look worse. And you’ve given Rowen the excuse to take out her anger on other people. I…”
She ran a hand through her hair, toying with the ribbon that Sylvie Canaveris had made for her. “I’m not innocent, here, I know. I haven’t been around to the extent that I should be. Maybe I wasn’t here when you needed me most--and I’ll change that. I know where I went wrong. So please… please,” she turned her rune-inscribed hands, palms up, upon the table, and repeated exactly what she had said to Ari just an hour earlier. “Help me help you. It’s not too late to fix this. We can write up a statement. An apology goes a long way; just something to reassure everyone that no one else has any reason to fear they will be the next to be held as an example. I know that the necromancer’s death has you on edge… but the only enemies you have right now are the ones you are going to make if this behaviour continues.” The unsaid message was clear: and that was that falling for Rowen Kavanagh’s manipulations would dig a hole from which not even a summoner could emerge, if she continued to rule by fear of threat.”
Good sense and logic had abandoned him. Driven to the borderline, Ari risked his level-head, which could expose himself as a traitor, in a doomed attempt to influence Nia to switch alliances. What did he expect would happen? Did he seriously believe she would agree to his outrageous proposal without a second blink?
“No; I am not ignorant to the precarious position you are in.” He was made all too aware of the weight of his body sinking into the cushion, crushing the goosedown like a boulder and not a human. Although he experienced none of the warning signs, he lifted his sleeve and examined his skin to ascertain he was not succumbing to stone. The brown skin remained springy and unaffected at his touch. “Nor am I suggesting you step down at this very moment. Mind you, I said ‘if.’ If the situation grows dire. I am not one to ignore precautions, and surely I am not ready to declare war at the slightest provocation. The latter is an extreme, a last resort when all other avenues have failed. Alas, I am merely reading the trends in the air and preparing for the worst, as any leader well should. In preparing for the worst, I cannot help but worry for you, Nia. Should things escalate, and your safety is in jeopardy, you need to leave her Majesty’s employ. Immediately.” An intensity he thought his exhaustion had snuffed out flared forth, igniting his face in hot flushes. Again, he checked his body for petrifaction. Nothing. “If something happened to you, it would negate your strong survivor’s instinct, which placed you into her Majesty’s path, to start. The instant you feel unsafe, leave, Nia. Her contract to you is void if her promise of protection breaks by her own hand. You leave, and you come here, before it is too late and I cannot provide you succor. As a Canaveris, my duty is to my family and to my people, foremost. I swore an oath, and I cannot forsake it. But I spoke no falsehood on the eve of your birthday; I am on your side.”
Reaching out, he curled his fingers around her hand, brought it forward, and positioned it over his rapidly beating heart. “If you live in constant fear of your lady’s retribution should you misstep, then tell me; were you ever truly safe? I can answer this question for you; no. You were granted the illusion of a reprieve. The illusion of your wants, your desires. Look no further than the necromancer’s illusory stone as a concrete example, commissioned, none other, by your lady. Seeing your deceased sisters—was that not to sate you? To keep you obedient?” He was overstepping; his heart raced, threatened to leap out of his throat, but he could not stop. Injustices had been done to him many years ago, and the wound doubly reopened today. It reopened when he was forced to confront his decades-long abuser and work with her, be civil with her, even when she threatened to topple his attempts to preserve the peace. It reopened in fear that Nia was trapped in an eerily similar scenario, only worse, because open defiance meant death. Back then, Ari could have walked away from Chara, but he chose not to because she provided what his mother withheld, for his own protection: touch, close companionship, not the distant kind that could only be admired from across the room, and big, grandiose outputs of emotion. The tireless lessons taught to lock away his anger, despair, or frustration, and redirecting them into his art needn’t apply when together with the inflammatory, and ardent, Chara Rigas. With her, he was free to express his grief because, for all her horrid, violent behaviors, she let him. Oh, wasn’t he a louse of a son, to lie to Nadira’s face when she begged for reassurance, but reassurance steeped in honesty and not pretty deceits? But why break her heart and reveal that the reason he hid his feelings and chose not to discuss them was in part because of her teachings?
Yes, you did fail me, momma. In small ways. But it was not your fault. You were only doing your best, and you never allowed me to forget how much you love me.
“My love for you has not dwindled, Nia,” he said, deciding to take a page in his mother’s book and shower her with his affection. “Do you not trust me to protect you from Locque? To provide you a safe haven you deserve, no strings attached?” The first question was an unfair question, and a ridiculous one. Who among them stood a fighting chance against the summoner’s bottomless reserves of destructive power? “No, I...I am not thinking clearly,” he rescinded, releasing Nia’s hand from where he pinned it to his chest. “Forgive me. Simply put, I...want your freedom. And I will do whatever is necessary to obtain it for you here, among my people. My welcoming hand remains outstretched to you, but you must also grab it before I have no choice but to turn it towards people who are actively reaching for it in need. Help me to help you, isn’t that right?” A pittance of a smile moved across his lips. “I shall continue to work with the D’Marians on your behalf, and my mother, but worry not about her; she would never speak such radical ideas out loud to our people. She has absolutely no intention of executing anyone. You have my word that I will do whatever possible to change peoples’ established preconceptions of you, but there is only so much I can accomplish on my own. Only so much I can do to help, because,” he took a troubled pause, “as long as you service a tyrant, you will never be free. Or safe. There is no appeasing her.”
When she rose and announced her departure, he nodded glumly, resigned. This time, he did not give chase, or beg her to stay. He said only one other parting phrase. “You are important to me; never forget, Nia.”
The moment her receding footsteps ceased echoing off the walls of the cave, Ari rolled up the fabric from his right trouser in time to watch the exponential spread of gray-granite flume up his leg with a swiftness that alarmed him. So vast was his surprise, it summoned Lazarus from seemingly out of nowhere. The big man emerged out of a wall and ran to his master’s side, surveying the still-creeping climb of flesh-devouring rock. It claimed his knee, the farthest it had ever gone since the onset of his curse as a child, but blessedly, it stalled, and stopped before attacking his femur. Leaning back on his hands, Ari let loose a sigh he’d choked back from the fear that breathing would contribute to the spread.
“This is bad.” Ever blunt in his assessment, Laz never minced words and always said what he meant. “One of the worst.” He jerked his head to the mouth of the cave. “Your lady love didn’t get far. I’ll fetch her. This is her own damn fault, anyway.”
“No,” Ari rasped, stretching out a hand and anchoring the golem in place by the arm. “Don’t. Let her go. She has more pressing matters to attend. I overworked myself today. This is but a cumulation of the day’s rigors. It is no fault but my own, so I shall pay the repercussions. Just...let me stay here and rest.” Listening to the steady burble of the fountain, he fluttered his heavy eyelids to a close, concealing the mist that gathered in his eyes. “It’s peaceful. So...peaceful.”
Once Locque had permitted her to do whatever she wanted, Rowen Kavanagh wasted no time. Shirking sleep, she worked under cover of darkness, bouncing between the D’Marian settlement and the surrounding villages of Central Galeyn by Night steed, seeding her rumors and waiting with a watering can to coax them to grow. Whoever said she didn’t have Gardener potential?!
She learned her tricks of the trade from Hadwin. Oh, wouldn’t he be so proud to pull up a front seat and cheer on her proceedings, a prideful gleam in his mirthful eyes? But that version of history existed in another time, another place. Away from the life she could never have.
The best centers for spreading gossip lay in drinking establishments, where many a sloshed patron had loose tongues and loose lips. Loose morals, too. That was step one; target heavily trafficked areas, preferably indoors. Step two; corral her captive audience by compelling them to listen. The misfortune of appearing no older than a prepubescent girl on the best of days meant that people were more apt to ignore you. And she couldn’t have that. So she purposely blew her cover, revealed her identity. They didn’t believe her, at first. Nobody did. Her infamous deeds bore her name, but her face? Anonymous. That was fine; she loved a challenge. They couldn’t touch her, not without violating the truce, so she approached each putrid establishment, head held high and fearless, and, to build credibility, her base of truth-seekers and truth spreaders, she spun yarns about the people whose eyes she captured. Those eyes, once jovial and humored, widened in fear, in shame. In horror. Not everyone bit where she told them to bite, but at the very least, they believed her. And she had their unerring attention.
I know you, she told them. I know each and every one of you. Good people, yeah? But the irredeemable stench of your souls gives you away. If we air out that stench...maybe there will be something worth celebrating. If you value the truth, about your neighbors and yourselves, you’ll pass along this news. It pertains to your precious Queen Lilica and her diligent advisor. If you are shamed by your secrets, well, take comfort in the fact that you’re not the biggest pieces of shit in this land.
She would know. Because she was one of those pieces of shit. Irredeemable. But loyal. Helpful. Useful. She was exposing ugliness. Her methods were crooked, but her intent was pure. She championed the truth, and sought to drag the shadows into the unavoidable glare of cleansing light.
After exiting, she would watch these establishments from afar, thrilled to see the people do the work for her. Dutifully, they bent to her wishes, whispering the juicy intelligence on Lilica Tenebris and Chara Rigas. The spread of information varied, of course, depending on location. The D’Marian settlement chose to fixate more on the antics of their former leader and Rigas Head, whereas Galeynians whose residences surrounded the palace cared more to hear about their mysterious and reluctant queen. It didn’t matter to Rowen, because the results amounted to the same: chaotic uprisings, anger, confusion, betrayal. She accomplished what she set out to do, and rode back to the palace, belly full not with food, but achievement. Doing ‘good,’ according to Teselin and Breane’s instructions on how to behave, never felt this good. If coasting along life as a bleeding-heart penitent, head always down and shoulders hunched with the burden of her insurmountable sins, was what they had in mind for her, they could keep it. Choosing such a life meant no guarantee for forgiveness, for camaraderie, for a manageable plan to nip the darkness enough to let in the shafts of true, radiating beauty. Besides, her current arrangement suited her just fine. It wasn’t ideal. Far from it. She would always long for the things that were impossible for her beastly fingers to grasp, but she trudged along well-trodden ground, and she knew the path well. Beauty existed on this path, too. A twisted, mirror-image version, perhaps, but there was nothing more fascinating than to watch the light of life expire in the eyes of her prey, surrendering either to death or ultimate despair. It was depraved, but why fight her depravity? Not like she could belong, as she was, anywhere else. I became the monster I used to fear. How...poetic.
On her arrival to the palace, she immediately reported to Locque the good news and retired to bed as a reward for a job well done. When she woke, it was nearly midnight, judging from the hush that fell all over the palace, and the lively tug she felt to wander around territory that had been depopulated, in one way or another. Her sojourns took her to the hallway and past the council chambers, impeccable ears impelling her to stop when she caught muffled conversation behind the closed door. Pressing against the door, she listened to the unmistakable voice of Nia pleading with Locque, but it didn’t take her long to decide she didn’t want to be a fly in the wall if the nosy, disruptive Master Alchemist would strive to undo everything she’d meticulously planted, grew, and cultivated.
She entered the council chambers. Quietly. Slipped through, really. Unlike her brother, she didn’t like to make noise. It never suited her lightfootedness and her soft-spoken voice.
“Your ignorance continues to astound me, Nia Ardane,” she chimed in from behind, meeting the little upstart eye to eye, soaking in the wisps of her ugliness and betrayal. Her glare deepened. “This is what you’ve been up to today? Discrediting me and my work? Are we not on the same team? No, I suppose not, when at the first chance you got, you ran to the D’Marian village to support your pretty-boy. Isn’t this how I predicted it would all play out, Locque?” She turned to face the summoner-queen. “That she would abandon you in favor of some piece of ass? And look how willing and ready she was to throw me to, well, funnily enough, the wolves.” Her gurgling anger came to a boil, simmering with its subdued rage. “She would turn everyone against me to save herself; what an intrepid partner. Your group dynamics are an envy to all. I hope you enjoyed trying and failing to uphold some false peace so you could look like some damn hero. Come off it, Nia; you’ll never have love and keep it.”
Her red-amber eyes never left Nia’s face. They widened, unblinking, unnerving, in a deep, homicidal stare. “Again, your ignorance astounds me, Nia. Do you even realize the reason we did this? It’s to coax out the people who are plotting against us. Because they’re all plotting against us. Everyone. Even your darling fuck-toy. I warned you that the necromancer was up to no good. He’s planning something with that sword. But you ignored my warnings. Well, no more, because we won’t let them pull another one over our heads! Peace is a goddamned illusion right now. They never wanted it, so why should we hand it over? But you, like a fucking idiot, compromise Locque’s council by kicking out one of your own in the most disrespectful way possible. Now they know there’s division. Now they know there’s weakness, squabbling, infighting. And why?” Her mouth split open, showing her prominent canines. “Because you fraternized too much with the enemy. You’d rather fight for their interests even when doing so means you’re screwing us over. Get your shit together. We never had unity. They’ll never give it to us, so why bother with the pretense?!” A dangerous growl curled her words, her mouth. “Do everyone a favor, Nia, and just stay out of it. You don’t know the hell you’re doing, and the more you meddle, the worse you make it.”
Locque remained silent for so long that Nia wondered if she refrained from speaking out of respect for what her Master Alchemist had to say, or if she didn’t even realize she wasn’t alone anymore, and someone else was speaking. Perhaps she was fully aware, and simply chose to ignore her; perhaps Rowen had done too much damage, and it was too late to change her mind on anything. Nonetheless, Nia waited patiently, sitting at that table in hopes that the summoner queen would say something, or at the very least, acknowledge her existence. Just when she was about to give up, stand and leave, Locque’s voice broke the silence from where she stood at the window.
“Rowen proposed an idea that I thought was sound. With Vitali Kristeva’s betrayal… does it not stand to reason that he was not the only person plotting to overthrow me? An example had to be made. That I would not be unmade… or there would be consequences.” Locque rested her hands upon the windowsill, not having so much as glanced at Nia. “Rowen acknowledged my discomfort and offered a solution. But you… were nowhere to be found. So I sought the reassurance that Rowen provided me.”
I knew this was coming, the Master Alchemist thought darkly. She should have seen it coming: for all that time she’d stuck close to the summoner queen’s side, Locque had listened to her. But now that she had become so entangled in Ari’s life, and the affairs of the D’Marians… it stood to reason that someone else would eventually step in and have Locque’s ear. Unfortunately, with Vitali Kristeva gone and completely discredited as an ally… it left only Rowen. There was no way to shake the fact that Nia was partially responsible for all of this through her negligence.
“We don’t even know for sure that Vitali sought to betray you. It’s just speculation. That asshole probably had a million agendas that he told no one about, and that served no one but himself.” She reminded the queen, as if it would even make a difference in her opinion. “We’ll never know for sure, but… you’re absolutely right. We’ve been making such progress, with the kingdom finally growing used to your rule, I’ve been getting side-tracked. I’ve been taking it all for granted without realizing it needs to be maintained, and… I’m sorry.”
“But this, as it turns out, is not the reassurance I wanted.” Locque continued her train of thought, as though she hadn’t heard Nia speak at all. It might have offended the Master Alchemist, but the summoner’s words took her by such surprise that she found herself speechless, and simply chose to listen than to ruin what sounded like it could be progress!
“There is such unrest in the kingdom, now. It was impossible not to bear witness to the crowd that confronted Lilica Tenebris. But they were not angry and full of fire: no, Galeynians do not embody the element of fire. They are of the earth: grounded, sensical, rational. And what I heard was not their dismissal of a queen that they did not trust. What I heard…” She paused, and dropped one hand away from the windowsill to dangle, defeated, at her side. “...what I heard was nothing but profound sadness. A sadness that they felt they would never feel safe. That their home was their prison. I took this kingdom, my home, back by force, so of course I understand that they will not rush in to trust me. That is irrational and illogical for people of their nature. But I have not lifted a hand to harm anyone since I got what I want. Because, whether they believe it or not, I want Galeyn to see peace again. To one day forget that they ever feared me… and to see that all I’ve wanted was a home among them. I do not want them to feel the way they are feeling, now. And… the D’Marians?” Finally, she cast a glance over her shoulder to acknowledge the Master Alchemist. “They are angry?”
Nia cleared her throat. Well this was proceeding better than she’d thought. Perhaps it really wasn’t too late to turn these events around! “They’re confused. Yes, many are angry at Chara Rigas and uncertain now of Queen Lilica, but deep down, they’re just confused as to why you’ve chosen to make an example of people who have complied with your terms, just like the D’Marians have. Neither Chara nor Lilica are plotting against you, and you know how I know that? It’s because they’re smart--and they know better. Everyone in this damn kingdom is too smart to challenge you, and they believe the surest way to peace is to let you have that peace. I know I haven’t been available to you, as much as you would like. But, for whatever it is worth,” she righted her posture in her seat and folded her hands on her lap. “I spent the entire day mitigating this damage. It’s not too late--at least, the D’Marians seemed to have calmed down from the incident. Understand I had to take matters into my own hands and declare that this was a mistake. And that you would fix it… because you want what is best for these people.”
Locque paused. Considered Nia, like she could see through her the way that Rowen could. “Can this be repaired, do you think?”
“Absolutely! It’s far from too late. This could be good for you. Admitting that you were wrong--that you make mistakes, just like the rest of them. Tell them what you told me, in your own words, with your own voice, and that will make you relatable!” The Master Alchemist cracked her wide, characteristic smile. “I think all they want--the Galeynians and D’Marians--is to hear from you, personally. Frankly, people are tired of hearing me running my mouth. There’s only so much I can get through to them, because it’s far less effective to speak for you than to hear it directly from you. Start being more of a presence to your people. Of course, I’m here to help, but they don’t want to hear from me. It is you that matters.”
Before Locque could confirm or deny her agreement with Nia’s words, another voice almost made the Ardane woman jump out of her skin. Rowen… what fucking impeccable timing. But, she had expected this. Expected the wolf would confront her, and that she would have to explain herself not only to her, but to Locque. And on the ride back to the palace, she had had the opportunity to give it some thought.
Contrary to what the wolf expected (or probably wanted), Nia did not retaliate with anger or a harsh voice. She wasn’t sure she had it in her to do so, at that late hour, even if she’d wanted to. But she knew how Rowen would respond to caustic words, so she did her best merely to parse common sense and an even tone. “Rowen, I get it. Let’s pretend, just for a moment, that you did this out of a genuine desire to help Locque. That this wasn’t at least in part fueled by your desire to see everyone around you feel more miserable than you do. I can pretend that your intentions were pure, for the sake of this conversation.” She tried to imagine Ari, who navigated adversity so well with his words. Was she even capable of channelling such eloquence? “If that’s the case, then I understand what you were trying to do for Locque… but it did not have the results that you so desired. People are not more willing to trust Locque because of your attempts to discredit Queen Lilica and her advisor, Chara Rigas. Whatever you think those two are plotting--and I’ve interacted with them enough to feel otherwise--they have not lifted a hand in resistance to Locque’s rulership. They have complied with her conditions, along with the rest of the kingdom, Galeynians and D’Marians alike.So all that you have done in slandering their names is make it clear that these people are prone to suffer your or Locque’s retribution, regardless if they comply. They don’t trust Locque more because of this. If anything, they trust her, and Lilica, and everything about the peace of this kingdom even less.”
The Master Alchemist had anticipated the she-wolf would bring up her involvement with Ari to discredit her, in turn. This was something she was prepared to face; she refused to let Rowen use it as fodder for Locque to lose faith in her. “You’re right: I’ve been absent from the palace more than I’ve been present. I’ve found a comfortable spot in the D’Marian village, as their leader has become very accepting of me. It’s hard to stay away from places that make you feel truly wanted. And I should be here, more. But traveling to the D’Marian settlement today gave me an idea of how your… unsolicited ‘facts’ were received. And exposing the other queen and her advisor did not have the effect you desired.”
Shifting in her seat, Nia crossed one leg over the other and casually folded her arms across her chest. “Of course you were right about Vitali; and yes, we should have listened more. We held out false hope that the son of a bitch was actually an asset to us. But you can’t deny that your view of people is entirely jaded. Just because he tried to pull something fast--and really, we can only speculate what he was up to--does not mean that everyone is out to get us. You’ve got to give the Galeynians and D’Marians more credit than that. They’re not stupid enough to think that plotting would be a good idea. And what you did today… Rowen, you almost completely destroyed everything that we have been working so hard to build. Peace might not be your motivation, but…” She glanced pointedly at the summoner queen. “I’m not sure others share in your view. But I cannot speak for them.”
“I do not fault Rowen, Anetania.” Locque clarified, finally turning her back on the window. “I was desperate for a solution. She provided one, and acted on it. With my permission.”
“Of course. And I wasn’t around to suggest anything otherwise. Don’t get me wrong--I am as much to blame. I was too engrossed in trying to figure out what the hell Vitali Kristeva was up to, I didn’t realize just how deeply the event affected you.” Nia turned her attention back to Rowen. “You’re right; well, sort of. I haven’t been around a lot. I’ve become very invested in life outside of this palace--because, Rowen, unlike you, I believe in it and its people. Galeynian and D’Marian alike. I get why you think the way you do; hells, if all I saw was the bad in people, I’d be paranoid as fuck all the time. But you’re wrong. They’re not all “out to get us”. These people want to live their fucking lives, without having to worry about losing their lives, or the lives of those they love. And, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I had to discredit you to this entire kingdom, but you literally left me no choice. Someone had to put a bandage on this bleeding before it leaked everywhere. But that’s just what it was… a band-aid. I can’t fix it. Only one person can. It all depends on what they want.” Her gaze softened as she raised her brown eyes to Locque again. “It all depends… on if they want people, citizens… or if they want prisoners and hostages.”
All eyes were on Locque, but still, Nia didn’t raise her voice. Didn’t beg Locque to do the right thing. She didn’t have to. The summoner queen crossed the room, and shook her head remorsefully. “This product… this result of slandering the names of Lilica Tenebris and Chara Rigas, it is not what I wanted. I should have foreseen it, but I was angry and afraid. Anetania is right, Rowen.” When she turned to the young faoladh, there was something odd that Nia hadn’t witnessed before. It was… apology? Genuine, sincere apology? She hadn’t shown that to me when I’d cracked my skull…
“This slander has resulted in discord. It has not incited a change of heart in the citizens of Galeyn, or the D’Marians. They accept me no more than they did before. Instead, they now fear all layers of their leadership, and distrust me even more. I wish no more for prisoners and hostages--I am through with that phase of my plan. It got me to where I wanted to be, but if I am being honest… I never intended for it to endure. So, I would like it to stop. But,” she sighed and folded her hands in front of her. “Know that I appreciate your foreward thinking. At the time, I truly felt it was a solid message to send. But at best… it is as Nia says. Everyone in this kingdom will continue to feel that they are a prisoner in their own home. And at worst,” her eyes flashed with suspicion and fear, “it will incite the very retaliation that I want to prevent. But I do not hold you at fault; I want you to know that.”
“We can still show a united front, Rowen… if that is really what you want.” Nia had to make the offer. Had to make right on her own mistake of placing herself somewhere in-between Locque and the village itself. The D’Marians were right to be confused: who did she stand for, if she opposed a decision that Locque had sanctioned? “Yeah, I called out your fuck up, but I’m not above calling out my own, either. Let’s figure this out together, all three of us. A collective response that the people want. Put it all back on Vitali fucking with our heads with his untimely death, rescind whatever intent the people thought we had, and for the love of all that is good--apologize! Believe me, ‘I’m sorry’ can go a long way. But only if you mean it. You don’t have to have a wolf’s nose to smell bullshit when you’re just putting on a show. So,” the Master Alchemist unfolded her hands, and held them, palms up, toward Rowen. “What do you say? Why don’t the three of us just start over, on the right foot?”
She should have known that Rowen would decline. Should have expected her to look down on any idea she proposed. But what Nia didn’t anticipate was the utter loathing in the young wolf’s eyes as she stalked out, and slammed the door behind her, like she had slighted her in the worst way. Well… nothing to be done about that. She’d tried--and she’d even been genuine in her offer. To start off on the right foot. To actually try and like Rowen… for what little there was to like. But there were more pressing matters at hand than chasing a young girl having a temper tantrum.
“It was untoward of you to throw Rowen’s name to the ground, as she did Lilica and Chara’s.” Locque pointed out, her tone flat and unimpressed. It made Nia almost want to throw something: she was here to help, and Rowen was the one to receive the first sincere apology that Locque had likely ever uttered?! It didn’t matter. None of that mattered, so long as Locque was on board as proving her worth as someone other than a tyrant.
“Sure. But I was only trying to help. In case you haven’t noticed… between Rowen and I, one of us isn’t so keen on making things right. And the other one of us is still standing here. So,” she pulled her chair up to the table and cracked her knuckles, before reaching into the satchel at her waist and withdrawing parchment, a quill, and a sealed jar of ink. Oh, she had most certainly come prepared! “I’m not getting to sleep, tonight, and by the looks of it, neither are you, Majesty. Let’s draft this apology while I’m still playing with all of my mental faculties.”
Rowen’s brow sharpened into points, annoyed at Nia’s holier-than-thou attitude, as if she were beyond reproach because she spoke in an unruffled tone of voice. Her selective diplomacy incensed the faoladh all the more. It reeked of servile ingratiation, a front to appear, to Locque, as the more well-adjusted of the two. But Nia hadn’t done anything to deserve the moral high ground when just a few hours ago, she was intent on making her pay for something Locque herself had sanctioned.
“How cute, Nia,” she rolled her eyes heavenward. “It’s a cute look, really. The hypocrisy really brings out the color in your eyes. You’re so quick to promote unity and teamwork after the fact. I’m also loving your painful attempts at civility. Also,” she jabbed a fingernail into the massive round table’s wood grain, following the stained streaks in the finish that resembled dried blood, “the hell do I care if people are as miserable as me? You think I get off on that? It’s the dead opposite.” Something approaching humanity softened the wrinkles on her forehead, but only for a flicker of a second. “I want to put people out of their misery. Because that’s the thing; everyone’s fucking miserable. Some just hide it better than others, or deny it into oblivion. I’d thank you not to diminish my achievements by interpreting them as the whims of some put-upon child. I’m not here to mess around. You want that, talk to my brother.”
She uncurled her fingers, covering the blood-like stain on the table. Lapping it up. “And you think people were willing to trust Locque at all? Something had to be done, and quick. You remove the credibility of trusted leaders and the system crumbles. When it crumbles, that’s when you can step forward and remake it in your image. In the chaos, when all seems lost, the people will gather to the side that promises, at best, stability and hope, and at worst, the lesser of the two evils. In this state, they’re more vulnerable, easy to corral, easy to whisper suggestions in their ears. Suggestions to obey and behave. For us, there’s no other way to achieve peace. You have to strike before those plotting against us have the chance to do it first. But you,” snags caught on the word, “decided to make our side look weak, by dragging my name into the dirt when you could have kept your oversized mouth shut. Deny it all you want, but you chose that man over us. Tell me, would you have hightailed it to the D’Marian village so quickly if not for him? Now, Galeynians and D’Marians alike are even more divided, not because my plan failed. It was working just fine—chaos was a necessity to establish order, and that doesn’t happen in a day—but then you ruined it by making it sound like we’re all spouting different opinions and that none of us have our shit together. They think we’re toying with them moreso than if you had just said nothing. And don’t give me that you didn’t have another choice. You fucking did.” With a pinched thumb and forefinger, she mimed a darning needle weaving through her lips, sealing them shut.
Nia’s next point of contention generated a shiver in Rowen’s shoulders. More a ripple, really; a telltale precursor to a wolf transformation. And oh how she desired to transform and rip out this unfathomably idiotic woman’s jugular, but she stayed her desires and instead, directed it all into the growing hunger and ferocity in her voice. It never spiked in volume, never climbed to the ceiling in its bigness, but it clung to the atmosphere like a distant thunderstorm, rolling in. “Are you still going on about ‘unverified’ information? How stupid are you? Do you not realize what I can do? Listen, because I’m going to say this slowly, so you can understand. I. See. Deceit. Is that not confirmation enough? How many times do I have to prove this power before you realize I’m right? I never met someone who has their head up their ass as much as you do. Seriously, it’s a damn miracle you survived this long. The necromancer was playing us since the beginning. I said so, but my advice was ignored. Go ahead and continue to ignore me and see what happens. Let it happen, and I’ll laugh while you gawk and wonder why everyone turned around and stabbed their swords into your back.”
She turned to Locque for backup, expecting her to echo her sentiments in agreement. Locque understood; she wasn’t trite enough to side with Nia’s idealistic drivel. She saw the darkness in people, too. Hells, she lived that darkness. If anyone realized how the world truly operated, as a hostile land that killed you if you didn’t kill first, it would be her.
Rowen’s jaw slackened to hear a contrary opinion taking shape in the summoner queen. Anetania is right. Her stomach burned, furnace-hot. “What? You don’t actually agree…” She swept her unruly fringe of hair from her forehead, visibly flustered. “This strategy takes time. You can’t regret what we did so soon, after just one day of unrest. Go ahead and make your statement to the crowd, buoy morale, but don’t apologize for the truth. We aimed no weapon at them, unless you’re suggesting a mirror is a weapon! Retaliation was already a surety. They never wanted peace; it’s all a show. But if you strip away their support, the people, then they’re left weaker, easier to snuff. I thought...I thought you understood…”
Before she let the emotion of betrayal form roots and disrupt the soil, she stomped her foot down, killing the overgrowth. Stay away from me, Night Garden. She retreated from Locque, but not in defeat. No. She was not defeated. But she would let the instigator know exactly where she stood.
“There’s nothing to figure out, Anetania,” she uttered the name as if it were the most ridiculous combination of syllables she ever spoke. A joke capable of conjuring nothing but mocking laughter and pity. “You think I want to unite with you now? After what you did? Delusional. No, you don’t get that satisfaction. Leave me out of this. You seem to think you do much better when I’m out of the picture anyway.”
Without another word, she slipped out of the council chambers and rushed down the corridors, her vision colored in nothing but shades of red. You want me to be petty, Nia? Fine. I’ll be petty. Think you can turn Locque against me and not face the consequences?
Meet your mirror, Nia. And I’ll distort and bend the ever-loving fuck out of the mirror.
Just this once.
Bronwyn woke up the next morning with a continuing sense of unease. It started when she learned of her sister’s twofold orchestrations, both in central Galeyn and at the D’Marian settlement. The feeling never left her, even after the fires were doused—for the time being, anyway—and the crowd dispersed to bed for the night. Although she had no supporting evidence on her side, one couldn’t ignore the throb of pure instinct, and her instinct informed her that Rowen had only just begun her campaign of fear.
Out of lack of sleep, she rose early, washed up, dressed in a simple tunic and trousers that Briery had adjusted to her gradually expanding measurements, and tried to take a few bites of the leftover bread she failed to finish from last night’s supper. She didn’t get far before that requisite unease knotted in her chest and refused to untangle unless she ventured out to investigate the social climate outside her chambers. It’ll just be a continuation of yesterday’s events, just less so. Nothing more.
One tentative step outside the door confirmed her instincts weren’t spinning tales. This was no overworked imagination, but the next stage of her sister’s sick machinations. She caught the eye of two whispering attendants in the hallway, who immediately ceased chatting and presented nervous smiles in her direction, acting as though her blood relations to Rowen hadn’t been what killed the conversation.
“What did she do now? And don’t try to beat around the bush. You can tell me. I’m not…” she bit her lip, hesitating. Not...what? On her side anymore? Not her little puppet? Not her sister? Not still concerned for her well-being? “I...I don’t condone anything she’s doing. At all. So if she said something else, something with the power to spread, I need to know.”
But the spread had already taken its toll. Because of its widespread reach, she could have received the information anywhere else; the kingdom was abuzz with activity, pooling in pockets of staff, guards, soldiers, Gardners, and diplomats, but the attendants relented and informed her of the news.
“Oh. That’s…” Was it true? Rowen wasn’t prone to lie, at least not when it came to her Sight. She manipulated, yes, led people astray with her deceits to do better, be better, to follow the rules and show mercy, but she did not exaggerate the darkness found in others. She told it straight, no detours or fluff. Bronwyn knew this, and yet...she wasn’t receiving the full story. Something rang a little false.
“I...thank you for the news. Excuse me.”
But she didn’t make it to her destination—to Isidor’s quarters—before she was stopped by a blockade of soldiers a little ways down the hallway. She recognized three of the figures in the gathering; Haraldur, Vega, and Elespeth, all donned in armor.
She sidled up to them, curious. “What’s going on?”
Haraldur turned to answer her inquiry. “There’s another group of Galeynians at the front gate. They’re still a little restless from yesterday, and something else has come up that has them unnerved. We’re going out there to maintain the crowd, though they’re a pretty well-behaved bunch and don’t want any violence. Just answers. We’re only being deployed as a placeholder, anyway, until Chara and Lilica are ready to step out and address the crowd’s concerns.”
“If you’re going out there to watch the crowd...could I come along, and speak to them?” The boldness of her request took her aback, a moment. The Galeynians were not her people. What could she possibly say to soothe their anxieties? “My sister started all this. It falls on me to help mop up her mess. I don’t know if they’d be interested in hearing from me, but I’d like to try.”
"Well,” Haraldur ruminated, but his ruminations were short-lived. “We were given permission to deescalate the tensions of the crowd. If you think you can manage it, then go right ahead.”
With the arrangement settled, their group emerged outside into the overcast light of early morning. Beyond, the gate to the front entrance to the palace, and the road leading to the main village, was barred shut. To address the crowd proper, they had to open the portcullis and mingle out of protective range of the palace’s walled defenses, a move considered risky if facing an irate mob. But the Galeynians were not a mob. They didn’t intend on causing a stir, or inciting a revolt, especially in the presence of Vega and Haraldur Sorde, the closest to celebrity in their small, close-knit society. Upon their approach, the citizens dutifully retreated, clearing some space for them to fan out and settle.
Haraldur clamped a supportive hand on Bronwyn’s shoulders, urging her forward and thus, granting her the permission to speak. All eyes rested on her. Her throat suddenly lost all its moisture and swelled, blocking her air and vocal passages. Never, in all her years, had she spoken publicly to a large crowd. Most of her life was contained around the modestly-sized village of Clan Kavanagh, and no one expected anything of her other than performing rote tasks and keeping her head down without noise or complaint. I don’t know what I’m doing here. What if I say the wrong thing? Her legs trembled, upsetting her balance, which made her all the more aware of Haraldur’s hand propping her upright. He, no, they, wouldn’t let her fall. She had to believe so.
Sucking in a courageous breath, she yelled out to the crowd, amplifying her voice so she would be heard. “My name is Bronwyn Kavanagh. Some of you may already know me as Hadwin’s sister and...Rowen’s sister. I’m not here to excuse her actions or provide some kind of illuminating, in-depth analysis on our upbringing, because that information is not pertinent to the truths she has been spouting, lately. And yes, I won’t deny that they are truths as far as she interprets them to be, but the thing about truth is that, if you’re getting it from only one, biased, source, it’s bound to give an inaccurate depiction of a person, because you’re seeing only one side, one aspect.” She wiped her perspiring palms on the sides of her trousers. “Rowen can see darkness and deceit, but I can see virtue. Good deeds. Love. And I can tell you right now, I see a lot of love in this crowd. You’re concerned. Rightly so. The lot of you are such hard workers, and you care for your community. This gentleman, right here,” she gestured to a stooped man with a shock of white hair, “selflessly donated his carpentry skills to aid in providing furniture to the D’Marian village, asking for nothing in return. And this woman,” she waved to a middle-aged lady attired in washer-women’s clothes, “organized the search in locating missing or unaccounted for loved ones after the big awakening, and gave aid to those who lost their family members or friends. When one falls, you don’t leave them to be trampled underfoot. You lend a hand, and you hoist them back up. That’s what I admire about you Galeynians. Your fighting spirit, your perseverance, and the unquestionable loyalty and helpfulness you provide, daily.”
Gaining a foothold and a rhythm, she resumed, a little more confidence backing her words. “No doubt some people have smears. Dirt stains. No one is squeaky clean. It’s impossible to live an entirely faultless life. People are led astray. People are thrust into circumstances that require a killer instinct and an impenetrable nonchalance to survive. Life gives and takes. It hands out trials, and if the goal is to see another day, you’ll do whatever it takes to succeed. Is it any wonder some have blacker stains than others? I’m not saying we have to forgive anyone, especially if their intent is to harm or take advantage of your kindness. Of course you should fight against injustices if they are happening directly to you and your community, and threaten your honest way of life. But shouldn’t we also judge not the darkness of one’s past, but one’s integrity in the here and now? Their tireless efforts to do good and to rise above their mistakes and atrocities? To give back, protect, push forward, and, to love? Day by day, we’ll always stumble, regress, say things we regret. But, if overall, you can say you’re doing your best amid adversity, shouldn’t that be what matters most? With that in mind, ask yourselves: do our leaders care? Are they making an effort? Are they trying to improve themselves, despite those smears on their souls, so they can assist in your needs? Do they need the help of concerned citizens like yourselves, who can gently push them to be at their most effective and benevolent, empathetic, and understanding? If you can agree, maybe there’s more to them than impenetrable darkness, after all.”
Meanwhile, whilst Bronwyn was attempting to appeal to a crowd of Galeynians desperate for assurance, Alster was knocking on Isidor’s door, desperate for his friend’s well-being. Aware of the next wave of rumors perpetrated by Rowen Kavanagh, his first thought, before he took the hearsay at face value and made his own conclusions, was to check on one half of the affected party for answers—and to offer support. That was, if he didn’t completely bungle the opportunity to be a halfway decent friend, which he likely did. Who knew if Isidor even cared to hear from him anymore? Alster all but guaranteed the reclusive Master Alchemist’s embrace into the protective arms of complete and utter isolation, and there was little he could do to loosen the grip without making everything so much worse.
He was a bad friend, but the current situation cried for solidarity. Doing nothing meant he’d fall into unredeemable friend territory.
“Isidor?” He called from the other side, alternating knocks with his voice. There wasn’t a chance the man was asleep. “May I enter? It’s...an emergency.”
Emergency seemed to catch his attention. The door clicked and swung open, allowing Alster passage inside.
“Isidor,” he pressed the door shut behind him. “I know you might not be all that thrilled to see me right now, considering...last time,” his gaze wilted to the ground, laden with guilt, “and I mean to follow up with you on that, and apologize properly, but there’s something more pressing, more important afoot, and...it involves you. There’s…” he paused, not knowing how to proceed delicately, “a graphic rumor floating around, started by Rowen Kavanagh. She’s saying that you and Nia...that she barged into your chambers uninvited and, well, had her way with you, without your consent and…if we want to clear things up, it’s vital we get your perspective. Is...is that how it happened, Isidor? Did she take advantage of you? Is there,” he met his friend’s eyes, draining away any expression that could be interpreted as pity or intense concern, knowing how uncomfortable that would make him, “anything I can do?”
“Rowen, I get how this looks. And I get that you’re not happy I had to discredit what you said to two different populations of people. But I didn’t do it out of whatever weird vendetta you think I have against you. I had to do it because what you executed was a bad idea.” Nia sighed, and wondered if it was even worth explaining at all. Once Rowen had something in her head and was convinced it was true, there was no changing her mind. There wouldn’t be any changing her mind about the efficacy of her smear campaign, but the best the Master Alchemist could do was explain her position objectively. “Yes, I get it, and contrary to your thoughts, I do believe you--in part. I believe that what you can see is true. That you can see the darkness in people. But that is not all of what people are made of. You’ve got to balance the good AND bad. Has it crossed peoples’ minds to start an uprising? Of course I am certain it has. But no one is going to act on it, Rowen. At least, not if we don’t give them a reason to. Why doesn’t this make sense to you?”
The faoladh was too blind with her own hatred for everyone and everything in this living world. She would not see reason, no matter how Nia tried to frame it. The Master Alchemist had just prevented disaster, possibly prevented the very uprising that Rowen was so confident the citizens of Galeyn and Stella D’Mare were already plotting. But there is no way Rowen would agree, and that Locque was equally opposed to continuing on with that plan of action… That certainly didn’t please the young wolf any further.
“I’m suggesting we unite to make up for creating a divide--like you mentioned. To re-establish that we are acting like a team. I’m not doing it for ‘satisfaction’. Rowen, I am not saying that I didn’t play a part in making things difficult for us, even if it was necessary.” At this point, Nia wasn’t even angry anymore. She was just… burnt out. And her lack of energy was evident in her voice. “So I’m trying to fix it. Yes, I think you took us down the wrong path, but I’m not here to boast that my remedy for it didn’t harm us in some way. Think what you want of me, but you’ll attract more flies with sugar than vinegar. But if you step on an ants’ nest for too long, they’re bound to bite back. I’m not discrediting what you see; my concern is what you believe. And regardless of whether or not you ever think I will find love and keep it,” whatever the hell that had to do with anything, “I might not have your Sight, but I know people. I was fooled by them before--and very badly. It almost cost me my life, but I’ve learned a lot in the past decade since that mistake. My judgment hasn’t proven me wrong, since. Rowen… you told me that just because you left the care of the Gardeners and discontinued your treatment within the Night Garden, you weren’t giving up.”
Nia’s face softened. Not with pity, but with a little bit of hope… and understanding. “What happened to you was shitty. If your brother hadn’t had to return your fears, I’m confident we’d be having a very different conversation right now. But for a while, the Night Garden was getting through to you, wasn’t it? It was working. Teselin said you were seeing things differently. Seeing good and seeing beauty and… and, hot damn, you were owning your mistakes. That’s fucking huge, Rowen!” She spread her arms for emphasis. “I’m not bullshitting you, here--you’d know if I was fucking lying about what I think. You made such long strides, and not only does that reassure Locque that the Night Garden may well be able to help her find herself again. You might not see it anymore, or everything dark might just be too prominent for you to ignore, but all of that good that you saw without your fears? It’s still there. None of it disappeared along with your reprieve from your sight. I know that if you would take the time to just let that sink in… you’d agree. So this is why I want to unify, Rowen. Not to prove you wrong, not to have some sort of satisfaction that what you did could’ve done massive damage to everything we’ve strived to build. I’m suggesting this because believe it or not, I do think you need to be involved, and… for better or worse, I believe in you. I can’t believe I’m saying that, but it’s true.”
She wasn’t sure Rowen heard a word she said through the ringing rage in her ears. Without acknowledging any of it, she stomped out of the room. A bad feeling settled at the pit of Nia’s stomach. The Master Alchemist knew what the young faoladh was capable of when angered, and it wasn’t a matter of if she would retaliate: it was a matter of when, and how.
The events of yesterday had not surpassed Isidor’s attention. It was impossible not to hear the rising voices that reached from outside straight through the walls of the palace, or to hear the hurried footsteps beyond his door. Through a collection of different voices and conversations, and the recurring mention of ‘Rowen’, it was clear that the young faoladh had done something that not only stirred the palace the wrong way, but had begun to incite mass hysteria outside, among the people. There was unrest, and if the pieces of information he’d gathered from overhearing others throughout the day was correct, and not just gossip, it had to do with blackening the names of Queen Lilica and her advisor, Chara Rigas. What nefarious plot is Locque up to? He wondered, and briefly, wondered if he should offer to help. Wondered if it was customary for him, as a guest, to reach out and lend a hand to his benevolent host, who had never done him wrong…
But ultimately, the Master Alchemist from Nairit did nothing. He didn’t even have a reason for doing nothing, beyond deciding that there was nothing he could do to help. Much though he was loathe to admit it, Vitali’s sudden passing had hit him harder than he’d ever expected it would. He wasn’t sad; he wasn’t angry. He wasn’t attuned enough to different emotions to know quite what he was feeling, but it was something far different from apathy. The last conversation he’d had with his brother went through his head again and again, like a bad, recurring dream. He had been warning him; giving him an indication that something was going to happen… and he hadn’t listened. He’d brushed it off as the necromancer doing his damndest to annoy him, as he was wont to do, when really there had been an important message in there. While Alster did not reveal the details he suspected (and for good reason: Isidor really had no right to lash out at him the way he did, the other day in the morgue), he believed him when he’s said that Vitali’s last act had been on behalf of them… and not Locque. Somehow, that son of a bitch had wormed his way into the summoner queen’s good graces, enough to make her trust him, just to get close enough to her to… well, to do whatever the hell it was that he did.
And that was the hardest part: the idea that Vitali Kristeva, a man who lived only for himself and had seldom ever spared a thought for another person, had sacrificed his own damn life on behalf of other people--many whom he did not even know! To work toward securing a future that he would never see, but that his brother and sister would. That Tivia, wherever she was, would see. And that Isidor had been wrong about him all along, he couldn’t help but feel… guilty. Had he really been that tone deaf? Had his prejudice toward the necromancer, all supported by deeds he had done in the past, really prevented him from seeing how he had changed?
He knew he shouldn’t feel guilty about it. After all, Vitali had told no one of this plan and had posed as a sympathizer to the enemy for a reason. This should not be keeping him up at night, and yet… he couldn’t sleep. Dreams of Arisza were now dreams of his brother, and he couldn’t stand to see his face, because he just didn’t know what he felt anymore. He couldn’t help but wonder if he and Teselin were feeling the same thing: some weird sense of… betrayal. Betrayal, because Vitali Kristeva had waited until he was dead to show his true colours (or at least, colours that he’d hidden beneath shades of black, which were equally suitable). All of these head games he was imposing on himself left him drained, and made it hard to think: so, no. He wouldn’t have been of any help to Queen Lilica or anyone involved in whatever awful tale Rowen had spun to… what? Make Lilica look bad? Make Locque look better? He was no strategist of manipulation, but even an idiot should know that making one person look bad did not make someone ever worse than them look better. And Rowen was no idiot… yet that did not seem to occur to her.
So he spent that day in a daze, staying out of the drama and the mayhem. He tried to work; he tried to eat, tried to sleep, and ended up failing at all of those things. It wasn’t until sometime the next day, when someone knocked on his door, that he began to break out of his fugue. At first, he considered not answering: it was easier to pretend that he was absent, or better yet, that he just didn’t exist. He had no real obligations anymore, now that the man with whom he was supposed to work to resurrect a blonde acrobat was dead. Teselin didn’t care for his help… and Tivia was gone. He’d done what he could for Alster and Elespeth: he was done. As soon as he was assured everyone was safe, when the day finally came that they took down Locque and Rowen and that blasted Ardane woman, and peace was restored to this kingdom… He had no ties holding him back from returning to Nairit. To the safety and anonymity of his tower, which had never expected anything of him.
He tried to ignore it, but Alster called his name, and he knew the Rigas mage was well aware that he was not only present, but awake. With a sigh, he rose from his bed, where he’d been lying and staring blankly at the ceiling, and opened the door. “What is it, Alster?” His voice was not irritated, nor did it imply he was displeased to see him in any way, but rather it was completely devoid of feeling. “If it has to do with whatever took place yesterday… I’m afraid I can’t be of much help.”
But Alster had prefaced his unexpected visit with it being an emergency. Well… hadn't the emergency already occurred yesterday? Wasn't the damage done? Brows furrowed, he watched as the Rigas mage closed the door ever so tentative. He looked as though he was walking on thin ice that threatened to shatter. "Look… what happened in the morgue, just… forget about it. I spoke out of exhaustion and frankly, I was just confused and overwhelmed. Anyway, you're right. I am like my brother. We are… were the same, yet in different ways. Perhaps that's why I despised him so terribly." A flat smile curled his lips. "Because I hated him as much as I hate myself. And that he left this world on some heroic feat, while I… hide away from anything and all, well, then it's about time I came to accept that in the end, I'm not better than him. If anything, I am lesser than him."
That, however, was not the emergency. Alster had not come to apologize or to hear him vent. Isidor would not have guessed in a hundred years the subject that the Rigas mage broached. And with every word, he felt his heart sink deeper, and his mouth grow drier. Rumour. Rowen. Nia… No. No, no, no, this couldn't be happening! This couldn't be happening. Couldn't be happening… what the hell had he ever done to Rowen Kavanagh that she would incite her to pull something like this?! Teselin was kind to her. Vitali… was she retaliating for some grievance the necromancer's betrayal might have caused her? Was he the only suitable candidate for punishment as a result?!
"That… that is not for her to tell." The Master Alchemist hissed, hands curling into fists. "That is for no one to tell but me. That filthy wolf does not get to use my experience as fodder in her own agenda, whatever the hell it might be!"
Isidor brushed past Alster to cross the room and open the wardrobe. He'd been wearing the same clothes for three days; they must've had an odour by now. "I don't owe you an explanation, Alster. I don't owe anyone an explanation, or details regarding what happened, because it is no one's fucking business. But I will be damned if Rowen Kavanagh controls this narrative to manipulate people's minds. It is not her story to tell!"
Selecting a new outfit, dark grey trousers and a matching tunic, he threw it onto the bed. "Where is Nia Ardane right now?" He asked in a low and dangerous tone. "You want to help? Find her. Bring her back here in an hour. If the people of Galeyn really give a damn about my involvement with the Ardane woman… then they'll get what they want to hear."
The news had reached Nia's ears long before it did Isidor's, but no amount of foresight could have prepared for Rowen Kavanagh's most recent attack. It seemed that as opposed to ending lives, the young wolf was now getting her kicks on ruining them. She should have seen it coming. After seeing the rage and hatred in Rowen's eyes the night before… why had she stayed up so late, drafting an apology with Locque, when she should have been preparing for the worst?! None of that mattered now, because the angry voices outside her window did not want to hear from Locque. They wanted to hear from her.
It was a damn good thing she had kept that invisibility cloak close at hand. In between angry knocks at her door, to people barging in without seeing her through the cloak itself, she managed to escape down the hall, and up, up, up to the observatory, where the now completely refurbished harp sat, having never been played. She had intended to take it back to Ari at some point and surprise him with a serenade in Ilandrian; some fantasy of a romantic evening… that might never come. Ari, if ever you had any faith in me… I won't blame you if it's all gone, now. Sitting next to that harp, cloaked in invisibility just like she once had at learning the truth about her sister's "ghosts" , Nia drew every ounce of strength from her core not to just sit and sob. One mistake… she had made one terrible mistake, one that she'd regretted almost instantaneously, and it would be her undoing. All because she pissed off the wrong person.
A familiar voice spoke her name as the heavy doors of the observatory pushed open, tearing her out of her woeful ruminations. Alster Rigas--of course she couldn’t hide from a mage! Cloaked or not, he would know if she was there. Frankly, with a palace full of mages, she was surprised she wasn’t found sooner. “I wish there was something I could say that would make all of this better… but there isn’t.” Shedding the heavy cloak from her body with a sigh, Nia rapidly wiped at tears on her face to hide signs of crying. “I spent most of the night working with Locque to draft an apology for all of the damage Rowen has caused… but that doesn’t matter now, does it? What does it matter if the people can’t trust either of the people working for Locque?”
Whatever Alster knew or didn’t know, he wasn’t there to condemn her. However, he did stipulate that Isidor was interested in seeing her. She wasn’t sure if she should be surprised, or if she should have known she’d have to face the other resident Master Alchemist at some point. “Look, I’m not gonna stand here and defend myself. I’d give you my side of the story… but it doesn’t matter, since Rowen framed it as one-sided. If anyone deserves to draw blood… then it’s him. I owe him that much.” In any case, how terrifying could it be to speak with Isidor Kristeva, who was more afraid of confrontation than he was of the ramifications of the rumour that Rowen had spread?
Well, it seems she’d underestimated the reclusive Kristeva brother, just as she had underestimated what Rowen would do and how fast she would act. As she accompanied Alster (cloaked, lest they run into any other irate palace dwellers) back to Isidor’s room, they hadn’t so much as knocked before he wrenched the door open. And he looked… well, good, for lack of a better word. He’s cleaned his hair and brushed it back into a ponytail, sported fresh clothes… as well as a look that could kill.
“Isidor.” Nia sighed. What did he want her to say? To do? “I--”
“You’re coming with me. Now.” Nia didn’t so much as have a chance to react before he grabbed her by the wrist and staring leading (well, dragging) her down the corridor. There was no time for her to don her cloak.
She started to panic. “L-look, if you want to punch me or whatever it takes to make you feel better--”
“What I want is my privacy back. That was never Rowen’s business; never her story to let loose in this kingdom. And I will sooner die,” he hissed and glared over his shoulder at Nia, “before I let this kingdom think of me as your victim!”
Of all of the reasons for Isidor’s anger… that was not one that Nia had seen coming. Not by a long shot.
Before she knew what was happening, they were headed for the front gate, and stepped out into the sunny afternoon. Isidor evidently didn’t care to wait for Lilica or Chara to address the situation. The shouting that reached her ears… It was almost as if this kingdom was angrier with her than they had been with the Galeynian queen and her advisor. And rightfully so. I can’t blame them. What was Isidor planning? To throw her to the mercy of the crowd? Verbally eviscerate her for what she had done?
“I know what you all want to hear. You want to hear the full story--about what this woman ‘did to me’. Is that it?” Isidor raised his voice such that he didn’t need the aid of a magical amplifying stone. His presence was great enough to get his voice across. To think, the man that hid from the world could be such a presence… “Well I’m here to give you that story. The real story, the one that Rowen Kavanagh had no right to form using her own narrative!” His free hand was clenched into a fist, but the other that still gripped Nia’s wrist dragged her forward. “You want to make a villain out of this woman? Fine; I won’t stop you. But I will tell you this. Yes, Nia Ardane approached me with exactly the intentions you would suspect. And did I welcome them at the time? No--well, not for a moment, at least, but then I thought… why the hell not? The woman I loved left me, because I drove her away. And I didn’t think it was possible to hate myself for it even more in that moment--but I couldn’t be sure. So what could be more destructive than fucking a woman I can’t stand?” He released Nia’s wrist so harshly she almost stumbled backward.
“Did she use me? Absolutely she did. What were her reasons? Well, you’ll have to ask her that, because I am not here to defend or speak for her. But know this: I used her as well. I used her to hurt myself. I went through with it to fall to rock bottom and feel the impact when I hit the fucking ground. And then, when I decided I was through with her, I kicked her out on her ass and slammed the door. I didn’t care that she wanted to stay because she was in some sort of crisis and needed the company. We did a fine job using one another and living to regret all of it. So, people of Galeyn, I apologize if this was not the story you wanted. Or if she is not the villain you wanted to hate. But if you take anything away from this story, then it should be this:” Isidor inhaled through his nose and looked over the crowd, which had gone still. For many of them, this was the first time seeing the reclusive Master Alchemist who wasn’t working for Locque. “I am not Nia Ardane’s goddamned victim! I don’t care what you think of me, or what you think of her, but I deserve more credit than to be looked on as some miserable toy to be kicked around at the leisure of another. So why don’t you all do yourselves a favour,” he swept his arm across the crowd, “and stop listening to Rowen Kavanagh! You’re wasting your own time, and taking away your focus from what’s really important: this kingdom’s safety and well-being! That’s all I have to say.”
Turning his back, he uttered a final, audible, “Leave me the hell alone.” Although as to whether it was intended for the crowd, for Alster (who’d followed), or for Nia, remained uncertain.
“I didn’t mean...I didn’t intend...I’m sorry.” In an interesting reversal, it was Alster who was left tongue-tied and flustered, a role Isidor typically embodied back around when they first met. “I only meant...that people would be wanting a statement from you. Not that you would have to give one to them, or to me, or to anyone…” he trailed off, swerving out of the way of Isidor’s advance to his wardrobe and flattening against the wall in a concentrated bid not to be some extraneous body taking up space or occupying his line of sight. He made himself small, vanishing without actually casting concealment magic. “It’s all at your discretion. I’ll support whatever you do.”
He lapsed into uncomfortable silence as he slunk ever-closer to the door with the understanding that he should leave, hyper-aware of his status as unwanted company—perhaps even more so than most anyone else currently still relevant in the reclusive man’s life. At the same time, he didn’t want to come across as unreliable, proclaiming his desire to help and then absconding into the hallway at the slightest shiver of conflict. So he compensated by remaining nearby, available but unobtrusive, and swimming in the string-tightened energies that twanged, out of tune, in the chilly, anxiety-ridden air.
He nearly jolted out of place when Isidor’s uncharacteristic cutting voice addressed him. Carefully, he pushed away from the corner, smoothing into an unruffled stance in preparation for any request asked of him. “Of course. I’ll find her.”
A few ragged breaths escaped his lungs as he exited Isidor’s quarters. Naturally attuned to peoples’ energy signatures, he found it doubly difficult to withstand them when they emanated from those he cared about most. And Isidor...well, the hurt wrenched even deeper, knowing how he’d likely been shafted into irrelevancy, due to his bitter contributions. He couldn’t cast the blame squarely on himself, though, when the Alchemist had often made clear his stance on solitude and his desire to be left alone for the rest of his days. He didn’t respect his wishes before and had, summarily, kicked a boot heel into an ugly, festering wound because he wanted to matter. To mentor someone, to help them on their feet, to inspire, and collaborate, and heal. He wanted to embody all those things for Isidor and create an environment rich with opportunity and belonging. But that childish, idealistic fantasy ignored one grim and ever-rising statistic. He couldn’t provide such things for anyone, because he was attracted to lost causes, impossible cases, unsolvable problems, and with them, brought strife, danger...death. No one who entered his sphere of influence could ever be happy for long. Maybe then, it was best for Isidor to veer far, far away from him, and return to his tower, where he would no longer need to deal with so much cruelty and heartbreak.
This is not about you, Alster. Stop fixating so much. Tensions are obviously high. This is what Rowen wants. Do your tasks...and kill your mind. No one cares what you think, anyway. Just stick to what you’re good at.
So he did.
Like a homing pigeon locating its roost, Alster homed in on Nia’s location through a combination of energy mapping and educated guessing. He narrowed the destination to the Observatory, a seldom-visited location during the day, but still a central spot within the palace proper. She was hiding in plain sight, sticking nearby on an as-needed basis.
“Nia,” he glanced at a shimmering spot on the far wall, beside an old, spruced-up harp, a decidedly odd place to house such a large instrument. “Come out. I know you’re there.” Fortunately, she didn’t make a fuss by pretending to be the wall, despite his evidence proving otherwise. In seconds, the shimmering folded aside to reveal the Ardane woman, hunched and small, with a different shimmer, but in her eyes. Any righteous fires of indignation he unfairly harbored toward her sputtered out on sight. Whatever happened between her and Isidor, it wracked her with a guilt comparable to what Chara must have experienced, yesterday. Yet another person he couldn’t reach, couldn’t comfort…
“It’s not my place to ask, anyway, much as I want to know if Isidor is ok, or...if he’ll be ok,” he said, his expression softening, folding in worry. “Here.” He offered his hand, helping her to her feet from the floor on which she sat. “I’m just the messenger. He wants to see you. Let’s try to take everything one step at a time. I’ll be around to mediate, if necessary. I won’t let things get uglier. But...in any case, we shouldn’t keep him waiting.” His approach was gentle, kind, but not familiar. They didn’t really know each other, and his heart had become too closed to welcome other relationships when he couldn’t manage the few people still left in his circle. But neither would he play into Rowen’s schemes and direct flames at Nia when he wasn’t privy to the whole story.
Together, they traveled through the corridors (with Nia incognito) en route to Isidor’s chambers. They’d barely reached the door when it flew open. Even Alster was tempted to retreat a step when he bore witness to the intensity darkening the abysses in his coal-black eyes. He had little time to react before Isidor grabbed Nia’s hand and yanked her down the hallway. To match his friend’s long-legged stride, Alster broke into a half-jog, determined not to lose the duo on the off chance things grew...violent. Though, he had an idea as to where they were going.
The idea materialized into reality as they pushed through the front entrance doors and threw themselves, headlong, into a restless Galeynian crowd. Prior to their arrival, it appeared they’d been pacified, to an extent. Alster caught sight of Bronwyn, whose cautious relief and sense of accomplishment plummeted off the side of the cliff at the sight of Isidor and Nia. As if her words had absolutely no impact at all, the Galeynian shouting recommenced, and she, paling, retreated from the ‘stage’ in haste. Alster fell into a formation where Haraldur, Vega, and Elespeth had aligned, looking on as Isidor flew into a tirade of a speech. Throughout it, the Rigas mage looked down, torn. When someone you cared about suffered so much, how did you help without it being misconstrued as pity? How could they view any attempt of reaching out as genuine concern and not as victimization? Was the solution really so clear? Do I leave you alone? Is that what you truly want? Is there no way...of making you happy?
Unbidden, he followed after Isidor at the conclusion of his speech, but ground himself to a halt, flinching at the command of a request: Leave me the hell alone.
“...I understand, Isidor,” he said, his voice small. And, in loss, he let the Master Alchemist go. He couldn’t do anything more for him. Nothing meaningful. Nothing seen as little else but annoying, meddlesome, unwanted noise. But maybe...someone else might stand a chance.
“Your pouch is buzzing.” Alster, desperate to reconnect to something tangible, for now, pointed to Nia’s belt, where she’d been storing her resonance stone alongside her dagger and various other alchemical materials. To remove her from the crowd, he ended up guiding her behind a wall and out of sight. “It’s Ari, isn’t it? You should answer him. He’s probably worried. Please don’t shut away the people who care.”
At Alster’s urging, Nia withdrew the stone and answered her summons. Indeed, Ari’s voice crackled out of the rock. In spite of the spotty sound quality, one could make out the strained notes of concern. Not anger or confusion or doubt, but concern. “Goodness, Nia, I have been trying to contact you all morning. Are you well? No, I suppose that is an inane question to ask, all things considered. I...have heard the news. Please, if you are able, come to the villa. I have plenty of wine, should you have need of it. And a place to rest your head.”
To give the overwhelmed Nia a little bit of privacy, Alster retreated, but not to follow Isidor, and not to return to his quarters. He went directly to the Night Garden. Once there, he traced the thickest leyline to the densest and most undisturbed thicket of forest, sat down in the earthy loam and underbrush, and meditated. Stars, you stopped me once before, but you won’t stop me again. I’ll find Tivia.
Alster curled both hands into the dirt, making direct contact with the powerful, harm-repellent energies of the Night Garden, and he concentrated his own power not towards Tivia herself—that had been a mistake—but to his own star. You’re going to send her a message, he directed his star, trying not to burn away in the presence of its magnified, blue-giant majesty. In the outside world, he could feel blood trickling down his ears and his body shiver from an intense cold. Hear me, and deliver. I drifted through space. I spanned universes, aging as the stars. I am your will, and you are my will. So tell her...tell her to return. Tell her...Isidor needs her.
Whether he succeeded or not, the sheer energy it took to communicate with a star in his mortal body when he hadn’t a star-seer’s proficiency reaped its consequences. Utterly taxed from the task, he fell over and collapsed, warmth draining from him as though he were adrift anew in the vacuum of space.
No depth of sequestration could block Hadwin’s nose from sniffing out the bitter notes of discord in the air—except, of course, when he was bedridden and unable to make out a rose from a midden heap with his clogged senses. But that wasn’t the case now, and he resumed enjoying his can’t-pull-one-over-me gifts. Or curses. The Gardeners who routinely visited the sanctuary to check on him and Teselin tried to hide their knowledge of the past twenty-four hours and some change, but they seemed to forget he was a conditional mind-reader, and their fears stank of Rowen. He wasn’t in the least surprised, and maybe, under certain conditions, he would have been impressed by his sister’s aptitude for puppeteering a crowd to march so skillfully to her drumbeat. Instead, he...frankly, he didn’t know what to feel, and it was too dangerous to start when Teselin needed looking after and he could hardly walk back and forth across a room without support. The action-ready faoladh was out of commission, and out of actions to spend. What an opportune time for Rowen to implement her masterful plans; when the two people most able to stand in her way couldn’t even stand, in both the figurative and literal sense.
Good game, Rowen. I’ll give you that.
As far as his rehabilitation went, Hadwin required the wheelchair for any distance exceeding the length of the hut, but he could handle opening the door on his own and hobbling outside, which he did that morning while Teselin stayed in bed, asleep. Hugging the outside walls, he circled around to the back, leaned up against the wooden facade, and whipped out a pipe he’d pilfered from one of his old outfits. He wasn’t yet allowed to drink or smoke, but bugger all to that! With his sister running amuck, his conscientious caretakers had to give him a free pass or two for choosing to indulge.
A strike of flint from his tinderbox. A streak of fire. Swirls of smoke formed a dark vortex from his bowl and released pungent aromas upward before pooling into a hazy cloud around his head. There wasn’t much left on his person, but he’d take whatever was available, and smoke it all to the last leaf.
Rowen joined him behind the sanctuary two hits later. So much for fleeting enjoyment. It died before it even landed an intoxicating kiss on his lips. “That you? Or a hallucination? Psh, whatever. Doesn’t matter.” A low, uninspired chuckle gargled in his throat. “You fucked up, kid. So why’re you here? Come to give the Night Garden another go? Or are you looking to hide away from the folks you pissed off?”
“I...don’t know. I don’t know why I’m here.” The dark-haired faoladh shared a place beside him, looking...contemplative. “Maybe it’s to check if a place like this would take back a person like me. Is there a line? A limit? After a certain point, does it dole out punishments?”
“That’s a question for a Gardener to answer. But,” he sighed out a puff of smoke, “this place offers healing, not forgiveness or absolvement. It’ll accept everyone, but you’ll still have to answer for the outside world. And oooh boy, they’re not happy with you, I suspect.”
“I thought so.” She faced Hadwin, her eyes bright, hopeful. “Would you protect me, then? Like old days? Stand between the people who want to hurt me? You always said it was us against the world, right?”
He clamped his teeth over the stem of his pipe. “Kid, don’t even try to pull one over me. I gave you how many fucking chances? Stuck out my neck how far for you? And every damn time, you burn me. I’ve got nothing more to give. There’s no ‘us against the world.’ You broke that covenant and tried to kill me with the bloody shards, remember? No; It’s the world against you. That’s the story you’ve been sticking with for years now. I was the fool who tried to dispute it, thinking I still belonged somewhere with you. But I never did. And I never will.”
“I see.” Rowen dispensed all pretense and clasped her hands behind her back, rocking calmly on her heels. “It’s about time you said that out loud instead of always lying to me, and to yourself. Thank you at last for your honesty. Maybe if you led with that a long time ago, we wouldn’t be in this pickle.”
“Yeah. Blame me. Everyone does.” He inhaled a puff of smoke and let it slowly leak out between his teeth. “If it makes you feel better. But don’t for a second pin me as the sole reason you went on a killing spree and why now you’re smearing shit on everything that moves. I’m not your damn scapegoat.” No longer caring about being clandestine, he slammed his fist against the sanctuary’s rustic log paneling, just above Rowen’s head. He was too weak to deliver a proper pinch, so the impact merely scraped his knuckles in annoyance. “It might not matter a lick to you what I did when we were kids, but I tried to protect you from mam and da. I took the hit on both ends so you’d stand a fighting chance of growing up decent. Yeah, I got fucked up, and your Sight couldn’t deal with what I became, but dammit, give me credit, I tried!”
“And what a stellar job you did. Should I give you a round of applause for effort?” Her hands hovered a teasing distance apart.
“What the hell do you want from me, Rowen? Fine, I wasn’t a perfect role model, but what were you expecting, for me to carry you? I did what I could; the rest was up to you. And you fucked it up.” He grabbed her hand, pulling her into range of his smoke cloud. “So own it.”
“Let’s see if that’s the tune you’ll keep singing when your misguided efforts for your replacement sister backfire.” She pushed against his chest, upsetting his tenuous balance. He stumbled and fell, butt-first, on the ground. She slid forward, leering, literally looking down on him. “And oh yeah, I’m aware. I can see your fears sometimes, too. But thanks for the advice. I will own it. And I’ll tell everyone that you’ve given me your blessing to accept myself for who I am. My truth will prevail. And whoever fucks with me is dead. So fuck with me at your own peril.” Leaving him sprawled on the ground, she escaped into the trees beyond, not caring to look back at who she left behind, not even once.
Hadwin rammed his head against the cottage wall, cursing. It was easier to curse, to bang against things, to rage and yell and bruise himself than to invite that dangerous idea to sprout from the mud where he’d once buried it clean. Someone had to stop her before things escalated and her thirst for murder returned. Someone...had to kill her. It was his fault. He was to blame. He was responsible.
It had to be him.
Nia knew that Alster was an unflinchingly understanding person. She’d known it for a while, and it was part of the reason she had actually leaned into camaraderie with the powerful Rigas mage when he decided he could stand her presence (albeit in small doses). But under the circumstances, those which involved Isidor Kristeva (someone whom Alster arguably liked a good deal more), she hadn’t expected anything but anger and judgment when he’d sought her out and found her in the observatory that day. If he’d been one carrying a flaming pitchfork, she’d have been done for, because even a Master Alchemist of her calibre couldn’t hold a flame to a mage as powerful as a Rigas. To her surprise, he hadn’t come to condemn her, though he had come on Isidor’s behalf. There was no avoiding the other Master Alchemist, or the rest of the kingdom, forever. She would have to come out sometime. That invisibility cloak could not protect her anonymity forever.
So it was out of a sense of deep defeat that she shed her clock and accompanied Alster, all the way down to Isidor’s room, and why she did not resist when Isidor seized her by the wrist and pulled her along the corridor. What he wanted to do with her… it didn’t matter. What had been said, had been said, and there was no amount and no combination of words that would exonerate her of her crime. Although at the time it hadn’t occurred to her that it was a crime, or that she was in any way hurting Isidor, that didn’t matter. Her perspective didn’t matter. Only Isidor could speak to the event, because anything that came out of her mouth would only sound like a pathetic excuse to avoid persecution.
That said… never in a million years would she have expected him to say what he did to that crowd. Never would have thought that that was how he’d perceived the situation… That he had never seen himself as a victim to begin with. Likewise, it had never occurred to her that he had ultimately let her into his bedroom because he had sought to use her as a means to… what? Hurt himself? Did that then mean she was responsible for hurting him, or… was he responsible? Was it a shared responsibility? He seemed to think so, and all she could do was look on in awe as the Kristeva alchemist turned the story around in his own words to include details that didn’t necessary make her look better, but that made her appear… not as evil?
By the time his brief, albeit caustic speech had reached its conclusion, Nia was left standing near the Rigas mage and his companions, dumbfounded as the crowd before her. Should I say something? Or just leave it as it is? Something vibrated in her satchel, next to her hip. Alster pointed it out before she even noticed it, and she reached into the side of her belt to withdraw the resonance stone. It was Ari… of course it was Ari. Who else had access to the opposite stone? Was he worried, or did he, like the rest of Galeyn, demand an answer for her awful transgressions toward Isidor Kristeva? His voice did sound concerned, as Alster had suggested. No doubt, the Canaveris lord wanted a reason not to hold her accountable for what had happened if he cared for her as much as he claimed… but what could she tell him, that wouldn’t make her look bad? That wouldn’t be some petty excuse to grasp at innocence? These are just consequences to a problem I created. No one made me do it. I’ve got no one to blame--especially not Isidor.
“You should go and help your friend,” she said softly to Alster, before placing the resonance stone back in her pocket without answering Ari’s call. There was something more important she needed to do, first.
Gathering all of the courage she could, the Ardane woman drew a long breath, before stepping back outside to face the crowd again. Isidor’s story had caused a few people to disperse, hearing his side of what had occurred, but some still remained. Some still demanded the other Master Alchemist speak for herself, for her actions. And if she was working on behalf of these people, to balance Locque’s desires with their own… she owed them an explanation. Not an excuse: it would be up to them to decide if she was really a monster, of if she’d simply made a mistake.
“...I know how much all of you missed your families. Those of you who were left behind, when your loved ones did not awaken. I know, because I miss mine, too. Every day.” It was a struggle to raise her broken voice, but she made an effort to be heard. “I like to pretend I don’t. Since it happened so long ago, and it’s all behind me, but if I’m being honest… it doesn’t really go away. That emptiness and that pain. It can make you feel so tired of being lonely, and make you want company at all cost…” She squeezed her hands into fists and looked down at the tips of her boots, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I’m not going to make excuses for what I did. I could give you my side of this story, but it would only make it look like I am trying to discredit Isidor and garner sympathy… and he was right. This is his story to tell. Not Rowen’s, and not mine. Maybe his story was even too kind for what I deserve. I came into his space… but never with the intention to hurt him. With selfish intent, maybe, but not to hurt him. I’d thought…” What? That they could help each other? What would it matter to his crowd?
“...I’m sorry. This is a waste of your time. I had planned to stand here with Locque, today, and with Queen Lilica and Chara Rigas, regarding Rowen’s Kavanagh’s little slander party, yesterday. But…” Unclenching her fists, she held her hands palms up. “It wouldn’t matter, coming from me. It doesn’t matter, now. If you should be listening to anyone--then listen to her.” She glanced over her shoulder, and motioned to Bronwyn, who looked up with surpris, taken aback but the sudden attention. “This gal here is the opposite of Rowen. She might not see darkness, but she won’t open her mouth if she doesn’t think that what she’s saying holds any weight.”
With nothing left to say that she thought might be taken remotely seriously, Nia stepped back, turned, and headed back toward the palace. “...thanks for trying to talk ‘em down,” she said to Bronwyn, with a sad albeit appreciative look in her brown eyes. “Though I’m not sure I deserve and kind words or protecting.”
As she returned inside, out of the public eye (but far from their awareness, she knew all too well), Nia continued to feel the on and off buzzing of the resonance stone. Ari… He was relentless. No doubt, he wanted answers, for if it had to do with a flare up he needed taken care of by her capable hands, he would have tried once to reach her, and waited another several hours before trying to reach her again. That was just a part of his infallible etiquette: never wanting to catch her at a bad time. But this… this was different. And what was worse, since she had answered his call in the first place, he would know that at this point, she was ignoring him--which was all levels of completely unfair. Didn’t she owe him an explanation? Even more so than she did the kingdom of Galeyn? Someone with whom she had become so intimately involved… he deserved an answer. Deserved to decide for himself if she was really the monster that Rowne Kavanagh had painted her to be. It didn’t matter how much she’d regretted what she had done, or what her intentions had been, or if Isidor, in his mind, had consented to her advances out of his own, selfish, self-destructive motivations. None of it would have happened if she hadn’t initiated it. If she hadn’t foolishly thought that two broken people could make one another feel whole, even just temporarily. Whether or not it was up to Rowen to bring it to the awareness of the entire kingdom didn’t matter. She had made a mistake: and every mistake had its consequences.
Under the protection of her invisibility cloak, Nia tracked down Locque in the place where she was usually found: the council chambers. She half-wondered if the summoner queen ever left that room. “...I’m sure you’ve heard the news. If you’re still interested in going through with this apology--which I think you should--then I’d suggest you go and find Queen Lilica and Chara Rigas. Show the kingdom that you stand together. Here.” She plopped a rolled-up piece of parchment onto the long table. “I refined it a little from what we discussed last night. But why don’t you look over it with the other stakeholders.”
“So you will not stand with me? After you promised that you would make an effort to be more present?” Locque, somehow, appeared less concerned for the dark stain on Nia’s reputation… and more confused at her proposal.
“There’s a crowd out there that I’m pretty sure wants my blood. If you want my advice… go to Lilica and Chara. Denounce any responsibility for my actions, and reassure everyone that I will suffer the consequences on my own. C’mon, please…” The Master Alchemist sighed. Her shoulders sagged. “I was up all night fine-tuning this. I’d planned to sit down with Lilica and Chara today to have them add what they want to say… but I owe an explanation to more than just the people outside this palace. Believe me when I say, this is something that you’ll only be able to fix without me. Hell--it might even work in your favour! Tell them… I don’t know. You’ll punish me. Strip me of my privilege as your advisor, on the surface. It’s a responsible decision you’ll probably earn a lot of respect, for. I’m trying to help you salvage this, now. I’ve been trying to help you salvage this since… since the day you forced your way in as queen.”
The summoner queen did not reply, at first. Closing the distance at last, she rested a hand atop the curled parchment, as if unsure of whether she wanted to take it. At last, when she spoke up, she looked at Nia with uncertainty. “...and you think all will be remedied by making Galeyn think I am done with you?”
“No. Not everything. But… it’s a start. I’ve got to go.” The Master Alchemist readjusted her cloak around her shoulders and head. “Not everyone was happy with Bronwyn’s or Isidor’s speeches, and I’m running out of hiding places. For now… you’d do well to steer clear of me, if you ever want to be looked upon as something other than an enemy. Just long enough for the dust to settle. But until then…” She narrowed her eyes. “For the love of all that is good--get a hold on Rowen. Everything she does as of now, know that she does it out of spite. Not for your benefit.”
So as not to be stuck in a carriage all day long with a driver who looked upon her with the same hatred as the crowd, Nia waited until the sun had peaked and set before hopping onto a Night Steed and making for the D’Marian village. She hadn’t informed Ari that she would be coming; she hadn’t even gotten back to him, after her resonance stone finally stopped vibrating and fell silent in his defeat. It seemed safer not to tell him, knowing full well that his people had no doubt caught wind of the news Rowen spread. In fact, the little bitch had likely targeted the D’Marians in general, to try and force a rift between her and Ari. She had already asked Locque, for the summon queen’s own sake, to distance herself from her. And now… would she have to suggest the same for Ari? She probably wouldn’t even have to suggest it; that very thought had probably already crossed his mind. His people came before her, and he had fought too hard to earn their respect to lose it over someone they already didn’t trust.
Remembering some of the less obvious ways to navigate the Canaveris villa, Nia left the Night Steed at the stables, walked the remainder of the distance, and let herself in through a window that he had pointed out did not properly latch at the base of the structure, which led to a storage cellar mainly for grains. From there, she spread out a mental map in her mind as a means to remember the safest way to Ari’s quarters. The villa, he had once mentioned, had been designed with additional stair cases for the serving staff as a means for them to travel more efficiently throughout the villa, from corridors to kitchen to corridors, to save them the unnecessary travel through wide-set rooms when they carried dishes or cleaning supplies to and from one room to another. But the staff were all asleep, now; perhaps Ari was, too. At the very least, after midnight was the safest time to assume that Nadira was, at the very least, fast asleep, and she’d much rather be caught by serving staff than the vengeful Lady Canaveris.
Guessing at which closet-staircases led up to Ari’s chambers (which she had admittedly only seen once, and in passing), the Master Alchemist held her breath and tread on light feet. She’d had to leave her cloak behind, ironically, for stealth purposes; the thing was heavy as hell, and it wasn’t easy to maneuver herself in it. When at last she came upon ornate double doors with his initials A.C. carved in ribbon-like calligraphy into the wood, Nia held her breath, and pushed the doors open as quietly as possible.
She was about as startled to see Ari wide-awake, sitting up in bed, as he was to see her come in through his bedroom door. What was he still doing up at this hour? Crossing the room on light feet, she took a seat next to his enormous bed, and let out the breath she’d been holding. “It somehow seemed safer not to tell you I was coming… though I’m not sure how much my nerves believe it.” Nia kept her voice to the quietest of whispers. She had no idea where Nadira was sleeping, or how light a sleeper she was. “I’m… sorry I did not respond to your call right away. I wasn’t really sure what to say…”
Something caught her attention: the awkward way in which one of his legs was positioned, bent as if sitting in a chair, beneath his sheets. It couldn’t have been comfortable; it certainly didn’t look it. “Ari, are you… “ She leaned forward to rest a hand on his bent knee. Even beneath the sheets, she didn’t need her uncanny talents to know it felt like stone. You should have said something. Or, maybe you did… and I just didn’t hear. Let me take care of this.”
Peeling back the blankets, he did indeed seem to be suffering a nasty flare-up… and why? Had she done this to him? News of her… of how horrible she was? She didn’t even wait for him to respond before she found her knife to draw a little bit of blood, and slowly turn that stone back to flesh.
“I… don’t know what you heard. Or how much, or if you caught wind all the way down here of how Isidor addressed it… it doesn’t matter. I didn’t come here to make excuses.” She ran her hand diligently down his bare calf, slowly buffing away the stone, one layer at a time. “It’s peculiar, what loneliness can do to you. I hadn’t even realized just how lonely I was, until I had my sisters back… only to realize I’d never had them at all. It made me aware of this big, gaping hole in my heart, that had probably been there all along, and nothing could fix it. No amount of alcohol or staring at their false silhouettes in the moonlight. I didn’t want to admit it at the time, but I was hurting so badly, I needed something… or someone to stop it. And, it just so happened, that around the same time, Isidor was hurting, too. Just as badly, and for different reasons. And sure, I can tell you or tell myself I thought we could help each other feel whole, even just temporarily, but if I’m being honest… I was just terrified of being alone. Because I suddenly realized just how alone I really was, and it made the pain so much worse. I just wanted a reprieve, and he… he didn’t want me, but he didn’t throw me out. Well, not at first.”
With his knee and calf having returned to flesh and bone, Nia refocused her hands around his foot and ankle to take care of what remained of his petrification. “But it’s not an excuse. I fucked up; I regretted it as soon as it was over. I’d thought, if anyone at all could understand the pain I was feeling, it’d be him. We have so much in common, after all. It just… made some sick sense, at the time. As if a couple of beaten-down, broken people could actually fix each other. Though I didn’t realize that he only slept with me to hurt himself; to feel worse about himself. So I didn’t end up helping him at all.” When she looked up from her work, it was with a rueful smile. Her eyes were dull and her face was pale with lack of sleep; she hadn’t shut her eyes since yesterday morning, when Lilica and Chara had been Rowen’s target. “This was before I thought there was ever a chance you’d care about me. And now I know better… but it doesn’t take back what I did. Doesn’t excuse it. Not in the slightest. If the Galeynians and D’Marians didn’t have enough reason to hate me before… they certainly do, now.”
Her hands were shaky; she was exhausted, and spent, and too numb to feel anger or sadness at this point, having been awake for almost forty-eight hours. But Nia didn’t lean away until the entirety of Ari’s leg was whole--flesh, blood, and bone again--and he was able to relax it from its bent position. How long had it been that way…? “I don’t blame you if you want nothing to do with me, anymore. In fact, I’d almost recommend it, so you don’t lose favour with your people. I just thought… that you deserved an explanation. I owe you that much.”
Due to the nature of his flare-up occurring while his leg was bent, which solidified and hence locked it into place, Ari found his mobility impacted more than usual. He was no stranger to the curse targeting his limbs almost exclusively, so much so that he was seldom seen without wielding his jaunty blackwood cane with the polished silver handle, a staple that often accompanied his multitude of ensembles and thus characterized the Canaveris lord’s impeccable and unique fashion sense. What few people noticed, however, was that it served an actual, practical function. During flare-up episodes, he would switch the cane to the opposite affected area, bolstering his balance while simultaneously alternating his swagger to account for the change. It happened so often, that the public couldn’t possibly suspect the cane’s true purpose beyond Ari’s flair for flamboyance. But with his leg all crocked into a semi-permanent backwards L, Ari had no chance of hiding his injury in plain sight, and certainly couldn’t pass off the look as a trendy new method of walking, which had less in common with walking and more in common with hobbling. It was the worst type of flare-up for him to receive, because if he couldn’t present himself to the crowd without eliciting yet more concerns for his well-being, he lost an essential platform, a political disaster, especially amid turbulent times when daily appearances and proactive, morale-boosting speeches were a necessity. One couldn’t rally a village of restless D’Marians if their leader couldn’t rise to meet them on his own two feet. Anything less than his full attendance and participation would arouse suspicion...or pity, considering the recently leaked news concerning Chara Rigas and himself. The second they began viewing him as a victim, and their expressions changed to match their conceptions, he would lose their respect.
Like any significantly-sized flare-up to materialize since day one of his elected appointment as Canaveris head, Ari would, unfortunately, be forced to suffer Nadira’s noisy lamentations on the subject. Without fail, no deviation from the internal script she long-ago committed to memory sharp enough to recite it backwards and miss not one syllable, she performed her soliloquy before her indifferent audience.
“Oh why? Why, Ari, why? Whatever possessed you to accept the twofold mantle of Canaveris Head and D’Marian leader when the rigorous stresses of daily life are sufficient enough to detain you? I’ve repeated thus; delivered ample warnings about the complications awaiting you, should you accept this thankless vocation. As an artist, you suffered a fraction of the flare-ups. It was the perfect profession for you. Quiet, respectable, but distant and, importantly, hidden. I cannot fathom why you insist on placing yourself in harm’s way when you’ve nothing to prove! All eyes are on you, Ari. You are firmly front and center. One misstep, and our secrets bleed—and you will bleed the most from the exposure.”
Typically, she ended her impassioned diatribe on that dramatic flourish, but Ari raised an eyebrow when she took a clearing breath... and continued. Hm. New content.
“Since you have ascended to the role of D’Marian head, how many people are aware of your curse?” She ticked off the numbers on her manicured fingernails. “Aside from Chara Rigas, who, to my continued amazement and shock, has known all along,” she affixed him the kind of stare that once held the power to consign him to his room for naughty behavior, but which now carried an air of frustration for forever losing the ability to punish her child, “there is Alster Rigas, Hadwin Kavanagh, Rowen Kavanagh—allegedly—and last, this Ardane upstart who was revealed to have sexually assaulted Isidor Kristeva. Heavens,” she placed the same hand, four fingers splayed, to her cheek, “I must reach out to that poor boy. First Master Zenech; now, this. Oh, the trials he faces…”
At last, a break in the monologue! Ari wedged himself through, lest he lose his window of opportunity. “It is not through oversight or carelessness that four people know of my condition. Two are wolves who have a knack for fishing out unpleasant truths. One is a Rigas mage so powerful, he can summon and unsummon an eldritch terror at will. And the other is a Master Alchemist, where one accidental touch will reveal one’s entire biological composition, anomalies and all. You must admit these four are all exceptional cases and have nothing to do with my incompetence. End of story.”
“Now, on the subject of Nia,” He shifted on his bed, attempting to reach a level of comfort deemed ‘good enough’ for his compromised leg. Sometime during the night, he fell asleep in the grotto and awoke in his bedchambers. Lazarus must have carried him when unconsciousness overrode his consent. Though he was in bed, he was not bedridden, and was determined to delegate matters straight from his room, which he did for the better part of the morning. Not one hour before Nadira foisted her presence on him, he’d received the horrific news about Nia, and could do nothing more but try and fail and try and fail to reach her through resonance stone. Only one attempt succeeded..but she never answered, plummeting his stomach into a pit of worries and dread. What if something happened to her? What if a mob of angry Galeynians trampled her alive, or Rowen Kavanagh slit her throat and lorded over the corpse, laughing? All while he lay in bed, effectively paralyzed and unable to do anything?! No; Nia and her uncanniness for survival deserved more credit than that. Yet...his worries never ceased, and they trumped his common sense. Physically, she might not bear a ding or a scratch, but emotionally…
“Are you so inclined to believe Rowen Kavanagh’s newest rumor, unilaterally?” The tryst between Isidor and Nia he’d discovered at its onset—on the night it happened, but he was unaware of the details or the inception; only the aftermath as summarized by an outraged Tivia Rigas, and it was easy to overblow her response out of proportion. His pebble golems were still responsible for surveying the palace and intercepting any battle plans between Locque and her court. Lately, his heart hasn’t been into following up with his little spies, which might have alerted him to Rowen’s sinister plans beforehand. Alas, if they’d acted on his intelligence, it would have revealed to Locque that foulplay was indeed afoot, and spies were in her midst. Without a proper plan or preventative measure in place, the burden of foreknowledge disclosed one’s fate, but no strategy to defeat it. Sad, really, that he ended up using pebble golems for selfish reasons; to shamefully (and unintentionally) discover Nia’s sex life, respond with...jealousy, and conspire with Hadwin Kavanagh to reroute her attention to him, someone who actually desired her. All this, and people questioned her integrity? He was no better!
“Why yes, I do believe the devilish she-wolf!” Nadira barreled into her response, giving no space for contemplation or a second thought. “Because Nia Ardane does not inspire trust and trustworthiness! I am glad for this reveal as it proves my instincts were correct, all along. And why, praytell, do you harbor a different sentiment, Ari?”
“Sentiment?” He heard the suspicion in her thinly-veiled accusation, and he didn’t like where she was heading. “If you mean ‘friendship,’ then yes, Nia is a friend, and I would trust her testimony, were she to give it. Do you have so little faith in my judgement that, despite my endorsements, you are so quick to snub and deride her?”
“When it comes to your romantic choices, then yes, I question your discernment.”
“Romantic? Why do you say romantic?” Whatever his mother suspected, she couldn’t prove—
She withdrew a familiar sketchbook from the satchel over her shoulder, rifled through its pages, and presented the damning evidence to him; the charcoal drawing of Nia, sprawled out naked on the parlor’s chaise sofa. Gone were his attempts to salvage his false innocence, to diplomatically navigate the situation by brushing off the significance of the book in her hand—to proclaim Nia had modeled for him one night, and nothing more, which was true. He would have, but...if she had seen the sketchbook, then she had seen the others. Paintings. A half-finished bust, sculpted to represent her likeness. There was no navigating around the identity and prominence of his newest muse because words failed...amid his rising temper.
“You went inside my workshop? A sanctum you swore you would never trespass? And yet, you did. I suppose not being privy to my personal affairs was too much for you to bear, and you viewed this blatant disruption of my privacy justified.” He started calmly enough, but it was a low-pressure calm, replete with the crackle of ozone in the electrically-charged air.
“On the night I arrived in Galeyn, Ari, I noticed your preferential treatment of this Ardane Alchemist goes beyond hospitality or friendship.” She shut the sketchbook and, instead of returning it to him, tucked it away into her satchel, treating it as confiscated material he would not receive back. “Initially, I chalked it up to an overactive imagination brought about by a long and tiring journey, but your deep, deep camaraderie persisted and it soon became obvious, the connection you two share. For your safety, and to confirm my suspicions as true, yes, I entered your sacred domain. I hope that you understand; you left me no choice. I shall not have this woman, who clearly has a history of sexual violence, near you, do you understand?” Her authoritative edge doused itself in water too maturely and threatened to go brittle. The hardness persisted, but her eyes did soften. “After learning of your dalliances with that despicable Chara Rigas, a detail you deliberately withheld from me, what was I supposed to do, instead? You wouldn’t have come forward and told me, and what then? A repeat of history? You are now Stella D’Mare’s leader, Ari. You cannot afford to be embroiled in further scandal, and Nia? She is a scandal! Worse; she is a predator.”
But Ari had lost the battle to a reasonable discussion the moment he learned of his mother’s snooping. “You had no right!” He snapped, his face reddening from an anger he was taught to suppress, to starve. Use your words, Ari, Nadira often reminded him, whenever he lost a foothold on the conversation and was in danger of riling himself into a flare-up. Your words and your actions. If you must emote, show only pleasantries. A smile and a bow. Politesse and etiquette must be your canvas. “I am aware of my status; I am aware how this must appear to you, but I am not Nia’s victim. You cannot forbid me to see her in my home, the home I built, in the settlement I helped establish. I am the D’Marian leader, as you were quick to remind me, and I trust you to respect my decisions.”
“Ari. Calm down. Remember what we must do when you become too flustered. We must breathe.”
“You will not escape this discussion on the grounds of preventing a flare-up. I am busy nursing quite a massive one, thank you very much.”
Nadira took the deep breath that was reserved for Ari. When she spoke again, her volume had lowered to a whisper. “Very well. I am your predecessor and your mother. You will do well to heed my guidance. If I find you are acting irresponsibly, I must intervene. For the preservation of our family name. We cannot founder like the Rigases so soon after clinching power.”
“A power, if I recall, that I attained without your guidance and without your help. I also seem to recall your thirst for declaring a war on the Rigases, which we cannot afford to do right now, when we’ve a worse threat to combat. So no, mama, I am operating just fine without your infallible guidance!”
That seemed to strike a chord in Nadira. Her manufactured calm fizzled. “When you begin to act like a child whose toy has been removed, you revoke the right to make sensible decisions. I will grant you your most recent successes, but if you believe I shall allow this most egregious oversight in your judgement.”
“—Me, a child? Who, among us, barged into my workshop uninvited?!” Ari gripped the edges of his bed. His heart was beating fast. Dangerously fast. “Do you not understand why I said nothing about Chara Rigas? Because you, to the contrary, are unreasonable and insensible!”
“Lords, Ari,” Nadira massaged at the headache forming on her temple, “Casimiro never gave me such grief. He did as he was told.”
Ari froze. All indications of anger blew away in a fierce wind and exited out the window, replacing the flush on his face with a cold, cold draft. “...I am not Casimiro.”
Realizing the mistake she made, Nadira’s mouth opened to an appalled O shape. “Ari, I—“
“—Please go. I have work to do.”
“I misspoke. You understand how much I love—“
Ari shook his head and pointed to the door. “Laz will see you out.”
Accepting her loss, Nadira nodded soberly, returned his sketchbook as a peace offering, and slipped out of the door on the swishing of feet.
For the remainder of the day, Ari kept busy drafting documents and consulting envoys to deliver his messages to people across the village. Given his condition, his remote delegations were unavoidable, and the crowd of D’Marians that showed at his villa to protest his allyship with Nia would, unfortunately, have to wait. He wasn’t aware of the hour until he shot up in bed, listening to his door latch jiggle and release.
“Nia,” he placed a hand over his heart, rattled by her unexpected appearance. “Do...not make a habit of this. I’d rather have some forewarning. Ah...forgive me,” his timbre was delicate like lace. “It would do you absolutely no favors if someone caught you in the hallways, heading straight for my chambers. As I’ve mentioned once before, this is the hour for assassins, and people will look upon you unkindly...considering today’s events.”
The bed had space to accommodate two people and then some, but out of politeness, he scooted aside for her, an uncoordinated and jerking movement that had wrenched away the bedsheets and their strategic placement over his affected leg. “I cannot rely on you to be at my beck and call whenever I suffer a flare-up,” he said, on her discovery of his hook-locked leg. “Certainly, you’ve had your share of tribulations these past forty-eight hours, and I am not fond of adding to your list of responsibilities. You are tired; I implore you to rest before you—“
But she was already nicking at his flesh with the knife and buffing at the stone of his calf in expert strokes, and he was too relieved at the prospect of a fully-functioning leg and the privileges it brought him to protest her involvement. While she worked, he closed his eyes, tilted his head and his dominant ear forward, listened to her reasoning for why she engaged Isidor Kristeva in a self-destructive affair. What she conveyed only strengthened his preconceived convictions, as also revealed by the pebble golems. Wasn’t it why he tricked her into coming to his villa, shortly following her reckless and regrettable act? To give her a place of belonging and safety—and help to dispel her loneliness with a kiss? A reminder...that she didn’t have to look far at all to find a safe haven?
Except now, that haven was slowly succumbing to smoke and fire.
“You may exhibit forceful attributes and qualities at times, but if I ever thought they—or you—were a problem, I would have desisted immediately. I trust you to have acquiesced if Isidor Kristeva clearly and wholeheartedly refused your request. That being said...I am no stranger to loneliness.” He watched as his leg turned from shades of gray to shades of brown, the crushing weight on his knee abating. “My early life was marked by isolation. A necessary tactic, according to my mother. I could not feel bad for myself. I could not feel at all, because doing so might incite a flare-up and plummet me into deeper frustration, and that frustration would contribute to a flare-up more heinous than its predecessor. In my loneliness, in my numbness, Chara Rigas, so unapologetically broken and vocal in her brokenness, seemed like the solution because our pain shared in compatibility. But sometimes, compatibility does not always equal or guarantee companionability. I learned the difference too late. I believe the strongest antidote to loneliness is to be among people who have the potential to make you feel most at home with yourself. Pain is not home. Do you agree?”
Free of his nasty flare-up, he spooled out his leg in gradual increments, taking care not to agitate the hamstring muscle as it burned and pinched from disuse. Mobility restored, he cupped his gloved hands over Nia’s wan cheeks, kneading some welcome, rosy color into them. “I want everything to do with you, Nia. Yes, the D’Marians will prove a challenge, but I have several ideas on how to redeem your name. Nothing is lost; more complex, yes, but not lost. It will require commitment and work. Not punishment, mind. Do not attempt to follow Chara Rigas’s ill-advised model. Are you amenable to this challenge?”
Before she answered his question, he tucked some loose hair behind her ears, leaned forward, and pressed a days-delayed kiss on her lips.
Part of Nia’s reluctance to respond to Ari’s summons had been due to not knowing exactly what she would face, or what she would be forced to explain, the next time she saw him. Hearing his voice again and again, buzzing from the resonance stone, it had begun to sound less urgent, and more concerned… but it was difficult to discern tone from a magical object that caused voices to sound less than human. It had been difficult, facing the D’Marian crowd; had been even more difficult facing Isidor Kristeva… and facing herself, let alone the person she loved most in this kingdom. Nia hadn’t glimpsed at herself in the mirror all day, for fear of the guilt she might find, should her eyes study the reflection that looked back. She didn’t want to see a guilty woman; she didn’t want to be a guilty woman. But what choice did she have, than to face the consequences of a poor decision for which she had no one to blame but herself?
As much as she realized she deserved the angry sentiments of the entire kingdom, from which not even Locque could protect her, the Master Alchemist didn’t want to have to face it. She didn’t deserve understanding, didn’t deserve a second chance… but oh, how she wanted it. How she wished she deserved to run to someone who would comfort her and tell her it was not her fault, and that everything would be alright… because everything had been all wrong for too long, and she was so, so close to having what she wanted and needed! But, in witnessing exactly how her ill-conceived actions had made Isidor feel… hearing his side of the story, and that what had been a desperate reach for comfort for her had only been another step down the ladder of self-destruction for him, she couldn’t well bask in the feeling of thinking she deserved another chance. Had she known that her brief tryst with the other Master Alchemist was only a means for him to experience more pain… had she known that she might hurt him, she’d never have pursued him. She’d have lain with the first eager virgin she met at a tavern to escape the aching emptiness in her heart. This was never what she’d wanted it to amount to… and she wasn’t sure she deserved even Ari’s kindness.
“Let’s be real, Ari; people will look upon me ‘unkindly’ no matter the hour of the day or night. Just like before. Only now… it’s worse.” She tried to smile through her despondency, but it was so hard. She was so tired, even the movement of facial muscles require to turn the corners of her mouth upwards was exhausting, and that was before she deserted energy to reverse Ari’s flare up, and restore his leg. “But, let’s be real: I’m not much help to anyone, including Locque, right now. In fact, I told her that it’s probably in her best interests to steer clear of me right now, and at least pretend like she isn’t associating with me anymore. Something good has to come of this, and if it boosts her image in the public eye of being a responsible leader who doesn’t tolerate fuck-ups like myself… well, then maybe there’s a silver lining, right? But it… it sucks, and I’ve got no one to blame but myself. I can’t believe I’ve come this far, and accomplished this much, to almost, almost find a home and belonging… only to have to go into hiding again. Well,”
Removing her hands from his now fully restored leg, she rested them on her lap to stop the shaking. “Another silver lining, I suppose, if you really insist on continuing our clandestine affairs, is that there are still a large number of abandoned homes bordering Galeyn’s forest. About a year ago, I spotted this adorable little caravan tucked into the forest. Looks like someone had been planning on leaving Galeyn before all the shit went down a hundred years ago… It’s small, but the perfect place to lay low, and it’s closer to your settlement than the palace is. And because it’s small, it shouldn’t take me long to cloak in invisibility. Well… once I have the strength and energy to focus.”
Of course, Ari was no stranger to isolation or loneliness. She had deducted that without even having to ask. Hiding away all his life, hiding the truth of his condition from the D’Marians… suddenly, it made perfect sense as to why he had entertained Chara’s abusive company for so long. Because sometimes, any company, no matter how awful, was far superior to no company. And, most ironically, the worst of his pain had not been a result of everything Chara had done to him, but rather, a result of having left him. Somehow, that--loss of the consistent company he had kept for so long--had damaged his sensitive heart more than all of her other, manipulative antics. Hollowness hurt the most; loneliness hurt the most. And even if Ari did not agree with the way she had involved herself with Isidor (nor should he agree!), he understood, fully and wholeheartedly. And that alone was more than she could ask for.
“Nah; you’re right. Pain isn’t home. But when you get used to it… sometimes it can seem that way, yeah?” Nia curled her fingers into fists atop her thighs. Her knuckles were white. “The worst part of all of this is… I don’t care about what it does to my reputation. I care that I hurt Isidor Kristeva. Maybe not knowingly, and not intentionally, but knowing now that I just made him feel all that worse that evening… I guess, I have to live with that. A fitting part of my punishment.” Ari seemed adamant that ‘punishment’ was not the solution: that she should not follow Chara Rigas’s example in offering herself up for slaughter. In a way, he was right. Nothing that anyone did to her, no amount of punishment would erase her deeds. But feeling it… Maybe feeling the sting of everyone’s hatred, feeling whatever consequences they chose to subject her to, would lighten the guilt that weighed so heavily on her shoulders. Yesterday, Chara’s abrupt attempt at self-sacrifice had seemed completely inane and contradictory to everything they sought to accomplish, but now, finding herself in the same situation, she understood completely.
For whatever reason, either through his understanding nature or his denial that she might have the potential to be just as great a monster as Chara Rigas, the Canaveris lord did not seem to agree. While he should be shunning her, like the rest of the kingdom, he instead chose to embrace her. While he should be distancing himself from her, just like Locque, he chose to keep her close. But… why? Why risk everything he had built with his people, all of that confidence and trust, for the likes of her?
Before she could respond with her doubt, he leaned forward and captured her lips in a kiss. One that she hadn’t realized she needed so badly. It was almost instantaneous, the relief she felt because someone still wanted her. Still saw her as someone redeemable and worthy of love. But she couldn’t help but wonder… if Ari’s affections were hasty. If he had come to care for her, not because of who she was, but for what she could do. Because she was ‘safe’. Because she was someone who had demonstrated that she was not only useful to him, but cared for his well-being enough to stick around and to help when needed. Were those his only requirements for a romantic partner? To be safe with his secret, and to care about him? He had once mentioned his eligibility as a bachelor, among the D’Marians. No doubt, there was probably no shortage of D’Marian women (or men, for that matter!) who would keep his secret close to their heart out of affection for him. “Why go through all of that work to clear my name, Ari?” She whispered, once their lips parted. “I don’t understand… how it behooves you. Your duty is to your people. To make them trust you, to make them feel safe. I already told you, I don’t and never did expect you to protect me. Not from the Galeynians, not from the D’Marians… and certainly not from myself. I… don’t want to be another burden for you. Something else you are forced to deal with, in order to avoid unfavourable consequences.”
Why did he see her as worth it? Why, when the rest of the world turned their backs on her (and rightfully so), was he so adamant not to turn away? Is this what love is? Accepting all of the good and the bad in someone… and choosing to love them, unconditionally? “...I don’t know much about looking good in the public eye. Frankly, I seem to have more talent for doing exactly the opposite.” She couldn’t help but chuckle at her own self-sabotage. All of those things she willingly did, knowing full well that it would sacrifice any chance she had at being accepted into a community… including working for an unpopular figurehead. Because, at the end of the say, safety was paramount, and comfort and happiness was something else to worry about at a later time. Though the longer one went without it, the more they craved it. Hence how she found herself so drawn to Ari, and all of his unconditional acceptance for all of her--the good and the bad.
“If this is what you want… Because it would hurt you more to see me torn apart by an angry crowd, than to try and earn a good standing with them… then I’ll accept that challenge. Not for me: for you. But now…” She scanned the room, eyes roving to the door which she had entered, to the window that was only on the second story of the villa, yet which still promised a direct plummet to the ground, with no trees or shrubs to break her fall. Why did it feel like getting out unnoticed would be so much harder than getting in? “I’ve got to figure out how to make like a stealthy assassin and get out of here without anyone noticing. It’s bad enough that I couldn’t bring my light-bending cloak to give the illusion of invisibility, but I haven’t slept in over forty-eight hours. I can’t believe I got this far without fucking up and giving myself away.”
Reaching out to touch Ari’s cheek with one gloved hand, Nia relished in the warmth of the contact, and wished so badly that instead of sitting in Ari’s bedroom in the middle of his villa, they were back at the grotto, where they could fall asleep together without fear of being discovered and caught in one another’s arms. She didn’t deserve that extent of comfort, right now… but it didn’t mean she didn’t still crave it. “I’ll be away from the palace for a few days… until all of the fires die down, or, fuck knows, Rowen pulls something even more extravagant than dragging my name and character through the mud and takes the attention off of me. You’re probably no stranger to this little trick, being so well acquainted with rocks of all sorts, but… here.” Reaching into the satchel hanging from her belt, she drew two rough stones that glowed a bright violet, and handed one to him. “So you can always find me. The stone will grow brighter the closer it becomes to its twin. These stones alone react to one another, so if it’s not glowing, you can bet I’m still too far away. And the brighter it gets, the closer I am. I’ll be holed up in that caravan I told you about. It’s in north Galeyn, tucked just into the forest that borders the farmlands. I won’t disguise it with any light-bending alchemy until you know exactly where I am. So let’s meet tomorrow, after dark, and figure things out. I’ll listen to whatever it is you have in mind. It’s only about an hour out--you can take any ordinary horse, provided you’re not suffering any flare ups. And if you are,” she gently prodded his chest with an index finger. “You had better tell me so I can help--understood?”
Turning her attention to the window, and then to Ari’s bedroom door, and back again, the Master Alchemist contemplated her options. It had been nerve-wracking, holding her breath while she’d crept through the villa and somehow managed to make her way to his chambers, unnoticed. She wasn’t sure it was safe to retrace her steps. “...I think I’m gonna put faith in my reflexes.” She whispered and chuckled, as if the idea of jumping out a window was far funnier than it was dangerous. Lack of sleep and food really had the tendency to change a person’s judgment of danger--well, the judgment of everything, really. She brushed off Ari’s worried look with a flippant gesture. “Will it make you feel better that this isn’t the first window on the second story I’ve jumped from and lived to tell about it? What’s scarier to me than breaking a leg is suffering whatever your mother would do to me, should I encounter her. See you tomorrow; and try to get some rest.”
Carefully pushing the tall, picture window open, and inviting a warm spring breeze into his room, Nia carefully maneuvered herself onto the ledge, tried to spot the area where the ground was the closest. Without giving herself time to second-guess this inane decision (well, sneaking into the Canaveris villa at all hadn’t been the brightest idea--but Ari couldn’t possibly have met up anywhere else, hindered by a stone leg), the Master Alchemist held her breath, carefully launched herself off the ledge, and bent her knees into the landing. The shock of impact knocked the wind out of her body, and she leaned against the stone exterior to catch her breath, but otherwise made it completely intact, and waved up at Ari, who had jumped from bed to make sure she was alright.
His chambers overlooked the small, albeit ornate courtyard that featured a variety of his sculptures. It wouldn’t be difficult to find her way out from there, with the rest of the villa asleep, so long as she was quiet and careful… The exit was just around the corner, facing the front of the villa. If she could avoid stepping on twigs that might alert a light sleeper (or, gods forbid, summon Lazarus), then making her way back to the D’Marian stables would be a breeze. She’d take her Night Steed, and spend the evening (and probably most of the next day) sleeping in that little abandoned caravan--
No such luck. She had gambled, and she had lost. Not only had she lost, but she lost hard and painfully, the moment she turned a corner in the courtyard and encountered none other than Nadira Canaveris. There was no hiding, no mad dash behind a sculpture, hoping she hadn’t been seen: traveling in opposite directions, they were face to face. And if Nia’s face had sported any colour at all… it was completely gone, now.
“Na--Lady Canaveris.” She gasped and very nearly stumbled backward. Was it too late to play it off cool? To not come across as suspicious, when this woman had no doubt been privy to Rowen’s scathing words, and thusly had all the more reason to rake her over hot coals. Hells--maybe she wanted to do it literally, now! “I… it’s awfully late, isn’t it? That is… that goes for me, too, I suppose. I was made aware of Ari’s current… I was made aware he required my ‘special expertise’. And, you’ll be pleased to know, all is well, now! I’ve served my purpose. Always a pleasure to be of help to you and your family, Lady Canaveris!”
The Master Alchemist swept into a shaky bow. What were her options, now? Could she outrun Nadira? Certainly, she had better reflexes than a woman of her age, who probably hadn’t ever done much running in her privileged upbringing. But how far could she get, if Nadira called on the palace staff--or Lazarus--to seize her for trespassing? “I can see you’re trying to enjoy this beautiful spring evening in your courtyard, among your very talented son’s exquisite works of art. Please, do not let me be a stain on your enjoyment.” She righted her posture, and stepped casually to the side, in hopes that she could walk fast enough to get away from the woman with daggers for eyes without coming across as too suspicious. “Do enjoy yourself, but don’t forget to get some rest! That’s my plan, now that my work is done.”
The news that Nia shared brightened Ari’s countenance to a subtle, but noticeable hue. While there was nothing celebratory about the whole affair, if Nia was choosing to place distance between herself and Locque, even on a provincial or front-facing level, there arose the chance of making that separation permanent and relatively bloodless, if the sorcerer-queen accepted the transition without fuss. At the very least, Ari wouldn’t necessarily face a conflict of interest in aiding the disgraced Master Alchemist, as long as she remained unaffiliated. Or, rather, as long as she presented as being unaffiliated. Something else niggled at him, however. A very large elephant in the room. “This has given me cause to wonder. Your offenses are, well, they are light, and you may argue with me to the contrary, but if we compare your offenses to, say, Rowen Kavanagh, who has murdered nine D’Marians and a circus performer and who has recently encouraged Galeynians and D’Marians to gather and question their leaders, doesn’t it also behoove Locque to, in the interest of fairness— if nothing else—dismiss the she-wolf from her post, as well? I would argue she is less qualified to serve as a civil servant than you, given the calamity she inspires and perpetrates. For you, I shall make a case to request her immediate expulsion from Locque’s court. Given she has done the most harm to my people to date, my request is not an unreasonable one at all. So long as she is granted free rein to disrupt the peace at her whims, good D’Marians—and Galeynians, too—will suffer, and that won’t be conducive to a sustained truce. It behooves the queen to follow-through if her desired end-goal truly is order.”
He paused a moment to readjust his leg. Now that it could move freely, he expanded and contracted its length several times in a series of light exercises meant to restore blood circulation. In the process, he accidentally tapped Nia’s waist with his thigh and apologized. They were close to each other, and on a bed, and had just shared in a kiss. The gravity of the situation required professionalism, he realized, but one could not also dispel the yearning for unadulterated physical pleasure, dismissed from the vicissitudes of unavoidable responsibility.
“No D’Marian will deny my attraction to philanthropic pursuits,” he began, airing just a bit of his plan towards ears willing to listen. “What’s more, my previous handling of Chara Rigas should itself be an indicator of how I would choose to approach your case. We dole out second chances, not punishments. And seeing as I’ve mentioned how Chara may redeem herself—working alongside the Canaverises—I do not see why you cannot do the same, in a similar capacity. D’Marians have a long and storied history with the Rigases, which allows for snap judgements, disproportional condemnations, or immediate pardons. They are a divisive family who inspires both awe and hatred. You, in contrast, have not yet established yourself as anything more than Locque’s Master Alchemist. It is no wonder people can do little else but draw negative conclusions to your person; because they have nothing else from which to draw. No personal anecdotes, no accounts of your benevolence or generosity. Nothing. Of course, first and second impressions cannot change overnight, so I agree that you should remain scarce for a few days; perhaps even for a week or two. Allow the people to digest all they’ve heard and resettle into their quotidian habits before implementing a phase two reintegration strategy. But we shall discuss those details at a later date. In an, ah, an old, abandoned caravan, you say? How...adventurous,” he said, generously. As a result of a lifetime of luxury (excepting the months’ long transition from Stella D’Mare to Galeyn in which utilitarian caravans and tents—and the occasional cave—were used as temporary residences), Ari wasn’t particularly...fond of slumming it in a place other than his home or something he had personally designed to function as a home. Were she to ask, he would create a den worthy of attention, but alas, it would defeat the purpose of on-the-lam living.
“I will be honest, Nia. Escaping to your hide-away might be quite the tall order for me to implement with clandestine care, considering the difficulties moving anywhere outside my villa or this settlement unnoticed, and the fact that I cannot ride a horse.” He muttered the last part more than stated it, an embarrassment of an admittance for a nobleman, whose instructions typically required equestrian training. But Ari was a special case, and was often dismissed from activities deemed too exciting or unpredictable for someone of his ‘delicate’ constitution to partake in. “Laz is a steadfast fixture who will adhere to my side should I take one independent step outside this settlement. Complications aside, do not fret if I cannot make it to you on the morrow. I will think of a method that does not compromise your safety. Unfortunately, most methods will involve Laz’s presence. He may question my decisions, but he is singularly loyal to me and no one else. Not even my mother.”
He paused in his logistical analysis when he spotted Nia’s two fists embroiled in a white-knuckled death-grip. Gently, he gathered those fists and coaxed them to release and open, like the petals on a late-blooming flower. “Of all the things you find yourself guilty for, Nia, how Isidor decides to interpret that evening is not your responsibility or your fault. He obviously wanted something different. How could you have predicted he chose to bed you with the intention of harming himself?” He burrowed his fingers into her palm, entwining their fingers together. “There is only so much you can blame yourself for; Isidor Kristeva is an autonomous person capable of his own decisions, and you will do him a disservice to remove his control from the narrative. You are not responsible for his feelings; he is. Even so, I can only imagine how much this revelation had to have devastated you. You were an accessory to his self-destruction, not an antidote or a bandage. In a sense, he used you, as well. Two opportunists who found exactly what they sought in the moment—good or bad.” Satisfied with the deknotting of her hands, he reverently returned them to her lap. “I cannot say if this will offer you any modus of comfort, but...before knowing you, I never would have believed it possible to enjoy intimacy at all. In fact, I misguidedly thought it was meant to be enjoyed only by the person who wielded the power, until you showed me that no, that is not the case. I am ever thankful for educating me, and for expressing so much patience and understanding while I attempt to find my rhythm and improve. You erred with one person, Nia, but you also enriched the life of another. Yes, I want to help you to repay the monumental debt I owe, but also, I am beginning to realize...you are one of my people, now.” He cradled her shoulders, looked her in the eyes. “This is your future home. It would be quite the oversight if I ignored your plight. None of my citizens are burdens. The Rigases come close, but,” he smiled for levity, to ease some of the building intensity, “they have their moments, too. It is true that there may come a time where I will have to prioritize the majority, but as long as you can extend your loyalties to me and to this city, I do believe I can protect you whilst simultaneously not jeopardizing my position. Disregard my negative speak from the night before. I desire this world; a world in which you are not left behind or sacrificed, and I will strive to make it happen.”
Oh, to seal that promise with another kiss, or with something more. A night together, consummating their vows to never surrender, to always keep moving forward, as she swore she’d do on her birthday, under hundreds of flickering firefly lights. But the timing was untenable, as it so often seemed, as of late, and Nia’s exhaustion, especially after reversing his umpteenth flare-up, had transcended levels of normalcy. He wanted to implore her to stay the night and get some proper rest, but she was already up and moving, and no amount of reasoning would convince her to stop. Not that he blamed her; since his mother’s arrival, the Canaveris villa was no longer the sanctuary he’d once proclaimed it to be; not even for him.
“I am sorry to disappoint, but Laz knows you are here, and has known for quite some time. He merely...turns a blind eye to you at my request. But bravo, nonetheless, for stealthing through the corridors and reaching me unscathed and virtually unnoticed.” It was a tease, a light jest, but he dropped it as soon as she handed him a curious stone that he turned over, appraising the handsome purple beacon glow emanating from its coarse facade. “Very exquisite handiwork, Nia. I shall use this well. Again, I’ll endeavor to reach you at the appointed time and place, but I’ll be certain to inform you by resonance stone should complications arise. Ah,” he climbed out of bed, heavily favoring the leg not previously encased in stone, and accompanied Nia to the window, latching onto her arm in concern. “I am not comfortable with you vaulting out of a window, Nia. You cannot seriously be considering it.”
But she was. And she would. Despite reassurances, he hesitated to release her, but with a resigned sigh, he nodded and loosened his grip on her arm. “Do be careful, all right?” He flinched as she shimmied up to the ledge, and flinched again when she lanced out of the window, a literal leap of faith. Instinctively, he stretched out his hand, tempted to create a shallow sinkhole to cushion her fall with magic, but he was not a fast conjurer, and doing so would draw too much attention to the Master Alchemist’s dogged attempts to stay inconspicuous. But he needn’t fret for long. Peering his head out of the window, he looked down to see her standing, alive and well, no broken bones. He returned her wave and, lingering at the window-sill a moment, decided to leave it open a crack. He also reminded himself to, come morning, construct subtle but serviceable footholds in the stone for her to climb.
Meanwhile, on the villa’s ground floor, Nadira Canaveris roamed through the courtyard on restless feet, a blood-red ghost from afar in her crimson gown. A long-stemmed clay pipe released aromatic smoke from its bowl, streaming white mist from behind, adding to the apparition she unwittingly created. A dash of moonlight cast a shine on the cobbles, the final, unsettling element to ultimately spook the unfortunate Master Alchemist who had hoped to slink by, sight unseen. Instead, she wandered into Nadira’s direct path.
“Miss Nia Ardane.” She dislodged the pipe-stem from her mouth to sound out the name in surprise—and with a touch of distaste. “Care to enlighten me on the meaning of this intrusion at such an ungodly hour?” Her mouth soured at the hurried explanation, but she didn’t attempt to contradict the skittish woman’s justifications. If Nia had returned from Ari’s chambers, then no doubt she would find him unburdened of his petrified leg. The Master Alchemist was good for that, at least. “And you deemed it necessary to wriggle your way through our securities like a common thief? If you are here to administer emergency aid for my son, please try to show a mite more dignity for your profession by, I don’t know, entering through the front door? After all, Ari has made it abundantly clear to me that he is in sole control, so there is no need to tiptoe around me. Not anymore.” Before the Master Alchemist could pick up her legs and bolt, Nadira snaked an arm around her shoulder, securing the would-be thief in place. “Walk with me. Unless you prefer to run and remove all doubt of your innocence, of which you have so precious little to exhibit.”
Satisfied by her provisional compliance, Nadira directed the frightened doe away from the courtyard, their steps removing them farther from Ari’s quarters—and his influence. Together, they plunged inside the villa proper, entering the parlor. “Have a seat, dear.” She gestured to the chaise, the same chaise on which Nia posed naked a few weeks ago. Turning to the empty hearth, she tossed a few stone chips and a fire roared itself into conception. With her still-lit pipe, the Canaveris matriarch settled in a chair opposite the chaise, crossing her legs at a dainty, but somehow also intimidating, angle.
“I shall be frank, so as not to waste your time. I’ve seen the sketches. Very lovely,” her eyes roved, casually exploring Nia’s clothed body in appraisal. “Oh, please do not fret; Ari is discreet, and a gentleman. He would never release those sketches. But he underestimated his mama and the lengths she would go to prove the existence of foul-play.” She brought the pipe-stem to her lips and took a delicate, practiced puff, oozing class and elegance. “Do not insult my intelligence by spinning an alternative story. You and my son are intimate. This is an undisputed fact. Also, it is something I would never allow to happen. But…” she sat back in her chair, an almost defeated sag in her shoulders, “he is as willful as a mule. Damning my sound advice, he would do as he likes. As former Canaveris Head, I have the power to challenge his rule, and to overthrow him, should I gather enough votes and support in my favor. However, at this juncture, I would face an overwhelming loss, and, I for certain, would lose him.” For the briefest of moments, she allowed her impenetrable gaze to fade and expose a vulnerable underbelly; pensive and sad and wistful, all embedded in the marble of her dark-brown eyes. Then, she blinked, and it was as though nothing compromising had been revealed. She continued, carrying on with all the nuance of a business transaction. It was the only way to separate her ferocious mama persona from the cold-hearted Canaveris Head of decades past.
“Nia Ardane, your name welcomes nothing but scandal and ruin. That is, in part, what you’ve inherited from your doomed family legacy. Your circumstances are no fault of yours, but they have shaped and defined you into a young woman influenced by your surroundings and the company you keep. I would love nothing more than to believe you are an honest and earnest person who simply attracts bad luck, but I cannot afford to take such risks when they involve my son. However, I am not an unreasonable person,” he sighed out those last words, remembering Ari’s stinging accusations. Unreasonable. Insensible. “And I am open to hearing your side of events. You understand the events of which I speak, and why your alleged abuses concern me in particular, in light of Chara Rigas’s unforgivable infractions. My son has placed such unerring faith in you, but I cannot share in his endorsement if love clouds his judgement. So present to me, right now...why I should trust you would never hurt Ari.”
“Rowen? I haven’t given any thought about that. Not in light of today, at least.” Nia shook her head. She hadn’t come here prepared to talk about Rowen Kavanagh, or what would be best for Locque in terms of the affiliations she kept, because the only thing on her mind since early that morning was her own survival. “I mean, I’m sure that’s a conversation that will be had… Locque’s gone really easy on her. All of her transgressions seem to be more forgivable than mine, for whatever fucking reason. Nevermind that the little bitch acts out of her own self-interest than on Locque’s behalf. Well, most of the time. As messed up as it is, I think she really, truly believed that making all of Galeyn turn their backs on Queen Lilica and Chara Rigas would somehow bolster favour for the new queen… but the shit she pulled today serves no one, not even Locque. Unfortunately…” She sighed and rolled her neck until she heard a satisfying crack. She’d been carrying so much tension in her shoulders and neck that it felt as though her muscles were practically fusing with her bones. What she wouldn’t give for a hot bath! “Now is not the time. But I’ll be honest, I’m nervous about leaving Locque to make decisions on her own. She was so quick to embrace Rowen’s plan… I just hope that no more damage is done in my absence, however necessary it might be for me to hide away for a while.”
Listening to Ari’s appraisal of why the Galeynians and D’Marians alike chose not to trust her didn’t come as any surprise--but, at the same time, it also hadn’t occurred to her. All this time, she’d thought that she had been giving reason after reason for gaining their trust. Securing safety on their behalf, bringing business to their establishments (when they let her in), overall listening to their concerns and busting her ass off to try and make these compromises happen so that everyone could feel happy and secure… but none of it mattered. It didn’t matter when they still didn’t trust the woman who kept her employed. This was why Nia had been working so damned hard to change public opinion of Locque: not only for the sorceress’s sake, but for her own. Because as long as she would be working for Locque--and she would continue to work for her for some time, yet--there was no hope that she would be seen as anything as an accomplice to a public enemy. Or, an enemy in and of herself. “I’m no saint, Ari. Even if you were capable of painting some flawless and exquisite picture of me--I’m talking figuratively, because we already both know what you can do with a paint brush--it won’t matter if people have already established and reinforced the idea that I’m bad news. And they’re going to wonder why you’re working so damn hard to clear my name… I’m afraid it won’t look good on you. I don’t want to jeopardize what you’ve got going, but…” Her shoulders sank along with her deep sigh. “I don’t want to run and hide, either. I thought… I really hoped I was done with that.”
She looked up curiously at how her mention of her new hideaway--the abandoned caravan just bordering the woods--gave Ari pause as if to… well, reconsider if he wanted to meet with her at all. At first, she was ready to take offense that he wasn’t all too inclined to find himself in a place void of his usual luxuries, but when he revealed his limited experience with horses, that filled in all of the blanks in her head. And she couldn’t help but crack a smile. “So you can’t ride a horse? As in, you’ve never tried? Sounds like we need to work on that. Maybe not now, but definitely in the near future. You’re not always gonna have a carriage and a driver to cart you around--well… actually, maybe you will, but my life is a different story. Tell me truthfully, though. Is a quaint hideaway in the woods, with the bare necessities required for survival, really so appalling to you?” She raised an eyebrow and gauged his expression, which only confirmed exactly what she’d thought. Ari had never experienced ‘lack’ or ‘want’: he’d never wanted for anything, because it had always been provided for him. It wasn’t his fault that he’d been so sheltered and was unfamiliar with as basic a skill as riding a horse, though. That was all Nadira. She couldn’t help but wonder, did that woman realize exactly how her parenting had shaped her son? How forcing him to hide had actually hindered, as opposed to empowered him? If only she had the gall to point a finger at Ari’s mother, show her all of the disservice she had done her son… but, unfortunately, she was in no position to point any fingers. Particularly not in light of today.
“So I take it you’re not keen on being the ‘adventurous’ sort?” She couldn’t help but tease him good-naturedly. “And yet, you’re romantically involved with me? Oh, Ari, just you wait. The adventure has just begun! But… if you’re really and truly unable to meet me where it is safest, then contact me via the resonance stone, and I’ll do my best to findo you. I’m just not so sure that anywhere in this village, including your grotto, is truly safe for me, at the moment. Besides.” Before she stood to make her way toward the window, she planted a kiss on his cheek. “I think you’re long overdue for a little ‘adventure’ in your life. Don’t judge a place before you’ve seen it! It’s actually pretty cute and cozy. Everything perfectly intact… just missing its original owners. You really should come see it sometime… Because I can’t well be risking my skin sneaking back into your room in the dead of night.”
This is your future home. Ari’s words soothed a part of her that she hadn’t realized had been aching. An ache that she’d ignored since she’d left him in the grotto, the other night. He really did believe that his future could also be her future, and he was willing to try and make that happen. It was perhaps the first bit of relief she’d felt since two days ago, when Rowen had begun her rampage on everyone she sought to ‘expose’. Somehow, despite two days without sleep or food, hearing those words from his lips energized her. Amazing, what a little bit of hope could do for a person. Suddenly, that two-story drop from his window didn’t seem so scary. “Well, thank your giant manservant on my behalf for not giving me any trouble for unlawfully entering your home.” She smirked as she straddled the windowsill. “Contact me tomorrow. We’ll figure something out.”
If only she hadn’t been so confident that her luck, or that high borne of hope, would not run out so quickly. She would have been better off just sneaking back through the villa the way she’d come in! What were the fucking chances that Nadira Canaveris would also be awake and aware, and wandering the villa’s grounds at stupid-o-clock at night?! “I didn’t want to disturb anyone in their slumber, but alas, this was the first opportunity I had today to see to Ari’s… needs.” An awful excuse for sneaking around like an assassin or a thief, but it also wasn’t a lie, and her mind was too foggy to come up with anything better. “I certainly didn’t mean to alarm you. But, for that, you have my humblest apologies; lesson learned! I do hope you have a good ni--”
Before she could casually stride past the Canaveris matriarch, Nadira caught her with an arm around her shoulders, a gesture that made Nia flinch from her touch like she was burned. “Tip-toe? Really, Lady Canaveris, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’d hoped I was merely showing you respect, but if you’ve in any way been put off…”
As soon as she was ushered inside, Nia felt trapped. The urge to run was so strong, now, and surely Nadria had no other reason to bring her here than to give her hell. Facing this single, terrifying woman was a hundred times more nerve-wracking than facing that Galeynian crowd, earlier yesterday morning. Yesterday… sheesh, how long had she been awake?! Did time even matter anymore? “Really, Lady Canaveris, as honoured as I am to be your company right now… wouldn’t you rather retire to your bed? No one else in this entire settlement is likely awake, at this moment…”
She was hesitant to sit back upon that chaise. Somehow, that Nadira had pointed her to it seemed… well, poignant. Almost like a challenge. But there was no possible way for her to know that it had been upon that very chaise that she’d posed on while Ari had sketched her in the nude… after all, it’s not like she would know about that sketch, locked carefully away in Ari’s workshop, right?
Wrong.
Nia’s face went entirely bloodless when Ari’s mother so casually confirmed what had to be one of her greatest fears: that she would find those sketches. But...when? How long had the Canaveris matriarch known that there was something more than camaraderie between her and Ari? Well… that didn’t matter. This was clearly something that Nadira had been dying to get off her chest, and Nia just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time to let it all happen. And now, she was cornered. Caught between a rock and a hard place. If she ran, she would never earn Nadira’s respect, and any future with Ari would be rocky, at best. If she stayed… well, at least Nadira would hear what she wanted to hear. That is, if she even took the truth for what it was.
“...you know, Lady Canaveris, I’m really torn about how to feel about you, as well.” Nia rocked forward, resting her elbows on her knees, simply because she was too exhausted to sit upright. “On one hand, that was pretty shitty of you. Going through Ari’s workshop when, to my knowledge, that is his sacred space only for his eyes, or for those with him he chooses to share it. He must’ve been pretty pissed when he found out. I know I would be… well, initially, at first. But then, I can’t help but wonder,” she chewed the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. “To have a mother who cared enough about you to violate your privacy, however unfounded it might be… on the other hand, it makes me realize how lucky Ari is. No… lucky isn’t the right word. Privileged, perhaps. ‘Cause a family that cares? That’s not a given, believe me.”
The Master Alchemist shook her head, brunette locks falling in front of her face. “I’ll be honest, I’m too tired to fuck with you. I couldn’t come up with an excuse if I wanted to. Yeah, Ari and I have done exactly what you think we’ve done; multiple times, on multiple occasions, and in multiple places. But believe me, it was a while before we got that far. Since you’re already all up in your son’s business, I assume this isn’t too much information, but the first time we tried at it… everything was so wrong. He had no idea sex was something to be enjoyed, by both parties. It was like all he knew was… was violence, and force, and I had no idea why or how he could ever come to that conclusion. Then… I remembered his relationship with Chara. The only other close relationship he’d ever had. And it made sense, and I stopped asking questions, because he was already so triggered by past traumas. I mean, I can relate. Wanna know what fond memory I have of my first time?” She straightened her posture and brushed her hair back, exposing the scar at her throat. “It wasn’t pretty--but I won’t bore you with those details. But if you’re wondering if that turned me into some kind of sadistic lady of the night that gets off on causing others’ pain, well… sorry to disappoint you, but I actually don’t get off at all.”
She couldn’t help but chuckle; out of exhaustion, and out of the sheer absurdness that she was having this conversation with Ari’s mother. “Look, I know you heard what Rowen went and spouted about me. And part of it’s true. I approached Isidor Kristeva with the expectation of getting intimate with him. It was… I wasn’t in a good place. See, our dearly departed asshole of a necromancer--good riddance, actually--saw fit to follow through with some ploy that made me believe I was seeing the spirits of my dead sisters: the only people in my family who really mattered. I spent weeks thinking they were really there, when he was actually just pulling the wool over my eyes, and it was all fake. And it made me realize how… alone, I actually was. I’ve spent over a decade, alone. Running and hiding and running and hiding, and then Locque offered me protection so I could stop running and hiding, but… what she didn’t promise was a home. Or comfort. So I was safe, but in central Galeyn, which was supposed to be my new home, but it’s not a home if no one wants anything to do with you. And I knew Is was lonely too, but… for different reasons. Ultimately, we just ended up using each other. I used him to try and feel better… and he used me to feel worse. It was consensual; not healthy, but consensual. I’m not an abuser. But Ari…”
She stared into the flames of the fire, and her features softened. “What I feel around Ari is what I’ve wanted to feel since I arrived in this kingdom: home. Ari feels like home to me. He was kind when he didn’t need to be; he trusted me when he didn’t have a reason to. Hell, he went ahead and made plans for me on my birthday--and I’ve never celebrated my birthday, in all the years of my miserable life! And no matter what I do, or how many times I help him deal with his curse, I feel like there’s no possible way I could repay him for… for making me feel like,” she paused, looking for the right word. A word she never would have associated with herself, until now. “...like I matter. Like I actually have worth, but not because of what I can do for people, and let me tell you, that’s a weird feeling. Because I wasn’t brought up to believe that I matter. Truth be told, I’m still wrapping my head around it. Most days, I still don’t believe it, until I hear it from him, again. It’s a hard thing to unlearn, thinking you’re… nothing.” In fact, she wondered if, until meeting Ari, she had really been nothing. By bringing out the best in her, it felt like he had made her into something.
“So I’ll answer your question with another question, Lady Canaveris: why? Why, in all creation, would I want to hurt a person who has shown me how I actually have a future, and why I deserve it? Why would I throw away the final calm after the storm that I’ve been running from my entire life? And to answer your question from before, this is why I want you to agree to let me help him. To put a final end to this curse that plagues him and limits his life. I’ll happily put my own health and safety in jeopardy for that; to me, it’s worth it. And I hope I’ll be able to convince you it’s worth it, too. I just found out tonight that Ari can’t even ride a horse… are you kidding me? This is how badly his curse has held him hostage? Don’t tell me you can’t see something terribly wrong with that! He deserves to experience life at its fullest, and if I can help him do it, then maybe all of the questionable shit my own mother put me through to earn these runes on my hands will be worth it.”
She looked at her palms, which were hidden by her fingerless gloves, before dropping her arms and standing up. “...is there anything else you want to know? And if so, can it wait? I haven’t slept or eaten in over two days. And I’d like to go and find somewhere safe to rest for another solid two days, at least, before the sun rises and I find an angry mob at my heels. As much as I’m sure you’d rather see them tear me to pieces… I’ve got my reasons for wanting to stay in one piece.”
Nia’s blunt and open observation of likeability, or lack thereof, brought a taut smile to Nadira’s lips. “In my heyday, I cared less about admiration, more about results. This no-nonsense approach has made me some enemies, but has also garnered a reputation to be respected and feared. I am honored to see it still carries over and persists, stubbornly. I do not need you to like me, Miss Ardane. I am not so desperate for your approval, and it matters not, anyway, given your high esteem for my son. Out of respect for him, and granted you are sincere about your fancies, then the threat you pose to me is minimal, perhaps even nonexistent. But that is only if I can gauge your honesty. It is in your better interests to cooperate, because, depending on what I hear, and if I like what I hear, I might take a specialized interest in your case. Ari deludes himself to believe his clout and position grants him absolute power. If he truly hopes to succeed in his lofty long-term goals, he will need someone more hardened and experienced to temper his idealistic flights of fancy. I may not oppose Ari outright, but if I do not lend assistance, your battle becomes exponentially more difficult. Indeed, you will want me as your benefactor.”
Again, Nia’s attempts to smear and shame her for nosing in on Ari’s private sanctum did not moor her from the staid position she retained on the chair. Though not proud of betraying her son’s trust so profoundly, she could not regret her findings when they were so essential to her understanding of the situation at hand. How could she concretely navigate Ari away from scandal if he secreted the evidence from his own mama? A secret, which, they could be assured, considering the airing of Chara Rigas’s dirty laundry, wouldn’t stay secret? When would Rowen Kavanagh release the third wave of her dark gossip and would it finally succeed in unseating Ari’s golden reputation? It was imperative not to get sidelined a second time, and for that, they all needed to dispense of the deceit, the sneaking around, the behind-the-back dealings, and come clean with clear-cut honesty.
“Unless you have children of your own, you will never understand the line a mother must walk between supportive and authoritative, free-rein and confiscation. Nonetheless, I appreciate your hint of a thoughtful analysis. Motherhood is a delicate balancing act, where sometimes, you must betray your children in the short-term to protect and preserve their lives in the long-term. One must delay gratification constantly, perhaps even for the rest of one’s days, and live with the heartbreaking fact that your child may always view you as negligent, as heartless, as a villain. I would love nothing more than put mothering aside and adopt a role as Ari’s most ardent and avid advocate, if only to receive his bottomless gratitude and immediate love. But in doing so, I truly would be betraying him.” She hadn’t realized the pipe bowl ceased its serpentine swirl until she suctioned her lips against the stem and no sweet aroma filtered inside her mouth. Rendered useless, the pipe remained as a mere artifact in Nadira’s manicured hands, just an object to fiddle with and examine. It occurred to her that she left a fresh pouch of fresh herbs on the fireplace mantle and could easily refill her implement of choice, but she occupied her evening doing nothing else, and it was important to set limitations before she went too far.
“You and Ari may not agree on my methods, but I have to, on occasion, make executive decisions on his behalf, to prevent a resurgence of his nasty curse, which so often cripples him, that, much as I would have yearned to integrate him into regular society, to have him enjoy small delights we take for granted, such as riding astride a horse or becoming intimate with another person, I must always weigh the consequences. What if he falls off that horse, breaks his leg, the trauma induces a flare-up, and he contends with a fracture no physician can access, encased, as it is, in stone? What lasting damage could a simple day of frolic wreak on his body? How would such acute throes of pain and agony affect his emotional state, leading to opportunities for a ripple effect of worsening, perhaps even lethal petrifications? I could not bear such a thing.”
Little did she know, that her impassioned defense of her overprotective mothering had also, unwittingly, made a strong case in favor of accepting Nia’s proposal. Taking a moment to pause and parse the extent of what she unloaded, and to a woman she couldn’t rightly trust, a newfound tolerance seemed to bloom for the Ardane Alchemist currently trapped in her parlor like a canary in a cage. With that tolerance also came a willingness to believe her sincerity when she recounted not only intimate moments involving her son, but practically her life story, complete with her deep emotional distress at the time of the incident which targeted Isidor Kristeva. The scope of the information was...a little unnerving, and overwhelming, but simultaneously, it also put Nadira at ease. Short of being a pathological liar—and she had enough experience with pathological liars to sniff one out in a crowd—Nia’s transparency and breadth of detail were difficult to falsify or replicate. Slowly, Nadira found herself...coming around to this frowsy, unrefined, yet genuine young woman who might actually care a great deal for her son.
And it annoyed her, to feel wrong about her initial impressions.
“My, you’ve certainly had a mess of trials of your own. And you affiliated with Locque to escape such trials, you say? It has done you little good, it seems. No wonder why Ari is so enticing a figure to you.” That was when she leaned back...and smiled. Not at Nia, but in fondness for her son, whose bigheartedness took in a stray and fed her well, even if it meant that she wouldn’t stop roaming the premises, wanting more. There was no denying that she was, at the very least, a useful stray. Problematic? Yes. Troublesome? Of course. But if she held the key to her son’s freedom, then perhaps she could stand to treat the woman with a touch more warmth. “While at times he tries too hard to mirror his brother, at his core, he is kind, and generous. Too kind and generous, if I am frank, but given his lonely upbringing, I suppose I cannot fault him for his attraction to a...well, it is ridiculous to say out loud, but to a fugitive. Oh dear, don’t we have our work cut out for us, prettying up your dilapidated image.” Her long nails tapped against the chalky-white surface of her pipe, the measured clink and clack an audible reflection of her inner thoughts.
“Who else will vouch for you? Have you other companions who can attest to your character, and who would speak your good graces?” One name, Nia floated on the air. One name, spoken with a waver of hesitation and uncertainty. It did one thing, for certain; it gave Nadira pause.
“Hadwin Kavanagh. Why do you attract such controversial people?” She sighed, a bone-weary exhaustion that reminded her of the time, and her age. She was no longer sprightly enough to entertain company after hours. “I am willing to approach this with an open mind. If the scoundrel has the audacity to publicly denounce his own sister and sublimate you by default, and if he can utilize his own sickening abilities to offset Rowen Kavanagh’s damage, then I daresay he has the potential to become an asset, granted he can be controlled, which is doubtful. The wolf-man’s a spitfire, and his reputation is second only to his murderess sister. All of this is to say,” she cleared her throat and thrust forward her hand, as though to shake on a deal, “I shall invest in you, Miss Ardane. Whether or not this is a wise decision remains to be seen, but I find it best I repay your offer of removing my son’s pesky curse by providing a service, in turn. As I’ve alluded, before, you will want my help. Ari might be the face of this family, and the most accessible point of contact to many, but I am the sleeper who hibernates, but whose cave reveals a vast underground network of tunnels. So long as you remain loyal to my son, and maintain that devotion not to harm him, we shan’t have any problems, going forward. Do we have an understanding?” She rose from her chair to better clinch the deal from a more advantageous height. “Oh, I should also mention,” she temporarily retracted that hand before it made contact with the Master Alchemist’s gloved hand, “you and Ari must promise not to exclude me from these proceedings. We work as a team, or not at all. That is my stipulation. No more cloak and dagger appearances without my knowledge. If you and Ari cooperate, I will endeavor to...overlook some explicit details you have shared with me tonight, so long as your priority lies foremost in addressing his flare-ups whensoever they should appear. Are we in agreement? And no need to fret; I shall posit the same proposal to Ari and will only agree if he, too, gives his say-so. This must be a unanimous decision.”
They were on the same page, at least in terms of lifting the persistent and ever-worrying symptoms of Ari’s curse. And so, it was with little protest and fanfare that the two women shook hands, their differences bridged on one indisputable point. Never let it be said that Nadira Canaveris would not eventually come around for her son, even if it predicated on extending handshakes to dubious third parties who worked for the enemy and consulting Rigases—her most reviled enemy.
“Excellent. Now, before I release you, I must ask,” her slender fingers tightened around Nia’s hand, preventing her from escaping on a physical level, “sleep has eluded you, yes, but has food also failed to reach your stomach? How do you intend on providing nourishment for yourself in some gods-forsaken wood for several long days? I will not accept hunting or foraging as an answer. Come.” She transferred her hand to Nia’s shoulder and pushed her towards the door, “To the kitchens we go. There, I will outfit you with a sufficient amount of sustenance. We should also have some leftover stew in the cauldron, which I expect you to eat before you depart.” As if in response to an unspoken question of ‘Why do you care?’ she added, “I protect my interests, dear. If you keel over, where will that leave us?”
The harrowing events of the last few days, and the damage control necessary to navigate the angry Galeynian crowds, sidelined Haraldur’s original plans, forcing him to throw full-time commitments into organizing his Forbanne army across two locations, the D’Marian settlement and central Galeyn, and to put his Gardener pursuits on hold. Day three, and the protests persisted outside the palace gates. Fueled by the triumvirate of defamations, scores of trust-weary citizens cried out their variety of grievances regarding the people in charge, ranging from Queen Lilica, Chara, Nia, Rowen, and also Locque. From every angle, containing the crowd had been an exhaustive group effort of Forbanne, Dawn Guard, and the Galeynian Guard coming together to corral the restless rabble into some semblance of order. Bronwyn helped however she could, possessing a natural gift for soothing the collective spike of fear and negativity, but her associations with her instigating little sister dampened her trustworthiness such that she was often accused of manipulating the people into silenced compliance.
Alster, similarly helpful in situations calling for diplomacy, had taken a sabbatical on any large-scale undertaking of the sort since attempting to drop the Serpent on his village, fearful of hindering any progress made with the Galeynians. Not that he would be of too much help, presently. Yesterday, he and Elespeth found him in the deep of the Night Garden, unconscious and chilled all the way through by some supernatural means. Taking precautionary measures, they brought him to the sanctuary for observation and recovery, leaving him in the company of Teselin and Hadwin, who still occupied the small hut. “Yesss, a bed mate!” The faoladh had exclaimed, enthusiastic for the prospect of another companion, as he looked in particular need of distractions, by the steady chipping and wearing away of his toothy grins.
When Haraldur and Elespeth visited the sanctuary the following day. Everyone was awake, including Alster, who draped every blanket he could find around his shivering shoulders and tightened into a tight ball to maintain body heat.
“Your man’s faithful to the end, Elly. I volunteered to cuddle with him—as you know, I get a solid A+ in the cuddles department—but he said, ‘No way!’ C’mon, who’d deny a big ball of fur?” Hadwin kicked off his sheets and whined good-naturedly at his arrivees. “I mean, I respect it, but he’s an idiot.”
“Frankly, I didn’t think ‘fur blanket’ was an option for you right now. And before you say it, no, I still wouldn’t accept getting your slavering wolf jowls all over me. I’m fine, by the way,” Alster said, refocusing his attention on his wife, who approached and looked none too happy with his latest set of antics. “Residual chills, but nothing life-threatening, and they should fade over time. Considering the stunt I pulled, I expected the retaliation to be much worse. Nonetheless, I wouldn’t have gone through with it if I ever thought I was in mortal peril. That’s why I went to the Night Garden. I wouldn’t have died. I succeeded, though.” Despite the waver in his cold-influenced voice, he emitted a victorious smile. “I did it. I defied the order of the stars. No, not defy. I complemented the order because I became the order. I am my star, and my star is me. Yes, I suffered a little blowback,” beneath the mountain of blankets, a small rise indicated a shrug. “I would have had better luck going to the ether realms to mitigate any physical damage, but as everyone here is well aware, that presents its own risks.”
“I mean, I never know what you’re yammering on about half the time and I still don’t, but congratulations, star-fighter?” Hadwin hovered his hands forward in preparation for applause.
“It means that I sent Tivia a message. I told her to come back. Like it could actually solve anything, but I was daft and…” he lowered his eyes, hooding some of the shame, “all I could think about was Isidor. About how much I wanted to give him some kind of relief. Anything at all. But Tivia is not a gift. She’s a person with her own problems and goals. It’s not her responsibility to stop everything she’s doing and return, but...maybe, if she chose to, then she and Isidor might find some closure, together, and they won’t be hurting as much. It’s a naive wish, but I feel like I owe it to him. He’s in Galeyn at my behest, as my guest, and ever since he’s stepped into this kingdom, everything has gone so terribly wrong and there’s nothing I can do because he won’t accept my help, none of it, and,” he released a troubled, shuddering breath, “I know it’s not up to me to steward his feelings and shield him from the shadows—heavens know I failed in that endeavor, worsening his mood by saying such insensitive things a few days ago—but what else can be done when he’s given up on himself? ...I can’t lose another friend.”
“Seeing as I’m one of those things that made life worse for him, I’ll sit this one out.” Hadwin kicked out his legs and leaned back on his bed in an exaggerated position of relaxation. “But before I do, I will say this; the man has a piss-poor tolerance to, well, everything outside his hideyhole. Even if you parented the hell out of him, he wouldn’t be spared all the good and bad humanity has to offer. And hiding him from all that... how the hell would that differ from a life of seclusion in a tower?”
Haraldur, who stood by the doorway and looked on in silence, respectfully excused himself from the sanctuary when he spotted a familiar figure flit past the window outside.
“Senyiah.” He called out to the Head Gardener as he clicked the door shut behind him. “I had hoped to speak with you sooner, but what with everything going on, I’ve been preoccupied trying to keep the peace around here. But whenever it dies down,” if it dies down, came the unspoken sentiment, “I want you to consider me for a position as a Gardener...if I am ably qualified, that is. I only ask, in exchange, that you relieve Breane, temporarily, of her current responsibilities. I’ll happily take her place in whatever capacity I’m most suited for. I think we can both agree...that she needs some time for herself. Time to grow, time to heal, removed from the burden of duty. She’s taking Rowen’s case very hard...and she needs the space to properly mourn her family.”
After bleeding out practically every single detail of everything Nadira wanted (and likely didn’t want) to know, Nia hadn’t thought she would have much more to say. However, she was coloured surprised when her words were not meant with pure contempt--well, not all of them, at least. Had the Canaveris matriarch actually been actively listening this entire time? Had she really been looking, not for a reason to condemn the Master Alchemist, but… to understand? “You’re right--I don’t have kids, I’ll give you that. No idea what it’s like to be a mother, ro frankly, what I would do as one. Honestly, the idea of being responsible for tiny, growing humans kind of freaks me out. So I guess I really don’t have any right to judge you for what you did or didn’t do for Ari. I mean, I sure as hell can’t deny that you care for him. And nothing is more important than that. And caring for someone with a condition such as Ari’s… hey, I’m not gonna deny, that must’ve been hella hard for you. And heartbreaking, too.” Nia ran a hand through her hair. It was in need of a good wash… along with the rest of her body. With any luck, she’d muster the energy between then and tomorrow night to bathe, before seeing Ari again.
“To be honest, I’m not sure what I would’ve done if I were in your position. And I may not be a mother, but I know it’s different, being responsible for a kid who can’t be responsible for themselves than being a parent to a grown-ass adult. You did your best to protect Ari up until this point--and it’s paid off. But he’s not a child anymore, and he can make his own decisions. I think he’s been trying to make his own decisions for a very long time… which is probably how he landed himself with Chara Rigas.” She wasn’t trying to be caustic, despite the jarring observation, and she kept her tone soft out of respect for Ari. It wasn’t so much that Nia wanted Nadira to feel guilty for what had happened to her son so long ago, and which continued to affect him, now, than she was drawing parallels for the very first time. Was it any wonder that he had remained in Chara’s clutches for so long, if that had been one of the first decisions he had made of his own agency? He had suffered--but it had been his choice to go through with it. “What I’m trying to say… It doesn’t matter what you did or how you parented Ari in the past. I didn’t know him then. But I really think, for both your sake and his own, that you allow him the space and the agency to make his own decisions. To proceed how he sees fit… and to see the people he wants to see.” She raised an eyebrow, and added, “For what it’s worth, I didn’t come on to your son in the way you might think. I kept things between us all business and respectful for a long time… and it was he that decided he didn’t want to keep things that way, when he sensed there could be--no, that there was more between us.”
She expected some disgusted rebuttal from the Canaveris matriarch, who of course wouldn’t condone her son’s current affairs with someone who was such a controversial figure--especially in light of the information that had been revealed of Chara Rigas. Imagine the Master Alchemist’s surprise when, instead of being met with disgust, it appeared that Nadira… wanted to believe her. Now that hadn’t been something she’d been counting on. “Yeah, yeah, it sucked. Running sucks. Hiding sucks even more. But Locque put a stop to that for me, so think what you want, but it’s the first bit of good I’ve had in a decade. And, if not for that opportunity to finally stand back and take in my surroundings and the people around me, I never would’ve found the opportunity to meet Ari--or to help him. But if you don’t want to believe me, and that I’m true to my word,” she leaned back against the chaise and looked up at the high ceiling. “You could ask Alster Rigas, since I approached him to discuss lifting Ari’s curse… but, I know you’re not about to do that, so instead, there’s always Hadwin Kavanagh. Aside from Ari, he’s really the only other person that I feel like I can consider a true friend. Never made a move against me and has actually bothered to listen when I talk. If you want a true account that I’m as good as my word, then look no further than him… that is, if you’re not above talking to him. Though I gotta say, Rowen Kavanagh is really the only ‘bad egg’ in that family. Can’t say I have anything against Hadwin, or his older sister, Bronwyn.”
And that was where Nia had expected to lose Nadira Canaveris completely. Surely, the woman had absolutely zero intention to believe another word she said, after citing Hadwin as a character reference… Imagine her surprise--which was palpable--at Nadira’s next words. I shall invest in you. “Are you… does that…” Baffled, Nia straightened her posture and widened her eyes. “Does that mean… you’ll agree to let me help Ari? To lift his curse?” Well this was a breakthrough she hadn’t expected. Her mouth stretched into a wide grin, erasing traces of her bone-deep fatigue. “Hey, I’d be more than happy to not have to sneak around. The whole point of being a free person is not to have to rely on stealth.” The Master Alchemist was quick to agree to Nadira’s terms. After all, they weren’t unreasonable, considering the woman was finally on board for allowing her son the chance to be rid of the curse that had plagued him for so long. “You want full disclosure on everything that goes on, henceforth? You got it, but be warned, you’re probably only going to want to know so much about your son’s private life. I won’t distance myself from him on those occasions that he doesn’t want to fall asleep alone. But, as for everything else--you got it. I’m on board. So, in the spirit of full disclosure, I invited Ari to come see me tomorrow evening--if he’s able. He’s got some ideas to get me out from being under fire by this entire kingdom, thanks to Rowen, and if anyone has the words to talk people down, it’s him. So consider yourself informed and in the loop, Lady Canaveris. I’m glad we could have this conversation!”
Just when she’d thought she’d found an out to remove herself from Nadira’s presence, the Canaveris matriarch grabbed her hand. Nia’s heart dropped into her stomach. Oh no--what now? What more do you want from me?! Turns out… she just wanted her to eat. “Hey--I won’t be far from the farmlands,” she tried to reassure the stubborn woman. “There’s plenty of fruit. Strawberries are already starting to grow…” However, it soon became obvious that she wasn’t allowed to leave until her stomach was full, for tonight at the very least. Nia was too tired to fight it; so she conceded. Of course the woman wanted to make sure the key to her son’s recovery wasn’t jeopardized before she came through for him.“...if it’ll make you happy? Sure. Give me some of that stew. I’m not one to turn down a good meal, anyway.”
Elespeth’s emotions, upon finding her husband barely conscious and freezing cold in the middle of the woods, ranged from panic to anger to sadness and back again. It hadn’t taken much, between her keen observation as well as Haraldur’s, to see that there wasn’t any interference or evidence of an aggressor that had attacked Alster. Instead, the area stunk of magic (something she was more attuned to smell now that she possessed it, herself) and it wasn’t difficult to discern that the Rigas mage was once again rendered a victim of his own power. Buy why? What in all hells had he been doing, when the kingdom was in a complete uproar, first over Chara and Lilica, and now, Nia?
They’d rushed him to the Night Garden immediately, where Elespeth had wanted to stay the night, but the Gardeners politely suggested she return to the palace, so that the small space could be occupied by those who needed it (and Teselin was already there for Hadwin). Perhaps it was for the better: it would give her time to cool her heels and not approach Alster with fury when he awoke the next morning, or at least, give her time to process exactly what had happened… but, in her heart, she knew. She knew Alster’s tendencies, and whatever he had done, he’d known that others would not approve of the risk: yet, he saw fit to take it, anyway.
When she returned to the sanctuary the next morning, it was not with a smile on her face, although she was relieved to see that Alster was at least awake. Ignoring Hadwin’s comment (or perhaps she just didn’t hear it through her anger), the former knight stood at the end of Alster’s cot, arms folded, clearly waiting for an explanation. But she already knew the words that would come out of that mouth; the guilt was painted all over his face before he even said a way. “Performing dangerous activities in the Night Garden does not make it acceptable to perform dangerous activities.” She countered, nodding to the blankets he had wrapped around him like a cocoon. “Especially if there is no need for them. Alster--did you hear Isidor, yesterday? Did you hear a word he said? He’s tired, and he’s hurting, and he’s got a broken heart… but the last thing he wants is further interference from anyone. While I want Tivia back as much as the rest of us… you need to respect her, too. Respect that she left for a reason, and she continues to stay away for a reason. What is done, is done, and I know you don’t want to hear it… but the best thing you can do for Isidor is to leave him alone. Not… not risk your health for something he didn’t even ask for.” She struggled not to raise her voice, and it wasn’t her intention to make Alster feel bad… he already did, by the looks of it. But they weren’t in a position to have their most valuable asset jeopardized amidst a tyrant queen’s reign, and all because he wanted to mend his friend’s broken heart, and restore an order that was not his to restore.
“It’s like Hadwin says: Isidor has made up his mind. And… it makes me sad, too. Especially considering everything he has done for us.” She sighed at last, letting some of the tension drain from her shoulders. “But, Alster… you cannot play the role of a god. Some things, we must just let unfold, even if we do not like how they are shaping up.”
“Alster… I’ll talk to my brother, if you want.” Teselin piped up softly, from her seat next to Hadwin’s cot. She wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but the close quarters of the tiny cabin didn’t permit much in the way of private conversations. “I’ve been meaning to, anyway… I shouldn’t have walked away from him the other day. It’s possible he doesn’t want to hear from me, either, and if that is the case, then I won’t push my luck. But… it won’t hurt to remind him that, whether or not he chooses to ignore them, he has friends.”
No one even noticed that Harlaldur quietly stepped out the front door, which was quite remarkable considering stealth wasn’t the tall man’s strong suit. But Senyiah, who was gathering a vibrant purple herb in a basket nearby, looked up as soon as his shadow interfered with her light. “Prince Sorde. A pleasure to see you.” The Head Gardener smiled and stood, dusting the grass stains off of her knees. “What is it I can do for you?”
She very nearly dropped her basket. Gardener… Prince Sorde, Forbanne Commander, and new father of two twin children… wanted to become a Gardener, on top of all of that?! The Head Gardener was beyond perplexed, until he continued to explain, and that was when reason fell into place. “...ah. I see. Take a walk with me, Prince Sorde, won’t you? There are flora that I can only access at this very time of day, so I mustn’t waste any time.”
As she ventured further into the Night Garden, Senyiah adjusted the basket on her shoulder and proceeded to address the prince’s request. “Breane is a very unique case for us. She is not the first Gardener to be called to the Garden at such a young age; nor is she even the youngest we have ever seen. What makes her unique is her gift to do what no other Gardener is capable of: to heal from the inside out. From the soul to the flesh, almost identical to the legendary Sybaia healers, but without the short life expectancy. However, while we were quick to take her under our wing, no one here within the Night Garden has ever forced her toward her calling. No one has ever instructed her to oversee a patient’s recovery, though there have been many. These are all things that Breane has herself insisted she do… Rowen Kavanagh’s case being her latest. And, I should add, the only case that did not see success. Yet, sadly and ironically…” She sighed, the corners of her mouth turning downward in a frown. “The Night Garden has yet to repair her wounds--and they are vast. I remember her, before the spell that sent the kingdom to sleep. She was a fun-loving child that sometimes found herself in mischief. We believe it is due to her attempt to put her past behind her that she is so keen on keeping herself busy with us. So, Prince Sorde, if you are truly interested in exploring your connection to the Night Garden, then I am more than welcome to help you. However…” She stopped and turned to face him, with a sad countenance. “It should be up to Breane, to put her responsibilities aside. We cannot decide this for her, as much as I agree with you. Everyone mourns differently… and it has only been but a year since families and friends awoke to an entirely new world, one that was missing those that some loved the most.”
Hastening to her little caravan on a full stomach that Night, Nia was practically asleep before her head hit the pillow of the little bed tucked neatly in the corner. The stew filled and warmed her body, and she barely had time to search for a blanket in the cupboard above the bunk before the Master Alchemist plunged into sweet, overdue slumber. She slept for hours, awakening only temporarily to very early morning birdsong, at which point she quickly fell asleep again. Several times throughout the next day, the resonance stone that she kept next to her pillow buzzed with the sound of Ari’s voice, but she was too tired to respond. Around mid-afternoon, she managed to murmur a weary response: “Just… gimme a few hours, Ari? Just a little more sleep… words are hard right now…”
And she fell asleep again. It wasn’t until the sun had set that Nia rose for real, still groggy, but rested enough that she felt she could function. “Hey, Ari. Sorry for the delay. Catching up on two nights’ worth of sleep. Anyway… not sure if you already know, but sneaking away last night didn’t exactly go as planned.”
Throwing her legs over the side of the bed, she snapped her fingers to light a fire in the tiny woodstove built into this fully functioning mobile home. She hadn’t brought enough water to wash in, but there was enough to drink without having to venture to the springs for at least a day--and at least she’d remembered a single change of clothes. As it turned out, Nadira had disclosed to Ari their little conversation from the night before. On one hand, he sounded utterly defeated… but, on the other, he was relieved. Frankly, she felt the same. “Good news is, no hard feelings between us… but she also wants in on everything we plan from here on out. So… how do we proceed, my good man?” The small kettle she’d set atop the stove had begun to boil, at which point she extinguished the flame, and mixed the boiling water with dark indigo tea leaves she’d retrieved from the Night Garden some time ago. A good and harmless energy boost, one that would be well needed after the days she’d had. “You’re welcome to take a carriage my way. My current little dwelling is cozier and more inviting than you probably think. The place is fully equipped… like whoever lived in it before had planned to try and get out and move on to greener pastures before the spell was cast. But, if it really doesn’t suit your tastes…” She exhaled a dramatic sigh and took a tentative sip of her boiling hot tea from a ceramic mug. “I can make my way down to your neck of the woods, at risk of getting mobbed by your angry citizens. But, hey--you can’t say you’ve really lived until you’ve done some crazy things for love, right?” She chuckled, and it only occurred to her after the fact that… yes. This was for love. And she would risk herself time and again… all for loving Ari. Suddenly, Alster and Elespeth’s tumultuous relationship didn’t seem so strange. “Either way, I’m eager to hear what you have planned that’ll possibly save my neck and restore my good name throughout this kingdom. Something tells me your mother will probably want to weigh in, as well."
“I know. I know that.” Alster wasn’t trying to dismiss Elespeth’s concerns, but rather, to nod his understanding and his fervent agreement. “I really do. I’ll be the first to admit I did this more for myself; because I couldn’t reconcile standing idly aside, yet again, just to watch him get so terribly lashed around and hurt. It’s difficult to live with this power and not use it for something.” He gathered up bunches of his blanket and stretched them tighter around himself, reacting not to a physical chill but to a nerve he’d struck. “I tell myself, what type of friend or person would I be if I hoarded my gifts when I’m constantly faced by those who would benefit from them? I understand Isidor’s need for space, and I’ll give him what he desires, but it doesn’t mean I can’t provide him some service, even if it’s unprompted or unwanted by him. If we’re honest, he will reject my help if offered. He’ll frequently reject others, too, because that’s what he knows, spending the majority of his life in solitude. It’s nigh impossible to show my support by simply...doing nothing. I have done my share of nothing, and it’s devastating, watching the world fall apart while you float on by like some spectating ghost, your translucent hands passing uselessly through when all you want to do is to hold. To affix something or someone upright. To breathe purpose everywhere you go.” He lowered his chin, covering the opening lip of his blanket, glad at least for the hood resting over his head, concealing most of his features.
One, however, could not disguise the lament in his voice.
“I contacted Tivia. Nothing more. I didn’t express any urgency; it’s very much her decision to return, if she returns. That’s all. At least I can say I tried. But...it’s not a role, El. I could become a god, if I wanted to.” The last murmured bit did not carry any false ideations or illusions of grandeur, but was spoken matter-of-fact. No one, he believed, would argue his point, having borne witness to his capabilities and jarring personality changes in the past, which suggested the entity slithering beneath his disguise of skin and flesh. “I have the connections; I need only to ascend and leave behind my mortal relationships. My humanity. Everything that ties me to this earthly plane. And I’ve gotten so close, on multiple occasions, to make the transition. But to do it, I would lose partiality and therefore, all interest in the precise reason why I’d ever consider reaching for godhood. It would be a Pyrrhic Victory, negating every well-intentioned step forward, because each step higher is a step further from my home, and from the people who make it home. Our bond is essential for preventing this outcome, El.” His hooded gaze lifted to regard his long-suffering wife, who would always end up taking the brunt of his self-perpetuating follies.
“As long as our souls are tied, I’m tied. It’s for the best, of course, and there is not a day I regret it, but...why shouldn’t I strive for Demi-godhood? Rigel did just that; he was of this world, and never once compartmentalized his existence into a concept. He never withdrew his roots, and always lived in the moment—as I understand. Why shouldn’t I push my limits and overcome the improbable if I can do so in safety? I’ve owed this to Isidor. Weeks ago, he asked me to find Tivia. Before, I failed, but now, I managed to devise a loophole. I didn’t locate her, per se, but I did the next best thing. He never has to know about this; in fact, I’d rather he didn’t. But tell me,” he tilted his head at Elespeth in genuine curiosity for her answer, “did I misstep, truly and wholeheartedly? Was it wrong to meddle behind Isidor’s back, knowing that, were I upfront, he’d never allow me to do anything for him? I can’t...regret my role. Was I hasty? Yes. Was it unnecessary? Maybe. But I don’t regret it.”
“Whoa there, Mister God Complex, at fucking ease; you’re gonna pop a vein and hurt yourself. You’ve already got a savior complex, a martyr complex, a guilt complex, and an inferiority complex. Save some complexes for the rest of us!” Hadwin propped his head against the wall as though to support the unwieldy weight of Alster’s words against sudden onset vertigo. “Meddle to your heart’s content, like yours truly, but just remember we’ve got bigger priorities to deal with right now, and we’re gonna need you to be fighting fit when the time comes.”
“I’m well aware,” Alster released a decompressing sigh, seeming to take Hadwin’s advice, on the surface, anyhow, and loosen the grip on his hyper-fixation. “Like I said, I’ve done everything in my power for Isidor at this time. I contacted Tivia and that’s that. I’ll leave him to his affairs. Thank you, Teselin,” he turned his head to acknowledge the young summoner seated beside Hadwin, directing a small, appreciative smile. “But you don’t have to say anything on my behalf. I’ve made it abundantly clear to Isidor where we stand. I’d like to think he knows. At any rate, you should talk to him whenever he’s ready to accept company again. He’s convinced he razed his chances to have a relationship with you to the ground. It would be good to start afresh.”
“Speaking of starting afresh,” Hadwin pushed off from his wall perch and eyed Elespeth, “I heard you’re pretty ace at whipping folks into shape, if your little godling here is any indication.” Covered as he was in layers of sheets and thus hidden from appraisal, Alster hadn’t yet lost the muscle tone he gained from a month of intense training at the farmhouse. “I also know you and Bron have some kind of friendship workout club and I want in on the fun. I can’t fucking sit on my ass another damn day or I’m gonna lose my shit. It’s gotten to the point where I'm contemplating on learning how to knit. Me! Not that you haven’t been fantastic company, Tes,” he landed an affectionate punch on her shoulder, “but hells, it’s been over a month since I actually moved. Don’t know how you climbed out of the mire, but damn do I feel your pain, Elly. Help me out here?”
Haraldur couldn’t fault Senyiah for her reaction. The request felt ludicrous on his tongue; months ago, he wouldn’t have even entertained the notion! For all his interactions with the Sentinel Tree, he never once believed he checked off any prerequisites that qualified him as a Gardener, dismissing the surreal experience of communing with a tree as a quirk of his mysterious heritage of which still left him confused and rattled—or at worst, fever dreams. Even now, he was taking a stab in the dark in proclaiming any special talent or aptitude for assuming a Gardener position, however lowly or elementary. No doubt he was good with plants; in the drought-blasted lands of Central Mollengard, he’d always managed to grow carrots, potatoes, beetroot—dietary stables of the region—free of toil and effort, but he always chalked it up to the dumb luck tied inextricably to his survival. That no matter how much he’d desired death, he, like a stubborn weed, would poke out of the ravaged soil, refusing to be vanquished by the elements. Yes, he also recalled vague memories of wielding magic as a child, reviving a wilted snowdrop for his sister, who delighted in carrying it around like a precious talisman, but Mollengard had extracted every drop of magical essence from his veins, down to the dregs. Nothing remained. So how was it he could speak to a tree, and vice versa? Was it true, his designation as forest kin or tree folk, or whatever Alster called him? What did it mean? And was Breane the sole reason why he volunteered to work as a Gardener?
You want answers, don’t you?
Without hesitation, he followed Senyiah and her basket of purple flowers into the thick of the Night Garden, which congregated around its center. Many trees sprouted off the Sentinel Tree’s complex root system, creating lush forests and heavy curtains of moss carpeting the uneven terrain. It was a haven perfect for mushrooms and other plants that preferred the cover of darkness. He wondered what range of flora appeared only in this area during the day and nonetheless found himself curious about the discovery. “Please don’t think I’m implying you and the Gardeners coerced Breane into this particular kind of work. I’d assumed this was something she chose for herself willingly, despite the Night Garden’s endorsement, and I don’t doubt she’s had great successes since accepting the responsibility. But now, it’s pretty clear she’s taking her failure with Rowen personally, to the detriment of her health. The tragedy of losing her family...I’m afraid it’s catching up to her. This would be a wonderful opportunity for the Night Garden to offer her a little respite until she’s ready to resume her duties. Of course, I understand that the decision is up to her...but I also hope we realize her limitations and try to strongly encourage her towards rest. She’s pushing herself too hard right now, and her coping mechanisms for mourning may not be so effective anymore. I watched as she cried herself to sleep, from grief. What she’s doing,” he chose his words carefully, again not meaning to cause insult, “is not the best method for her right now, but she might be too young to realize her options without some gentle adult interference, or supervision.”
Oh heavens. When did he start acting like a father? Did it appear overnight, or did it start on the day Vega gave birth to healthy twins? Or was it much, much sooner—on his long-ago vow never to hurt another child and to help them, whenever possible? “Vega and I have been talking. As the twins grow a little older and we feel more comfortable leaving them with nannies, she’s been wanting to reintegrate into society outside of motherhood, so I’m training her as an overseer to the Forbanne for when I’m not available. It wouldn’t be fair to give the position to someone who isn’t Forbanne, but she’ll still play an integral role in delegating and organizing the troops until at which time we can decide the Forbanne with the highest level of candidacy for interim commander.” He grabbed a passing leaf mid-air, turning around the purple, heart-shaped in his curious fingers. “Long story short, when things stabilize at the palace, I’ll be slashing my time as Commander, to make room as a Gardener. Whatever Breane decides...I think I’d still like to do it. But that’s entirely up to you. Is there,” he smiled nervously, “some kind of qualifying test or something I must do to prove myself worthy?”
In terms of Ari’s mother, ‘‘weighing in,’ was a grievous underestimation. She carried the scale, mounted it on a scaffold, and recorded the measurements in a logbook that she alone fiercely guarded from prying eyes. Legally, Ari’s executive power didn’t extend to banning Nadira from any and all involvement on account of her influence as a previous Canaveris Head, and one of the most notable of her caliber to serve. He would have to scour through various loopholes to well and truly prevent her from holding an appointment on his council. Fortunately, he didn’t have to heed a word she said, and he almost stuck to those convictions, but Nadira approached him the following morning and her revelations were nothing short of miraculous. She wanted to support Nia? When did the sudden turnaround occur? Apparently last night, after Nia sneaked out of his chambers in what was once believed to be a successful in-and-out infiltration. Not so. Nadira caught her in the act and, instead of the expected lambasting and open derision, his mother decided to invest in the cause? At first, he suspected her motives weren’t all too forthcoming, or pure, but she laid her transparency bare and...he trusted her.
“If Ardane is the name of our salvation, then I shall support that banner and make certain she survives her detractors,” Nadira said, and absolutely nothing suggested she spoke in jest. While Ari didn’t yet forgive his mother for trampling on his private life, her benevolent cooperation was a start. And, he admitted, it improved their situation overall. No more sneaking about, for one, and for another...well, it really was difficult to deny Nadira’s boundless experience would prove most helpful. She was an effective leader in her heyday. Not only that, but he knew, by opposing her wishes in the past, how much more profound their struggle would be not winning her to their side. In the end, wasn’t this what Ari wanted? His mother’s support?
He hadn’t a clue on what Nadira and Nia discussed last night, but whatever had happened, he certainly couldn’t lament the outcome!
Following a conversation with the fugitive Master Alchemist in question (though it took a while to reach her; she must have been so exhausted), Ari departed for the outskirts of the farmlands in a carriage with Lazarus...and his mother.
“Must you come along?” The question was futile, but Ari posed it anyway. The red-clad figure seated opposite him in the coach was there to stay.
“Oh come now, Ari. Do not be ridiculous. Someone must supervise, to ensure one stays on subject. And,” she raised her eyebrows suggestively, “on task.”
Ari rotated to face the window, his face flushed.
Between the resonance stone and the purple-glowing beacon stone Nia had gifted him, they found the caravan just as full-dark swept over the land. Not far from the main road, the small but quaint home on wheels was, as Nia described, nestled cozily at the gateway to the woods beyond. An inviting light flickered from the inside, pulsing at a rate much slower than the racing need that fluttered inside him, so spectacularly denied by his mother and her shameless presence.
They met their hostess at the front door, minus Lazarus who remained outside, too massive to fit inside the tiny space even if he so desired it. Ari hoped Nia caught his apologetic stare for the inclusion of his mother and the silent, coded message hovering on his tongue. Godspeed to us all.
“What a lovely little hovel you’ve uncovered!” Nadira effused, drifting through the doorway to remark upon the furnishings; the kitchenette upon which a dinged-up kettle sat on a low burning flame, a rough-hewn table for two, and a tiny straw-filled pallet of a bed stashed into the corner, separated by off-white curtains. “I jest, I jest. It is indeed a homey darling of a place. And oh, have you brewed us some tea? Where should I sit?”
Again, Ari flashed his unspoken apology.
“Now, where should we begin? Ah, yes.” Having seated herself at one of the chairs, she accepted some lavender tea from a porcelain cup and took a few dainty sips before continuing. “Wonderful tea. Is this a Night Garden brew? Rich but delicate all the same. I digress!” She cleared her throat. Oh, wasn’t she in chipper spirits today! ...At Ari’s expense. She was obviously enjoying herself. “Do you remember when I asked about any candidates who would be able to vouch for your character? Well, it comes at no surprise that we cannot utilize Alster Rigas in the D’Marian settlement, of all places. At present, he is quite a reviled figure, and associating with him would inflict further harm to your bruised reputation, I daresay. Yes, it is possible for those nasty bruises to purple into an eyesore of a hematoma.” She crossed one leg over the other, the shimmering fabric of her gown capturing the caravan’s low lantern light. “Ari tells me that Hadwin Kavanagh fares somewhat better. He is a known scoundrel and bears unavoidable relations to his infamous sister. Yet, despite this, he has, so it would seem, whored his way into D’Marian immunity.”
“Are you suggesting Nia do the same to win D’Marian favor?” Ari rose from the table, skepticism and annoyance inciting his muscles to come to her defense.
“If you would let me finish,” Nadira flapped her hand, urging Ari to sit. “So it would seem, I said. It turns out, the wolf-man has also done a great deal of good to offset his debts to society. This allows him to...get away with a lot. I use him as a model because it clearly demonstrates even the most reprehensible of figures can otherwise earn redemption, or barring that, not immediate death, simply by merit of helpfulness and likability alone. There is hope for you yet, my dear.” She looked over the rim of her teacup, to Nia, and presented a polished, self-assured smile. “It comes at no surprise that your poorly reputation stems from your associations. It is Locque the people dislike, and anyone representing her institution is automatically met with mistrust and rancor. So,” she steepled her fingers together, “I suggest you pretend Locque has ousted you from her court indefinitely and left you again to fend for yourself—at which time you stumbled into the D’Marian village and requested sanctuary from the benevolent Canaveris family. If you are viewed as a charity case, defanged and disenfranchised by your dear leader, the people will, eventually, regard you as a being who elicits not revulsion, but sympathy, should we play that angle correctly. And if not sympathy, then at least you will generate indifference. If the people do not see you as a threat, and in fact, if they see you as accepted alongside an influential and popular family such as the Canaverises, it will do wonders for your suffering image.”
“Done your share of nothing? Are you kidding me, Alster? Because you’re not doing a very good job of kidding.” Elespeth curled her fingers around the sword at her hip, just to give her something to bear the wrath of her grip (that wasn’t her shivering husband). “You are not known for doing nothing. Where people love you or loathe you, it is because you have done something, and one of those drastic somethings has inspired opinions about you. And I will be one to admit, I am glad for what you’ve done. For every feat you have accomplished, to save lives and livelihoods and cities. To save and help people that you love, as well as people that you don’t. But you have to understand… there is a line to be crossed. And much though you might not want to admit it, not everywhere you go, and not everyone you meet, wants your ‘purpose’.”
Realizing how her rebuttal must have sounded, the former knight sighed and let go of some of the tension in her body. She took a seat at the foot of Alster’s cot and let go of her sword. “I know you’ve got it in you to become a god. Or something other than human; something existing on a higher plane. You, more than anyone I know, has the potential to influence lives. Any life you so choose, for better or for worse. But… can’t you see, that is not what is needed? We don’t need you to become a god, because we need you here. We need you grounded, and with us, and not… not doing these things behind our backs.” ‘These things’ referring to his interference with Isidor and Tivia, but there could’ve been any number of antics the Rigas caster had been up to in the time she’d known him. “You care so much for your friends. And I’m sure that, even if Isidor did know what you did for him the other night… even if he expressed anger for your interference, I know part of him would still appreciate it. But, Alster… what does it matter, your kind deeds, if they put you at risk? What good are you to your friends, the people who love and care about you, if you are constantly putting yourself at risk?”
Elespeth reached forward and rested her hands on his shoulders, her expression no longer angry, but… sad. A little bit defeated. “You are not Rigel Rigas. I did not marry Rigel Rigas--I married Alster Rigas. A man, not a god, not a demi-god. And Isidor--he befriended a man. Not a god. Just because it is within your capabilities, regardless of how safe or unsafe you believe it to be, does not mean you need to interfere. Besides…” She lowered her voice and leaned closer, afraid of how far her words would carry in a kingdom currently being ruled by a witch. “If Vitali’s passing is a harbinger of things to come… who knows, we may soon have a fight on our hands. And you know we will need you for that fight. So, please, no… no more playing the role of a god. Not when we need you more as a man.”
The ex-Atvanian was almost relieved, however, when Hadwin averted the subject as well as her attention to another matter entirely. Pulling away from Alster, she righted her posture and raised an eyebrow at the faoladh. “You want… to train with me? And Bronwyn? I’m not sure you quite know what you’re asking, Hadwin. Yes, I managed to help Alster gain a good deal of physical strength, but he wasn’t in a physically compromised state when I helped him. And you’ve only recently begun to feel like yourself again. I’m not sure I know how to go easy on people when they need it… wasn’t exactly in my upbringing. What do you think, Teselin?” She glanced at the young summoner, who had spent more time with Hadwin than even the Gardeners. If anyone knew how ‘ready’ he was to dive headfirst into physical activity, then it was her. “Do you think this wolf is up to the task? Bronwyn and I don’t hold back; I’m not convinced he can keep up.”
“Well… I guess the good thing is, even if he gets hurt, faoladh heal relatively quickly.” Teselin offered, although she looked uncertain. “Are you sure about this, Hadwin? Maybe we could just start with taking some strolls around the Night Garden; and then taking strolls beyond it, to see how you do without its uplifting energies. Even if you can heal quickly… I really don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Now, I didn’t say I’d hurt him,” Elespeth countered, standing and folding her arms. “I just don’t want him holding me back. I’ve been training with Bronwyn and Haraldur, and I’m in better shape than I was before I became very ill. So…” She looked Hadwin up and down, noting how his body appeared more sunken with muscle that had disappeared during his bedrest. “If you’re sure you won’t be deadweight? Then I’ll count you in. But only once you’re able to walk from this garden, all the way back to the palace--unassisted, and without getting winded. Prove to me you can do that, and I’ll help you put meat back on your bones.”
Senyiah heard Haraldur’s plea for help on Breane’s behalf, and contrary to his suspicions, was not at all offended by his questions or suggestions. She wasn’t unreasonable: unreasonable people did not maintain a position such as hers. And every single one of his concerns was entirely valid. “I will admit… it is strange, seeing her in a new light, compared to who she used to be. Galeyn is a small kingdom, and it is impossible not to know almost everyone. Prior to hundred year sleep, I recall her being a typical child. But awakening to realize you have lost everyone you’ve loved… it changes a person, in ways that you cannot control. And I’m not sure it would have been much different for her, had she not turned to the arms of the Night Garden.” Stopping to kneel on the ground and pluck the vibrant, violet flowers, she smiled sadly as she gathered her supply. “She came to me one day when she declared she could hear the Garden. It was showing and telling her things… and before any of us could do much of anything, she was very much immersed in her work. She was helping people before we even established her as a Gardener. Her help has been nothing less than invaluable, as it is entirely different from what any other Gardener, myself included, is capable of. But, what you say… there is truth to it, and I have suspected it for a long time.”
Looking away from the flowers, she fixed her gaze on the Eyraillian prince, to indicate she was giving his suggestion her full attention and it wasn’t all lip service. “Few of us Gardeners are parents. I never had children of my own. But it does not surprise me in the least that the needs of a child have failed to surpass your keen attention, Prince Sorde. Though, to answer your question, young Breane does respond to a sense of authority. She responds to me, and to the senior Gardeners. She does what she is told... although, I am not so sure that would be the case if she were asked to put her position as a Gardener on hold for any amount of time.” Having filled her basket, Senyiah stood, and dusted off her knees again. “But the authority of a Gardener, or of the Night Garden, is very different from the authority of a parent. You seem to have a very caring family, Prince Sorde, and you obviously care for the girl. If I were to request Breane take a short leave from the Night Garden, someone would have to keep an eye out to see that it was doing more good than harm, for her. Would you be up to this task? I am more than happy to have the girl take some time for herself, but as you said, guidance from an adult would still be imperative. Perhaps helping out with your little ones would give her something to do to pass the time in a healthy way. So that she would not otherwise be ruminating over what she has lost?”
Her inquiry was followed by another of the Forbanne Commander’s requests: one that both surprised and thrilled her. Senyiah’s eyes went wide with surprise, and for a moment, she wondered if her keen hearing had failed her. “A Gardener… So you are sure you would like to take up this role, with everything else you are already juggling?” But when he explained his plans for Vega and the Forbanne, and that every day the royal couple grew more comfortable leaving the babies with other responsible adults, the Head Gardener saw that he was serious. This was something he was being drawn to pursue, regardless of young Breane’s situation. “Your Highness… I’m afraid you are mistaken about my authority.” With a warm smile, she shook her head. “I do oversee the Gardeners that the Night Garden has chosen, but I, myself, do not get to choose them. It is the Garden that chooses whom it communicates with, and who will convey its messages and its healing abilities. You have long since been in touch with the Night Garden and its energies; practically since you arrived in Galeyn. Your own children… they have trees, here, that sprouted at their birth. It is not up to me if you belong in this role: it is up to you if you choose to act on your potential. And, if you do, I would be honoured to give you insight into how the Gardeners operate. After all… you already have a knack for healing, it seems, with your keen insights to help young Breane. So… let us take this one step at a time. And you’ve already found your first step.” She nodded to the leaf in his hand, one that he had seen fit to pluck, on a whim.
“Take it and boil it into a tea. See what it awakens in you; the path that the Night Garden intends for you. After that, feel free to come talk to me. We will carve out the perfect place and role for you in this Garden.”
Why it somehow hadn’t occurred to Nia that Ari wouldn’t be her only guest the following evening was a mystery. Not twenty-four hours ago, she had disclosed everything, every last detail of her relationship with Ari and her motivation for wanting to help him so badly; the woman was officially involved and up to date. So why wouldn’t she invite herself along, when the Master Alchemist had never explicitly invited her?
Well… at least, the caravan, previously uninhabited, was clean. Rustic, and small, but clean. And she had the sense to don a tunic and a pair of loose trousers, and tied her hair away from her face with the ribbon that Sylvie had given to her. So when the carriage pulled up outside her tiny new home after dark, she might have been taken by surprise when three figures departed from the carriage (when she’d only been expecting Ari, and possibly Lazarus), but at least she hadn’t been taken off guard. “...Lady Canaveris. Thrilled that you could make it.” She had no choice but to step aside and allow the Canaveris matriarch inside. “I’m happy to pour you some tea, but the leaves are from the Night Garden, so don’t blame me if you end up unable to sleep tonight.”
She obliged the woman anyway and poured her a mug of steaming liquid and steeped leaves, knowing full well the ceramic was probably a far cry from the crystal and silver she was used to drinking from. “I mean, certainly doesn’t hold a flame to the palace, but… gotta say, I like it here. It’s cozy and intimate. At one point in time, it was full of someone else’s hope. Since it’s got functioning wheels, and there are reins attached to the front… I get the impression someone intended for this to be their permanent home in their flight from Galeyn. But they never got that far.” She traced a finger along one of the cupboards, that held a handful of clean dishes that hadn’t been used in eons. “I owe this place and all of the broken dreams it holds. It put a roof over my head last night and kept me safe when most of this kingdom wants to rake me over hot coals… Honestly, it was a dream of a find. Better than sleeping under the stars and wondering who might try to slit your throat.”
It didn’t appear as though Nadira hear much (if any) of her justification for her current ‘living arrangements’, but Ari undoubtedly did, by the apologetic look on his face. Nia smiled to assuage whatever guilt he felt on behalf of his mother inviting herself along, and was even bold enough to take his hand and guide him to sit down. “Want any tea, Ari? Or are you hoping to get a good night’s sleep tonight?” She winked, taking her own tea and pushing the curtains back to sit on the mattress. There were only two seats at the table, so it was the only other option available to her (and she wouldn’t dare suggest to Nadira), but she couldn’t help but wonder if the Canaveris matriarch took some sort of… pride, or comfort, in physically separating her from Ari. She certainly seemed pleased with herself.
She had to give the woman credit, though; Nadira had come here with a plan, or at least, the vague outline of one. It came as no surprise that she chose not to acknowledge Alster Rigas as speaking to her character on her behalf: the only person the D’Marians likely hated more than her was him. However, Nadira’s account of Hadwin (what little she knew of him, at least) did cause her to raise her eyebrows. “That’s… one way of describing how the wolf man gets into peoples’ good graces.” Nia couldn’t deny, and rubbed the back of awkwardly. “I’ve been called a lot of things, and none of them bother me, but if you’re suggesting, Lady Canaveris, that I follow suit and gain favour the same way that you deem Hadwin has… then please, rest assured, I’ve only got eyes for Ari. No interest in messing around with other people anymore, even if it would be to my benefit.”
Nia wasn’t sure if that would hit a nerve in Nadira, or, conversely, make her feel more assured; and whatever Nadira felt, she hid it well. But her proposal, incidentally, had nothing to do with the Master Alchemist ‘whoring herself out’. In fact… her plan was very sensible, and logical, and… damnit, it might actually work! “...I think you’re really on to something, Lady Canaveris.” She leaned in, her cup of hot tea warming her gloved palms. “I’ve certainly never been a popular figure, thanks to Majesty Locque. But before I left, I did advise her to make it known that she’s putting distance between us, in light of the allegations--for her own benefit, of course. And she agreed, so… this really plays well into what’s already going on. Although,” she took a sip of her tea, now that it had finally cooled. “There’s also the possibility that if the people know I no longer have Locque’s protection, they might well decide they can take a chance and take me out. Give me what they believe I deserve. Is your esteemed family name really enough to protect me from that?”
She glanced from Ari to Nadira, then down to the floor. It was a little dusty, but otherwise, clean. “Sometimes being a victim is worse than being a threat. But, if you’re convinced that the two of you have the influence to make me want to put down their knives… then I’m willing to give it a try. I’ll do anything to not be awake for another forty-eight hours straight. I’m used to fasting, but damn, do I need my sleep! So.” She looked up again, any trace of doubt from before now gone from her brown eyes. “How do you suggest we proceed? I’m kinda nervous to set foot in the D’Marian settlement in broad daylight, alone.”
Elespeth’s reasonable reply was one Alster expected, even anticipated, and he nodded along, not necessarily because he agreed, but because he understood her point of view. He knew he wouldn’t stop stretching his limitations because he couldn’t stop, even if he made a concentrated effort to do so. Short of having his magic stripped, Alster and his existence hinged on the needs of others. And not just any needs; needs that he, personally, could solve or, failing that, soothe, with magic. Anyone could lend a hand, dispense kind words, show their support and aid in simple, but effective ways. It took no specialized talent or decades of intense study to achieve, and was readily available to the world. Alster didn’t discount those methods. In fact, he valued them strongly, and built an identity around kindness and empathy. Sometimes, just being there for someone created a magic stronger than one’s birthright. Nonetheless, he was among one of the only mages, aside from summoners and their wayward abilities, capable of actual noteworthy deeds bordering on the miraculous, and if he could somehow generate a consistent spate of miracles for people who most benefited from them, then didn’t he owe it to humanity to try?
He wasn’t entirely mad, though his far-flung idealisms frequently unmoored him from the ground, detaching him from the sane and safe. Contemplating godhood always resulted in the same conclusion: No. Long ago, he made his choice; or rather, the choice was made for him. He fell in love. It was love that afforded him the opportunities to entertain such self-important thoughts of ascension, because love had saved his life, literally, and elongated his lifespan to far beyond what he considered possible for him, during the throes of his would-be sacrifices. Through love, he found his purpose. His passion for healing the flesh and the mind. His fascination with giving and giving until he had little else to give. To abandon his life’s mission in pursuit of omnipotence and omniscience acted not only as counter to his mission, but was also irresponsible. He had a duty as Alster Rigas, the man, and could only fulfill those vows if he remained on this plane as a constrict of flesh and blood. He’d stated so to Elespeth, and she reflected on it aloud not soon afterward. It was true; he’d lost a little of his humanity, and his soul, through bargains with interdimensional beings and ill-fated sojourns through said dimensions, and if he continued on with his risky experimentations, then he would one day cross some line where he’d, against his will, become something too other to reverse or revert.
And...wasn’t that exactly what happened to Locque, the woman he was so adamant to kill; no, to destroy?
I really am like her, he thought, in horror, and the newfound shivers that racked his body stunned bowed him over in his cocoon of a blanket. She began with good intentions. As have I. Where is the balance? How do I keep myself while also staying true to myself?
“Would anyone still care, though, if I couldn’t...if I couldn’t do more? If I withdrew, or gave less, or didn’t give at all? Would I even want to live as that person?” While his musings were privy to the remaining three-person audience in the room, he didn’t address anyone in particular. But then he raised his eyes to Elespeth, who joined him on the bed, and he leaned into her shoulder, sighing for its extra layer of radiating warmth. “I’m not sure, were I to depreciate to just a man, bereft of magic or skill, if people, aside from you and a scant few others, would even attempt to tolerate me. I am only as relevant as my abilities. Magic is my strength. My sole strength. If I lose what I was born and raised to excel in, to master, then...who am I?” It was perhaps a question Elespeth, too, struggled to answer, knowing her own struggles with self-identity and the dramatic, unwelcome changes foisted on a person ill-prepared for the sudden upheaval.
“People need me, foremost, for my magic. Your argument even stipulates that I remain in top form for the projected troubles ahead because my magic is an asset. But to do what you ask of me requires great risk, all the same—just as a fighter puts themselves at great risk of bodily harm or irreversible injury when they step forward and take up arms. I would ask you the same, El. Not to harm yourself at another’s expense. Alas, you have your battles...and I have mine.” Not to sound too finalizing or dismissive of Elespeth’s concerns, he snuggled closer, managing a shaky smile on his frozen lips. “This changes nothing, though, between you and I. I am still the man you fell in love with, and you can’t deny that my savior complex,” he shot a pointed look at Hadwin, “is why you developed the attraction. But I won’t compromise myself an iota more if I can at all help it, because you know, innately, that I will always prioritize you. Us. No matter what I say, or do, I have failsafes that will bring me back into your arms. And tell me, have any of those failsafes failed? No. They haven’t...and they won’t.” There was no bravado in his statement. No deceit, or false, fatal pride. Certainty buoyed his words, sublimated them into godhood. And maybe he himself was misguided in choosing to prescribe in it, but he truly believed in the durability of their heavenly bonds, a veritable miracle, a god on earth.
Also grateful for Hadwin’s deft subject change, Alster said nothing more, allowing the faoladh to transition without the prolonging of their couples’ quarrel.
“Good. Because I don’t want you to go easy on me. Oh no no no,” he clucked, eyes crinkling with a spoiled mirth, gone moldy. “I invite you to hurt me. Break my bones, send me flying, bash my moneymaker face in ‘till it's unrecognizable for all I care. Whatever you want. Don’t you fucking go and underestimate me, either.” Emboldened by her skepticism and more than ready to throw down a challenge, Hadwin kicked his legs to the side of the bed and bounced to his feet, a graceful almost-leap that, impressively, did not result in him toppling over or reaching for a handhold to grab. “You seem to forget; I like pain. Can’t get enough of it. The more you give me those delectable promises of ‘not holding back,’ the more I’m fucking sold. So come on over here.” He strolled confidently to the door, whipped it open in one fluid motion, and jerked his head for Elespeth to follow. “Let’s go for a little stroll in the garden.”
“Ah, yes, for certain. A poetical observation. We shall be sure to transfer this caravan of ‘broken dreams’ to a vacant lot in the D’Marian village, if it pleases you, since it is a place of which you have obviously grown so fond.” Nadira punctuated her response with a flippant sip of her tea, seemingly unbothered by her passive-aggressive condescension.
“I for one find the petite space quite beguiling,” Ari countered in defense. It wasn’t a lie. As an artist, his aesthetic eye was more pronounced and sharpened than most, and though his preferences lie more in the ostentatious and elegant, he also appreciated the simple and rustic. On occasion, he would free up a corner of his workshop for explorations of the pastoral, depicting, form memory, idylls dotted along the countryside of his travels and abandoned homes, overgrown with moss and roofs buckled from water damage and the weather. Something about forgotten places pulled at heart, as sure as it did for Nia. He oft wondered how the Canaveris estate, left behind, as with most of their belongings, fared in Stella D’Mare. By virtue of its sturdy location, sheltered around the base of a bowl-shaped mountain, it was spared the brunt of the Serpent’s attack. No doubt it suffered earthquake damage, but it was nothing a family of earth mages couldn’t patch up and fix. Over a year gone, how did the unpeopled residency hold? Was it overgrown by crabgrass? Did creeping vines overtake the walls and nestle in between the yet-to-be redone fault lines of the once noble facade? Did Mollengardian soldiers billet there, indefinitely, claiming the lands as many oppressors, Rigases included, had done in the past? Would they, truly, ever set eyes upon the picturesque terraced city and its lapping, mottled waters of aquamarine, or was it, like every conquered land of Mollengard, just another throwaway property to expand the gluttonous nation’s unfathomable girth?
Upon observing the exterior and interior of the caravan, similar feelings bubbled up from within. By what circumstances did the caravan owners disappear? If they were casualties of Galeyn’s Great Sleep, wouldn’t they have left behind their corpses? He wasn’t quite sure what became of the kingdom’s unfortunate casualties. Did they mark the territory of their demise with their corpses, a macabre reminder of their memory, or had they simply...ceased to exist? And which fate was worse? A landscape of rotting bodies to clean and cremate, or a diminished population revealing no indicator that the fallen ever had lived at all?
“This caravan offers all that remains of the people who once inhabited these walls,” Ari continued, passing an understanding smile to Nia. “We, as the living, are obligated to respect the land on which these souls once trammeled, and give thanks to their unwitting offering by reviving their memory. Using this home as intended, even for a short while, pays homage to that memory, if but in the smallest of gestures. In this fleeting interim, it is a home, and the structure breathed, fulfilled in its purpose.”
“Well said, Ari.” Even the naturally cynical Nadira couldn’t poo-poo her son’s heartfelt speech. “You always were so wonderfully considerate and sensitive. It is an endearing trait, one of many, which makes you so attractive to the scores of D’Marians who admire you.” She cast a side glance to Nia, coy, as if to say, If you think yourself loathed and reviled now, just wait until Ari’s ardent supporters learn of your...involvement.
But Ari was quick to retort, alongside Nia, who, in reply to the throwaway comment about ‘whoring around,’ had tailored a very flattering response. Whether to demonstrate her fidelity to his mother or to get her goat a little, his smile beamed a little brighter and, to really annoy Nadira, he tilted his head and winked, loudly, at the subject of his affections. Nadira, pretending not to see anything, simply hooked a finger around the tea cup’s handle and scooped another sip into her mouth, unfazed. If his mother wanted to sit in between them like an adult chaperone supervising two courting teenagers, then he intended to signal a little bit of facial foreplay at Nia, and often, as an act of petty revenge, damning its efficacy. Fortunately, Nadira switched to a more professional and serious tone and Ari followed suit. Never one to turn down someone’s proffered hospitality, Ari drank from the teacup presented to him, even though he much preferred to sleep after this meeting reached its terminus—for all Nadira wouldn’t allow them any measure of alone time together.
“Oh good gracious, no. If you are under Canaveris protection, any D’Marian to act in aggression toward you would be acting in aggression towards us,” Ari said, allaying some of Nia’s fears. “If they can tolerate whatever benign plans I have for Chara Rigas, who easily ranks as second most hated figure of Stella D’Mare, behind Alster Rigas, then they most assuredly would not care to challenge my leniency toward a ‘former’ employee of Queen Locque. My people may dislike you, Nia, but they do not despise you. They have little reason to, aside from associations which you will, ostensibly, not have anymore. As for a plan—well, mine may differ from my mother’s a tad, but I expect not as much. We are both similarly aligned in respect to how we would handle your case.”
“For one,” he set the half-drained teacup on its saucer, a soft clank accompanying his soft yet purposeful tone, “I believe you should remain hidden for a few days more. A week, at most. This not only allows the spate of explosive news to settle and fade in intensity, but it provides an anticipatory window into which Rowen might conceivably attempt a third tactic. If you are not present in the palace or in the village when she, hypothetically, initiates another offensive, then you will suffer little in the way of ire. And, granted you’ve no more incriminating information for the she-wolf to leak and skew in her favor, you should be protected from further denouncements to your character. In the meantime,” he tucked an errant piece of hair behind his bejeweled ear, “I shall proceed with Chara Rigas’ case, as her wrongdoings far outspan yours in comparison and will draw wildfire attention for the coming days. It will also act, in part, as a distraction. A misdirection, if you will. D’Marians will be so preoccupied in their hate towards Chara Rigas, that they will have little left for you when we inevitably draw you out of hiding and announce our intentions, with you in attendance, before the careworn crowd. Depending on how matters with Chara carry on, we shall readapt our strategies to better complement your situation.” He spread his white-gloved hands on the table, looking from Nia to his mother for their opinions, concerns, addendums, or questions. “Does this sound like a serviceable plan?”
“Indeed.” Nadira nodded her approval. “I’ve no qualms. We shall even tailor a speech for you, Nia, to exaggerate your helplessness and need for Canaveris support. I do also find it imperative that you offer community service. If you eventually want to make Stella D’Mare your home, show the people your willingness to commit to them, not through words, but actions. You are a Master Alchemist. Yes, your vocation is a secondary reason for people to treat you with suspicion and hostility, but if you employ those abilities only for good, and if they are performed in view of a Canaveris, to put the people at ease, then you will eventually garner a positive reputation, though it may take some time to cultivate. Then,” she flung her hand forward, as if flinging the idea on the table as an afterthought, “you are to make some friends. Powerful friends. Influential friends. I shall introduce you to a few such people. Noble families and the like. It seems you are well on your way, somewhat. At least, within the Canaveris ranks.” She leaned forward, inspecting the embroidered ribbon tied nearly in Nia’s brown locks. “That is undoubtedly Sylvie’s work. ...Gods,” she muttered, shaking her head, but not disbelievingly. “She would befriend a spider if it wriggled its way into her bedroom and weaved a web overhead. In that vein, she takes after her uncle. No wonder why she crafted you a gift. Birds of a feather. Well, on that note,” yawning, she rose from her chair and pushed aside the empty teacup, “if you will excuse me. We’ve brought you a few provisions to tide you over until your D’Marian village debut, and I must inform Lazarus to carry them over to your equivalent of a storage cellar. We shall speak again, Miss Ardane.” Before stepping out the door to outside, she gave Ari’s shoulder a meaningful squeeze that seemed to say, Don’t say I never do anything for you. Then, she departed, deliberately leaving the two alone, as they originally wanted.
“Be careful what you wish for. I’d almost forgotten about your weird, masochistic tendencies.” Elespeth rolled her eyes at Hadwin’s enthusiasm. “But so be it. Bronwyn and I will have a wonderful time kicking your ass--and don’t say I didn’t warn you. But I stand by what I said. Go and get some light exercise, walk around this Garden and back, and then come find me in an hour, and we’ll talk. I’ll also have to run it by your sister, since it should be her honour to kick your ass first, and not mine. Teselin, will you go with him?” She nodded to the young summoner. “Make sure he puts his money where his mouth is and doesn’t collapse.”
Teselin looked about ready to argue her concerns, unsure if Hadwin should be pushing himself quite so soon, but she had the sense to read the room before opening her mouth--and she understood. Elespeth believed him; she believed he’d be fine, and would have no qualms about training him later. What she wanted right now was a moment alone with Alster, who was clearly more out of sorts than being just a little bit chilled. With an understanding nod, the young summoner took the faoladh by the arm. “If you want to show her you’re ready, then let’s go and prove it. The Night Garden is bigger than you think; you can work up a sweat.”
With Haraldur having taken his leave at some point, and now Hadwin and Teselin gone, Alster and Elespeth were the only ones remaining in the sanctuary, with the privacy that she’d have preferred to have with her husband from the very beginning. She certainly took no pleasure in being publically angry over his antics, and this was a conversation she’d been wanting to have this very conversation for some time--ever since he had returned from the etherrealms as something other than himself. “Alster… if your worth lies only in what you can do for people, if that is really what you believe… then where does that leave me? What does that make someone who has only ever been good at being a knight, and now… no longer even has that going for them?” Her green eyes softened, no longer glimmering with that spark of irritability that had glimmered in her irises when she’d entered the sanctuary. “What does that mean for me, when I make your life, Haraldur’s life… and all of the D’Marians following you. I made your lives so unnecessarily difficult because I was stubborn, and followed through on an awful decision. And even when I repented… I was useless to everyone for months. Over half a year. Alster, if we are only worth what we can do for others… then, tell me. How am I still worth anything?”
The point wasn’t to make this about her, and she didn’t want to give Alster that impression, so the former knight pulled her husband against her shoulder and wrapped her arms around his shivering body. “You don’t have to answer that. Because I know, not in millions and millions of years, would you ever tell me that I am only worth as much as my sword. So neither are you only worth as much as you can do with your magic. Yes, we need you to stand strong with us; I won’t deny that as one of the most powerful mages in this kingdom, your help is an asset to all of us. But your magic isn’t what touches people. It isn’t why Isidor befriended you--a man who doesn’t befriend anyone. It isn’t why you convinced Nia Ardane to trust you, even when she didn’t have much of a reason to when you refused to surrender to Locque.” Pulling back enough to look him in the eye, Elespeth gently cupped his face with her hands. “I didn’t fall in love with you for your magic. I didn’t fall in love with you for your… ‘saviour complex’. I fell in love with you because you were a genuine soul among so many that were not. I loved your vision, your reason to want to fight, as much as your reason to want to maintain peace. I fell in love with you for you! And if you lost all of your magic tomorrow, that wouldn’t change. Nothing would change for the people who matter the most. But, when… when and how can I make you believe that?” Her voice dipped into a whisper, and she dropped one of her hands helplessly to her side. “Tell me what I’m doing wrong. Because I should be the one to convince you that your worth is not contingent on your unique skillset. And if… if I can’t convince you…”
The door to the sanctuary suddenly burst open, startling Elespeth so much from her train of thought that she released Alster and shot back. Teselin and Hadwin had returned already, and while it had hardly been a quarter of an hour, the two of them were out of breath. When the former knight had recommended light exercise, she wasn’t sure how they’d interpreted that… “There’s… there’s word from the palace.” The young summoner panted, leaning her hands on her knees to catch her breath. “We were almost halfway there, but we had to turn back… it’s Locque. She… guards and Gardeners alike just witnessed her make an unprecedented announcement.” Straightening her posture, she wiped perspiration from her forehead with her sleeve. “She’s declared… she is severing her involvement with Nia, and… and with Rowen. For their actions. Allegedly, only for the time-being, and we didn’t hear the announcement first hand, but this… this could mean something.”
The question was, was that ‘something’ good or bad… and what was behind the sorceress’s abrupt decision?
Back when he had been discussing the Canaveris Matriarch’s imminent arrival, Nia’s first opinion of Ari, in terms of the way he described his mother and their relationship, had been that of expecting to see him frequently back down from Nadira’s power. Growing up sheltered as he had given her pause to wonder if he had ever been something of a ‘mama’s boy’, loved and doted on and loyal to boot. But the more she witnessed interactions between the two of them now, with the both of them flexing what power they thought they had over one another, it was almost amusing--no, it was very amusing to see the very opposite taking place. For every jab that left Nadira’s lips, a counterpoint passed Ari’s. And… it warmed her. Because it was just another glimpse of Ari’s genuine nature, and how that nature persisted, even in light of his mother’s fire, was reassuring. He understood her odd, yet decidedly endearing attachment to the little abandoned caravan; his artist’s eye could discern the beauty in its simplicity, from the subtle carving around the cupboards, the table, the chairs. The ornate star and moon panels on either side of the iff-white curtains that separated the little bed from the rest of the caravan, awarding the sleeper a modicum of privacy. The tiny wood-stove, just about big enough for a pot and a kettle, that actually did quite a good job of heating the small space, and certainly served its purpose in warming food and drink for a single person. To Nia, this home, that had once meant just as much to someone else, felt as though it were racing out again to another person in need to give it purpose. Like a mother who had lost her child, extending her arms to other children in need of comfort and security. Nia felt that; and Ari saw it, even if Nadira didn’t.
“I appreciate the offer… but, I think it might be best to keep this old beauty exactly where it is.” Nia acknowledged Nadira’s offer to move the caravan closer to the D’Marian settlement. While it would certainly be far more convenient to displace her current dwelling so that she was closer to Ari, something about up and moving this tiny home felt… well, disrespectful. Somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to move it from its resting place, on behalf of whomever had set it up within the thicket of these woods, in hope of taking it to see the rest of the world. “It’s barely an hour’s ride to the D’Marian settlement by ordinary horse; and just minutes by Night Steed, after dark. And, like Ari said, this place deserves respect. Respect for its final resting place.” She patted the side of the panel with the crescent moon carved into it. “I’m sure you can appreciate the sentiment, Lady Canaveris. Considering that you and Ari were so abruptly up and displaced from the place that you called home, and probably do not feel quite as at home in Galeyn as you did back in Stella D’Mare with its temperate climate, so too would it feel wrong to displace this little caravan. But… I digress. Apologies for veering so off topic; sometimes my strong feelings for inconsequential things get the best of me.”
Assuaged by Ari’s reassurance that, no, the D’Marians were not apt to kick her while she was down, Nia’s shoulders relaxed a bit, and she took another sip of her cooling tea. “Well, if you’re sure. I’ll trust your word, Ari. And believe me, I am more than happy to hide away for a little while longer. I think I’m rather long overdue for a bit of a vacation; truth be told, I’ve never had one of those!” She chuckled in spite of making note of her lifelong misfortune. If she couldn’t laugh at it, then she would just end up crying. “I’m sure if the little bitch of a she-wolf wants to dig up more dirt on me, she could. But it probably wouldn’t be as jarring as the news she unleashed yesterday. So she’s already played her hand… I just hope she doesn’t seize the opportunity to influence Locque in my absence. Otherwise, I’m happy to hide in the shadow of Chara Rigas’s grievous misdeeds.”
Nadira had the good sense to agree with Ari’s ideas, at least, and she even offered to write a speech on the Master Alchemist’s behalf. This was certainly an abrupt change of character for the Canaveris matriarch, considering that twenty-four hours ago, she had been about ready to sacrifice her to an angry mob. “I certainly trust your ability to appeal to a crowd much better than my own, Lady Canaveris. And... community service, huh?” Nia raised her eyebrows thoughtfully and set her now empty cup on the floor next to her feet. “I’d be more than happy to make myself useful to the D’Marian community. Just let me know what needs to be done, and I’m happy to lend a hand! I mean, if the Galeynians won’t accept me, then I might as well try to befriend fellow outsiders. Though I’ve already got something of a head start. Your granddaughter seems to like me, as you’ve already noticed.” She twirled the ribbon in her hair. “The darling girl made this for my birthday. And I happened to meet a few powerful and influential people, out and about. How well do you know the Farroways? Because I had an insightful heart to heart with their young teenage daughter. Hey, what can I say? I’m good with kids. Guess that goes without saying, considering I was heavily involved in bringing up my younger sister.”
Unfortunately, there was no real ‘storage cellar’ to boast in a mobile home on wheels: whomever had inhabited the caravan likely had planned only to take as much as they’d need for a couple of weeks, to keep their load relatively light so as not to overburden the horses or compromise speed during their travel, in case they needed to make a quick getaway from assailants. Nonetheless, Nia was both surprised and delighted that the Canaverises had brought provisions--although she had a feeling it had been all been thanks to Ari’s forward thinking, and something that Nadira couldn’t well contest. After all, it benefited the both of them--Ari in particular--that she remain healthy and secure in her time away. “Unfortunately, there isn’t much in the way of ‘storage’ here, let alone a cellar… but there are enough cupboards and a false bottom in this caravan. I’ll see what I can do to make room.” Nia thought out loud, and called after Nadira as she stepped outside, “Don’t overburden your big manservant! Just have him set it all outside and I’ll find a new home for it all later.” She wasn’t sure if the Canaveris matriarch heard her; she seemed rather eager to rid herself of the claustrophobic confines of the little caravan. Nia wasn’t complaining; it awarded her the opportunity to be alone with the person she had actually wanted to see.
“So, when all of this is over, and get rid of that pesky curse…” Nia slid into the seat that Nadira had previously occupied, and immediately took Ari’s hands in her own, relishing the proximity. Simply being near him was so… reassuring. Even if the entire world was against her, if he was on her side, then that was all that mattered. It was all she needed to have hope that this storm would pass. “We’re going to teach you how to ride a horse. A single horse, no carriage attached. So long as you’ve got a good posture and strong thighs, you’ll be fine.” The Master Alchemist grinned. “I have faith in you. But we won’t stop there. Seriously, make a list of things you’ve always wanted to do but never could, because you were afraid of being found out. I find having a good idea of what I want for the future makes it easier to get there. But, all that aside…”
Perhaps it had to do with the charge in the air, left behind by Nadira’s snide remarks and thinly veiled condescending attitude. Regardless, Nia couldn’t let the Canaveris lord leave without leaning across the table and stealing a kiss from his lips. “...you’re really putting your neck on the line, for me. Trying to advocate for someone like myself can’t be good for your political standing.” She sighed, pulling away reluctantly, but she had a feeling that his mother didn’t need to be present to know that the two of them had been anticipating a moment alone for this reason. While part of her had no problem flaunting her affections for Nadira’s handsome and generous son, she also didn’t want to push her luck. Not when she was on the cusp of sort of having the woman as an ally. Insofar as she wouldn’t kill her, anyway.
“I don’t think ‘thank you’ even scratches the surface, but… thank you. And thank you for coming to see me.” She tucked a hair behind her ear and arched an eyebrow. “You don’t need to hide it--I know this place isn’t exactly your idea of cozy or comfortable. To tell you the truth, I’m not even sure the both of us can fit on that bed without someone hitting their head on all the storage space above. But, if you ever want to try it out…” The Master Alchemist winked and cupped the side of his face. “You know where to find me.”
“Mmm; just like old times,” Hadwin clapped his tongue against the roof of his mouth, producing a loud clicking noise of...not approval, or even his requisite enthusiasm. Just...an observation, neutral and lacking in the spirit of his fun-loving nature, as though he already wore away his limit for the day. “If you ask me, I gotta return the favor for all the beatings she’s done me in for, over the years. Well,” he circled his arm in a wide, massaging loop, “best prove my worth so I can qualify for the real challenge. Let’s leave the two lovebirds to squabble, Tes.” But he needn’t spell out the situation for the summoner, who determined the Rigas couple’s need for privacy on her own. Together, they ventured out, Hadwin overcorrecting his stooped gait to appear more stable and spry, with Teselin close on his heels to ensure he remained stable, and not head over feet and on his bum.
As the sanctuary door closed behind them, Alster, no longer distracted by the distractible faoladh and his engorged tick of a presence, all bloated and full to bursting with blood, was forced to reconcile the topic he broached, then thought he could run from, or at least delay. Surely, though, if he’d wanted to run from it, he wouldn’t have given voice to the controversial belief of his uselessness, sans magic. It had been ingrained in him since he was old enough to understand the importance of his Rigas legacy, and the heft of its responsibility. He, Alster Rigas, was long considered Rigel’s spiritual successor, and for decades, carried the burden of ‘exceptionalism.’ You are the brightest star in the sky, born to outshine everyone, his mother always drilled into his head, ad nauseum. Do less, and you prove only that your existence was a mistake. Every day was a constant battle to prove he deserved to exist, until he eventually floundered, awakened the Serpent, and, driven into exile, spent the next chunk of his life proving why he shouldn’t exist. Only recently he discovered his worth, through Elespeth, through their many trials, and, now established, he never wanted to lose his foothold again; to be less than the brightest, less than his namesake, less than the magic bequeathed to him by way of pain and sacrifice and bargains with beasts. Even while he discovered purposes outside the sphere of his stifling magic, namely, a love so strong, it seemed to rearrange the stars above, he couldn’t shake the ever-anxious feeling that he wasn’t doing enough to pay for the costly debt he began to wrack since the day of his birth.
I can’t stop. He meant it. To stop was to concede defeat and surrender the destiny he continuously denied. He once believed it empowering to unshackle himself from the unrealistic expectations inherited from his lofty namesake star. Free of the crushing pressure from the heavens, he could live how he wanted. Not so—because he long lost his chance to value a life without expectation. Like a deep-sea fish wrenched to the surface and released from the tonnage of water required for survival, he fell apart the moment those waters eased, and lifted. He needed the larger-than-life purpose because settling into normalcy was...impossible, forever ruined for him the moment his mother said, Be more. Always be more.
And being more had almost led him to his undoing, multiple times, if not for the woman so desperately advocating for his right to just exist, as a man and not a miracle.
“If you make my life difficult, El, then I’ve returned the favor a thousand-fold,” he smiled, more of an excuse to clamp down on his clattering teeth and cease their involuntary ministrations than to express humor or joy. “I daresay I’ve caused you more grief than happiness in our short time together. And certainly I’ve made you perform far too many sacrifices on my behalf. Believe me, a half year of surviving your ‘unnecessary difficulty’ is a tiny price to pay, especially as it means you’re still alive and well. I know what you’re saying, though.” He rested his forehead against her shoulder, accepting her enrobing arms so imbued with the fever-heat of her dispelled anger, of her worry, and of her indefatigable care. “Of course I would say you are worth more than your sword, and that you’re far from useless, instrumental as you are, always, in cleaning up my messes and constantly rebuilding me whole. I’m saying it now. But magic, of my caliber, at least, is...me. In no scenario can I separate the man from the magic. I would almost equate the situation to Teselin. She is made of magic. Strip her of it, and she ceases to be. Such is the color of my fabric. Perhaps I would not literally die if severed from my birthright, but I would be undone. Being in Isidor’s anti-magic chambers for a short while was enough to unravel that fabric, thread by thread. If I lost my magic tomorrow, maybe it wouldn’t change how you or the people who matter see me, but...it would change how I see me. And I’m sure...you can relate to that feeling. You've been relating to that feeling. Something is missing...and I can't help you find it. I want to so terribly, but I've done a horrid job so far, haven't I?” Cocooned in layers of blankets, removing his ability to wield his arms, he slithered into Elespeth’s devastating stare, and the guilt injected a new steam of ice water into his veins, and it nearly impelled him to light the blanket on fire—if only it wouldn’t harm Elespeth, or burn the sanctuary down in the process. Now it was his turn to furrow his concerns for the woman who never ceased hurting on account of loving him, and who wouldn’t be feeling so insecure, he was sure, if not for him.
“Do you really think the same, El? That you’ll never have worth without your duties as a knight, and to your sword? Well,” he sighed, and it came out as a shiver of a chuckle, “we’re a mess, the both of us. Because I can’t seem to convince you of your worth, either. Don’t you see? We’re…”
He nearly did burn a hole through the blankets in reaction to the door opening with hurricane force. Startled, he turned to face Hadwin and Teselin, and between the two of them, one who possessed a stormy personality and one who literally was a storm waiting to happen, he couldn’t tell which was the culprit behind the unceremonious arrival. Nonetheless, he blamed the heart palpitations on the louder and more obnoxious of the pair.
“Couldn’t you have opened the door a little more—“ but he paused when Teselin delivered the noteworthy news, whereas Hadwin, too winded to speak, spluttered for his life, but nodded along to confirm her message as true. “Yes, that is something,” he echoed Teselin’s sentiment, straightening in his cot as he did, regrettably leaving behind Elespeth’s nexus of warmth. “There are several ways to interpret the reasons behind Locque’s surprise statement, but I don’t want to jump to conclusions until we learn all the details. But if this decision of hers turns out to be true—“
“—It’s not good.” Hadwin, recovering his breath, pressed against the wall with all the force of holding up a boulder to prevent it from rolling loose and mowing everyone over. “On one count, it’s not good. If Locque’s let Rowen go...fuck,” he ground down on his jaw, “just watch your backs.”
“I’d say the same to you, Hadwin.” Alster regarded the atrophied faoladh carefully. “Didn’t she want to kill you for a long time? If you anticipate that she’s going to lash out, you’d be a prime target.”
“Why the hell do you think I wanna get on my feet so bad?!” he snapped, eyes narrowing into two desperate, frenzied points. “Dammit,” he backed away from the trio of faces, concerned for his outburst, and yanked himself through the still-open doorway. “I’ll hunt for more information. I don’t care who comes with me.” Without another word, he wandered outside, his gait erratic, unevenly spaced, like a wounded animal dragging its bloodied limbs across the ground, leaving bright, slick trails in the underbrush, fresh for predators to follow. Troubling, rattled breaths spiked out of him, sharp and gasping, as though a broken rib pierced and punctured his lung. He was on the cusp of collapsing, but stubborn persistence kept him afloat...and he didn’t crash, because he wouldn’t crash. He couldn’t crash.
Following Nadira’s retreat, neither Ari nor Nia wasted any time bridging the distance to each other. Inside a cramped caravan, no matter where one stood or sat, it was an experience best described as intimate, but Nadira’s presence seemed to add extra yardage such that they felt distanced by the span of a river, rather than the deliberate barrier of one impermeable person. Quick to accept the Master Alchemist’s touch, Ari scooped up her hands and leaned over the table, wishing it would dissolve at his command so that no obstacle wedged between their path. Still, he resolved to make the narrow surface area work, and scooted his chair as close as it would reach her without bumping against a cabinet or knocking into the stove. “To be honest, I never much desired to ride a horse.” He turned over her hands, tracing the palm lines visible from the lip of her fingerless gloves. “Call me spoiled, but I was seldom without access to at least one carriage in my lifetime, and so I never found it pertinent to learn. Alas, in future, if we are to plan any other clandestine rendezvous, I suppose it will be necessary to disguise my notoriety in plainclothes and a singular steed, minus the conveyance. Though, the sneaking around bit does make acquiring this equestrian skill a good deal more exciting. ...Romantic, by your admission, and I am inclined to agree.”
He walked his fingers from her palm down to her wrist, a light tickle whispering against her skin like a soft breeze. “There is one activity I have always wanted to revisit. As a child, prior to the events of my curse, I was able to swim, but since I nearly drowned in a rip current when my feet succumbed to stone in panic and dragged me beneath the surface, I have been too afraid to return to the breakwaters. Surely, decades of dormancy has rendered my elementary abilities a thing of the past, but it is a source of pride for a D’Marian to demonstrate their seaworthiness by conquering the shorelines through the propelling of arms and limbs alone, and not by the cut of one’s jib—which requires a vessel, if we are interpreting this adage literally—and is not as impressive a feat by itself. Foremost, reclaiming my cultural traditions and values. Ah, but I digress.”
Apparently, Nia thought the same, as she also dispensed of the chit-chat and stamped his lips with a kiss, which he eagerly accepted and returned. “Oh, do not be shy,” he muttered breathily, a hint of mischief glinting like glass in his dark eyes. “My mother is probably watching from the window. We might as well make a spectacle of it.” And to prove he was not all lip service (or the inverse, in this case), he cradled the back of her head and presented a long, lingering kiss, gentle as it was also bold, considering their possible audience outside. Pulling away, he let his fingers linger, tracing her jawline, committing its shape, its curves, to memory. More often than not, he trusted those fingers better than his eyes to determine the correct contours and proportions of a statue in the making.
“It is, admittedly, a political risk—as is everything involving politics, really,” he said, touching her plush, kiss-swollen lips. “D’Marians, above all, want their lives to hold more merit to their leaders than the preoccupations of outsiders. Alster Rigas could not grant the D’Marians his full attention; ergo, the people grew restless, and it created a gulf of mistrust, which I seized with opportunistic flair—to crush him. If D’Marians notice I am doing the same as my predecessor, they may begin to feel a sense of betrayal toward me, as well. This is why you must be considered an afterthought following Chara Rigas’s trial. We announce you to the people, offer our solutions, and the fanfare is minimal, because it should be minimal in importance so as not to undermine or insult their importance. I am not choosing you over them or vice versa; it is but a gentle assimilation into our community and I shall constantly remind the people as such.” He was about to seal that promise with another kiss, but a knock against the door, disguised as an accidental bump, stymied his advance. Instead, he went for a quick peck, then rose to his feet.
“Would that I could stay longer, but I am not immune to the obvious sounds of restlessness outside. Unfortunately, we have reached our limit, tonight.” He took one final glance about the cabin on wheels, as though to calculate the logistics of physical activity and where, if possible, they could happen. “Your assessment is not wrong. Aesthetically, I am enchanted by this little caravan. Beyond aesthetics, however, habitating here in the long term is another story. Be that as it may,” his mischievous smile returned, “I am up for the challenge you pose. Good night, Nia.” He lifted the door-latch and stepped into the balmy, open night air. “I shall return, most assuredly.”
Rowen heard the announcement, straight from Locque’s lips.
She heard the announcement, but didn’t believe it. These were not the sorceress’s words. These were Nia’s words, implanted in her. The cursed Master Alchemist drafted the speech and influenced Locque to recite it. And she did. She did, and used her platform to openly condemn Nia...and also Rowen. Without consulting her first. Hell, without even giving her the courtesy of a rejection straight to her face. She understood the summoner’s general ignorance towards social graces and human interaction, but if Nia had coached her through the steps, one would think they would have a shred of decency to inform her of a strategy, if any. Then again...no. Not necessarily. After all, Rowen had taken Nia’s name, what little of it wasn’t streaked in rubbish, and tramped it into the mud. Considering what she did to ruin the Alchemist’s less-than-stellar reputation, wasn’t she expecting retaliation, even anticipating it?
But for Locque to follow through so easily on the speech without allowing Rowen to decide to step down herself, like Nia had, doing so in the illusion of cooperation while secretly still working behind the scenes...well, it hurt. It hurt a lot. And she didn’t like it; didn’t like the underhandedness. The betrayal. They were always betraying her since the start. Everyone. Hadwin was the first offender, a repeat offender. He took her hope, her fears, and squeezed her with them until she popped. Then, it was Bronwyn, the sister who pretended to care, but cared only for the preservation of Clan Kavanagh. Her father, who lied about loving her in a bid to manipulate—and it worked! The messed-up things she did for him, she never would forget. She didn’t give a shit about her mother; the bitch could burn in hell and damnation. Locque and Nia never believed her, brushed her aside as though she were an insignificant fly. Teselin promised support, promised the Night Garden would provide, but erred in her optimistic judgement. Young, misguided Breane had also aligned too much of her faith to a Garden that healed as much as it punished. She didn’t fit the qualifications of a person worthy of the Night Garden’s experimental inside-out healing process, and so it withdrew its panacea because her darkness was too profound to pierce. It was much easier to punish and curse; ergo, The Night Garden cursed. It twisted those once life-giving vines around her heart and raked its poisonous thorns, penetrating and blackening and decaying—a macabre ritual to prepare her body for decomposition because the only good still left in her was in becoming fertilizer.
Betrayals everywhere. Nothing was sacred or safe. No one was loving or kind. And beauty? It existed only in the exsanguination of evil manifest in humanity as it bled out and died. ‘Beauty’ was mercy, and nothing more. You’re released from this cruel, broken, devilish world. Rejoice, for you are free.
That evening, she slipped into Locque’s chambers, a last-ditch effort for answers. For...something. The summoner, as always, didn’t sleep. She stood, a silent sentinel like the namesake tree in the center of the Night Garden, and watched over her domain outside a pitch-black window pane.
“Why?” She dispensed of greetings, of any vocalizations signaling her arrival. They were redundant, anyway, and entirely pointless. “Why didn’t you tell me before you made the announcement? And what does this mean, going forward, Locque? Are you actually letting me go? Do you want me gone? Gone from this palace, gone from Galeyn? Did...did Nia put you up to this? Tell me they weren’t your words, your sentiments.” A somewhat desperate twang startled from her throat, producing dissonant, strident chords. She looked down, shamed by the unattractive burst of emotion. “What...are your intentions? And were you ever planning on approaching me with this news, or were you going to leave me to figure it out on my own, secondhand? Well...I did. So what now?” That was the question, wasn’t it? She thought, a vast, expansive pit opening up in her stomach, ready to swallow her into the abyss. What now?
Time was something that Locque, unlike other mortals, was not short on. She’d had time, so much time to carefully plan her ascension to the Galeynian throne. She’d had time to forge alliances with Nia and Rowen, who had each gone on to serve her in their own unique ways. But something that the summoner queen could not deny was that she had also had ample time to address the people she sought to rule over… It had been months, several months, and yet every message she’d sought to deliver had been delivered through Nia’s lips. The Master Alchemist was a talker, and she was not only good at talking, but good at talking a situation down; and even if it didn’t always work, for the public’s generally unfavourable opinion of the woman (which was less a fault of hers and more of her employer’s), they could not deny the message and her words to ring true. But not once had she seen fit to step outside and speak for herself. To speak to the people whose trust she wished to garner, and that she would patiently continue to wait for, even if it took another century. There was no longer denying that Nia was right: it was time for the words to come from her lips, not an envoy’s. After all, the Ardane woman was a normal mortal with an average lifespan, and barring the fact that she could not be an eternal fixture in the summoner’s life for that reason alone, there was also the issue of when she would choose to leave. Because Nia had said so herself: this wasn’t her home. Home, to her, was with the people who mattered and cared about her… and there was only one person in the entirety of this kingdom that cared about her enough to be her home. And, unfortunately, that person would one day leave with his people--and Nia intended to follow.
Since her last conversation with the Master Alchemist, before she had seen fit to flee, not for her own sake, but to spare the new queen’s image, Locque had gone over and over the speech that she’d helped her write. All of the words that she had meant to convey to backpedal on what she had allowed Rowen to do; all of the words to attempt to absolve Lilica Tenebris and Chara Rigas from the crimes and subsequent hate that had come their way, as a result of a hasty, frustrated decision. None of this was either Rowen nor Nia’s fault, however, and the summoner queen knew that she had no one to blame but herself. If she had not stepped back and allowed others to pave the way for her… If only he had been genuine from the very beginning, to the people whom she hoped would one day accept her, this whole debacle never would have come to fruition. And now, as a result, not only did her image suffer, but so did Rowen’s and Nia’s… which unfortunately meant that before it could get better, it would have to get worse, for all of them. There was no more avoiding consequences… for all of them. But she was determined to make it right.
No grand announcement was made when the summoner queen came to the decision to address the kingdom herself. No crowd had gathered--but one would, for sightings of the new queen that they so feared were often few and far between that they had no choice but to take her appearance as noteworthy. She had considered approaching Lilica and Chara beforehand, to reassure them that she would get this situation under control, but figured that her attempt would speak for itself, and news would spread to them in good time, anyway. So the next day, following Nia’s necessary departure, Locque heeded her words and prepared to make the announcement. The written speech was still in her hand as she made her way outside to an upper balcony, one that oversaw the majority of the central kingdom, and where her presence could not be missed. Sure enough, anyone within eyeshot stopped what they were doing immediately, and stared. The emotions in the eyes she saw varied: fear, curiosity, anxiety, anger. Not one single positive feeling flitted through the gradually gathering crowd… but she did not expect any different. Something that she could only compare to nervousness settled in the pit of her stomach. Nervousness… imagine! After everything she had done, how bold she had been, and it was speaking publicly before her people that stirred her gut!? Nia had been right: relying on others’ voices had not served her in the eyes of her people. There were a lot of wrongs to make right, too many to consider at once, and too many to address in a single day. But she was determined to start with the most obvious.
She didn’t know where to begin; so she just started with the first words that came to mind. “I would like to say that a lot has occurred in the past few days. For some… perhaps that is an understatement.” The sound of her own voice, loud and reaching, was strange to her ears. “But I hope you will give me the opportunity to address what has occurred and clarify some details. Concerning Queen Lilica and her advisor, Chara Rigas…” Locque held the parchment in front of her, her eyes scanning the words--Nia’s words--in preparation to deliver the speech that the Master Alchemist had much so much time and thought into. It was so well written, a message delivered in a way that she never would have thought… but, they were not her words. They were Nia’s. And the people… they would know. They would know the difference, and they would hear the insincerity, because the message was not coming from their queen, but rather, her own advisor.
Locque lowered the parchment and dropped the papers at her feet. The kingdom grew silent; they were waiting for her words. Her words; not Nia’s. “...it was my intention to address what was said about Queen Lilica and Chara Rigas. And I intend to, to the best of my ability. Know that I sanctioned Rowen Kavanagh’s actions. I bought into her explanation that I might gather your favour if you were aware of the darkness on the other side of this rulership. For we all have our darkness… but, I regret that decision. It was hastily made, and while I cannot take back what you have learned of those women, nor can I refute that what you learned is true, I would like you to reconsider your stance regarding your opinions of them. There is a darkness to all of us, and Lilica and Chara have moved on from that darkness. It does not erase it, just like I cannot erase the methods I used to stand here, today. But I would like for this kingdom to go forward in there here and now… because the past cannot be changed. We can, however, change the future.”
This wasn’t so hard. The more she spoke her sincerity, the easier the words came. At the very least, she had everyone’s attention. “I must apologize that it has taken so long for you to hear these words from my lips. I have made a habit of speaking through other people… and in light of recent events, this is what I would like to address today.” The summoner queen placed her hands on the stone railing of the balcony and took a step forward. “In light of the unsolicited actions that Rowen Kavanagh has recently taken, paired with the truth behind what she said about Anetania Ardane… I want you to know, I have decided to distance myself from these individuals and their influence over my rule. I understand your sentiments towards their actions and misdeeds. Some were sanctioned by me, and for that, I take full responsibility. Some, however, were not. And I believe… that it is high time to establish transparency between myself in this kingdom. That said…” Her gaze swept over the crowd, which hadn’t so much as drawn a breath since she had begun speaking. “Any further news that I wish to convey, I will personally deliver. I acknowledge that I have been more of a ghost than a ruler, and for that, I understand what I have yet to be accepted by Galeyn, my home. You have all been patient with me thus far; for that, I thank you. And I hope…” She withdrew her hands from the railing and dropped them to her sides. “I hope that you can continue to be patient, while I work on becoming the ruler that you want to see. Any further concerns you might have about me and my intentions, you may request an audience with me personally.”
There were situations in which speaking too much was worse than saying too little. She had come to say what she’d meant, barring her choice not to read Nia’s speech verbatim, and felt that there was nothing left to say at this point in time. Without a parting word, the stoic queen removed herself from the public’s view… and returned to her chambers. Not the council room, where she was typically found, but a bedroom. A comfortable place where she could sort out her thoughts in peace.
Was this the right course of action? What have I missed? Did my words earn me anything? So many questions that would remain unanswered. She wondered if she had spoken out too late; she wondered if she could rule without Nia’s guidance in navigating the public’s opinion. Perhaps she had waited too long, and there wouldn’t be much left to salvage. The summoner queen sat alone with her thoughts for the remainder of the day, stumped on how to move forward. How did one move forward, when the entire reason a population chose not to oppose you was because they were afraid of you? Somehow, the thought of being hated and feared had not bothered her before; back when she had infiltrated Elespeth Rigas’s mind to force her to commit murder, none of this had mattered. But Galeyn, and the Night Garden… it had a way of changing people. It had almost changed Rowen. Could the same happen for her? And if she released her hostage and promised peace… would that be enough for her home to really, fully, take her back?
Locque hadn’t been expecting company--but perhaps she should have. She should have anticipated that Rowen would be opposed to this news. That she would feel hurt and confused and characteristically angry. The new queen should have been prepared to explain herself to the young wolf who, despite her own personal agendas, had remained quite loyal to her. “I hadn’t intended to make this announcement. Not the way that I did. It was a last minute decision in front of a growing crowd.” It wasn’t a lie; the summoner was not much of a liar. But not even a lie would placate the irate faoladh right now. “To be honest, I don’t have any intention of letting you or Anetania go at all. Not permanently. But the Master Alchemist… she made a good point. That your actions against Nia, and Nia’s interference with the necromancer’s brother would reflect on me. And she said that it would be in my best interest to distance herself from me for the time being; so I did. Because I never should have agreed to have you trample on Lilica Tenebris and Chara Rigas. It seemed like a good idea, at the time… but many good ideas turn out to be bad one when you are angry.”
She stood from where she’d been perched upon her windowsill, gazing out at the home that was so reluctant to take her back. “For what you said about Lilica and Chara… I took full responsibility for it. I sanctioned it. But what was there to gain from vilifying Anetania? This… I am not sure how to fix this. It will have to work itself out. So for the time being, I think the best approach is one I should have adopted from the start: to be fully transparent with the public. Not speaking through others, or having them carry my will into action. Rowen.” She fixed her gaze on the she-wolf. “I had intended to inform you, yes. When, I can’t say, but know that my words were not premeditated. For once… I had to speak what I felt the situation warranted. You are welcome here, as much as Anetania is. Although, like her, I do think that it would do you good to lay low. There is no need for you to leave Galeyn; that is not what I meant to imply. My plan,” she spoke slowly, as if she were sorting out the details in her mind that very moment. “Is to let time take its course. To plant new soil on top of what has been contaminated, and then, the three of us, regroup. This separation is not forever: it is only long enough to prevent more lasting damage.”
“Then if I am worth more than my sword… why would no other man be worth more than his tools of trade or craft? You are a Rigas; but you are still a man. So why do you feel so exempt from this rule?” To a degree, Elespeth had an understanding of her husband’s frame of mind. She knew of his past. Knew how he was pushed to exist as something spectacular, because merely existing was not enough. That was a lot of baggage to unpack, and she wasn’t sure he would effort sort it out, with or without help. But if she could not get him to understand that he was so much more than he could give… then who could? “It’s not the same as Teselin. Teselin is… she is something entirely different. Look at what happened to Chara. She lost her magic… but she did not lose herself. Not entirely, because she had Lilica. Rigas or not, no one consents to being born; and for that, don’t we all deserve to be born worthy, Alster?”
Perhaps it was easier said than done. The former knight couldn’t deny his claims: that something had been missing from her heart since… well, for a long time, now. Since Atvany forsook her. Since her brother’s death--a death that was supposed to be her own. Since she had betrayed herself, allowing her body and her morality to waste away on that Mollengardian drug. Yes… she had lost her sense of worth, once, because she had lost herself. And now, she found herself neither in the position to be called a knight, but without enough prowess to be a mage. She was a strange in-between, an uncomfortable place that wasn’t devastating, but was difficult to ignore, like a scratchy collar or an earache. On a good day… she was able to ignore it. But it was still there. “I’m not in a position where I feel like I really deserve to wield my sword just yet. Just like I don’t feel like I deserve to wield magic. But, Alster, my identity has long since been displaced since my home and family wanted me dead. I thought I had an identity… but it did not turn out the way I’d expected. For various reasons--none of which have anything to do with what you have or have not done.” Gently shaking her head, she pulled him closer into her embrace. “I’m just finding my place, and it might take a while. Perhaps I am bound neither for the sword or for magic. Time will tell, and until then, things will just have to be… a little uncomfortable. But I don’t deny my worth, Alster. I know it is there, even if I sometimes cannot find it. Some days it is more easily detected than others. The same goes for you.” She pulled away just enough to meet his eyes with conviction.
“Just because you cannot find your worth does not mean it isn’t there. It may be more evident to other people, as often these things are. And this is why we are often poor judges of our own worth. Do you understand what I am saying?”
Even if he did… now was clearly not the time. Not only had Locque just pulled the rug out from under everyone and denounced both Nia and Rowen, but Hadwin was not taking it well--and for good reason. “Calm the hell down, Hadwin. Let’s just think about this rationally--” Elespeth attempted to plead with the faoladh, to speak reason to him, but he had taken the news none too well, and was already jumping to conclusions. Before anyone else could get a word in, Hadwin had made up his mind and dragged his atrophied limbs back out the door.
At least they could count on him not getting anywhere too fast. Elespeth released Alster and rose from the bed with a frustrated sigh. “He is going to wish he didn’t want me to kick his ass,” she murmured, and followed after Hadwin out the door. He hadn’t stumbled too far before she caught his arm and hoisted it around her neck before he could topple.
“How about we don’t make any half-assed decisions with your psychotic little sister all riled up and on the loose?” It wasn’t so much a suggestion as a decision she made on his behalf, as she escorted him back to the sanctuary. “You owe it to a certain young summoner not to go and get yourself killed--so stay in the sanctuary so you can get better. Any training we end up doing, you can bet will be accompanied by the Forbanne or the Dawn Guard. We’ll figure this out, Hadwin, but you cannot go off and start making reckless decisions. We barely know what happened yet… but if it’ll make you rest easy, then I’ll go and find out.”
A tiny seed of rationale still made its home in the soil of Rowen’s mind, but it was submerged deep, so far past the topsoil that new growth couldn’t possibly sprout to the surface and receive the sunlight. Such was her headspace at the time of Locque’s reasonable defense of her actions. Somewhere, Rowen understood the tactic; a call to caution to appease a restless crowd. Somewhere, she believed her position of exile from the summoner’s court a transitory state, liable to expire once the unrest across Galeynians and D’Marians settled. Somewhere, she realized her strategic antagonism would face consequences, and those consequences would require her to recede into the shadows until at which point Locque requested her presence again. Somewhere, yes. But not here. Not where she stood, feet gripping the floor, sturdy and evenly-spaced, but unrooted. If she was unrooted to start, the Night Garden could not uproot her, never to wrap its slithering vines around her ankles and pluck the offensive weed from the dirt.
“Did you ever really need me, Locque?” It was a question that didn’t directly correlate to anything the summoner-queen had conveyed, but Rowen wasn’t listening for the hollow, rehearsed words; she was listening for the subtext, and the subtext clued her in to the truth. “Maybe in the beginning, you thought I was useful. Before, when we fought for your throne with tooth and claw. Back then, we never had to apologize for who we were. Not like now, where we kowtow to people who won’t ever give a damn about us. They’ll never submit their hearts and offer a real welcome because we conquered this place through force, and there’s no pretending that we’re better people all of a sudden. There’s no such thing as better, anyway,” she muttered, in dejection more than in statement. “Humanity, at their best, is still at their worst. Initially, it’s what drew me to you.” She glanced at the woman and her forgettable features. “You, Locque, who was above it all, above the value judgements of good and evil, didn’t care. Are you telling me that you’re trading practicality for their approval, which will never happen as long as you’re alive?”
“I’ve seen what they think about you—your dear Galeynians.” A jerk of a headshake flopped some shaggy hair into her eyes.“There is little but unwavering hate in their hearts, and the desire to watch you fall. Why, then, do you focus so much time on placating their fears when doing so compromises your position of strength? If they sense even the slightest hint of weakness, do you think things will turn in your favor, and not, in fact, spin in the exact opposite direction? Don’t you see, Locque?” Despite knowing that her plea would fall on deaf ears, she tried, nonetheless, to be understood in hopes that her methods still held their desirability. That she still had any iota of desirability left under Locque’s scrutiny. “It’s too early to appeal to these people. Their spirits haven’t been properly broken yet. Too much stubborn willfulness lingers. Only when they’re at their lowest can you consider it safe to lower your guard and start showing mercy and empathy. Only when dangerous attitudes and ideas of revolution are snuffed can you then offer clemency. Instead, you choose to blindly follow Nia’s plan as though she has any authority on leading a kingdom or leading in general. She’s been on the damn run for over a decade; the fuck does she know about diplomacy?” Her voice threatened to spike; she doused it with the nip of her teeth against her tongue. “At least I admit my limitations, but she plows forward, so ignorant of her own ignorance that she has absolutely no self-awareness about her flagrant lack of intelligence. Who is she to believe she’s the end all be all of morality and just rule? She’s been winging it this whole time! That’s why I put her in her place, because she knows shit, and the longer you listen to her, the more likely your hold on these people will slip out of your fingers.”
“So I ask again; did you ever really need me? I’ve offered my advice; it’s never heeded. My warnings about the necromancer? Ignored. The one time you do sanction my idea, you publicly announce it as a regrettable action, a lapse in judgement...a failure.” She spat out the word, one she tried banning from her lexicon, but to no avail. Ro, you gotta learn how to lose gracefully, Hadwin’s long-ago brotherly advice floated into her head, along with its associated memory. In her frustration, she had thrown her dead hand of playing cards into the fire, burning those mocking red and black glyphs into charred remains. She remembered complaining that he always let her win, so he relented, played a serious game, and devastated the competition. It left her mortified, ashamed, and...vengeful. It’s impossible to win them all, but it doesn’t mean you stop playing the game. Lose like a winner, and you’ll find that there’s something to be gained, after all.
She was losing this argument. Losing her credibility. Losing everything. Why fight? There was no changing or challenging the queen’s decree. Locque viewed her as a dud, her contribution potential spent. I lost. I lost, Hadwin, and you’re wrong. “I don’t think there’s much else we can gain from each other.” You lose, and you gain nothing. “You strive towards unattainable peace, and I...I strive for justice, no matter the cost. Let’s not ignore what I am to you. My main purpose, my function. I’m a killer. A schemer. Perhaps I deluded myself in the Night Garden, thinking otherwise, inviting these bloated fantasies in my head about something more, something beautiful,” her lips shivered against her teeth, “but I was mistaken. This is who I am, and it’s not what you value. Don’t mince words; you’re rejecting me. Because our visions differ and...when the time comes, there will be no reunion. No ‘welcome back.’ It’s well and truly over, isn’t it? Because I have nothing else to give you. Nothing you want; nothing you need. And...there’s nothing for me here.”
Deprived of any other words, she dipped her head and retreated from Locque’s chambers as quietly as she’d arrived; as a shadow incarnate. Whispers traveled down the hallway in her wake, always in accompaniment. Whispers of night, whispers of the miasma bleeding from humanity’s collective perversions, They, too, had a visual component, and oft manifested as inkwell stains on black, a darker, impossible shade always found in the overlapping of two night-blooming penumbras. Lately, those overlapping circles had expanded, allowing more inkwell stains to appear like permanent markers scarred across her eyes. She saw them at night; she saw them in the height of noon. No amount of rubbing would dislodge those dominating floaters. It was time to stop relying on other people to provide her solutions that rebounded, backfired, disappointed...betrayed. It was a grave error, to entrust in people at all. Never again. She might have lost her way, for a while…
But she hadn’t lost the game.
Hadwin couldn’t take it a minute longer. Like bedsores that had become too itchy, he squirmed for a release, to scratch and scratch and kick about and actually go somewhere on his two (or four) feet. Never one to keep still, the energetic faoladh, at last, met his match: a rare and effective method of torture. When conventional means, like the whip, or a good bludgeoning, turned him on more often than not, the fates had to get a little creative with their punishment. And oh, had they found the perfect combination of little disasters and consolidated them into one big ball of burrs. Noted for rolling with the punches and improvising through the toughest and most inhospitable of scrapes, Hadwin was rolling, all right, but in the wrong direction: downhill. If he were well, if he had muscle definition and motor ability, could bounce on his feet and go five minutes without pitching over for air, maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad, to hear about Locque’s announcement and the untold consequences it likely wreaked on his sister. But he wasn’t well, and neither was Teselin, and how would he accomplish the fatal promise for Rowen in his condition when he had to watch over his charge, and when no one allowed him to fucking move on his own?!
“How about you let me the fuck go, Elespeth?!” he snapped, resisting her arm and wrestling out of her grasp, but the struggle was futile. Even so, he wasn’t about to make things easy for her, and dug his feet into the ground in a challenge that read, You want me back, you’ll have to drag me. “You think I’m looking to get myself killed? Dammit, El; I just wanna walk! Do something on my own. You of all fucking people should understand!” He was breathless, panting. The world swayed, the crisp edges of the lush Night Garden growing blurry and fuzzy. Still, he refused to yield. “I never suggested I was going off alone. Come with me, but like hell are you going to do anything for me! Staying put won’t do shit. I stayed put a week so far and fat lot of good it did me. So—no.” He growled the words and locked eyes with her, a predatory glare of an animal backed into a corner, ready to fight. “I’m here for Tes. That hasn’t changed. But part of being there for her requires that she doesn’t need to take care of this invalid asshole. I’m sick of having her worry about me; if I’ll get better, if I’ll improve! So I gotta do it for her, too, and fast.” It wasn’t a lie, but a half-truth. Of course he didn’t want to cause Teselin any upset, and maybe if his health improved exponentially, she’d have less weighing on her mind. But above all, he needed to recover his strength to take part in one of his most reckless and self-destructive plots to date, one that could get him killed, if all went sour.
“You’re either with me or against me. Better that you’re with me. We’ve come too far to have you end up on my shit list again. So...spot me, yeah? We’ll go together. Al will keep Tes company.” Despite the intensity in his expression, he exposed a sliver of an eyetooth. A smirk, though half-formed, broke through the grimace. “Make sure I don’t end up sick and unconscious in a ditch. You owe me.”
Haraldur concluded his discussion with Senyiah just as a Forbanne soldier approached him to report on Locque’s speech. Naturally, his first reaction was alarm. The summoner queen mainly kept to herself, deploying her two minions to act in her stead, heedless of the disastrous results. If Rowen by herself could inflict so much damage sans physically violent means, he shuddered to imagine what Locque could do when properly motivated. Pocketing the leaf that the Head Gardener instructed to brew into a tea, he headed for the palace while drilling his soldier for information.
“She renounced her court, both of them? And that’s all she said?” He frowned as the soldier recounted the speech and its emphasis on peace and mitigation, mature decisions that resembled a proper queen capable of benevolence and positive growth. Was it possible that proximity to the Night Garden had influenced this former Gardener for the better? Or was it more likely that she distanced herself from two controversial and divisive figures in order to save her own skin? It was easier to subscribe to the latter, easier to view Locque as a jailer who, despite their months of cooperation, still kept Sigrid chained to her will. She could string together as many pretty words as she liked, but it would change nothing if she did nothing but crow about her bare minimum efforts as a queen.
Haraldur spent the rest of the day, alongside his soldiers and Vega, addressing the crowd outside the gates, their collective confusion as apparent as the near-permanent lines of distress rimming their faces. In light of the ongoing spate of crises, the Galeynians, desperate for a trustworthy face or two, flocked to him and Vega for guidance. Surely, it was an odd sensation, having people treat him and the Forbanne not with contempt, but with respect. In any other situation, he’d set aside the time to appreciate how far he and his soldiers had come, and how he and Vega carved out a place of mutual belonging for themselves in spite of the challenges they faced to get there. But now, it was all about playing the part of authority. Prince and Princess. Two Commanders of their respective units.
At the day’s terminus, he trudged back to his family chambers, exhausted. Vega retired an hour earlier to relieve the nanny while Haraldur settled some last-minute affairs with his soldiers. Along the way, he caught a glimpse of young Breane retreating from the direction of the Night Garden, defeat apparent in her bespectacled eyes. Had she received the news of her temporary release so soon?
“Breane.” He rounded the corner and met her in the middle, wondering how best to approach this matter. Reveal his hand in it? Play dumb? Or just...listen and provide? He chose the latter. “Whatever’s just happened, I hope you can talk to me about it. Would you like to walk with me? And if you have nowhere to go, tonight, you’re welcome to stay in our apartments. There’s a spare bedroom no one uses. Perfect for privacy.” Whether she answered in the affirmative or the negative, Haraldur, steadfast in stature and immovable like a tree, would not be swayed. Though gentler in persuasion than his wife, he was cut from the same stubborn cloth and would not take ‘no’ for an answer. Wherever she chose to go, he was following, determined to abide by his promise to Senyiah—not because he promised, but because, since he’d first learned of her orphaned status and her aloneness in a world which forced her to grow up too quickly, he refused to turn away and abandon her. “Our place is yours now, Breane. Let’s go there together.”
