The gown was one thing: exquisite, elaborate, yet not in such a way that it would detract from what Nia was doing to Elespeth’s face. But when the Master Alchemist began to style her hair, and fix within it tiny gems, pearls, and crystalline flowers, the she-warrior began to give into the stirrings of her own suspicions.
“Maybe I should know better than to question Chara’s intentions…” She began as she stared at herself in the mirror at her vanity table. The last time she had struggled to recognize herself (aside from being painted head to toe in gold, or that dark period of her life when her body had been succumbing to substance abuse) was when Chara had prepped her for her Naming Ceremony when she’d become an honourary Rigas. She couldn’t help but detect that something about this careful treatment--the overly exquisite gown, make-up and elaborate hair--wreaked similarities to that event. “No… I need to question her intentions, Nia, what is going on? Why all this?”
“Hey, I just deliver. I know better than to ask Miss Rigas why she wants what she wants. Not exactly like I’m in a position to, you know?” Nia easily deflected and shrugged her shoulders. “You and Al are kind of important people, y’know, even if you aren’t the D’Marian leader anymore. Maybe she just wants to make sure that any and all noteworthy people are looking as upstanding as possible. Could be why she didn’t give a rat’s ass about how I look! Anyway.”
The Master Alchemist dropped her hands and stepped aside to admire her handiwork. Satisfied, she stepped away with a grin. “I think we’re all set here. That said… might be best for you to, ah, just sit and kick back for a few hours until the ball. If you mess up any of that make-up or get as much as a wrinkle in your gown, I wouldn’t want to be around for Chara’s ire.”
Much thought it irked her to be taking orders from the Master Alchemist whom she was still trying to convince herself was not so bad, if those orders were actually coming from Chara, then Nia wasn’t the one upon whom to take out her frustrations. So she took the Master Alchemist’s word, and paced the room for a good hour before her husband returned, much to her relief.
“Nia. Well… Chara, through Nia, I suppose.” She sighed heavily, and spread her arms in a helpless gesture. “I don’t know what’s going on. I thought this was just another ball, like the masquerade… well, perhaps a little less exciting, compared to that.” Her painted lips pulled into a smirk as she drew close to Alster, and made as though to kiss him, but caught herself before their lips could touch and sighed heavily. “If I smear any of this colour… I don’t want to experience Chara Rigas at her worst. Not anymore.”
Evidently, she wasn’t the only one for whom the haughty Rigas woman had plans. A knock on the door revealed the other Master Alchemist (the more tolerable one, Elespeth personally thought), with what appeared to be a suit draped over his arm. He muttered something about Chara, which was all the former knight had to hear to understand. “She didn’t so much assign me as… well, with Miss Chara Rigas, it is never a simple ask, if you know what I mean.” Isidor nervously shifted his feet, unable to meet her Elespeth nor Alster’s eyes. “I’m not entirely sure I had a choice in the matter. But, uh… I will leave you to it. You’re right though, Alster; I don’t believe either of us will be successfully avoiding this event tonight.”
With a sympathetic, parting smile, he left the Rigas couple to continue their preparations before the ball. As Alster commented on where he suspected the suit really came from, Elespeth stepped forward to inspect the outfit draped over his arm. “I mean… I can’t argue it suits the Canaveris style.” She ran a hand over the fabric and raised an eyebrow. “But I also imagine that Chara has had a lot on her plate, of late. And she has been making an effort to make amends with Ari. That said, it doesn’t strike me as particularly strange that she would recruit help from yet another person with a knack for planning parties…”
But she couldn’t blame her husband for his suspicions. After all, this wouldn’t be the first time that he had a surprise party sprung on him; but, if that were the case, wouldn’t she have been notified to be in on the conspiracy? I’m not Nia Ardane; it’s not as though I’m at risk of blabbing a secret to the world because I don’t know how to keep my mouth shut. “Honestly? Think about the masquerade. How everything unraveled so quickly and became completely out of control…” Elespeth rested her hands on Alster’s shoulders and heaved a soft sigh. “And you know who hates losing control? Chara. And Ari, at that. If you want my input, I’d say they are micromanaging this event down to the most minute detail to ensure that nothing goes wrong, and that the conclusion of the event goes off without a hitch. Everyone is still… a little bit uptight, since… you know.”
The former Atvanian dropped her hands and looked down, feeling guilty to implicate poor Teselin with regard to Chara and Ari’s suddenly suspicious behaviour, but it was the elephant in the room that couldn’t be denied. “Regardless… I have a feeling there will be consequences to face if we don’t show up wearing these. Go try it on, and we can speculate later.”
When Alster emerged from the bedroom moments later, wearing the suit Isidor had brought, Elespeth needed to pause to take him all in. Dressed in a style akin to Ari’s (only, somehow, more formal), he looked… transformed. Like a more ethereal version of himself. Like an Alster Rigas that she could only dream of having by her side. She did not see eye-to-eye with either Chara nor Ari on every issue, but damn… did they ever know how to make a person look their best. “You’re… Alster, believe me. You’ve nothing to worry about.” Her painted lips spread into a smile. “You look… you look absolutely perfect. Ari has good taste. Now go and tend to Teselin; and don’t overthink this, alright?” Her smile quavered a little. “You’re starting to make me nervous. I’m not prepared for this to be anything more than a dance to try and show the kingdom there’s no longer anything to worry about.”
Meanwhile, Teselin--who had just recently been visited by Nia--sat patiently upon her bed, awaiting further instructions from Hadwin, when her chamber door opened. The young summoner turned and jumped up from her bed in anticipation, careful not to upset her injured arm… but it wasn’t Hadwin who was calling on her. “Alster. I… um…” A hot flush crept to her cheeks. She couldn’t lie to him, she couldn’t… could she lie? “Nia… she… she um… she paid me a visit. And offered to… well, you know. This. Just… for fun. I guess. Because I’ve been doing nothing but sit around here, I guess… she must have thought I was worthy of pity. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so, I agreed…”
She ceased her ramblings when Alster stopped prying. Perhaps she, like Isidor, had an ineptitude for lying. The Rigas mage was not here to interrogate her; he simply wanted to treat her arm. He asked for her arm, and she lifted it with what little strength she could muster into his waiting palms. Alster was gentle; it never hurt much, and she was slowly regaining feeling and strength in her arm. He was confident that they would eventually restore it to being a fully functioning appendage, which instilled faith in her that she hadn’t made a mistake wearing that manacle. “I… um… I don’t want to cause any trouble for Queen Lilica. Or, for anyone. And no one has returned the manacle to me…” The young summoner looked down. It wasn’t a lie; and she wasn’t currently dressed to attend a formal event, even if her dolled-up face and carefully pinned hair said otherwise. “Could you… do me a favour, Alster? I told Hadwin to go, because I want him to have a good time. But in the event that Bronwyn and Sigrid are unable to keep a close eye on him… would you check in on him, from time to time? Just so I know he will be alright.”
Alster took his leave, and then Teselin returned to her bed, waiting patiently for the next steps that would take her exactly to where she had told Alster she would avoid: and just as he’d promised, Hadwin appeared, with a message from Nico--and a gift.
“Nia said--she said that this would be better than using alchemy!” The Kristeva daughter stammered, suddenly self-conscious that her full lashes, outlined eyes and painted lips were drawing more attention than she’d expected. “B-because Ari knew who I was even with different hair and eyes…”
Of course, he was only teasing her. And there were more important things to discuss. “Nia… she parted with her cloak?” Teselin took the black case in her good arm. “Are you sure I should be there for the wedding? It might be safer to just… well, to wait until afterward…” That certainly didn’t sit well with Hadwin; he wanted her to try his cake! There was no point in arguing if he, Nico and Nia had figured something out between the three of them. “...okay. I won’t take off the cloak, not even for a moment. I promise. If you think this will work…” She drew in a shaky breath. “I have faith in you. But… I’m not sure I have anything suitable to wear for an event such as this.”
But she should have known Hadwin had enough forward thinking to remedy that issue, as well.
“Alster… remember when I told you to stop thinking?” His pacing was stressing her out; his paranoia wasn’t helping. The more Alster went on about how suspicious this all seemed, the more Elespeth was beginning to believe that there might be some merit to these suspicions… and she just couldn’t handle that. “Sit down, breathe for a moment. You’re going to wrinkle that finery, and Chara will personally make you eat it for ruining whatever image she has planned.”
It didn’t matter what she said; he wasn’t stopping. He had burrowed so far into his own mind, and the implications of their attire, that he was convinced this was more than just another celebration… and the worst part was, she was starting to buy into it.
“...whatever is going on, we’re going to find out.” At the sound of the bell, Elespeth took Alster’s hand. “And remember, these are our friends, Alster.”
That was what carried Elespeth out of their room and to the ballroom. Her stride was longer, more confident than Alster’s, whose shorter legs were wont to dawdle in situations such as this, but as it turned out… her husband’s suspicions were not mere paranoid, afterall. Upon arriving at the palace ballroom, with the aisle strewn with flowers, along with waiting, familiar faces, and warmly expecting the arrival of a particular couple.
“Alster Rigas. Elespeth Rigas.” Lilica clasped her hands in front of her. “Your union and your marriage is already well known, and was officiated in Braighdath… but not by any means that either of you deserved. We, all of us here, hoped you would let us make this official under Galeyn. Properly official.” The Galeynian queen smiled warmly at the stricken couple, whom everyone had expected would be terribly taken off guard by this grand gesture. “Please… let Galeyn do this for you. In honour of what the Rigases, the D’Marians, have done for us.”
Lilica’s brief greeting was followed by the crescendo of applause. They were all in on this: not only their closest friends and allies, but the gathering of D’Marians and Galeynians that filled the room. This… all of this, at this moment, was for them. Two people who felt they had caused more harm than good, and who could hardly fathom that this was happening at all.
“Alster…” Elespeth took her husband’s hand and gave it a squeeze, and then a small tug. “...you never wanted to be married in the room of an inn. Let them… do this for us.”
The former knight led her husband down that aisle in the sea of applause, all the way up to Lilica, who smiled in what appeared to be thinly-veiled relief. She must have realized the magnitude of the shock this event would emanate, and perhaps Elespeth was speculating, but she had a feeling Queen Lilica was not the mastermind behind this. When the Rigas couple reached the Queen herself, Lilica offered both of her hands, palms up, to take one of their own. “I am still learning a good deal about Galeyn’s customs. It was brought to my understanding that weddings and unions in Galeyn, along with many other ceremonies, are blessed by the Night Garden. Despite that you have already been married for some time, now… We all wanted you to have the opportunity to make it official through Galeyn’s customs.” Into Alster’s palm, Lilica placed a seed half the size of a fingernail, and then covered the ungerminated life with Elespeth’s hand. “Should you agree to proceed with this union,” the Queen spoke with a voice that carried throughout the ballroom, “then this life from the Night Garden is for you to plant as a symbol of a life that you will build together. It will grow and bloom as you grow and bloom together. Elespeth Rigas,” Lilica turned to the former knight and sandwiched the couple’s joint hands between her own. “Do you accept responsibility for this tiny seed’s wellbeing? And as such, do you accept Alster Rigas as your other half, and the role that you will play in his life?”
The answer was obvious, and needn’t be said; Elespeth herself could scarcely find those two simple words. Everyone already knew the answer, but… so few had heard her utter those words, as a prisoner back in Braighdath, barely able to stand in that small room at the inn for her own ceremony. “I do.” It wasn’t loud enough, perhaps did not carry throughout the room, but it was all she could muster with emotion threatening to choke her voice. “Of course I do.”
“Alster Rigas.” Lilica then turned to the celestial mage, who appeared to be faring even worse than his (already) wife. “Do you accept responsibility for this tiny seed’s wellbeing? And as such, do you accept Elespeth Rigas as your other half, and the role that you will play in his life?”
He didn’t respond right away, still struggling to come to terms with the magnitude of this ceremony into which he had been thrown completely unprepared, all eyes on him, expecting him to reiterate something that the whole room already knew to be true. Elespeth looked particularly concerned, as if she worried her husband would turn tail and flee in front of all of their friends and allies--in front of most of this kingdom, really--but when she met his eyes and smiled a smile that showed how much she believed in him, he found his words. Alone, she, too, would have wanted to run away from all of this unwanted attention, but deep down… Elespeth wanted all of these people, even the whole world, to bear witness to how much she loved the man she had already married. The world had already seen them torn apart again and again, whether by distance or sickness or magic or what have you; it was high time they saw that love could succeed.
Lilica smiled and removed her hands, taking a single step backwards to give the re-married couple some space. “As Galeyn’s chosen monarch, allow me to announce your union as forever official and sanctioned, for all intents and purposes, in the eyes of Galeyn.”
The applause that had died down picked up in a heartbeat when Elespeth, tears gathering in her eyes, pulled her husband forward into a kiss. “This is how it should have been.” She whispered, as tears trickled down her cheeks. “You, and me… and everyone we care about, right here with us.”
The couple’s eyes weren’t the only ones that failed to remain dry. Nia, who, considering everything she was currently coordinating almost ended up arriving late to the ceremony (and hadn’t found the time to dress up for this occasion, surely much to Ari’s disappointment and Laz’s chagrin), completely failed to hold her emotions in any longer and let her own tears flow freely at the beautiful sight of her two friends in a moment of happiness they deserved. It was probably for the better that she hadn’t found anyone to apply make-up to her face, as it would have been washed away in her deluge of tears. “This… this is why this needed to happen.” The Master Alchemist uttered between sobbing into her hands. “Those two fucking deserved this. I’m glad I had a hand in it. Scowl at me all you want for not finding the time to gussy up, Laz,” she mentioned to the golem standing next to Ari, who had no shortage of disapproving glances to send her way as the under-dressed Master Alchemist shamelessly bared her emotions in public. “This was worth it. Not like everyone’s looking at me, anyway. All I ever wanted is for good people to get what they deserve. And I, for once, had a hand in making it happen.”
Breathe. Relax. Breathe. Relax. Calm. Calm. Stay calm.
These were the affirmations Alster focused on as he drifted closer and closer to the end of the room where Lilica and their companions were waiting. When he and Elespeth finally came to a slow halt, he blinked, looking around in confusion. How had they traveled from one end of the room to the other without walking? He couldn’t recall making any movement at all. Or remember what had happened after the rain of applause. Wasn’t he still standing by the door, too arrested to respond?
Through the thin film of his tears, he made out the vague shape of Lilica as she presented a seed for him to hold. Irrespective of his commands, his organic hand obediently and mechanically opened to receive the gift. He stared at it, his disconnect between body and mind evident as mind struggled to focus on the here and now, and not wander into the etherspaces between. Present. Be present. You want to be here for this moment. The moment you’ve always dreamed of having, with the one who houses your soul. You have to be here for this!
The sharp, seeing cry of his inner voice penetrated his mental fog, jolting him back to full awareness. Squeezing his eyelids of their residual moisture, he took in the scene with sharper clarity. Elespeth was cupping his seed-bearing hand with her own and both she and Lilica were looking expectantly at him. What did he miss?
Alarmed, his gaze rested on Elespeth. When their eyes met, he felt nothing but her overwhelming support and love for him, as if she were saying, We’re in this together. I have you, and you are safe.
Emboldened by her silent encouragement, Alster nodded and returned her smile, knowing now what to do. “If there was ever any doubt…I do.”
As they sealed their reforged marriage with a kiss, the room erupted anew with uproarious cheers. Against her lips, he smiled, his tears a steady stream he couldn’t dispel even if he had the means. “I always thought it was a far-flung wish, to marry in front of the people we love, in front of the world, or the only world that matters. …I suppose I should rein in my wishes from here on out if the reality is too much for me to handle.” Laughing self-deprecatingly, Alster pulled away from Elespeth—a difficult to impossible feat—and watched as flower petals showered above their heads from the ceiling, lilac and peony and cornflower…a rainbow assortment, swirling through the air as if on invisible currents.
“Now this bit of handiwork screams Chara,” he said, raising his hand and catching a blue petal between his thumb and forefinger. Curiously, it bore the same shape, size, shade, and silkiness as the ones Locque—an ethereal replication of her, anyhow—had presented to him some weeks ago, which he, out of desperation, had consumed.
She was right. Though it pains me to grant her the victory, she was dead-on correct about one thing.
Alster scanned the crowd, taking in the faces of the people who had been with him and Elespeth through the worst, the best, and all of the in-between. As well, he honored the newer faces, his fledgling allies—Nia, Ari, Bronwyn, who were fast becoming comfortable, reliable fixtures in their lives. He acknowledged the strangers and unacquainted, their expressions glowing despite their unfamiliar relations with the bride and groom. Whether celebrating of their own volition or coerced into celebrating through Chara’s ‘persuasive’ tactics, he was happy to have them along; so that they would witness, with their own senses, how much he loved the woman standing next to him.
Hand in hand with his gleaming, salubrious bride, Alster’s tears gushed in greater urgency, landing on Ari’s fine-tailored suit.
It is impossible for me to turn to darkness, because I have support. Overwhelming support and love. Deserving or not, they’re all here. …For us.
Although they remained dry-eyed and composed, Ari and Chara brightened to see their joint-arranged wedding ceremony unfurl as planned (so far). As such, they were quite pleased by the results and had even deigned to chance an approving side-glance at the other for their part in the planning.
“Although it’s not over yet and I never rest on my laurels prematurely, the ceremony at least has been a smooth and conflict-free run. And I suppose,” Chara soured her mouth, choking on her rarely-dispensed words of commendation, “I have you in part to thank, Lord Canaveris. May we,” she stuck out her hand to him in an awkward handshake, “may we collaborate on other potential projects in the future.”
Ari, who had dressed down for the occasion so as not to overshadow the groom, furrowed his brows a moment at Chara’s proffered hand.
Noticing her error, she balked and made to withdraw her hand. “I realize sealing any business arrangements through touch might be especially uncomfortable for you, considering our…history and all.”
Charmed by her uncharacteristic bluster, Ari not only didn’t withdraw from her company, but he smiled. In response to her vacillating, uncertain hand, he tilted the handle of his cane to her, and gently tapped it against her knuckles in agreement. “I look forward to it, Lady Chara. And,” he dropped into a softer tone, aware of Chara’s fast-fraying state when in view of her daunting task, “all will go well. The box is in your hands, and I trust Nia has tailored it to your discerning specifications.”
But when they both turned their attention to the woman in question, they caught her in the midst of wracking sobs, her tears prolific enough to create a spattering mist around her.
“Nia.” Ari fetched a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. “You are well within your rights to respond with such robust emotionality. Do ignore Laz’s glower. Weddings are far from a socially unacceptable affair regarding the public release of tears. You are free to cry without judgement.” He sidled to her to share a private smile, meant only for her; of love and respect and trust. “Especially as this is all your doing. Your brainchild has brought Lord and Lady Rigas such unparalleled joy. Doubtless they will not soon forget the people who have contributed to building their little paradise on earth. You should be so proud. I know that I am.”
“That is all well and good, but surely it would not pain her to slip into more appropriate attire.” Laz, resplendent in a low-cut gown with her hair loose and spilling down her back like fresh cream, fixed Nia an arch look.
“This ball is open to the public and to people of all means,” Ari argued. “It is not necessary to dress in one’s finest. Yet,” he sighed, conceding to the rules of etiquette, “I suppose it would not reflect well on the Canaveris name to send our honored guest to a ball bereft of a proper gown. If it pleases you, Nia, go with Laz. I am sure she will relish outfitting you to suitable standards.”
No sooner did Nia depart with Laz than several attendants entered through the doors, carrying a massive silver plate upon which sat a layered honey cake, daubed around its round top with tear-dropped dollops of light cream and dusted with a fine, cinnamon powder. The attendants positioned it on an empty table beside the libations and presented the confection to the newlyweds. When handed the cutting knife to do the honors of carving the first slice, Alster delegated the responsibility to Elespeth, citing his prosthesis as an excuse and adding, in boastful tones, that his wife was a far better hand at blades than he, whether they be a sword or a simple cutting implement. It turned out his boast was no farce, judging by the perfect slice she pried out of the cake and transferred seamlessly onto a smaller plate.
Once the couple took the first bite and signaled their approval, the attendants rushed in and diligently hacked at the cake, measuring out slices to pass around to nearly everyone. With the first wave of desserts going to friends and family of the bride and groom, dishes made their way down the line for whoever wanted a slice.
“I’m surprised you’re keeping so quiet about your ‘masterpiece,’” Bronwyn, who was standing next to Hadwin, snarked in his ear. “Knowing you, I was half-expecting you to burst out of the cake and loudly proclaim yourself lord of baked goods or something and then backflip out of the room.”
“Hah, well, one; I’m trying this new thing where I don’t draw attention to myself, and two; don’t think I’m fit enough for even a cartwheel. I’d end up faceplanting and that’s not a good look for anyone,” Hadwin retorted as he accepted a plate from her.
“You, not wanting to draw attention? The hell happened?” Her incredulous eyebrows would have flown off her face from raising them so high, if she wasn’t at least dully aware of why he decided to play it safe tonight. And it had to do with the person he smuggled into the corner of the room. Certain enchantments might have obscured her from sight, but they couldn’t hide the unmistakable scent of a summoner. Bronwyn didn’t agree with his methods, nor with sharing any lick of proximity with Teselin after last week’s averted disaster, but it was what a relationship with her brother entailed, and she wouldn’t jeopardize it, or the summoner’s well-being, by informing on them to Lilica. “Be careful,” she mouthed to Hadwin as he receded into the background, a feat she didn’t think possible for his loudmouthed arse to achieve, but then again, with him, anything was possible.
The faoladh of endless possibilities, meanwhile, joined a visibly diminished (but not invisible) Teselin against the wall and held the cake aloft for her to eat. “Per our agreement, one whole cake slice must be consumed before we proceed to the next step,” he said loftily but quietly, speaking out of the side of his mouth so as not to alert anyone nearby. “I’ll cover you,” he slid in front of her, crossing his arms in a casual stance while the others mingled and ate, but took no notice of him. “The big scary golem’s out of the picture for now—let’s hope Nia can distract her a while—and Fancypants looks pretty occupied, so now’s the perfect time to slip away and find your dat—ahem, your pal.” Collecting Teselin’s empty plate (he had to commend her follow-through; she ate it to the very last crumb), he jerked his head for her to follow. Together, they weaved through the crowd with ease by keeping to the walls, scaling half the ballroom’s perimeter before they reached their target. Also remaining on the outer fringes, Nico, dressed in a formal coat of black, milled about unassumingly, hands folded in his pockets and eyes ever-watchful. Upon noticing Hadwin, he nodded to the faoladh, polite and measured, but otherwise gave nothing else away to deter suspicious glances.
“Good evening, Mister Kavanagh,” he dipped into a shallow bow. “It is nice to see you up and about. How are you finding the festivities?”
“Well, Al and El are my good good mates and they look pretty happy chowing down on my cake, so I’m all for that resounding win. Personally, though,” he cricked his neck from side to side and exaggerated a yawn, “Getting kinda bored now, so I’m gonna go liven things up with some libations. See ya!” At his self-dismissal, Hadwin headed to the libations table and, sure enough, snatched a goblet of wine to guzzle—out of earshot, but not out of sight. If anything went amiss, he would be nearby to act…with the sedative he’d tucked away in his inside coat pocket.
“I, ah, hope I am not speaking to the air, as I would feel rather silly,” Nico muttered to the dead space next to him. “I suppose it would be just like the wolf to perform such a prank, but not when you are involved. So…I must assume that you are here.” As if in confirmation, the air beside him shimmered and bent like the reflection of mirrors against the light. “Then I can rest assured,” he huffed a sigh of relief and smiled at the reflecting air. “Forgive me if this is a mite awkward for me,” he released an uncertain chuckle. “But this arrangement should not persist for long. Once the dancing commences, I imagine others will not be paying any heed to my dancing partner. That is to say,” he curled his fingers to his mouth and coughed in a gesture he hoped came off as disarming. “…I am being forward. Assuming so boldly that we would dance! But, if you would like to,” he offered, forcing nonchalance to disguise his very obvious and overt interest (but probably failing miserably), “it would be my honor to have you as my partner.”
On the other side of the ballroom, Chara was not doing so well. Skipping on cake, she retreated to the far wall, fanning her overheated face with her hand and pressing her wobbling legs together. Under her arm she tucked her purse, and the promise within, weighing as though she carted around a solid specimen of pure iron ore. Seldom did she feel so unprepared, especially in social situations, an environment she navigated like a veteran sea captain on stormy seas. She knew how not to capsize the boat, or failing that, how to convince the crew that they wouldn’t die despite all evidence to the contrary. People followed her because they shuddered to invoke her wrath; because her confidence was undisputed; because she excelled at making people question their intelligence with a well-placed stare of contempt. Others scrambled to impress her in fear of the alternative, and the results she received, the power she wielded, usually pleased her. Only now, she couldn’t rely on her persona as an icy, uncompromising harpy when Locque had embodied that role for months. She had to become…different. Understanding. Compassionate. A figure worthy of Lilica’s love in the eyes of her peace-seeking people. To reign as a paragon of conflict all the time would no longer serve her.
And therein lay her problem. She didn’t know how to be anything else but disagreeable. Stripped of her unlikable strengths, only her weaknesses were on stark display; naked, vulnerable, and undernourished, like a shrunken flower removed from the sun. If she took so much as one step from the wall, surely she would stumble and stub her toe on the floor, so uncoordinated was her current self. A self she hated, because it hearkened her to her lowest point. A prisoner of Mollengard, stripped of her magic, her dignity, and her fight. On the other hand, she abhorred who she was now, a poor, desperate reconstruction of the woman she had always been: abusive, cruel, petty, and hostile. Into which category, then, did she currently slot? Where did she belong?
I only have one answer, and that is…with her.
“It is about time.” Ari, the flaps of his exquisite coat swishing about his legs, joined her at her vantage point against the wall. “The newlyweds have led their first dance, and the Solstice celebrations proper will commence as normal. You are no longer in danger of upstaging your cousin and his bride. Have you the box?”
“Of course I have the box! Do you seriously think me that daft?!” She snapped, caught herself, then cursed at her reflexive bite of venom. “Yes, I have the box,” she repeated, levelly, releasing her incendiary flame with a troubled exhale. She patted the purse under her arm to make absolutely certain the box hadn’t mysteriously disappeared mid-conversation. To her relief, the hard, angular wood of the jewelry box revealed its identity through the layers and fabrics of her bag.
If Ari took offense or affront (or worse, had relived a repressed memory of her cruelty), it didn’t reveal itself on his practiced, placid features. Planting both hands atop his cane, the Canaveris lord followed the whirl of dancers amidst their waltzes, and something akin to longing cracked through the hard plaster of his facade. Lately, everything about him seemed so…stiff. So languid and disjointed. How heavily he favored the cane, and adhered his hands to its handle. Even his breathing appeared difficult; rattling, as if laboring to escape his lungs. “You will not falter,” he said, trading wistful for motivational. “You will not turn to stone. This event is survivable, and is nothing that the mighty Chara Rigas, once ruler of Stella D’Mare, cannot surmount. It is a risk, but a risk you have calculated and determined as worthy of taking. So…take it. You are more adept at conquering your foes of doubt and fear than you realize.”
“Oh, but I do realize,” Chara challenged, affixing him a scathing look. “But thank you, all the same, for painting me with such humbling brushstrokes. Stick to your art and leave the platitudes to the fools who starve for that kind of base validation. I am not one of them.” Despite her exaggerated show of bravado, she did pass him a twitch of an appreciative smile. For his efforts at encouragement. Heavens knew Ari lapped up compliments like the very fools she had referenced. “Well,” she smacked her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she launched off the wall, “let us hope Nia’s contraption runs smoothly. Her involvement is the greatest unknown variable I would face, if all goes wrong…or,” shades of her mistrustful nature bubbled to the surface, “if this is her method of exacting revenge over her captors. Me, specifically. Wouldn’t this be a perfect opportunity I all but dumped on her lap?”
“If you are accusing her of foul play, Chara, then you are accusing me, in turn.” Ari’s dark eyes transmuted into hard, unyielding stones. “So I will ask; are you accusing me of sabotaging your plans when you had deliberately turned to me for assistance in said endeavor?”
“No,” she huffed out a weary sigh. “No…Force of habit, I suppose. Everyone is suspect until proven otherwise. This shall be Nia’s proof of loyalty. May she be present to see its results, at least.”
Having shared her conclusive, pseudo-apologetic remarks, she disengaged from the Canaveris lord’s company and vaulted into the crowd in search of Lilica.
She found the Galeynian queen not far from where she had presided over Alster and Elespeth, removing her vestments to reveal the formal gown she wore underneath. Chara took the vacant spot beside her, lowering the purse into her hands in as commonplace a gesture as she could manage. “Well, the wedding portion of tonight’s festivities was a runaway success,” she contributed lamely—because when was she able to speak of anything else but of work?! “Focusing on the positives, but blind positivity is not necessarily my strong suit,” she forced out a chuckle, tightening the grip on her bag. Her entire posture radiated ‘uneasy.’
“I…am having a minor issue with something. Perhaps you could help?” She thrust the bag into Lilica’s face, impelling her to hold it. “Inside, there is a small wooden box that is near impossible for me to open—especially with my nails as they are,” she indicated her lengthy, elegant fingernails, manicured to smooth ovals and painted a mirror-like amethyst purple, free of any chips or defects. An almost futile effort, given her excruciating, unendurable need to pick and reduce them to nubs in her anxiety. “It has become sort of a game among those I’ve asked to wrench it open. Feats of strength do nothing, inevitably, as I’ve learned from Forbanne soldiers and the like, and as far as I know, there is no magical enchantment placed upon it to force it shut. Before I take this curious object to Isidor, I thought that you would like to give it a go, first?” She said nonchalantly enough, hoping she didn’t come off as either too stilted or too exaggerated. “Maybe it operates as a puzzle box, and I’m no good at those; I lack the patience. I’d sooner throw it across the room than solve whatever reward the dratted riddle promises. I trust you will have better luck than me in this matter. Who knows?” She cocked her head in an attempt to not be suspicious but in doing so made her look even more suspicious, probably, “perhaps all it takes to unveil its secrets is a queen’s touch.”
There were some aspects to this impromptu wedding that Elespeth realized she would yet never experience. All of the planning leading up to it, the anxious anticipation of the day as it encroached, having the perfect dress designed and having her say as to how the venue might be decorated… but, it also occurred to her that none of those things really mattered. Had their lives followed a more mundane trajectory, she would have gladly followed the ordinary steps leading up to a grand wedding, but neither of them had ever experienced anything akin to ‘mundane’ their entire lives. So it was difficult to miss something for which you were never destined; especially when the most important part--being with Alster, surrounding by the loving support of all of their friends and allies--still came to fruition, long after she had resigned harbouring that single, sad memory of marrying Alster at an inn in Braighdath, barely able to stand on her own two feet. Compared to this, that memory was all but entirely overshadowed; and as far as she was concerned, despite that she’d been wearing that wedding ring for well over a year, now, this was the moment she and Alster actually married. Torn apart time and again, their relationship stretched thin and fragile… and yet, it still endured. And here they stood now, just as in love with one another as they had been from the first time they had realized they had met their soulmate.
The fact that yesterday she had no idea this was happening, or that it was all suddenly happening so fast, had no real bearing on how Elespeth felt in that moment. This really was everything she could have wanted: and it seemed Chara and Lilica (and most likely, also Ari and Nia) had simply taken the pressure of planning off of them. They couldn’t be in a safer place, surrounded by better people. “They all had a hand in it, in some way. Every single person here.” Elespeth smiled, and took both of Alster’s hands in her own. “Either by organizing this, or getting us ready, or just by being there for us. We’ll plant that seed in the Night Garden before the morning, but for now…”
The former knight’s eyes scanned the crowd, who looked on expectantly as D’Marian minstrels who she recognized from the masquerade Ari had hosted began to play cheerful, albeit mellow music on strings and woodwind. “I think they expect us to lead the first dance. I hope your feet aren’t too nervous--or mine, for that matter.”
As the Rigas couple swept into the crowd and began to dance to the slow rhythm of the music, Chara drew near Ari and his small entourage of Nia and Lazuli to thank the Canaveris lord for his contributions and overall help in pulling this event off. There was so much that could have gone wrong, so many variables beyond everyone’s control, but they had all managed it; even Isidor (whom everyone was secretly expecting not to show for the small task he had been given) had come through, and even had yet to leave the ballroom. The Master Alchemist had witnessed the ceremony for his two good friends from the safety of the back of the crowd (he rather stood out due to his height), and had yet to quietly depart without anyone noticing. Frankly, Nia was just as relieved that the event had gone off without a hitch, and didn’t even care that Chara all but failed to acknowledge her own efforts in putting this together; or, thinking of it in the first place.
Rather, she chose not to take it too personally, not only because of the conversation that Ari had orchestrated between them, but because it was impossible not to notice how Chara Rigas was a ball of nerves regarding the one event that had yet to happen. Nia took Ari’s proffered handkerchief and wiped her eyes, managing to quell her violent sobs and compose herself enough to be coherent. “Hey--you got this, yeah? I worked hard on that box of yours. The rest of the magic is up to you.”
She would never know if her words had any impact, or if Chara even heard her after the haughty Rigas woman walked away with worry creasing her brow. She still doesn’t trust me, a voice of reason reminded her quietly; but that wasn’t news. It would take more than Ari’s seal of approval to convince that woman that she was worth keeping around; that damn box had to come through. And it had better, considering how little sleep she had achieved the night before to put the finishing touches on it and to make sure it worked. Perhaps the Master Alchemist should have been nervous as well, but truth be told, she already had far too much on her mind and that little ring box was the least of her worries. She’d tested it, and it had worked; but what had yet to come to fruition was Nico's successful reunion with Elespeth, whom she was sure must have been present. After all, Hadwin was here, and the faoladh would not have come without his desperate protege.
“To be honest--I don’t know if I’m crying because I’m happy or sad or because I need more sleep.” Nia confessed, and mopped up another genuine deluge of tears with Ari’s initialed handkerchief. “I’m just… so damn happy for them. I don't even care how much or how little I was involved in this whole affair, or that I thought of it in the first place. The only thing that matters is that--the pay off.” With her free hand, she gestured to Alster and Elespeth, who looked every bit the regal Rigas couple in the gown specifically chosen by Chara and designed by master Galeynian tailors, and the suit commissioned by Ari and designed by his own tailor. Everything had come together so well for this one, small victory; but there were yet two more victories she had yet to secure.
“Y’know, Al and El probably aren’t even aware I had a hand in this. But… that doesn’t matter. I’ll admit, it bothered me before, but actually seeing this take place makes me realize what really matters.” The Ardane woman returned Ari’s sweet smile, knowing that he was proud of her, and that meant a lot. For all the Canaveris lord might have proclaimed she could do no wrong in his eyes, Nia was a little ashamed to admit that she did still crave his praise and acknowledgement. She’d never heard it growing up; now that someone was actually making note of her strengths and all that she could do, well, she might have been a little hooked. Something that she and his nephew had in common. “But… thanks. I owe it to you that I was able to be involved in my own idea at all. And, ah… sorry I couldn’t get dressed up in time.” Wiping away the remainder of her tears with Ari’s handkerchief, she looked down at her drab attire, which made her stand out like a weed in a garden compared to everyone else--something she knew would irk Lazuli. She had wondered if it would bother the golem enough to personally call her out on her sloppy attire…
It just so happened that Ari’s dangerously beautiful bodyguard had had enough of standing near the eyesore that was the Ardane woman. Even Ari reluctantly agreed to Laz’s reasoning, and gently encouraged Nia to heed the golem woman’s suggestion. “Come now--no one is going to think it’s your fault I look like rubbish, Ari. I think just about everyone in this kingdom knows by now that I am perfectly capable of doing that myself.”
She laughed, but neither Ari nor Laz reciprocated; it wasn’t like she had planned to resist, anyway. It was all for show. “You two are a tough crowd. Alright; make me more presentable.” Nia put her hands up in defeat and sighed. “But no corsets this time. Like I said, it’s not like people are here to see me, anyway.”
As she departed from Ari, following the tall golem through the crowd as Alster and Elespeth concluded their dance, Nia passed by Hadwin standing toward the front of the crowd. She didn’t stop to greet him or compliment him on a lovely-smelling cake (she would have to taste it later), but did exchange a knowing look with him before disappearing outside the ornate wooden doors. No one would be watching Nico while Laz was preoccupied with making her look presentable; now was his best chance to connect with Teselin.
Teselin, who also happened to be nearby as Nia passed Hadwin, also did not miss the Master Alchemist’s pointed look. But to say she hadn’t been a ball of nerves from the moment she set foot in that ballroom, concealed by Nia’s almost fool-proof cloak, would have been a bold-faced lie. When Hadwin thought it was safe to present her with a piece of his cake (which she had promised she would try), her stomach was churning with such knots she feared she might not be able to keep it down, regardless of how good it was. “Do you… are you sure this is safe?” Teselin hesitated to take that piece of cake. Her hands were almost trembling, as hyper aware as she was that just a single person in this crowd noticing something wasn’t quite right to ruin the rest of the evening for her. But Hadwin had thought it through, and casually stepped in front of her, concealing whatever vague semblance of her might still be visible while she took a deep breath and made good work on that piece of cake. It was delicious, obviously; there was never any question as to Hadwin’s skills. And it made her realize that she was actually hungry, and hadn’t eaten that day, for all she had been wracked by nerves that she purposely set out to deceive virtually everyone in this room.
“I owe you and Nia more than I could possibly ever repay…” She said after finishing the cake. She kept close as the two of them wove through the crowd, toward where Hadwin’s keen eye had spotted Nico. On any other occasion, she might have become bashful and sputtering that the faoladh continued to refer to Ari’s nephew as her ‘date’, but the young summoner was already too nervous to acknowledge it. What if they couldn’t pull this off? And what if… what if Nico suffered a fallout with his uncle, as a result?
Before she could overthink it too much, there they were, in front of Nico who wasn’t pressed against the wall like she had been, but out in the open. At least he was dressed in a distinguished yet unassuming black, and he didn’t draw the same sort of attention as his ostentatious uncle. As soon as Hadwin left the two to their ‘privacy’ (as much as you could get in a crowd, that is), Teselin released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “You… want to dance? But I don’t know that I could hold Nia’s cloak in place, and won’t it look strange if it appears that you’re dancing without a partner…” She trailed off upon realizing he was suggesting she remove the cloak, at least for the dance. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go, right? Hadn’t they planned to speak out of the ballroom as soon as they were reunited? It was too risky to linger any longer! But…
Well… she had never had a dance, before. And she did look quite different with the colours Nia had applied to her eyes and cheeks. Perhaps they could get away with one dance, and none would be the wiser…?
Against her better judgment, Teselin let the cloak slide off her shoulders, and where Nico had previously been speaking to dead air, a well-dressed young woman appeared before him, her hair braided and styled in an intricate knot behind her head, and her eyes painted with a duochromatic hue that shifted between gold and vermillion that matched the colour of the dress Briery had lent her, and her lips tinted a similar vermillion shade. She didn’t look like Teselin Kristeva at all, but rather, some amplified version of someone who the young summoner could become. Fortunately, she still sported no more flare than the silks and satins that were already swaying throughout the room. For the first time for as long as she could remember, she fit into a crowd as opposed to standing out.
“I don’t… I mean, I’ve never danced before.” Teselin struggled to get the words out. She hadn’t been raised to speak as eloquently as the Canaverises. “And my right arm still lacks a good deal of strength and mobility… I just hope I don’t disappoint you.”
“Chara.” Lilica looked relieved when she turned to find Chara at her side. Although the Galeynian queen had relatively little to do with Alster and Elespeth’s wedding aside from officiate it, the event appeared to have taken a lot out of her. To this day, being the center of attention in a crowd (or even bringing a crowd’s attention to someone or something else) was not something the dark mage was used to, and no amount of practice could conserve the energy expended for the event. “Thank you for everything you did to pull this off for Alster and Elespeth. I’m sorry I couldn’t have been of more help, but, well…” She spread her arms, now free of the lengthy sleeves from the ceremonial robes she had just removed. “I’m not much for planning extravagant occasions. And I’m also rather irrationally worried that Prince Sorde might take offense to the repeat wedding that he had originally officiated, back in Braighdath… I am being paranoid, aren’t I?”
If Chara heard a word she’d said, she clearly had something more important to share than to indulge Lilica’s unfounded paranoia that she had inadvertently offended the Sorde prince. But what she had to share wasn’t words, evidently: instead, it was… a box.
Even if Lilica was more practiced in what emotions her face betrayed, it would have been impossible to hide her confusion over the Rigas woman’s strange request. “Is this a… game, of sorts? To see who can open this box and obtain whatever is inside?” Chara’s explanation was so blatantly absurd that the Tenebris woman couldn’t help but flash a smile as she retrieved the box from its bag. “And you said you’ve approached Forbanne with this? Chara, I am not sure what sort of strength or dexterity you think I have, or whether you think it somehow requires some Tenebris magic to pry open. What is inside, anyway? Isidor Kristeva might be more well suited to this task…”
Her words trailed off upon noticing the… well, there was no other way to explain it but the stress that creased Chara’s brow. As if turning down this simple request would shatter her. Confused or not, whatever was going on, Lilica couldn’t do that to her. “Let me give it a try. Haven’t I mentioned before that the way you prefer to keep your nails would interfere with your dexterity?”
Lilica prepared to brace herself for what Chara was touting as a near-impossible feat, but much to her surprise, the box opened without any effort at all… and from it bloomed a beautiful flower. A bougainvillea, to be precise, a flower with which she had become very familiar these past few years. The petals, all made of pure, iridescent light, unfolded slowly, one at a time, until the pistol of the flower revealed something small and glimmering: a ring, beset with tourmaline and diamonds that glittered as much in the ambient light of the ballroom as the petals of the flower that had revealed it. And yet, it somehow stood out against the box’s beautiful gimmick, as if whomever had designed it wanted to make sure that the parlor trick did not outshine what it really contained.
“Chara…” Aside from her advisor’s name, the Galeynian queen was completely at a loss as to what to utter, as were many onlookers who had suddenly grown silent, taking note excitedly of what was unfolding before them.
Never had Chara wanted to kick herself more than during this moment. Days. She had days to plan how she would present the box to Lilica, and she chose to do so under the guise of a silly children’s game she would never be caught playing, let alone encourage others to participate in. Lilica had to suspect a wrongness behind the entire premise, but to Chara’s immense relief, the Galeynian queen decided to play along, despite comprehending little about why opening the box was so important. At the very least, Chara had confounded her so much, that a marriage proposal was likely last on Lilica’s list of reasons why she was being made to oblige her advisor’s ridiculous whims. Bless her for being so agreeable and eager to partake for the well-being of her shifty, shady partner.
Once the box was in the intended recipient’s hands, Chara almost turned away, dreading to see the result. What if it all went wrong, and the box didn’t transform as per Nia’s calibrations? What if…it went right? What then? How would she calculate her next steps?
With a cold panic, she realized…she hadn’t planned that far ahead. She, Chara Rigas, organizer extraordinaire, hadn’t the faintest idea of how to approach this unknown, unrehearsed scenario.
Opting for a compromise, Chara closed one eye, but kept the other on the box, waiting, in shallow, impatient breaths, for the wood to transition into something soft, supple, fragrant, and most importantly, bejeweled with the ring meant for Lilica in its center. It was mental torture to watch for Lilica’s hands to connect, to tug at the lid and trigger the transformation. A slow crawl of waiting, and expectation, and release—oh heavens, did Chara yearn for that release! For the sword to drop overhead and pop the pressurizing bubble that had formed over her for the weeks since committing to this foolhardy, over-bold, zealous maneuver. She and Lilica had worked nothing out in regard to their long-term plan. Should the D’Marians reclaim Stella D’Mare, would she depart Galeyn with them and relocate to her rightful place? Or would she stay on board as Lilica’s trusted advisor, all the while pining for the mottled shores and perfumey breezes of home?
But…they needn’t devise a solution, she decided. Not right away. So long as the future involved them, together, they would figure out the logistics, as always. Thus assured of her decisions, she opened both eyes and stared, head-on, at Lilica’s hands, which yielded to the gradual unfurling of a glistening bougainvillea where inside, a purple tourmaline ring shone even brighter. The Ardane woman did it. She actually did it! Chara wanted to laugh, to cry, from intense relief. All this time worrying about the flighty Master Alchemist’s hidden intentions was spent in vain. Ari was less of a flummoxing fool for believing in her, and Chara grudgingly admitted that she had made the most impactful decision, consulting Nia for this project
…But Lilica’s reaction gave her pause. Contorted with bemusement, sure, but nestled among her porcelain-fine features rested awe, wonder, speechlessness..uncertainty. Rejection?
No. Anything but rejection. Had she done it all wrong, put Lilica on the spot when she wanted nothing to do with creating a sacred union together? And now, having alerted half the ballroom of her motivations, Chara could not rescind her big announcement, cry ‘False alarm!’ and recede into the shadows for the rest of the evening, until everyone forgot about her colossal blunder and embarrassment. She had no choice but to follow through. All or nothing. She would not have a second chance.
“Lilica Tenebris.” She dropped to one knee and took Lilica’s hand in her own like a penitent begging for absolution in death. “This may come as rather sudden to you,” her cheeks heated furiously, “but would you do the honor of becoming my bride?”
Short and sweet. She was not like Alster or Ari, notorious scenery-chewers and purveyors of the saccharine and sentimental. Efficient and straightforward, she stated her wishes aloud. Though steadfast and unwavering on the surface, within, she was a mess of nerves and doubts. Amidst stewing in the dreadful interim between question and response, she gave a desperate, silent plea to all the stars in the sky. ‘Let her say yes. Please, let her say yes! And let it come soon, for I do not know how much more of this tension I can withstand!’
Dozens of eyes landed on her. She could feel them all, judging, searing, dissecting. Galeynians did not deem her worthy of winning the hand of their queen; D’Marians carried the same echo. Abuser. She is an abuser. She will do to Queen Lilica what she did to Lord Canaveris. No doubt they were whispering these aspersions of her character, either to themselves or aloud, but she couldn’t fault them from speaking the truth. Yes, she had abused, and continued to abuse, but never would she turn a heavy hand on Lilica…right?
Slicked with sweat, Chara’s hand enveloped Lilica’s own in the same sticky, swampy mess. Still, the Galeynian queen hadn’t given her answer. And perhaps she wouldn’t, or…respond in the negative to protect her image. Even if she wanted to marry Chara, how would it appear for a queen to accept a proposal from such a controversial and unlikeable figure? Politically, an arrangement of betrothal between them would be a disaster. Were Chara in a different position, she would strongly advise against the match, citing a public loss in trust and popularity. Not to mention, Lilica’s strength of will would come into question. Marrying a narcissist, a manipulator, an all-around rotten egg…the only option for Lilica was to say no, for the sake of her dignity.
Why did I do this? Why did I think this was a sound idea? Why did I not allow anyone to dissuade me?!
Chara felt her shoulders begin to tremble. All the saliva left her mouth, leaving it dry as a barren wasteland, all accessible water evaporated. This was a mistake. A mistake. A mistake! It would not end well for either party. Not in the slightest!
Yes.
Did she imagine that single, monosyllabic affirmation?
Yes.
Bewildered, Chara looked up at Lilica and caught her mouth moving, the vibrations of sound passing her lips and resonating into the ears of their surrounding witnesses. Yes. She actually said ‘Yes’?
Chara froze in place, too dumbfounded to act. When had the room gotten so quiet? The minstrels ceased playing their waltzes, and no one spoke, laughed, or cavorted with merrymaking flair. Silence. Everywhere. Had it always been this quiet, or was it only now that she noticed?
“I for one endorse the merry couple. Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials and here here!” Chara snapped her attention to the front of the room. Standing beside the silenced minstrels, Ari raised a glass of wine and toasted to the crowd. “Long live the queen and her trusted advisor!”
“I second that motion!” Alster, accompanied by his wife, strode into the center of the room, raising his hand in wholehearted support. “We both do. If there is anyone who is most deserving of Her Majesty, it’s Chara Rigas. In war they fought, persisted, surmounted and survived. For as long as I’ve known Elespeth, their history dates back to the same time and place. In a dusty, drought-ridden war camp in the middle of nowhere. You have Chara to thank for helping to keep Her Majesty alive and safe, and for bringing out the best version of herself. None has fought for her harder than the Queen’s own advisor!”
With Lilica’s help, Chara stumbled to her feet. It was just like Alster to vouch for her, but Ari’s endorsement left her stymied. Sure, he had acted in her defense before, but mainly as a measure to maintain the peace among the D’Marians. Speaking out in her favor didn’t exactly benefit him; in fact, it would make him appear weaker, too permissive in his easygoing treatment of former rivals and defamers. As is, he couldn’t afford boundless benevolence atop his deteriorating condition. In combination, people would dismiss his decrees as the rantings of a man on the brink of death; soft, maudlin, and too removed from reality to make pragmatic decisions. Perhaps it explained why he had taken such a strict stance on Teselin’s exile; so that his people wouldn’t question his strength and tenacity to do whatever necessary for their safety and well-being.
In any case, Alster, Elespeth, Ari, and by default, Lilica’s support swayed the divisive crowd insofar as they didn’t vocalize their protests or flaunted their disdain. Some had even cheered, and applauded, hungry to receive yet more happy news for a change, and the promise of another grandiose event. A royal wedding…what an occasion!
“As you have dedicated the first dance to us, I find it only fair to dedicate this one to her Majesty and her advisor,” Alster announced to the crowd and gestured to the minstrels, instruments at rest but on standby, ready to resume their playing. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
Nico was nowhere near prepared for Teselin’s unveiling. Anticipating an appearance modified again by alchemical means, he beheld something quite different as he marveled upon, but didn’t stare or openly gape (he still had manners), at his companion’s illuminating features. Enhanced by the makeup and complementary gown, she looked every bit like a noble lady, elegant and sophisticated. And while he rather liked her usual dowdy appearance because he found it refreshing over the likes of other similarly done-up young women of his age, he noticed a marked difference in her attitude and found he didn’t mind how she decided to present if it positively contributed to her happiness and self-expression. It was her self-conscious yet genuine enthusiasm in her chosen ensemble he thought most endearing. And…well, yes, he couldn’t deny an attraction to conventional aesthetics, much as he touted unusual and unorthodox standards of beauty. After all, he didn’t paint idylls and peaceful landscapes simply to please his uncle. Flowers never stopped being beautiful, no matter which shape they took—be it at their prime, or shriveled and nestled between the pages of a book. Or…moth-eaten, blackened by blight, torn to pieces by an irate storm, bathed in the blood of a dying man, sprouting from the eye socket of a skull…the possibilities were endless.
“Miss Teselin…however you decided to approach me tonight, I could never be disappointed,” Nico said, smiling (while subsequently ignoring the damning heat that gathered into his cheeks). “Would it be pedestrian of me to compliment your gown and makeup? They look rather becoming on you…and I don’t tend to string together such uninspired words aloud in fear of seeming…I don’t know, dull? Ordinary?” With care, he curled his fingers over her right hand and closed his other arm around her waist, tightening their distance to an intimate proximity. “I must admit something to you. Several somethings, in fact. In the spirit of full transparency…literally, in your case,” he referred to the invisibility cloak she no longer donned. “One; I’ve never cared for grandiloquence. I adopt this genteel tone of mine out of familial obligation. However…I’m not sure how to cast it aside and speak more candidly. Perhaps you could encourage me to…’let loose,’ eh?”
He cast his eyes to the ground, embarrassment quickly settling in. His attempt at casual colloquialisms sounded utterly insipid! “Unless it’s in bad taste as a nobleman to act beneath my station and ‘slum it.’ Would that come across as insulting? Or inappropriate, to embrace the common tongue when I am not meant for that world, that life? But before I delve too deep into that particular social conundrum, I must divulge to you my second something.” As he led her towards the dance floor, he whispered, sheepish in his confession, “I have never danced an actual waltz.”
Referring to the music for cues, Nico stepped into the first position and led Teselin in a faltering waltz, a little clumsy, but practiced. While he had never danced at a proper ball with a partner of his choosing, it was obvious he had training in ballroom dancing and half-knew what he was doing, but not enough to stop counting the steps in his head, nor to cease obsessing over the angles of his feet in relation to her own. Not that his performance mattered. However accomplished the dancer, they were only as good as their partner, and if their partner professed novice status, then the dance would result in a lukewarm performance. Even so, he wished to succeed in his part, desperate for Teselin to have a good experience. For comfort’s sake, he kept her right arm low in his grasp instead of at level height as customary, and modified their steps so they made wider lopes, but fewer actual movements and steps to remember. When at last the song concluded, they returned to the back of the room, hidden among the outer boundaries of the crowd. A quick scan of their surroundings yielded no immediate concerns. No one seemed to recognize them, and blessedly, he’d seen neither hide nor hair of Laz or his uncle.
…Until Chara Rigas’s shameless public proposal to the Galeynian queen, and Ari’s approval of the dreaded union. More than anything, Nico felt a malaise forming in the pit of his stomach that not even Teselin’s presence could curb. The pervasive feeling invaded his joy and replaced it with a dull, throbbing fury. “Lovely,” he bit, disguising his wrath under layers of sarcasm. “My uncle is endorsing his abuser’s betrothal to the queen. I have seen enough of this travesty,” he turned to Teselin and gestured to the exit doors. “Have you enough of this tableau? Now that my uncle is active, it stands to reason he will soon begin his search for me in earnest.”
During the second dedication dance of the evening thus far—and barely an hour into the ball, at that—Alster and Elespeth discovered they were not spectating alone. As they stood off to the side, not only taking a short break from spinning about the ballroom floor, but temporarily ceding the center of attention to Chara and Lilica, someone else decided to fill the vacant space directly beside them.
“Glad to see this place insists on elevating the drama, for better or worse,” the visitor quipped, aiming the comment at the happily re-married couple. “For the better, in this case. About time it plays to everyone’s favor, but who knows for how long this will last? All of this is to say,” the visitor let loose an audible sigh, dispelling the gloomy tidings, “congratulations are in order. You deserved this ceremony, Alster. Elespeth.”
Alster started at the arrival of their newest well-wisher, hardly sensing when they arrived with their clandestine presence. Few could conceal themselves so ably as to essentially sneak up on him—and Elespeth—undetected, but this person had succeeded. Clad in a black floor-length coat cinched at the waist by a heavy belt and donning a hat with a wide brim, the visitor didn’t impress with their formal attire, nor had they arrived underdressed. Instead, they were just…underwhelming. Forgettable. Easy to overlook as a merchant-class D’Marian or even a village-dwelling Galeynian. But one look at the familiar yet curiously altered face shadowed beneath the hat and Alster recognized to whom they spoke.
“…Tivia.”
This couldn’t mean what she thought it meant, but then… what else would it mean? A simple gift out of affection or in the spirit of celebration certainly would not have Chara Rigas playing games and tricking her into opening a box which, clearly, anyone with hands and basic dexterity could open. And an ordinary gift would not have been presented within the bloom of a flower--and a meaningful one, at that. One that Chara had once placed in her hair, during a time when they’d had a chance to steal a moment alone in the gardens outside the vast Rigas villa in Stella D’Mare. And, to boot, that the Rigas woman presented this gift in front of hundreds of Galeynain and D’Marian denizens…
It was exactly what Lilica thought it was. And, somehow, that made it all the more surreal.
Chara did not lead up to her question with a prolonged speech, did not wax poetic her hopes and desires for their future. She kept it short and simple and easy to understand, and although Lilica knew her answer (in fact, she had known it for quite some time, now), she couldn’t find the words. With her free hand, she touched the flower petals, only to find that they were some sort of alchemical projection as a result of tampering with light. She vaguely wondered who had helped Chara with this, as she couldn’t possibly have done it all on her own, and how long this had been planned.
Touching the ring with the tip of her finger, as if to ensure it wasn’t an illusion like the light flower from which it had blumed, the Galeynian queen felt moisture gather in her eyes. Memories of the past two years bombarded her in her mind’s eye, from the first time she’d met this woman before her and how intensely she had disliked her, up until sometime after when the very woman she despised had become her saving grace. Someone who had seen value in her when she was nothing but a pathetic being, poisoned by her own darkness, loving her all the same…
She wouldn’t be here, if not for Chara, and that was true on so many levels. She wouldn’t be in Galeyn, and probably wouldn’t be anywhere to be found of this plain of existence. Even if no one else knew… she did. And she couldn’t forget.
“Yes.” Not many words, just like her proposal. Straight and clear and to the point, just like Chara would have wanted it. Her hand still holding that tiny box trembled, and she was fighting a losing battle to fend off tears, and there was so much more she wanted to say, but in that moment, she was so unprepared. Of course I will. This is what I wanted all along; it’s all that I’ve wanted, before Galeyn, before Mollengard… just to be with you, wherever you happened to be.
It should have been a happy moment, a means for even more celebration, uncertainty permeated the room upon Queen Lilica’s answer. There was no clapping or cheering; there wasn’t even any music. No one knew what to make of this event, and those who had an opinion clearly did not care to share it, since it was likely to contradict a moment that obviously meant so much to their queen. I don’t care. This is what I want. The Galeynain queen thought unapologetically. And if this kingdom still wants me, then they must accept all parts of me, including Chara. If that is unacceptable to them…
Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice that captured the room’s center of attention as much as his attire. Ari, of all people, was not shy to express his approval for this union, and soon after his glowing endorsement, Alster was quick to follow suit. And his wife wasn’t to be left out.
“Chara Rigas is the whole reason your Queen sought to find and awaken your kingdom in the first place,” Elespeth declared, sidling up next to a speechless Lilica. “Isn’t that right, your Majesty? You made it clear when you recruited Alster for your quest that you wanted to prove yourself to Chara. You didn’t feel worthy of her affection, and you wanted to become someone who was worthy. And, ultimately, you found yourself, here. A place where you aren’t poisoned by your own magic, and wandering without direction.” Her expression softened, looking between the two newly-betrotheds. “Would you say that is accurate, Queen Lilica?”
Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry… Willing her tears away required more strength than the Galeynian queen was certain she really had. It didn’t occur to her that she might one day have to justify her relationship with her advisor to these people, but here she was, suddenly engaged, with a room full of onlookers wanting to know ‘why’. And, perhaps, they had a right to know.
“...it’s true. All of it.” Lilica confirmed the voices of Ari, Alster and Elespeth. “All of you, denizens of this kingdom, did not know me before. You didn’t know me at my absolute worst, and somehow, it was at that time that Chara somehow saw something in me that I didn’t know was there. It is not an exaggeration to say that without her… I would not be here right now. And, as a result… neither would any of you.” She paused to let that crucial fact sink into listening ears. It was not to shame anyone who might have opposed her union with the Rigas woman; it was simply a fact that she could not deny. “I realize that I have not made this clear until now, but the queen that you have now… you have Chara to thank for that. She has been a part of me and my success all this time, and… and I hope you will all allow her to continue to be.”
There wasn’t a chance in the world that she would win over her kingdom with unanimous agreement over this decision; Lilica didn’t dare to hope that would be the case. But her people were not closed-minded and too adhered to their opinions that they could not be reasoned with. They were understanding and open to diverse perspectives, and, despite everything that had come to pass since she had stumbled upon this sleeping kingdom… they trusted her.
The slow applause that built was not thunderous, but it was plentiful. What she had done was not a winning choice, but the general air of the room was one of acceptance, of denizens wanting to be happy for their queen, and taking her word for truth. Lilica released the tension in her shoulders with a sigh of relief; she hadn’t been prepared to defend herself and Chara on the spot that day, and the truth did not always win trust and respect. But today, somehow, it worked. And she would not waver on the answer she had given to Chara.
“You don’t think… it’s too much?” Teselin had worried about her attire and presentation. She realized she looked so drastically different that it might even come across as comical. “Nia was adamant that changing my hair and eye colour would not fool anyone, considering it did not fool your uncle the first time… I cannot argue that she made me look far different without resorting to alchemy. And I borrowed the dress from Briery Frealy--obviously, far beyond my comfort zone, but… I suppose that’s a small price to pay, to ensure I am able to attend this event with you.” The fingers of the summoner’s right hand trembled as she struggled to will them to wrap around Nico’s as he so gently took it, but it looked as though she would have to rely on him to carry the weight of her weakened arm. The harder she tried to exert control over it, the more her damaged muscles resisted.
“I wish I knew what it means to ‘let loose’; you’d think I’d have something of an idea, considering how much time I spend with Hadwin.” Teselin smiled weakly and placed her single functioning hand on Nico’s shoulder. It did make her feel better that she wasn’t the only one inexperienced in a simple waltz, but even if Nico only wore this aristocratic facade as a result of his quest to please his uncle, he still knew how to pull it off far better than her. “Fortunately… I don’t think anyone will be looking at us.”
For her first dance, Teselin didn't falter too badly, considering the state of her arm. At the very least, she didn’t step on Nico’s toes or stumble. It was a rather pleasant feeling just to… blend in. To be one of the many bodies swaying and celebrating in light of a number of things to be happy about. The dance didn’t last long, but in those short, precious moments, she felt like she belonged to a part of something. Not… other than the world. But, unfortunately, that feeling was not long-lived.
Following the impromptu second wedding was something that no one had anticipated: an impromptu proposal. No… no, that wasn’t right. This had been planned, but unlike Alster and Elespeth’s renewed vows, far fewer people had been in on it. Stealing the opportunity where everyone was present, Chara offered a ring to Queen Lilica, and proposed to her. It came as no surprise that the Tenebris woman accepted; nor did the silent dissent seem particularly beyond expectations. “...you’re right. We should leave.” Teselin agreed, and, remembering to gather the invisibility cloak over her good arm (it was a wonder she could still locate it after all that twirling!) casually made for the exit, along with a handful of others who had decided Lilica and Chara’s engagement left a bad taste in their mouths.
“...Chara Rigas is a lot of things. And not all of them… good.” She ventured to validate Nico’s feelings toward the haughty Rigas woman, but not without her own perspective. “She’s never been particularly… kind, or gentle. Not to me or many others. I cannot speak to how she treats Queen Lilica, but she… something terrible happened to her in Mollengard, Nico. I think it changed her, in more ways than she knows. Maybe not all for the better--it changed me, too. But, for what it is worth… I don’t think she is the same Chara Rigas who once hurt your uncle. She’s someone different, now; perhaps not necessarily better, just… different.”
So as to steer clear of anyone in the palace who might recognize her, the two made their way outside into the warm night air, where the darkness obscured the both of them enough that no one would recognize them at first glance as the Canaveris boy and the summoner girl. As soon as they were out of sight (and therefore, out of danger of being found), Teselin was finally able to visibly relax.
“So… how long do you think we have? Until your uncle sends his golem to find you?” She asked Nico, still hyper aware that they were breaking a yet unspoken, unwritten rule, and she didn’t want to be the reason that Nico was reprimanded. “Will they demand to know where you were all evening? Perhaps we should find somewhere less out in the open: anyone could wander outside at any time…”
The summoner took a few steps forward, assessing the premises surrounding the castle to ascertain, when a crash of thunder startled her such that she stumbled back. “I-it isn’t me,” she stammered, and looked to Nico with desperate eyes, “I promise! I’m not upset or anything; I think it’s just an ordinary storm.”
And she was right. Just seconds after that crash of thunder, a curtain of rain began to pour from the sky, forcing the two beneath the shelter of an overhang atop one of the ground-floor windows of the palace. A flash of violet lightning streaked across the sky to accent the pouring rain, followed by another crash of thunder just seconds later, and Teselin found she couldn’t help but smile. “Nico--it looks just like your painting.” She commented, staring in amazement at the summer storm in awe. “I’ve never stopped to watch a storm before, but you managed to immortalize that split second that the sky lights up with all those colours… You saw the beauty in it when others can only see fear. There’s something special about that. I’m glad… you’re different from other people.”
She fell silent, then, as if something about her own comment sparked a thought. A moment later, she asked, more quietly than before, “Nico… If I weren’t ‘different’... would you still have wanted to approach me?”
For Nico and Teselin’s sake, Nia had pulled every trick she could to keep Laz occupied, most of which comprised complaining, a bit of noncooperation, and a lot of going completely off task, which had the golem ready to reconsider their ‘truce’ by the end of it all. But, she had to give Lazuli credit, she did a fine job putting her in a form-fitting gown, styling her hair and applying make-up so that she did not stand out amongst the crowd like a sore thumb.
“Well? Is this better?” She asked when she approached Ari, clad in a salmon-pink gown and matching gems dangling from her ears and at her throat. “Your bodyguard here doesn’t seem to think that anything I wear will boost me up to her unrealistic standards, but hey, it’s still something, right? Wait… wait.”
Nia looked over Ari’s shoulder, at Lilica and Chara, who were suddenly very close and appeared to be having a private moment in the middle of a crowd. They looked… happy. And the people surrounding them also looked happy. “...no way. No way. I didn’t miss it, did I? The engagement? Seriously?” The Master Alchemist groaned audibly in disappointment. This had nothing to do with putting on a show to distract anyone at this point; Nico and Teselin were already long gone. She was genuinely peeved that she’d missed the royal engagement that she’d directly had a part in bringing to fruition.
“Well… how was it? Did the box work out alright? I mean, I assume it must have, because those two look pretty damn happy…. Fuck, I wanted to see that! Oh no, not a word, Laz.” She held up a hand before the golem could comment that if she hadn’t taken so long to get ready, maybe she wouldn’t have missed it. “You could’ve waited until after the proposal to suggest I dress like the rest of the people here. Well, whatever: the important thing is that Lilica looks happy, which must mean Chara is happy… which must mean I’m off the hook. That’s what this means, right?” The Ardane woman turned back to Ari, resting her hands on his shoulders as she sought his face for confirmation. “Am I… free, now?”
It floored Chara to hear so many favorable reviews of her character flooding in all at once. Despite the source, for the majority of her testimonials (Lilica included) had every reason to defend her better attributes, she wasn’t quite prepared to hear them. Since escaping Mollengardian custody, and later, having to confront her past abuses inflicted upon the Lord of Stella D’Mare, she had difficulty believing that she was ever capable of goodness, or of receiving goodness. Whatever gifts and boons came her way, she often scorned them, suspecting a trap, a trick, or a bribe, never once considering genuine sentiment, camaraderie, or love. Even knowing Alster, the epitome of sincerity, for all her life did nothing to suppress her suspicions behind anything pleasant or heartfelt aimed at her. For, why would someone aim to please her if not to beseech a favor? Beyond her status and influence, she had few likable qualities that would endear a person to her, as she was neither benevolent, charitable, nor amiable. The fact that she earned the love of another, and returned that love in kind, continued to confound her mind.
Confounding or not, the fact was indisputable. Someone loved her, accepted her, desired her hand in marriage, and other people recognized this redeeming trait residing within her, too. Beyond her shrewish, unpalatable, rancorous persona lay a beating heart, and that heart belonged to Lilica. If she could locate just one positive aspect about herself, then this was it; her love for the woman at her side. Unlikely as it seemed, the two of them, who couldn’t be any more dissimilar and who once held nothing but contempt and acrimony towards one another, united together and, through that union, became better. Perhaps Chara underwent the least growth compared to her partner, true, and she would continue to work on herself… as she should have been doing all along. How was it fair to Lilica that she herself remain so static and disagreeable when the former had done so much work to become the person of whom Chara would be proud?
“It is now my turn,” Chara announced to the people gathered, after all impromptu speeches were finished. She turned to Lilica and held her hands, urged her closer with a playful yank. “To prove myself worthy to you. And to the kingdom of Galeyn,” she took the time to scan the faces in the crowd, deliberately focusing her attention upon the queen’s own subjects. “Worthy not by deeds, but rather, by my character. Will you,” she swallowed, hard, girding herself for an immensely uncomfortable request, “aid me in this enterprise, Galeynians? Will you hold this not-so-humble advisor accountable as a bride worthy of Her Majesty?”
Pleading to the crowd appeared to win over some of Galeyn’s more stubborn citizens, as she saw a few uncross their arms and shift their feet into more open, receptive stances. They were opening up to her, little by little. Yes, there would be more work ahead, but for now, she would accept Galeyn’s reluctant approval as a small, but significant victory. A few hands of scattered applause peppered the room. Nothing impressive, but it was more than she deserved. Lilica’s hand, too…was more than she deserved.
When the minstrels resumed filling the space with orchestral swells and lilting strings, a signal to return the room to relative normalcy, Chara gripped Lilica in her arms, leaned her head against her shoulder, and let fall a few tears she’d tried and failed to repress. “…Don’t let me lose myself,” she whispered to Lilica as they half-swayed, half-waltzed to the music. “Not in front of everyone. Later, when it’s safe,” her arms wrapped the Galeynian queen in a shaky embrace, “I will need to collapse into some wet, ugly puddle of my own creation,” she released a half-hearted, weepy chuckle. “But for now, I must borrow your strength.”
Midway through their dance, Chara caught sight of Nia, who had reunited with Ari in a gown more suitable for the occasion, and figured she would give credit where it was due. “Nia created the box,” she said, nodding over to the woman in question. “…At my personal request.”
If he had been free to express his emotions without fear of appearing weak in front of the D’Marians in attendance or without triggering a flare-up, then Ari would have shed some tears at Chara and Lilica’s successful betrothal. However long he had been tormented by the Rigas woman, physically and emotionally—the emotional damage lasting for decades after the fact—he had only ever wished Chara well. And by well, had wished for her wellbeing. Her happiness meant that someone had soothed the cruelty leadening her heart, thus preventing another resurgence of abuse from resurfacing and affecting some other victim. In this relationship, Lilica was no victim, but a respected equal. He observed as much from their interactions; how Chara usually tread so carefully around the Galeynian queen, curbing her explosive anger or redirecting it to another source (usually him, if he was in the room at the time), but never at her. Never did it seem as though Chara would lay a hand to harm Lilica or tear her down until little remained of her but a nervous, shaken whelp. But that was not the case for the steadfast Queen of Galeyn, who stayed her course despite the multitude of rogue waves threatening to drown her; Locque, Rowen Kavanagh and her defamation rumors, Nia’s arrest, his almost declaration of war, and the very real possibility of civil war. Wave by wave, she withstood every trial, but would that have been possible for her had she not a strong foundation of support? Of Chara Rigas, championing at her side? No, he had concluded. She was Lilica’s anchor, and no abuse happened between them. Rowen Kavanagh, when she was alive, would have gleefully reported on it, otherwise. Thus satisfied with his analysis, Ari granted his blessing on their upcoming nuptials. After all, if he suspected the slightest evidence of foul-play, he never would have abetted Chara Rigas’ proposal schemes.
If only…
No. He banished the thought before it had time to resurface. His half-calcified hand gripped the cane, while the other balanced a wine glass. There was no use focusing on what he couldn’t change. Move forward, no matter what. Until I cease to draw breath.
Ari smiled at Nia and Laz’s arrival, appraising the former’s ensemble with an approving nod. “I have not seen this color on you before, but you wear it well, Nia. Ravishing, as always.”
Laz snorted. “Thanks goes, in no small part, to me. I nearly left her in the room to figure it out herself, for how difficult she decided to be for the entire duration. Hence the unreasonable delay.” She shot a pointed look at Nia.
Ari locked eyes with his dearest and oldest companion. “Your struggles are well-acknowledged and documented. Thank you for your service, my friend.”
“I suppose,” Laz grumbled, but Ari knew his words had allayed the hard-to-please golem.
On the subject of Chara and Lilica’s betrothal, Ari’s face fell a little. “I am afraid you did miss it, Nia, but you should be happy to know your box bloomed beautifully, calibrated to your exact specifications. A wondrous spectacle, indeed, one that, as intended, caught the attention of this ballroom. The reception was a little cold at first; not too many people fancy Chara, and I certainly cannot fault them for their demurral, but with a gentle nudge in the right direction, they came around to the idea. All in all, a most triumphant conclusion, no thanks to your hard-won efforts.” However, when she mentioned the possibility of exoneration, he shriveled under her touch. “You have earned clout among the most influential figures in the land. No doubt your handsome contribution will benefit you and earn you a valuable sum of credit, which will accrue and build until at which time those in charge of your case will review and revise your terms of indenture. However,” he dipped his head, apologizing in advance for his less than sugarcoated words, “it is not yet enough to clear your name. The people will also need to determine your eligibility for a pardon, and based on what you have done thus far—creative projects, all told—they will not deem your services as satisfactory. That is not to say you have not made enormous strides just from tonight, alone,” he hurried, always looking for a positive spin to lighten up disappointing news. “I am certain that after tonight, the queen and her advisor will search for means to expedite your case. I will make sure of it.”
“We could relax the guard, at least.” Another figure joined their party, an otherwise tall and imposing presence, but Laz’s taller and even more imposing presence diminished some of the newcomer’s authoritative edge. Haraldur Sorde entered the conversation, raising an eyebrow at Nia’s intimate positioning upon Ari’s arms as if to say, ‘Are you really going to make it that obvious in front of all these people?’ Ari, understanding the nonverbal cue, politely stepped away from Nia’s range, forcing their arms apart. “And by relaxing the guard, I mean disperse it all together.”
Ari, surprised by this unexpected response, raised his head to regard the Forbanne Commander. “Prince Sorde. Good evening to you,” he presented a customary bow, a little rusty about the waist, but didn’t let on about his diminishing mobility. “You would truly remove the security detail imposed upon Miss Nia?”
“I would, but bear in mind, the guards are also there for your protection.” He turned to Nia, his brow lowering into a meaningful look. “There are still people in this kingdom who want you dead. A few weeks ago, there was an attempt on your life, was there not?”
The tampered-with wall at the observatory tower. Ari had not soon forgotten. “So which solution do you propose, Prince Sorde? Eventually, Miss Nia will fulfill the stipulations of her sentence and will be released from her contract. Won’t she be as vulnerable to attack once her contractual requirement for a guard disperses?”
“That’s why I’m suggesting an early release. Of the guard, that is,” he specified, in case Nia misinterpreted ‘early release’ as something more meaningful. “As long as other protective measures can be arranged. I won’t get into the details now; we’re in too public a venue and tonight shouldn’t be about business anyway, but I thought I’d give you two a head’s up on what I’m considering. To the contrary, I do listen to my guard’s reports on your relatively good behavior,” he quirked a small smile at Nia. “I’m also not blind to what you’ve done for them,” he gestured to the newly betrothed couple, swaying to the music on the ballroom floor. “It’s not complete freedom, but it’s a step in the right direction. Keep it up. Oh, and…enjoy your night,” he added, almost awkwardly, as he withdrew his company and wandered elsewhere.
“Well, that is certainly wonderful news!” Ari said, beaming at Nia. “As Prince Sorde has stated, a step in the right direction. Oh, but speaking of your wonderful accomplishments,” he took a sip of wine, “I am set to announce the winners of the float contest on the hour. While Sylvie is not with us tonight—she was feeling tired, poor thing,” he frowned, knowing well the true reason she didn’t see fit to attend, “my nephew most assuredly is present tonight, and I would like to find him before the announcement is made.” He tilted his head to one side. “Care to aid in my search? I am afraid we cannot dance together, but assisting me with a task should not raise too many suspicious eyes in our general vicinity.”
Slipping out of the ballroom turned out to be an easy task, considering the majority’s attention was aimed at Chara Rigas and the Galeynian Queen. How pitiable, Nico thought as he and Teselin escaped into the hallway with no one the wiser about the summoner’s identity. Does the queen not realize her grave error in accepting that manipulative bitch as her wife?
Nico, like everyone else in the D’Marian village, first learned of his uncle’s lurid and tumultuous history with Chara Rigas through the hearsay of Rowen Kavanagh, which later, Ari confirmed to be true. Since learning of the Rigas woman’s hand in inflicting so much misery upon their family (for harm to one was harm to all), and the lengths everyone, including her victim, took to ensure she pay no restitution save for whatever odd jobs Ari called her to do ‘on behalf of the Canaveris family,’ Nico’s outrage had blazed like a wildfire. Already he bore no love for the Rigases, an inherited contempt, to be sure, but to hear about how much this woman had controlled and whipped around his uncle for her own amusement was…unforgivable. A grave insult. They, the Canaverises, were not some cattle to kick around for Rigas sport when they needed to release their frustrations, and the fact Ari had responded so leniently was…disappointing. And embarrassing. He heard the rumors spread about the settlement; that Chara secretly controlled Stella D’Mare and had planted Lord Canaveris as a puppet to allay growing tensions between the two ruling families. While Nico didn’t believe a word, sometimes, his uncle didn’t make it easy for him to defend. Between his involvement with Nia, his support for Chara, and his covert exile of Teselin, Nico was beginning to feel foolish for idolizing a man whose priorities were so skewed. Much as he despised his father, Casimiro at least knew how not to appear so weak. Cuckolded. Bloodless. If they had wanted another Alster Rigas, they should have kept him as leader, for all the difference it made.
Teselin’s comment managed to ground his wayward thoughts, giving him a focal point on which to concentrate. Although…he should have known how she would respond. He paled, only then realizing the topic was likely a sore point for her. “…Forgive me. I only now recall you were among one of the prisoners Mollengard had captured. She was…I suppose she was one of your companions? If I am not mistaken, you and Mister Kavanagh traveled with her for a while. Then,” he released a heavy sigh, “it is not in my place to dredge up so many unpleasant memories. I will concede that Chara Rigas might have changed, but the fact remains she has still done an irreconcilable disservice to my family and I will never bow to her.” And he left it at that, more than happy to shift the subject to more immediate matters, such as where they were heading.
“I cannot give you an accurate estimate on our time frame,” Nico admitted as they exited from one of the side doors and ventured outside, deciding upon the Night Garden as their next destination. The sticky summer air felt heavy, sharp, and full of promise. “It depends on several variables, and on whether for how long both Nia and your wolf friend can distract or divert them.”
They didn’t set out from the palace for more than several cautious paces before a low, grumbling roar sounded from the sky, followed by a flash. A piercing bolt of purple lightning erupted out of the clouds, a delicate but fierce series of veins spidering across the stormy canvas above their heads. They reached the overhang just as the sky began to dump a torrent of rain, slicking the grounds in a shimmering profusion of refracted light.
“Rest assured, Miss Kristeva; I believe you.” Nico cast his wonder to the sky, enraptured by the streaks and explosions of vibrant purple color. …Exactly like his painting. “I didn’t experience my first ‘real’ thunderstorm until after I left Stella D’Mare,” Nico explained, trying his hand at a more relaxed, less pompous rhythm of speech. “While it does rain and bluster, we receive only the occasional peal of thunder and some illuminations of lightning behind the clouds. Nothing like this,” he gestured to the unrelenting procession of lightning, his face almost giddy with delight. “It was in Braighdath. We were making camp outside of the city, and that’s when it happened. I saw how thunder and lightning truly could act when completely uninhibited, and…it thrilled me to see. It really did.”
For a moment, Nico shifted his attention from the storm to Teselin, considering her question. He didn’t want to be dishonest with her, nor did he aim to hurt her feelings, so he compromised, and tried for tact. “If you were different…you would not be you. You would be someone else. It’s impossible to know if I would have approached this ‘Not-you,’ as I have no clue what kind of ‘Not-you,’ you would be. Does that…make any sense?” So much for tact. In his attempt to be philosophical and deep, he ended up spouting nonsensical rubbish! “We can stay here, until the storm clears,” he cleared his throat, trying to move on from his bizarre reply. “I don’t believe anyone else would dare to traipse outside in this weather. Only us,” he said, rather toothily.
“In a similar vein,” he said in afterthought, “if you were someone else, would you still hold any interest in me? Beyond my family ties, that is? Would you find my macabre fascinations strange, or laughable?” He lowered his voice, his words almost lost beneath the thunder. “…Disturbing, even?”
Alster didn’t know where to begin addressing Tivia with his deluge of questions and concerns about her whereabouts, so he started with the one that he felt was most relevant…and noticeable. “You…you’ve changed.” Not even a question, but an out-loud wondering. A half-formed thought, but he was too baffled to elaborate beyond looking, but not staring, at her shadowed and only mildly-singed complexion.
“Well, nothing escapes your attention,” Tivia quipped dryly, shifting her position so that she directly faced the freshly remarried couple, her one luminous eye trained to watch their lips. For good measure, she tipped her hat, allowing them a better glimpse of her pinkened burn scars and the slightly matured features on her formerly teenaged face. “Twenty-five years,” she said, almost matter-of-fact. “I’ve been gone for twenty-five years. Thought you two should know. A ‘wedding gift,’ or some such. I owe it to you. The truth, or parts of it, anyway.”
“Wait…twenty-five years?!” Alster struggled to contain his exclamation of surprise, not wanting to alert other people to her location, but regulating his volume after receiving that nugget of information was nothing short of difficult. “What…where did you go for that long?”
Tivia let forth a soundless sigh and nodded, as though she needed some mental preparation before she resumed speaking. “Remember Isidor’s dream? …It wasn’t a dream.” While Alster was trying to process and make sense of all she was telling him, she added, “It’s because of you I had a chance of returning at all. So…thank you.”
Of course that damn box had worked exactly as she had intended it to; Nia had been up far too late and woke far too early that morning to ensure that flower of light would bloom flawlessly. Just enough of a spectacle to wow both Lilica and the audience, without taking away from the piece de resistance: the ring inside. Of course, it was her own fault for choosing to stall for Nico and Teselin’s sake such that she happened to miss just how the engagement went over, but she’d already envisioned the aftermath so well, it played out in her mind as if it were an actual memory. In Nia’s mind, she’d watch the new royal couple have their moment, and then approach them when it was safe.They would turn to her, tears in their eyes, with Chara having already divulged to Lilica that Nia had had a part in this special moment. And then, the Galeynian queen would wipe her tears on her sleeve and regain her composure, and say something along the lines of: Consider yourself free, Nia Ardane. Or even, I understand, now. I’m sorry I ever doubted your allegiance.
With that ideal still fresh in her mind, Nia struggled to comprehend the way Ari wilted beneath her touch, and instead of confirming her expectations with a grin and a kiss, his words were completely to the contrary. He sounded so sure, and she had no reason not to believe him; that despite what she had done, for Alster and Elespeth, and then for Queen Lilica and Chara… neither of those things was her ticket to a life free of shackles, figurative or otherwise. “...accrue? Build? To what point? When…” Her hands dropped to her sides. “When… will it all be enough?”
The sounds around her faded into ocean-like incoherency at that point. She was vaguely aware of Haraldur Sorde’s intrusive presence stepping into the conversation, but whatever he had to say didn’t reach her ears. The sound of her heart slowing in her chest was the only thing she heard as the magnitude of reality hit her and slowly crushed her under its weight. It didn’t matter; the loss of sleep, the keen attention to detail… everything she had done for the most important people here still amounted to nothing more than the potential for a longer leash.
Whatever conversation was transpiring over her deaf ears, Ari seemed suddenly pleased, and spoke to her, mentioning something about Nico and his intent to announce the winners of the parade floats. “Right… yeah. Just one second.” Whether or not her reply even made sense with regard to his question, the Master Alchemist excused herself and joined the fray of bright colours mingling in the crowd, and made a beeline for the newly engaged couple dancing in their own bubble of imagined privacy. Chara’s forehead rested against Lilica’s shoulder, and the chthonic mage held her close and protective, like she would never let her go. Nia was almost reluctant to interrupt that moment, but… she had no choice.
“Your Majesty. Lady Chara. Congratulations.” She clasped her hands together and showed her winning smile, somehow managing to pull it off despite the sudden heaviness on her shoulders, or the feeling of her heart dropping into her stomach. “I just want you to know how much it means to me that I was able to have a hand in making this moment happen for you both--truly. It’s moments like this that I live for, y’know. People--good people getting what they deserve. And I just thought I’d ask… if there’s anything else I can do for you. Or for any of the Rigases, or the palace, or Galeyn--anything I can do at all. Seriously, I’m at your disposal, and my skill set is immense.”
“Nia…” As much as Lilica was quietly frustrated that the Master Alchemist had the gall to interrupt a tender moment, something about the urgent, nervous energy emanating from the Ardane woman gave her pause to listen. “Nia, I can’t begin to thank you enough for what you did for Chara and I--and for Alster and Elespeth. Not to mention, it did not escape my attention that you saved Teselin Kristeva’s life. I’m not exaggerating when I say you have my gratitude; and, rest assured… you can relax. I know how hard you’ve been working on everyone else’s behalf. I’m already impressed.”
“No, really, Your Majesty--I can do more, if you’ll give me the chance. If you’ll… if you’ll just tell me what it is you want. What do you want me to do? Because I can do it. I’ll do it tonight, right this second, if it means…” The adrenaline in her veins tightened her throat, so she cleared it before she could continue. “Just… please tell me what I need to do, to prove to you that I deserve to stop being a prisoner. I’ll do it, I just need… to know.”
Lilica’s smile faded with every anxious word from the Master Alchemist’s mouth. The Ardane woman was doing a poor job concealing her distress; even behr hands had begun to shake again. “...listen, Nia. I need you to know that I want this for you--your freedom. As someone who was once a prisoner of Stella D’Mare, I hope you know that I can empathize with your plight.” She went so far as to even cover one of Nia’s tremor-stricken hands with her own. Up close, underneath her make-up, the woman looked as though she had lost sleep, of late, and looked dangerously close to falling apart. “I need you to believe that I am working on it--your freedom. But… it has more involved than just my word. I must also convince the majority of this kingdom of your redemption, lest they lose faith in me for making such a decision without their input. Galeyn continues to suffer scars from Locque, and you… unfortunately, you still stand as a terrible reminder of what that woman did to this kingdom and its people. Know that I am working on it, and putting a case together for you, but… it is going to take a little bit of time.”
“So if I save Ari--will that be enough? If I get rid of his curse, is that the turning point when this kingdom will just… just leave me alone? And let me live?” Nia searched both Chara and Lilica’s faces for confirmation. “That must be it, right? That is what they are waiting for… and then I’m free?”
“I can’t… Nia, the truth is, I don’t know. If I had to guess, then yes, probably, but I hesitate to make any solid promises when my say only plays a small part in the outcome. But, after tonight, I can guarantee you have earned the respect of many.”
“How? How can that be true, when no one but you and your inner circle knows I had any part in Alster and Elespeth’s wedding, or working on that ring box to perfection? I… Your Majesty. Please excuse me. It is as you say: not entirely in your hands. Forgive me for interrupting your evening… I mean, an engagement like this only happens once in a lifetime, right? You deserve to enjoy it!” The Ardane woman offered one last shallow bow and grinned, but the muscles in her cheeks twitched, exhausted from the charade. “Congratulations once again; I can’t wait for the next wedding!”
Before she could put her foot in her mouth any further (or fall to pieces in front of the queen), Nia retreated, finding a table resplendent in libations and a few dainty hors d'oeuvres. She couldn’t care less for any of the food, but didn’t think twice before grabbing a glass half-filled with a deep, red wine. And when she knocked that back, she reached for another, also draining it in record time. It just so happened that Hadwin appeared to be in the vicinity, and couldn’t help but take notice of the most reckless behaviour she’d engaged in in quite a long time.
“Did you know, when certain birds are kept in captivity for too long, kept in a cage where they don’t have the space to adequately stretch their wings, some of them forget how to fly?” She asked cryptically as she wiped her wine-stained lips on the back of her hand. “And if they’re ever released back into the wild, they’ve forgotten how to survive on their own, and will either quickly get caught by a predator, or fail to thrive entirely? Pretty fucking tragic, if you ask me. Also a good reason not to keep things captive.”
Whether or not Hadwin had any idea what this was about, how this unending captivity was starting to weigh on her (even with Commander Sorde’s offer to relax the guard), Nia didn’t care to elaborate. The empty wine glass trembled in her unsteady hand. “By the way… I think the jig is up. You’re gonna want to go find Teselin and Nico; Ari’s on the lookout for his nephew so they can stand together as he announces the winner of the parade float contest. Make sure he doesn’t catch his nephew anywhere near that summoner.”
“Oh… no, don’t apologize, Nico. I’m not looking for sympathy, or… or anything like that.” Teselin was quick to wave off any mention of Mollengard. “It’s in the past, what happened. I just wanted to point out how something like that… it changes a person. For the better and for the worse. I’m not asking you to change your opinion of Chara Rigas, just to understand that she isn’t the same woman who once hurt your uncle. That’s all.”
It was true, she had no intention to bolster Chara’s image in any way, and she was frankly a little relieved when the thunder and lightning changed the subject for them. The summoner was happy that her compliment sat well with Nico, knowing how much his art meant to him. He really was truly talented, and she hoped that he would find a sense of relevance without his uncle’s approval. He deserved a sense of identity apart from being related to an artistic prodigy; even if he hadn’t approached her, hadn’t sought her attention and her friendship, and she had still been privy to his art, she would have wanted this for him. Which spurred the consideration as to what he would want for or think of her, if she was not the walking means of destruction that had this kingdom trembling. She didn’t want to ask: it didn’t feel appropriate, especially after all he had done for her, but… she needed to know.
Teselin wasn’t sure what it was she expected as an answer, or even what she wanted to hear. It was clear enough that Nico did not want to offend her, nor did he mean to deliver anything but his own truth. She wanted his words to be comforting, but… that wasn’t possible. Because a part of her already knew the answer before he even ventured to speak. Someone like him, so attracted to unconventional beauty or things that might otherwise make people uncomfortable, would of course be intrigued by someone of her nature. If she were ordinary… certainly, he would not be taking such risks, would he?
“But what if… what if, tomorrow, I found a way to rid myself of my magic, without risking my health or my life for it?” The Kristeva girl pressed her back against the cool stone of the palace, avoiding the rain as it began to pick up. “Now that you know me better as a person… if I woke up tomorrow, without any powers of destruction or otherwise, what would you think of me then, Nico? If I just blended in with the crowd, if I was another wallflower… would you still want to get to know me more? I’m sorry--I know this question is unfair. But if I had the chance to meet you by other means, if you made the same effort to try and befriend me, then even if I couldn’t see your art the same way, I would at least try to understand. Not just understand, but respect why you are who you are, and that you are free to love what you do. At least… I’d like to think I would. But, it is as you say… I suppose I will never know. I guess I just…”
Teselin paused and took a breath. She was rambling, and Nico was under no obligation to remain there and listen to such blathering; it was time to get to the point. “... I want to be more than my magic. I don’t want to be defined by it. I just want to be ‘me’, an ordinary person without this power I never asked for. I just want to be a person without the means to do any harm, someone who enjoys a quiet life full of calmer weather and helping people in small but meaningful ways, but… but that’s impossible, I realize. And if, by chance, you only approached me to get to know a force of total destruction more personally…” Her lips pulled into a sad smile, and she turned her attention to the deluge pouring from the sky in front of them. “I’ll take it. Because having someone my own age to talk to and share some experiences with makes me feel a little more ordinary, all the same. I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to walk about in broad daylight without others running in the opposite direction, so… let’s make what memories we can. Experience what we can before I have to disappear, for everyone’s safety.”
“Tivia…” Elespeth’s jaw dropped as the Rigas woman revealed her identity, no longer the girl they had once known but… most definitely a woman. Ticia’s appeared had matured in minute ways, but there was undoubtedly an aged air about the Star Seer. Something in the way she held herself, with perhaps even a bit more height to her appearance. What came as the greatest relief was that she did not appear to be harmed in any way.
“But how… what do you mean, you’ve been gone for twenty-five years? It has only been a few months since we last saw you, Tivia. Several months too long, but… as you can see, none of us has aged twenty-five years. Are you sure…” Worry creased her brow as the thought occurred to her that Tivia’s time away, wherever she was, had not only had a strange effect on her body, but also her mind. “Are you sure you’re alright, Tivia?”
That was when the Rigas woman ventured to explain, and… it only confused Elespeth all the more. Alster, on the other hand, appeared more apt to believe it, and although Tivia had no real reason to lie, it was quite the tale to digest. Furthermore, if she really had been inhabiting an alternate reality for the equivalent of twenty-five years (however time had passed for her)... what had enticed her to stay for so long?
“Did… what was it like there?” She ventured to ask, although a part of her wasn’t quite sure she really wanted to know. “What made you want to stay? Or, were you just unable to return until now? And how… how did you get back? Tivia, please…” The former knight took the Rigas girl’s hand. Not too long ago, she had comforted this very girl, on multiple occasions, like the big sister she’d never had. “There’s so much that we don’t know. Are you going to disappear again? You have no idea how much we’ve worried for what became of you. You have no idea how Isidor…”
That was where she stopped. What Isidor had felt in Tivia’s absence was only for him to express, if he so chose…. And if Tivia so chose to confide in him.
Ari’s heart about broke when Nia reacted as if he had taken her most fervent hopes and dreams and torched them upon a pyre. Considering the effect of his words upon her mood, he might as well have lit the flame. “Nia, you have not lost, not at all. Such matters take time,” he appealed, reaching out a hand to rest upon her arm, as she had done before, not caring what others might extrapolate from an intimate gesture initiated by a man known for his aversion to touch. But she didn’t register his attempt at comfort via physical contact, and he loosened his already failing grip, allowing it to unhook, and his hand to retreat to the handle of his cane. “I understand that is not what you wish to hear, but progress…it is not instantaneous. There are steps involved, stages one must clear before advancing to the next. We mustn’t obsess over the main goal, but instead, celebrate our little victories, lest we become overwhelmed and disheartened by the lengthy path we have yet to tread. Hurrying along the process, while desirable in your less-than-ideal circumstances, will only create further upset and strain, and I worry for the effect it will have on your overall well-being.”
He tried to catch her gaze and guide her towards a less frantic state, but her eyes darted everywhere, on everyone, save for him, and he wasn’t sure she heeded him, anymore. “I cannot fathom the torment you must feel in respect to captivity whose terms span an indeterminate length of time. Captivity at all, for that matter. Even more so, given your history of evading this very result for well over a decade of your existence. I understand your urge to flee, to escape this difficult situation and to surmount it altogether, posthaste, but—“
Muttering some vague words in his direction, Nia excused herself…to flee. Before he could stop her, she was already gone.
“This woman is a headache,” Laz grumbled, her always unamused expression folding into a more severe representation of her requisite unamusement.
“Let us grant her some space,” Ari suggested, bringing the increasingly more attractive goblet to his lips for another sip of wine. “She has not had it easy these past few months and I would hate to exacerbate her delicate condition with my tone-deaf sentiments. On a different topic,” despite his concern, he managed a playful smirk to his old friend, “you do not experience headaches, Laz.”
The intimidating golem harrumphed, visibly unmoved by Nia’s plight. “Considering how often she drags me into all her self-created messes, I might as well have one.”
No sooner did Chara finally unravel her knotted ball of accumulated nerves and finally relax in Lilica’s arms than Nia trampled into her space, presumably to emphasize her involvement with the creation of the engagement ring box. With extreme reluctance, she withdrew from Lilica’s arms and furrowed her brows at the Master Alchemist, baffled at her audacity to interrupt their dance just to recite her most recent achievements to them under a faux-modest front. Not only was it profoundly annoying, but also in bad taste. She couldn’t even wait until their dance was over before yipping at their heels for immediate recognition and begging for yet more ways to prove herself useful?
Be more diplomatic, Chara, she reminded herself. Treat people as people, not as inconveniences. “Your assistance is noted and appreciated, Nia. I thank you for your diligent work on the box. It exceeded my expectations.” Not like I had many to begin with—but she withheld what she would normally share aloud, electing for a filtered, tactful approach. “Thank you. I do not say that lightly. However, I hardly think now is the time to—“
She paused, noticing the desperation intensifying Nia’s every action; from the tightness in her speech, to the tremble of her hands, and…dammit, Chara couldn’t turn a blind eye to someone that pitiful. She sympathized with the woman, for it wasn’t so long ago when she was reduced to such a pitiable state, herself. She brushed aside her blonde hair to tug on one of her blunted ears and traced the scar tissue still residing there. A reminder of last year when she, at her lowest point, took a heated knife and hacked the tips of her ears, her most prominent marker of Rigas identity. She knew how it felt to lose oneself completely.
“If you saved Ari, he would exalt you to the heavens and demand that all of Stella D’Mare pay you tribute. The man will canonize you as a saint and sculpt statues in your honor; I do not exaggerate,” she said, rolling her eyes for some levity. “Whether Galeyn decides to follow suit ultimately depends on the people, not us. But we can surely influence their opinion, and we will devise the appropriate strategies to shorten your sentence. As of now…this is all we can do. Please be patient. We are doing everything in our power to help with your case.”
After Nia gave them an unsteady bow and finally left the two in peace, Chara looked to Lilica, a lopsided smile on her face. “See? I am trying to be more patient and understanding. Am I succeeding?”
While he lingered near the libations table under the pretense of drinking himself to oblivion, Hadwin needed to keep some of his faculties in check if he wanted to do his part as a lookout for Teselin and her gentleman ‘friend.’ Of course, this didn’t stop him from sloshing down a few goblets of wine every now and then. Nothing to put him under, but enough to generate a consistent buzz throughout his alcohol-starved body.
Not long after Chara’s doozy of an announcement, the ensuing backlash from the crowd, and the tenuous resolution that followed, Hadwin found Nia eyeing the crystal goblets as if she fancied herself a barrel fitting the entire table’s contents into her gut. He joined her just as she flung back two glasses and was greeted by some long-winded analogy about birds and cages. In response, he raised a bushy eyebrow at her and slipped out a wry grin. “Dramatic, much?” But he wasn’t dismissing her concerns. In fact, he clanked his goblet against hers in ready agreement. “I’ll toast to that, though. Wolves don’t do well in cages, either. Fuck it if I know how I managed to be Mollengard’s faithful lapdog for a year.” He tilted back his head and, the moment the wine spilled into his mouth, it vanished. So,” he smacked his lips, “you’re losing your goddamned mind, huh? For one, I learned a lot about birds, so thanks for the ornithology lesson,” he chuckled, setting down his empty goblet. “After all our responsibilities are taken care of here, wanna beg off and get fucked up? If we’re losing our shit, might as well do it together. They say misery loves company, but I wonder if the same could be said for the crazies?” His golden eyes followed the trajectory of her own, carefully. Observing the flicks and shadows of fears, screaming, trapped, from inside the locked doors behind her irises. Release me, they keened into his ears. Release me! “But hey, it’s at your own risk. I’m a bad influence, after all,” he said, still staring intensely, drawn to the sway and rhythm of her inner chaos, and wanting to fall into it. “But I also know where all the other bad influences go to have a good time.”
At the mention of Teselin’s name, however, he snapped out of his trance and redirected his gaze to the doors where she and Nico had made their getaway earlier. “On it.” Acting as if nothing happened, he removed himself from the table and swerved towards the exit. “I got an idea on where they went. If you can stomach it, have a slice of cake while I’m gone, yeah?” And, winking his farewell, Hadwin headed out of the ballroom to embark on his time-sensitive task.
It soon became apparent that Nico didn’t give a satisfactory enough answer to Teselin’s question. Here, she desired validation, some confirmation that she meant more to him than her immense power over the elements, and he gracelessly blundered a response stating the inverse; he cared only for her embodiment as an untameable force of nature. But that wasn’t entirely true. He just didn’t know how to express himself properly, not when all his life had been in service to the art of surface-level rhetoric and authenticity-shunning social etiquette, trivialities he had no choice but to learn and perfect. When it came to deeper, often impolite or taboo subjects, he was woefully unprepared to plumb those depths. Hadn’t he, however, craved this sort of mental and emotional stimulation his entire life? Now that such an opportunity fell into his lap, he found he had no idea how to proceed in a genuine capacity. Did he dispense with the politesse and speak entirely unfiltered? Or did he construct a reply most pleasing to her ears? A bit of both? How could he remain true to himself without also offending the woman he most wanted to impress?
He didn’t know, but he wasn’t quite ready to quit in his pursuit.
“If tomorrow you were to lose your abilities, you would still be you, despite everything,” he said, taking care to enunciate his words carefully lest he stumbled or made an error in their phrasing. “So yes, I would still seek your companionship. Allow me to elaborate on what I meant, before.” He took his eyes off of the impressive summer storm to grant Teselin his complete, undivided attention. “Your magic has granted you a unique perspective I daresay would be dampened or altogether absent if you had never been born with it to influence your decisions and beliefs. For example, would you be so forgiving and accepting of the people others deem the outcasts and monsters of society? Such as Locque, your necromancer brother, Hadwin Kavanagh and his murderous sister, and others of their nature? Would you have given them the time of day, or bear such strong convictions to understand and help them, if you have not suffered similar aspersions and accusations towards your own character? Would you have overcompensated for these perceived faults present in your self-identity and practiced such an eager willingness to overcome your destructive ‘impulses’ through charitable acts and overly considerate, benevolent gestures, if not for your desperation to overcome the presence of magic so awake and alive in you?” Glad for the relative cover of darkness, save for the ambient glow of the palace windows and the fleeting, but glorious eruptions of purple lightning dazzling the sky, Nico was better able to hide his climbing trepidation, which was evident on his heated face, he was sure. Had he taken his assessment too far? Did he overstep, presume too much, or manage to offend her all the more?
“So, in sum,” he hurried, fiddling with one of the obsidian glass buttons of his coat, “the magic is not you, but it has brought forth and amplified some aspects of yourself that, under more normal, ordinary circumstances, might never have been brought to light at all. Forgive me if my candor has caused you any offense or malaise; that was never my intention,” he bowed sharply at the waist to give physical form to his apology. “At any rate, I…support you,” he blurted, tugging even more fiercely at his buttons. “If there is one clear takeaway that can be had from my inane speech, it is thus. I support you in your quest to become more. Whatever you want or need, I will endeavor to provide you, even if it is the simple request of my company and friendship. The only thing I do not support…is your belief that you must one day cast yourself away. Teselin,” it was the first time he spoke her name without adding an honorific, but he barely noticed his social faux pas, “you cannot possibly consider this option as your one salvation. Please…” do not disappear. But to give voice to his sentiment would perhaps suggest a hasty forwardness he was not quite ready to explore. Could he really ask that much of her so early into their acquaintanceship? He hadn’t the right, or the influence on her heart, to sway her decision. At this juncture, he could only hope one day to mean enough. Maybe then…
Maybe then…
Nico nearly jumped out of his own skin when another flicker of sky-illuminating lightning revealed a rather deranged figure standing before them, drowned to the bone by the rain, with hair matted into clumps of thorny bramble and menacing eyes reflecting off the palace windows like golden coins. It spoke with the thunder, a rumble, a clap, and a roar, as it intoned, “Get out. Get out of here now.”
Despite his fear, Nico protectively sidled closer to Teselin and addressed the phantom. “What…what do you want?” Magic sparked at his fingertips. If need be, he would defend them against this crazed assailant…
“Well…good to know I’ve still got it.” The ‘assailant’ stepped into better range of the ambient light of the window, mouth spreading into a wolfish, sadistic grin. Hadwin Kavanagh. “Knew I couldn’t fool Tes for a second, but you?” He barked into a delighted laugh, slicking his tangled, rain-soaked hair from his forehead. “Couldn’t pass up the opportunity for an old-fashioned fright. Old habits and all. Congrats, kid. You passed my rigorous assessment. Went straight for Tes instead of running off screaming. Takes true integrity, that. So I guess you’re pretty alright in my book.”
Nico didn’t know how to react to this news. The wolf was testing his fear response? He looked askance at Tes, hoping she could provide more insight behind the questionable antics of her friend…her guardian? “Thank you?” he managed, still uncertain what passing a hazing test boded for him, in future encounters with the wolf.
“Seriously though, get out.” Hadwin thumbed over to the nearest set of palace doors. “Your uncle’s looking for you. Wants you present when he announces the winners of the float competition.”
“Already?” Heaving an annoyed sigh, Nico glanced at Teselin, his bearing full to brimming with regret. It was too soon to depart, not when they only now started to connect beyond the superficial surface of the social contract.
“‘Fraid so.” Hadwin glanced over his shoulder. The storm was beginning to clear, the rain lightening to a steady, harmless drizzle. “But there’ll be other opportunities, mark my words. Now say your farewells and get on back to your uncle before he organizes a palace-wide search party looking for your sorry hide.”
Elespeth’s deluge of questions elicited an amused snort from the star seer. Leave it to a former knight turned fledgling mage not to understand the intricacies behind her own celestial inheritance. What was Alster teaching her, or rather, not teaching her, about magic theory—in particular the existence of other realms, other universes, the relativism of time and space? Better yet, hadn’t she experienced the ether, herself? Seen the vastness of the cosmos, and all the stars therein, scattered across infinity?
Although, she supposed she couldn’t fault any earth-bound being, especially one so grounded as Elespeth, to comprehend her story. In all honesty, even she had a woefully insufficient grasp of the convoluted proceedings behind her unintentional twenty-five-year detour. If anyone on this entire plane of existence were to believe and understand her without question, not citing her departure of reason as the main—and only—conclusion to take away from her narrative, it would be Alster. And, to an extent, Vitali.
Isidor, too, an unhelpful buzz of a thought introduced garbled noise into her sound-deficient ears, but she promptly stamped it dead, and silence prevailed.
“Am I alright,” she deadpanned, raising an incredulous eyebrow. She stood directly beside Elespeth, measuring their heights. Before she departed, Tivia had been shorter than her, closer to Alster’s diminutive stature. Now, not only were they the same height, but she’d also gained significant muscle mass from her time away. Not quite the physique of a warrior to match that of Elespeth or Sigrid, but for a warrior mage, her lithe, athletic form was apparent, even from beneath the folds of her floor-length coat. The muscles of her exposed clavicles rippled, bunching the sleeves of her ill-fitting outfit as she withdrew her proximity with Elespeth. “Madness grants growth spurts, apparently.” She smiled, but it didn’t carry much humor. “I’ll indulge your questions. Some of them. Of what has come to pass, already. I don’t need to remind you the consequences of detailing my experiences living in a world closely paralleling this one. Some things…are not meant for your ears.” She flattened herself against the wall, adjusting the black eyepatch that covered her bad eye. “This world behaved similarly, save for a few key differences. My alternate self had died in the fire during Prince Messino’s assault on the Rigas camp. So the star seer ability I was supposed to receive passed, instead,” she turned to Alster, “to you.”
Alster’s expression twisted with astonishment. “Me? How would I have managed taking on the mantle of star seer, on top of everything else I was dealing with at the time?”
“Oh, you managed,” she said with a playful scoff. “Enough to defeat the Serpent, save Stella D’Mare, and help Lilica locate Galeyn, as in this world. When I arrived there, against my will, I might add,” she kept her expression neutral, but felt a tightness around her eye at the memory, “I was recognized as that world’s Tivia, and since there could not be two star seers in one place at a time, I lost my ability, and with that, any hope of getting home on my own.”
“You said I, rather, this world’s version of me, helped you return.” Alster, to his credit, didn’t balk or resist her recount, and calmly took everything at face value. “But if this is the same world about which Isidor dreamt, I ended up ascending to godhood after Elespeth,” he lowered his eyes to his feet, reluctant to finish the thought. So Tivia did it for him.
“Elespeth didn’t die.” Tivia nodded to the other Rigas woman, apologizing in advance for dredging up potentially unpleasant memories for her to relive. “Kept in a perfect stasis for all those twenty-five years, but not dead. Without Isidor’s expertise to help you, or Vitali’s necromancy to revive her from death—he never showed up in that world, oddly—you ascended in order to deliver her a miracle. But…you didn’t come back for her. Not for another twenty-five years, when,” she hesitated, “Isidor actually managed to heal her heart…and you mustered the will to descend. That’s when I revealed my situation to you, and,” she flicked a hand to her surroundings, “transported me back to this world. Upon my return, I was reunited with my star seer ability, and…here we are. Who’s to say if it will happen again? If I’ll vanish somewhere else? I’ve come unstuck from this world as it is. How much easier would it be to…disappear…a second time.” Her shoulders sagged. She hadn’t realized how much energy the recounting of her tale sapped from her body. “The world I inhabited for twenty-five years was harder. Harsher. More unforgiving.” She fanned out her hand and ticked off numbers from her fingers. “Vega Sorde, Aristide Canaveris, Nia Ardane, Hadwin and Rowen Kavanagh, Sigrid Sorenson…these were all the casualties of war. The people lost.” And more…
But they were not for their ears to know. Or hers, either. Especially hers.
“Speak not a word of this to Isidor,” she snapped to her full height, affixing them both with a scathing glare. “He already feels horrendously guilty about my departure. At any rate, I’ll tell him, myself. When I am good and ready. As for your other pressing question I know is churning around in your head, Alster,” her lips flattened into a fatalistic line, “yes, I killed my father. No, I will not elaborate on ‘why.’ Not yet.”
And with that last, ominous note, she pushed off from the wall and turned her back to them. “I didn’t mean to dampen your festive mood, but you’ll forgive me for seeing an opportunity and going for it. Please enjoy the remainder of your wedding night. And rest assured; I’ll be sure to inform Chara and Lilica of my formal return, before retiring for the evening.” With a parting wave of her hand, Tivia headed out, mingling with the crowd so adeptly, one could say she disappeared again…into another world.
The Queen was not her enemy; not even Chara Rigas was her enemy. Nia didn’t believe for a moment that either of them had ever been guilty of plotting to keep her captive, for they had nothing to gain, especially when Stella D’Mare and the majority of Galeyn had been sold on her alternative sentence of serving Lilica and this kingdom until it saw fit to exonerate her. But that was the trouble with such a vague goal; there had never been any indication of when enough would be enough. Ever since her trial, when she had narrowly avoided death, the Master Alchemist had been a model prisoner. She had done what she was told, and as a result, was gradually awarded small freedoms, one at a time. First, reduced guards, and then having her surveillance kept at a longer distance. She had been approved to leave the palace to live in the Canaveris estate, and just now, Haraldur Sorde had offered yet another consolation prize of relaxing the guard all the more… But none of that meant anything when there was no end in sight, and she had no indication of when she would finally redeem herself in Galeyn’s eyes.
With no end in sight… she could never truly be with Ari. She could never live a life worth living if she didn’t have the basic rights of a living mortal with free will. It wasn’t about patience; it was about promises--or lack thereof, as no one--not Ari, not Chara, not even Lilica--could tell her when this would all end.
It was for that reason that she didn’t think twice about knocking back two full glasses of wine, regardless of who was watching and who would berate her. If she didn’t do something to take the edge off of her distress, she feared she might completely shatter in the middle of that ballroom. Fortunately, the one person who did take notice and call her out at least did so with a modicum of understanding. “I avoided capture for a decade. I was alone, but I was free--alone, but free. Is that really worse than not being alone, but adhering to captivity? Yeah, it was a fucking lonely life on the run, but… but I was still able to run! If they would just tell me, just give me a fucking goal to meet, then I’ll meet it! This… this isn’t living. This is just… getting by.”
Nia put down the empty glass, already eyeing another. Not even Hadwin could help her, even if he thought she was in the right to feel like giving up. “I can’t be at my best, living like this. I can’t do my best work under these constraints. I can’t… I’m afraid I won’t be able to help Ari. And even if I do, that may not be enough to clear my name in Galeyn. I’m fucked, Hadwin; and maybe I have no one to blame but myself for that. But… but I’ve been trying so hard to turn it around. Makes me wonder if anyone, beyond the people who see me on the daily, has even noticed. I don’t know how much longer I can put up with it.” And as much as she’d have liked to drown herself in alcohol with someone else, like the old days when she and Hadwin had hit up taverns and pubs to see who could drink the most, there was something more important to which he needed to attend.
“Let’s postpone that for a better time. You’ve gotta go get those kids outta hot water before they find themselves deep in it.” She watched him leave, confident that his keen sense of smell would find the two before Ari did, and her slightly less than perceptive eyes happened to fall upon someone else who appeared to be drowning their sorrows in libations. It wasn’t often that she spotted Sigrid Sorenson without the company of Hadwin’s sister; in fact, she seemed to recall that the two had arrived together to attend the short ceremony for Alster and Elespeth. Had the former Dawn Warrior also escaped the kind company that kept her grounded because she couldn’t handle seeing what she had once hoped to experience? A marriage… and then, an engagement--between two women, at that? It couldn’t have been easy for her. And everyone had a breaking point.
“Couldn’t hold out any longer, huh? How did you manage to get away from your doting friends and cousin without inciting any worry?” Nia approached carefully, not wanting to incite the wrath of a woman whose loyalty and friendship she had not yet secured to the same degree as she had Elespeth. “Hey… you don’t need to explain anything. I snapped too, see?” The Master Alchemist grabbed another glass. It would be her third in just a handful of minutes. “I was planning on drunkenly wandering around the Night Garden in the rain so as not to horribly embarrass myself here and ruin it for all of the newly weds and newly engaged couples. You’re welcome to join me, if you’re also finding it hard to breathe at this party.”
“I’m fine.” Evidently, Sigrid was still lucid enough to be delusional. Or heavily in denial. The flush across her cheeks and the glazed look to her eyes suggested that the glass of wine in her hand was certainly not her first. It must have been one thing to see her friends happily married (something that, no doubt, she had also wished to be by now.) But to witness one woman propose to another, something else she had wanted to experience… It was too much, and reminded her too much about what she had lost. But of course, she knew better than to admit to her weakness to someone she did not yet consider a friend. “Whatever issue you’re currently taking with life or with yourself or other people is yours alone. I just wanted to try the wine.”
Nia didn’t even venture to argue. The blonde warrior was wounded; and she wasn’t feeling much better, herself. It wasn’t her place to question a lie when she heard it. “It is really good wine, huh? Definitely superior to some of the swill the pubs serve.” She tipped the glass to her lips and took a sip. Truth be told, she hadn’t paid any attention to the taste. “Well, I’ll leave you to enjoy it by yourself, but if for some reason you’re inclined to enjoy it with company… I’ll be in the Night Garden. Looks like the rain’s letting up.” She nodded to one of the windows, where little could be seen aside from their own reflections, with water droplets on the other side. “Your cousin offered to relax my guard, on good behaviour. I’m gonna go take advantage of it by getting a little bit of privacy. Hey--let me know who ends up being the winner of the parade float competition, huh? The Canaverises plan to announce it soon.”
With a nod, the Master Alchemist took her own sorrows with her out of the room. Perhaps Sigrid should have taken the Ardane woman’s advice to seek some solitude, but it was too late. Haraldur must have taken notice that suddenly, no one was standing next to Bronwyn, and had sought her out since she hadn’t excused herself or given any indication that she would be leaving for the libation table. “Enjoying tonight? So far so good, right?” To allay his concerns before they could surface, Sigrid opted to smile when she could no longer pretend she didn’t notice her cousin’s presence. “I’m surprised to see both you and Vega here. Typically one of you is with the children; wonderful that you could both make it. So, what do you think of this wine?” She took a sip from the glass in her hand. There was no hiding the fact she had been drinking; why not lean into it? “Not that I know much about any alcohol, but this hasn’t made my head feel like it is spinning yet.”
Perhaps he was simply telling her what she wanted to hear, but… Teselin didn’t wholly believe that. Nico, like his uncle, was a genuine person, but he did not fabricate truths simply to appease others. He was far better than that, and when he clarified that he would feel no differently about her if she were to completely lose her powers as a summoner tomorrow, it was perhaps the most validated that she had ever felt. Not only did someone not resent her for magic she had never asked for, but he appreciated her for more than how that magic reflected upon her. She had been so afraid that his answer would be a regretful sight and the shake of his head; it turns out, Nico deserved more credit than that.
“I was hoping you would feel that way.” The summoner confessed in a small voice. “I suppose I cannot deny that some good has come of the way I’ve been treated, since it directly influences the way I look upon and treat other people. Everybody has a darkness… and it isn’t always their fault when it happens to manifest. And everyone has a story behind it. It’s why I couldn’t resent Locque the way everyone else could; or Nia, for that matter. Or my eldest brother. But, so many people simply choose to pass me off as naive…” Her smile, albeit small, was warm and genuine. “Thank you for not thinking of me that way. And I wish…”
Teselin trailed off, not expecting Nico’s vehement reaction to the only solution she could think of, which was to leave. Their companionship, while still so new and young, was perhaps very intense as a result of their clandestine meetings and correspondences. Certainly, she could understand the appeal Nico must have felt in secretly defying his uncle, but if she were gone, surely someone else would find their way into his interests. At least, that were be true if he were looking for a companion, and she had simply fit his expectations, but it was possible that he hadn’t been looking at all. She had simply been there… and he had decided to see what it felt like to let her into his life a little bit. Evidently, he had decided it was worth it to take the risk. “...I want there to be another solution, Nico. I don’t want to have to leave. Literally, everyone I love is here, in Galeyn. But I don’t know what else to do. Even if I never cause another disaster, everyone will continue to fear me. I wish…” She faltered, unsure of what she was about to say, though concerned she might never have another chance to say it. And maybe, just maybe… “I wish you could come--” Come with me. What if… we left it all behind, together?
Hadwin’s entrance was both perfectly and awfully timed. Perhaps they were words better left unsaid, anyway, for how absurd they would have sounded, and for saving her inevitable rejection. Why in the world would he ever want to leave? He had family here, and the comfort of his Canaveris prestige. It would be akin to social suicide for him; he could lose all ties to everything he’d ever known. And they didn’t even know each other especially well… No, ultimately, it was better to just say nothing at all.
“Wait… already?” Teselin’s heart sank to hear that Ari was already on the move in search of his nephew. Didn’t the man have anything better to do than keen on Nico’s heels? Did he suspect that the young Canaveris might wander off to directly defy his wishes? “But…” Frantically, the summoner’s mind parsed through excuses and ideas, anything that might prolong this moment where she could stand in the company of someone who accepted her for everything that she was (and wasn’t), but it was futile. Their night had to be over, lest they get caught. If Ari found out where Nico had been… Any future rendez-vous would be off the table.
“...Hadwin is right, Nico. You should go. Before your uncle finds you with me.” Teselin bowed her head. One dance and a few moments to themselves didn’t seem fair… it wasn’t enough. Not what she had envisioned. But if it was all she could get for now… She would take it. “There will be another time. When your uncle is more occupied, and has less time to micromanage your whereabouts… And, thank you for tonight.” She touched his shoulder with her good arm. It hadn’t escaped her attention, the way he had positioned his body between her and Hadwin before they’d identified him as not being a threat. There was a lot that could be feigned, and knee-jerk reactions weren’t one of those things.
“I’ll keep my resonance stone nearby. This won’t be the last time, or our only opportunity; I promise.”
It was not difficult to fathom the idea of a world such as the one that Tivia described; after everything Elespeth had experienced, she saw no reason not to believe the star seer, who had suddenly re-emerged after months of having gone missing. But believing in parallel worlds, which contained all the same people rendered differently by alternate decisions, required less to wrap one’s head around than seeing the effects of one in person. By some means that Elespeth knew she could never comprehend (no matter how much Alster instructed her in magic), Tivia had left this world to inhabit another, where she wasn’t even supposed to exist anymore. But by why the star seer had to say… this world sounded far more tragic than the one they currently inhabited.
“So many of us… So many of the people we’ve fought with and befriended, they… died?” With no Vega or Sigrid, what had become of Haraldur? No Nia to save Ari’s life, no Ari to provide ‘friendly’ competition to Alster, not even some rendition of Vitali to bring anyone back from the dead. No Rowen, but also… no Hadwin. “It sounds… like a lonely world. I can understand why you strived so hard to come back, Tivia. Twenty-five years is… a long time. What of Chara and Lilica, in that time? Or Teselin, without Hadwin’s support? Or, even… Isidor?”
Since it had been Vitali who’d suggested they seek out Isidor in the first place to repair her damaged heart, who, then, had sought him out in this alternate timeline? Not to mention, the former knight couldn’t help but wonder at his feelings toward Tivia under those circumstances, or if there had been anything between them at all. Something about the returned Rigas woman’s reaction when bringing up his name, a slight twitch in her cheek and the way she was determined to spare his feelings… Elespeth had an inkling of a suspicion that something had occurred between Tivia and the only Kristeva brother who had been present. But she knew better than to press, and it didn’t appear that Elespeth’s younger cousin was willing to divulge any further details, in any case.
“Tivia,” Elespeth reached out a hand as the star seer turned away. “We would never ask you to divulge anything that you don’t feel comfortable confiding. I know you know this. Just… I want you to understand that I think I can speak for all of us when I say I hope that you are back to stay. And I’m so glad that you could be here, for this. While Alster and I were already married before tonight… it didn’t feel real, without being surrounded by everyone we care about. When you feel ready…” Her bright smile faltered, for there were no mincing words when it came to what she had to say. “I hope that you will talk to Isidor. He hasn’t been the same since you disappeared. If nothing else… I think some form of closure would benefit both of you.”
I wish you could come…
Did Nico hear her correctly? Was she sincere in her wishful request or would she have extended the sentiment to anyone in her vicinity who didn’t fear her? Whatever her intentions, he would not learn of them tonight, not after receiving the wolf’s warning that he return to the ballroom before Ari discovered his absence.
He shared in her disappointment nearly word for word. It was already over? Already too soon. Already too fleeting, too inconceivably brief. If they ran into the Night Garden together, perhaps they could extend their time, fraught as it would be from palace guards scouring the grounds in search of him. Even so, they had plenty of allies to assist in their escape. Hadwin Kavanagh, for example, always seemed ready and eager to create a stir. Why not request from him a diversion?
The more he rattled his brain for ideas on how to extend their time together, however, the more he came to the same resigned conclusion. Their short-lived rendezvous was over. Over…but not the end.
“I will return,” he swore, taking a risk, considering the unhinged company they kept, and folding his hands over her own. “As I’ve made mention before, the dedication ceremony to the observatory tower will take place in a few days. Once I’ve confirmed the date, I will be sure to inform you by resonance stone. My uncle will be far too busy with the queen, the masons, the designers, and the crowd to pay me much heed should I…slip out to clear my head in the Night Garden. Or,” his smile was a sly one, “impress upon him the importance of capturing the Garden’s inspired blooms for the continued development of my art. Perhaps I might even set up an easel and canvas and decide upon creating an entire series on the Night Garden? Surely such a project is an ambitious undertaking, spanning weeks of involved labor…or longer.”
Hadwin, who, amidst their farewells was peering over the far side of the wall where the corners met, cast an approving glance at Nico from over his shoulder. “I like this one. He’s a sneaky bastard. Well, whatever you two birds decide upon, I’ve got you covered. But for now…you’re gonna have to wrap this up.”
“Noted.” Dropping Teselin’s hands, Nico swept into a deep, gentlemanly bow. “I look forward to the pleasure of your company, Miss Teselin. Until we meet again…good night.” And with a parting nod of acknowledgment to Hadwin, the eldest son of Casimiro left the protection of the window overhang and trotted over the rain-slicked pathway, to the palace, and disappeared.
“Well,” speaking through the interminable silence that kicked up in Nico’s wake, Hadwin sidled into the spot where the boy once occupied, and regarded Teselin sidelong with a grin. “It wasn’t much time, I know, but that kid’s cooking up some surefire schemes, there. Sure as rain,” he jerked at the receding droplets with his chin, “you’ll see him again. But speaking of rain,” he looked down at his drenched and ruined outfit, “can’t very well return to the ball looking like a drowned rat, so what do you say we continue this party in the Night Garden? I got it on good authority that’s where folks go off to drink and smoke in peace, but at this ripe stage early in the evening, I’m up for anything. Card games, a stroll, a mud fight, you name it. So, what do you say? Ready for more, or ready to call it a night?”
It didn’t take much deduction for Haraldur to put two and two together in terms of Sigrid’s sudden departure. Directly following Chara’s surprising and controversial proposal to Lilica, which somewhat resolved with a tepid congratulations and a dance, Haraldur noticed, not surprisingly, that Sigrid was nowhere to be found.
Excusing himself from Vega and Bronwyn a moment, he made his rounds, first bumping into Aristide and Nia, who neither seemed to register nor care about his decision to relax her guard (but he learned not to take it too personally), he located Sigrid about where he expected her to be; within arm’s reach of the libations table.
“‘Enjoying’ might be too strong of a word.” Haraldur made a face and tugged at the stifling collar of his ball-appropriate attire, a selection by Vega, who had a better sense for what was most sensible to don. “I don’t typically enjoy social functions such as these.” In his dealings with Sigrid, he elected for casual and unobtrusive in his approach. Knowing how badly he bungled attempts to relate to her in the past, it was better to let her cope with the situation however she saw fit, so long as someone kept a watch on her. “And considering how the last one went, I’m not too keen on sticking around…but, ultimately, I’m here for Vega. I think we both need a well-deserved break from the twins.” Though, if he was honest, he would rather be at the Sorde apartments, preparing the writhing little devils for bed, than in the middle of a bustling social event.
“How do I like the wine?” He snatched a goblet of wine from the table and gave it an experimental swirl in his hand. “I don’t really drink it for the taste…and, believe it or not, I haven’t had swill of any kind since…probably when the babies were born.” There was his unfortunate stint with the Mollengardian stimulant, but he chose not to broach the subject. “Well…don’t tell Vega. It’ll be our little secret, alright?” With a conspiratorial wink, Haraldur took a few generous sips of the wine, smacking his lips with an exaggerated flair. “Fragrant. Botanical. Earthy. To be fair, it tastes like…wine. From the Night Garden, most likely, but that’s all I’ve got.” Shrugging at his inconclusive analysis, he sampled some more of the beverage of unmistakable, undebatable origin, blanking on what else to discuss with Sigrid. It was obvious she wanted to be left alone. Should he respect her wishes? The last time that happened, however…Locque had enslaved her mind and essentially erased several seasons of her life. Much as he respected Sigrid’s independence and autonomy, Haraldur wasn’t yet sold on allowing her to wander too far out of sight of a trusted ally or companion.
“I think Bronwyn’s looking for you,” he lied, not certain what the eldest Kavanagh wolf was up to since he left her with Vega.
It turned out, he didn’t need to lie. The woman in question appeared directly behind him, carrying with her a plate of half-eaten cake and looking…about as uncomfortable as Haraldur felt among the crowds of loud revelers. “I want both of you to keep a secret. Can you do that?“ The vague, cryptic nature of her request bade him listen, and he nodded. “This is my third slice.” She held her plate for them to see. “I’m on my way to eating my weight in cake and it pisses me off because I can never admit to my brother that I like something he made. I’ll never hear the end of it!”
Haraldur blinked, not quite prepared to swear to secrecy a gustatory-related confession. Unless…he cast a questing glance at Bronwyn, who nodded ever-so-imperceptibly, as if in confirmation. A ploy to distract Sigrid.
“Wait. Hadwin made that? And it’s actually safe to eat?” Haraldur passed a skeptical glance at the decadent honey-layered cake, playing along with the distraction game.
“Yup. He’s blessed with all the talents, that cad, while I got nothing but the talent of devouring whole everything I can sink my teeth into. Here, take this from me,” she thrust the plate into Sigrid’s hand. “I think I’ll take a page from your book instead.” Turning to the table, she picked up two goblets, one in each hand. “Do you think I can kick them back at the same time? The empty void in my stomach seems to think so, and I might as well extend my useless talent to liquids, too!”
Shortly before leaving, Tivia, in reaction to one of Elespeth’s questions, stiffened, the shadows cast upon her face deepening, darkening, from beneath the brim of her hat. She lowered said brim, tugging most of her features into obscurity once again. “I’ll repeat; there are some things you aren’t meant to know. That is all I will say with regard to Teselin and Isidor. At any rate…thank you.” She twitched the barest of smiles at Elespeth. “It’s heartening, to say the least, to see everyone alive—you included. But I should hardly count as someone worth having at your wedding ceremony. Too much of a mood-ruiner. So on that cheery note…good evening.”
After the star seer’s self-dismissal, Alster stood, bewildered by what he heard, still silently processing what had transpired during this alter world where he apparently reigned as some sort of impartial god—as he feared would happen if Elespeth’s heart failed beyond repair. No longer feeling anchored enough to stay within the material plane, this version of himself had ascended, and not even his fledgling divinity could devise a method to cure her malady…unless he’d simply ceased caring about the affairs of humans. That was, until her miraculous revival reminded him of the people and the world he held most dear. Tempted was he to learn more about the parallel universe that had also featured in Isidor’s dream. For one, why had Isidor, and Ari, for that matter, dreamt about the place where Tivia had gone? For another, what had become of Haraldur after Vega’s permanent death? Judging by certain events to which Tivia alluded that couldn’t have occurred without his involvement—namely, his control over the Forbanne—he somehow persisted as a major player, despite his devastating losses…counter to Alster, who up and surrendered when Elespeth hadn’t even died yet. Good to know my character remains consistent across the infinite worlds of my existence, he thought dryly.
Perhaps even more compelling about this other world involved the fate of Teselin and Isidor. Whatever had happened to them, Tivia’s ominous tone seemed to imply their doom. In midst of her response, Alster had detected hints of other emotions swimming in her battered aura. Guilt. Regret. Anguish…Love. Were her experiences in the other world the reason why she understood how to reverse Teselin’s destructive magic that was triggered during Ari’s ball? And…did it also explain why she was so hesitant to broach the subject of her whereabouts to Isidor?
“She wouldn’t like me saying it, but I’m worried for her,” Alster said, wrapping a hand tenderly around Elespeth’s waist. “She’s obviously experienced more trauma than we are privy to know, at least according to her, and has no means of expelling that trauma safely if it requires her to reveal sensitive information about this alter world, which, I suspect, has the possibility of influencing and contaminating events that occur in our present world. So she has to vet what she says and not only approach every conversation with caution, but act carefully about what she should and should not prevent with her prescient knowledge. That cannot bode well for her. I mean…she killed her father for a reason, allegedly for infractions he has yet to commit. The question remains; what horrific injustices does Cyprian Rigas create that merits premeditated murder, by his daughter, no less? I know I’m not one to talk,” he dropped his gaze, examining his hand, one of two, that annihilated his parents in a fit of magic-induced madness, but no less his fault. “However, I can’t stand by and let her carry this burden on her own. Don’t you agree?”
But before they could discuss the worrying subject of Tivia Rigas any further, the music stopped and Aristide Canaveris, bookended by one of his nephews and his golem guard, stood in the center of the room, an amplifying stone in hand.
“Oh no,” Alster groaned. “I know what this is all about.”
“Good evening, honored guests of the queen,” the D’Marian lord began. “I hope everyone is finding the evening to their satisfaction; I know that I surely am. Her Majesty’s hospitality is top-notch, and we have her advisor to thank for organizing Galeyn’s first annual Solstice Ball in over a century. The evening is young, yet, and already it has proven itself a most memorable one, indeed.” As before, he tipped a wine glass in salute. “I cannot reiterate my congratulations enough, to the remarriage of Lord Alster and Elespeth Rigas, and of the announcement of betrothal between Her Majesty and Lady Chara Rigas. Please, let them hear your applause.” A smattering of hands filled the room, genuine in their gesture but selective in who they celebrated. Not many were too enthused about sharing their accolades with the likes of Chara Rigas, and made a point of announcing the names for whom they were cheering. None of them were for her.
“While I am expressing acknowledgments,” Ari continued, his dark eyes scanning the audience, searching for someone in particular, “I ask that you indulge me several more…and humbly request that you grant them your due. They have most assuredly worked hard to make this ball possible. First, to the palace attendants, without which there would be no decor, refreshments, and, importantly, libations.” Enthusiastic applause. “To the minstrels of Galeyn, for their captivating songs.” More than enthusiastic applause. Aristide faltered a moment, as if second-guessing his next remark. “To Hadwin Kavanagh, for the fantastic cake.” Scattered applause. Confusion. The wolf-outlaw made a cake? The crowd murmured in bemusement. “And last,” Ari retained his casual air, “to Nia Ardane, yes, that Nia Ardane,” he addressed the affronted, skeptical glances, “for conceiving of Lord and Lady Rigas’s remarriage in the first place, and for crafting such a wonderful betrothal box in service to Lady Chara and Her Majesty. As an artist myself, I shall always give credit where it is due, no matter the individual. At the end of the day, some of us may spurn another fellow human for their trespasses, justifiable as they are, but we cannot deny their capacity for good. For beauty. For willful acts of kindness without the expectation of a reward. Or for the liberation of biases. It is important, I find, to grant this woman a modicum of clemency and credibility, considering where my announcement inevitably leads.”
“So on that note,” he segued, allowing little chance for any irate members of the crowd to protest, “it is time to name the winners of the Solstice float contest. There were a plethora of fantastic entries from which to choose, and so to account for my indecision, I have designated several categories apart from ‘Best Float.’ There will be multiple winners, because the talent, ingenuity, and creativity rife within these dual communities is so vast that one end-all-be-all reward cannot begin to encapsulate the contributions of everyone involved. Your toils do not go unnoticed.”
Ari then proceeded to list the names and floats of the tertiary winners, handing out little carved busts and gemstones of monetary value to those present to claim the prize. At last, he came to the most anticipated category of them all; the Best Overall Float, which everyone knew amounted to two contenders; Rigas and Canaveris.
“Now, before anyone should cry foul over the fact that I am not an impartial judge in this matter, based alone on my ardent involvement with the Canaveris team, I do agree with your suspicions; you have every right to question my honor. In the interest of fair play, I propose that the people gathered here tonight close their eyes and signal, with a show of hands and festive cheers, which of the two finalist floats you prefer.” Ari paced in a semi-circle, surveying the crowd and their eagerness to participate. Still, he seemed to be searching for someone who did not appear in the audience. “If you favor the Canaveris float, close your eyes and make your vote known, by the raising of your hands and voices.” A collective cheer and sea of hands rippled through the crowd. “If you favor the Rigas float, raise your hands and voices.”
The sound and applause were deafening.
“The people have spoken, Lord Rigas!” Ari faced Alster, who, not for the first time that evening, paled from the equivocal attention heaped in his direction. “Come and claim your victory. I would invite Master Isidor Kristeva to the center, as well, but only if he is comfortable to stand here as co-champion beside his partner!”
They only voted for us because I represent one half of the most celebrated couple in Galeyn right now, Alster thought, entering the center of the room with doubts piled on his mind. Ari purposely set this up…so we would win.
If you want a gentleman’s game, Ari…then I’ll play a gentleman’s game.
“Thank you,” Alster took the amplifying stone from Ari and addressed the crowd. “Honestly, I do. But I think I speak for Isidor, too, when I say the honor of this victory should go to the Canaverises.” The audience began to mumble their concerns, but Alster politely silenced them with a hand of dismissal. “They are far more deserving of this win. If you’ve seen it up close, their float is truly a masterpiece, representing so many disciplines of art incorporated together into one whole unit. The sculptures, the murals, the fabric-festooned dioramas, and then the fireflies,” he shook his head, still in awe from what he’d seen at his vantage point upon the Rigas float, “that was a spectacle unlike I have ever seen. Nia Ardane did an incredible job. Credit where it is due. So,” he gave a knowing smile, “you don’t have to spare my feelings. Vote for what float you love best; not just to appease me because it’s my and Elespeth’s wedding night.”
And like that, the crowd complied, and the Canaveris float became the new runaway favorite. Satisfied with the result, Alster raised one eyebrow at Ari and gave him a devious, challenging smirk. Checkmate.
Nico’s idea was so genius, yer so implicitly simple without rousing any suspicion, Teselin couldn’t believe they hadn’t thought of it sooner. The D’Marian settlement was beautiful, and no doubt Nico would have no trouble finding sources of inspiration amongst his home surroundings, but nothing could quite compare to the rare beauty of the Night Garden. It nurtured flora of which you could hardly imagine, colours and shapes that simply weren’t possible to see anywhere else. And if Ari was enamored of his nephew’s artistic renderings of flowers and nature, then why would he possibly deny him the opportunity to expand his surroundings and add pieces to his portfolio that he would not find anywhere else? After all, the D’Marians did not intend to set their roots in Galeyn. They would one day leave, and at that point, any opportunity Nico had to paint still lifes of the Night Garden would be left behind.
“Nico… that’s absolutely brilliant.” While nothing could quite dim the disappointment in Teselin’s eyes, the fact that they had a fledgling plan to meet again did give her hope. “Your uncle surely won’t deny you an opportunity to expand upon your beautiful art… even if it isn’t really what you want to paint.” The fact that he was willing to spend time focusing his art on subjects that he didn’t really care for, all for the opportunity to see her, resonated with Teselin in such a way that made her feel warm, despite the chill that had settled on her skin as a result of the sudden deluge of rain. “I’ll keep my resonance stone close. Keep me apprised of what you plan. And… please be careful. Even if your uncle finds himself busy with other affairs, there are still others who can see and hear more who report to him” Of course, she was referring to Laz, who Nia had been kind enough to distract just long enough for them to get in a dance and then flee. But Nico knew better than anyone what--and who--to watch out for. Hadwin was right: the young Canaveris knew how to scheme. Or, at least, he was observant enough to predict the behaviours and agenda of his family members and use it to his advantage.
The summoner felt a flush creep into her cheeks when Nico removed his hands from her own. Why was it that his company suddenly affected her in such a way? He was always someone she had seen before, in passing, but since he kept his distance like everyone else, she too had kept her distance up until now. And he wasn’t the first person to extend a hand in kindness to her, in spite of the perceived danger that she was: Alster and Elespeth were kind to her.Isidor did not treat her like a walking disaster waiting to happen, and even Vitali, while she was not yet ready to speak with him again, had sought her out first upon his uncanny (and rather unexpected) return. Briery treated her like a little sister and had never uttered a single unkind word, and then there was Nia, who both directly and indirectly defied Ari’s wishes and potentially jeopardized her relationship with the Canaveris lord, should he find out, just to support her clandestine quality time with Nico. And then, of course… Hadwin. The one person who had been there for her literally from the very beginning. Who hadn’t shied away from her, knowing what she was capable of. He didn’t feel as though his life were in danger, merely by standing in her presence. She was not starved for kindness; so why did it feel so different with Nico?
Perhaps because I’ve never felt so ordinary, so able to enjoy mundane everyday joys and fascinations, as I do with him. Maybe it all had to do with her belated experience of young infatuation finally catching up to her, but around Nico, she felt different. His kindness wasn’t one of pity or of obligation, or for simply wanting someone to care for; there were no strings attached. He liked her for her… and she wanted to see where all of this would take them.
“The Night Garden… sounds nice, actually. I’m sad to be missing the rest of the ball…” The young summoner cast a wistful glance over her shoulder at the palace, where no one was missing her because no one was aware she had even attended. She would miss the announcement for the winner of the float competition, and every other possible dance. But there was no sense in being in a palace where she was not entirely welcome; who could have a good time, with the idea of being a burden weighing on their mind? “But, the rain’s let up. And the Night Garden will be warm and temperate, anyway.”
As much as she’d rather Hadwin stay sober, at least if he happened upon someone who would offer him herbs to smoke or alcohol to imbibe, she’d rather it be under circumstances where she could at least keep an eye on him and be there for him, just like he’d been there for her. And the Night Garden was safe; if he was to put himself under the influence of foreign substances anywhere, she preferred it be somewhere safe.
Not far into Galeyn’s magical healing garden, with its temperate air that warmed her chilled skin, Teselin soon realized that Hadwin hadn’t been far off about others seeking out this place to find substances that would help them forget troubles on their mind. She heard a familiar voice; one part of what must have been a two-sided conversation, but when her curiosity got the best of her and she peered around a great, wide tree with shimmering bark, there was only one person on the other side.
“...Nia.” The summoner couldn’t filter the concern from her voice when the first she saw of the Master Alchemist was with a glass goblet of wine from the ball still in her hand, almost fully drained. She hadn’t wandered out here to try and experience a beautiful evening or a moment of peace; she looked… hurt. “Are you alright, Nia?”
“Oh--hey, if it isn’t the undercover dame of the ball.” As if forgetting she was still holding wine, Nia turned to face Teselin and Hadwin, with a smile that she hoped to offset whatever it was they heard or saw. “Sorry you couldn’t spend longer with your not so secret admirer, but hey, you did get a dance in, yeah? Personally, I found it stuffy in there. Had to get out and get some air.”
“With a glass of wine?”
Nia focused on the glass she’d evidently forgotten she’d been holding. Her smile faded. “So you plan to rat me out to your brother?”
“No! Especially not after everything you’ve done for me. I just…” Teselins’ brow creased. “You should know I of all people am not going to judge you, Nia. But you seem unwell. I just want to know you’re alright.”
Nia snorted, and tipped the glass to her lips until the remainder of red wine disappeared. “Alright? You mean, like, currently, or possibly later? ‘Cause right now, the wine’s slightly offsetting my desire to set something on fire. And frankly, I still might; not like I’ve got anything to lose. Not like people can like me any less when they don’t like me at all!” She flung the arm holding the empty glass wide, very nearly dropping it by the stem. “Doesn’t matter that I put Alster and Elespeth’s wedding into motion. Or that I designed that box for Chara to propose to the queen. It won’t even matter when I reverse Ari’s curse--nothing will ever be enough for these people. This kingdom. And I… I’ll never be free of them.”
Teselin didn’t know what to say, despite that she understood all too well. There was nothing she could do that would persuade people to no longer be afraid of her… just as Nia thought there would never be an end to her sentence. The summoner had no answers for herself, let alone for this woman who was clearly reaching her breaking point.
“Nia, you know Ari would never let that happen. He’s got a lot of influence; so does Alster, at that. The people who care will see to it that you don’t serve Galeyn forever.” Teselin didn’t know this for sure; it was a best guess, but an educated one. The Master Alchemist had a lot of powerful friends. Ultimately, the outlook on Nia’s situation was far more favourable than her own. “Don’t despair just yet… You did some great things this evening that even those who don’t support you cannot deny are impactful in the best way.”
“Ah, hey… don’t stand here worrying about me, hon. Yeah, I’m not in the best place right now, but who knows--that might change.” Reaching into her pocket, Nia pulled out what appeared to be nothing more than three tree leaves: ordinary in nature, aside from their rich, indigo hue, which could only be found here at the Night Garden. “I ran into one of the Gardeners and I guess they thought this shit would help somehow. Like a couple of leaves will just solve all my problems. Maybe it will just make me care less about being a permanent prisoner here. Maybe that’s as good as I can hope for.”
Nia sighed and stuffed the leaves back into her pocket. She looked so elegant in the gown Lazuli had chosen for her, but the hem had become damp from dragging on the sodden ground, and wisps of her brunette locks escaped the intricate plaiting she’d managed to throw together in a matter of moments. It was as if everything about the mask she had maintained for so long to convince everyone she was somehow alright in spite of her captivity was falling apart all at once. “Listen, just… forget all of this. Not your problem; and anyway, you could go back and enjoy yourself for the remainder of the ball, if you haven’t misplaced my cloak. I’d love to hear the result of the float competition if you do. Don’t let this be the end of your fun just because Ari stole his nephew back, huh?”
The Master Alchemist grinned and waved the two off, ambling away with her empty wine glass in hand. Teselin would have followed, but she was under the impression the Ardane woman wanted to be alone; and there was nothing she could say that might make her feel better. As much as she wanted to help the woman who had put herself at risk by helping her, she also knew her limitations. “I guess we could linger near the palace; I remember where I left Nia’s cloak.” She suggested to Hadwin. “Unless you, too, need to unwind in the Night Garden for a while.”
“Yeah… yeah. Me either. This isn’t my idea of fun at all. But I did miss Alster and Elespeth’s official wedding because I was too busy feeling sorry for myself… I couldn’t miss this one.” Sigrid could empathize with her cousin’s sentiments towards these social events, although even in her highly inebriated state, she had a feeling he had sought her out for a reason, and perhaps that reason was his keen awareness as to how hard this really was for her. And she didn’t want his pity; she didn’t even want his concern. “But I guess that’s the appeal of wine in the first place, huh? To tolerate otherwise intolerable situations? With two fussy babies, I’m surprised you haven’t had a drink sooner, Haraldur.”
Sigrid tipped her head back and drained her glass, and brushed loose tendrils of blonde hair from her eyes with the opposite hand. “Guess I’ll never know if this is considered ‘good’ wine; but it does its job. Well, I’d better let you get back to Vega; I’m not sure she’d take kindly to finding out you abandoned her to humour me.”
Just as the blonde warrior turned away, the Forbanne commander made hasty mention of how someone was looking for her: Bronwyn, in particular.Sigrid halted in her step, only to turn and find the faoladh woman approaching them with a piece of cake in hand. Truth be told, Sigrid hadn’t tried Hadwin’s cake, if for no other reason than her stomach was twisted and knotted with anxiety and nerves. Forcefully maintaining her composure hadn’t been difficult at the masquerade, particularly not when Bronwyn had allowed her to lean on her like a crutch. But as soon as she saw Chara fall onto one knee, saw Lilica accept that ring and everything it represented, the former Dawn Warrior’s heart broke all over again, and if not for the wine, she wouldn’t even be on her feet. “Just because it tastes good doesn’t mean it’s laced with something; this is Hadwin we’re talking about. But…”
As Bronwyn reached for a glass of wine, Sigrid gently caught her wrist before she could tip the glass to her lips and down it as quickly as the blonde warrior had been. “Trust me, too much of that isn’t going to help, either. I keep telling myself it will, but let’s face it: I’m going to wake up with a headache straight out of hell and vomit my guts up until my stomach is empty. I thought it would make this more tolerable but… it’s just making me more disoriented.”
Ultimately, what Bronwyn chose to do or not to do was none of her business, however, so she released the faoladh’s wrist and dropped her arm to her side after saying her part. “With the wedding done and a proposal out of the way… when do you think would be an appropriate time to leave without pissing anyone off or disappointing them?”
But just as she finished her question, Lord Canaveris took the stage, so to speak, and prepared to announce and deliver prizes to the winners of the float competition. Sigrid sighed her frustration. “This has better be the last big announcement that I can’t possibly miss without facing someone’s wrath later on… y’know, forget what I said about the wine.” Turning to the libations table one more time, she picked up another glass. “I’m not done numbing myself to all of this quite yet.”
“I agree, Alster. To be honest, I’ve always worried for Tivia. She’s been burdened with more than anyone should ever have to handle, and at a rather young age for a Rigas. But…” Elespeth watched the star seer disappear into the crowd, both disappointed that there was some questions to which she would never receive an answer, and also a little sad that there was so much Tivia felt she had to keep close to her chest, even if it was a burden too heavy for her shoulders to bear. “We cannot force her to divulge what she believes is imperative to keep close to her chest. Whatever reasons she had for killing her father… those are hers to know, with no obligation to divulge unless it became public knowledge that Cyprian was murdered… by his own daughter.” She spoke the last words so quietly she practically mouthed them, for fear that someone might overhear--but the crowd suddenly had their eyes on Aristide Canaveris, who had stepped up to finally announce the winners of the float competition (something which should have occurred several days ago, and with the conclusion of Solstice festivities ending with this ball, it was really the last chance).
As the smaller prizes were dealt to winners of some subcategories, Elespeth waited excitedly for precisely what everyone wanted to know: had the Canaverises finally beaten the Rigases in this age-old competition? Or did the returning champions continue to prevail? Ultimately, it was up to the crowd: and the cheers that resounded for the Rigas-Kristeva float did, in fact, outshine the Canaveris’s. The former knight grinned wide at her husband’s victory and pulled him into a quick kiss. “I knew you and Isidor would be unstoppable,” she said, but even at her words, something didn’t seem to sit well with Alster. Before she could ask what was wrong, he approached Ari to make an amendment to this announcement. Elespeth huffed a quiet sigh and shook her head when her husband somehow manage to turn it all around… and hand his victory right back to Ari, instead. She should have known he’d be too proud to accept this win from his very own rival; and Ari wouldn’t dare put on a scene to try and force victory onto him.
“Congratulations, Ari. Alster’s right; your victory was one well-earned.” Elespeth commented as she approached her husband. Nearby, Nico and Laz beamed their satisfaction and excitement. It came as a surprise that Nia was not among them, soaking up this victory to its fullest. “I do hope Isidor doesn’t take the loss too hard. He was quite dedicated to the spirit of competition, if I recall correctly.”
“Rest assured, Elespeth, I am not a sore loser.” Elespeth turned to find the very Master Alchemist himself had pushed through the crowd to give his congratulations, as well. As always, that slight tic of discomfort in his features did hint to the fact he hoped to be done with this social event soon. Every time she saw him, Isidor looked a little more… defeated. “This is exactly as it should be, Ari. Yes, Alster and I worked very hard on our piece, but the efforts of two people can in no way outshine that of… what was it, four? Five? Your collaboration was flawless. And as much as it pains me, I must give credit to Nia; what she did with those fireflies is well beyond anything I could have thought of. In this instance, at least, she was the better Master Alchemist.” There was no trace of sarcasm or dishonesty in his tone; it required far more effort for Isidor of all people to lie, and as a result, he seldom bothered to so much as try. He scanned the crowd, having expected that the Ardane woman would have been found wherever Ari happened to be, but that didn’t currently appear to be the case. “I had intended to tell her as much myself, but… it seems you will have to pass along the message, Lord Canaveris. Although I’m not sure she’ll believe it to hear it, even from you.”
Whenever she didn’t stifle it, which was often, Bronwyn had a rather insightful eye. Not surprising, given her latent faoladh ability, but unlike her brother, she never relied on its misleading wisdom unless as a last resort. Already, Teselin’s presence, concealed as it was, had sent her on edge, especially when she was unable to track where the summoner had gone. Even if she could, she couldn’t very well reveal her identity in the middle of a crowded venue lest she cause a panic—and earn Hadwin’s everlasting scorn.
Instead of fretting, or retiring from the event early, she had taken to her go-to coping method: eating, and proceeded to scarf down however many plates of cake she could scrounge. Sating her stomach, unfortunately, had failed to ease her nerves, and whenever her nerves frayed, her Sight flared. Thus, when Chara lowered to one knee and declared their love too cherished to spend unbound in matrimony, their display of pure affection inspired a splitting headache to form behind her eyes—not unlike the one experienced during Alster and Elespeth’s ceremony. So many grandiose displays of love, all gathered in one place, converged upon her vision, dancing, blotting, and coalescing into a grotesque heart, which pulsed the rhythms of every couple, every family, every person who represented that deep, crushing emotion and its many maddening facets.
And Sigrid was not spared.
Bronwyn’s Sight unveiled the story behind the blonde warrior’s heartache, a story known in passing, but never rendered in such detail. Within the vision, Bronwyn saw the woman of Sigrid’s admiration, dark curls pulled into an elegant coif about her head, features enhanced by splashes of color on her lips, cheeks, and eyes. A beauty in a rainbow-colored gown, and a ring, its opalescence radiant, floated towards her, towards her outstretched hand…and slipped through a skeletal finger, which disintegrated into flames.
With a hand pressed to her mouth, she made to retreat from Sigrid’s vicinity, a knee-jerk reaction spawned by the shock of what she’d witnessed, but the former had withdrawn of her own volition, leaving Bronwyn stewing in confusion and guilt. What if her Sight had intensified Sigrid’s discomfort? What if her own discomfort drove Sigrid to flee, both as a measure to prevent further unease and to remove herself from the still-fresh, painful reminder of a proposal that would never be?
Left alone to consider this wash of feelings not entirely her own, Bronwyn swiped another slice of cake from the serving table and stumbled about the length of the ballroom, disoriented by the intensity of what she was seeing. Her Sight had never reacted so strongly before! It was as if a massive, clawed hand cupped her head and squeezed, its claws jabbing into her brain repeatedly. Out of sync with the world, she wandered and wandered, dimly aware of where she ended her trek; in front of Haraldur…and Sigrid.
Immediately, she looked at her cake and a hackneyed plan came to mind. How would Hadwin grit his teeth through the pain and deal with this?
Deflection. And drinking.
It only occurred to her that Haraldur interpreted her unhinged display as some sort of diversionary tactic at Sigrid’s behest. He is giving me far too much credit…But whatever she was doing, it seemed to be working, judging by Sigrid’s gaze following her every movement as she converged upon the libations table. “Psh, you think Hadwin’s going to waste his good stash on other people? An entire kingdom’s worth, at that?” She snorted disbelievingly. “Fat chance. He’s a stingy bastard; he’d keep it all to himself.”
As she scooped up the two goblets full of wine, a concerned hand stayed her movements. Sigrid. On any other evening, it would be a heartening gesture to behold, but Bronwyn wanted to numb her overactive eyes and their overactive vision-spewing with enough wine to make her forget why she sought wine in the first place. “Hah, well, I’m already disoriented as is, so maybe this will reorient me. Works on my brother; why not me?” She boldly met Sigrid’s gaze; no use avoiding direct eye contact when it no longer mattered where she looked to minimize the relentless deluge of her Sight. “Not like it’ll stick. Faoladh tolerance, remember?”
When Lord Canaveris’s announcement silenced the minstrels and drew the attention of everyone in the room, Bronwyn took advantage of Sigrid’s loosened hand to press the goblet of wine to her lips. “It’s got nothing to do with us,” she shrugged, selecting another sip. "As long as they catch a glimpse of you in passing, no one’s gonna care if you linger here or not.”
“I hate to say this,” Haraldur sighed, finally surrendering his neutrality status, “but as a Gardener-in-training, I’m obligated to point both of you in the direction of the Night Garden. If you don’t want to stick around here any longer, I’ll lead you to the best and most isolated place I know of. No one will bother you there.”
“And miss out on all the wine?” She’d already drained her goblet’s contents dry and started on another. “Unless the Night Garden can stop me from seeing altogether, then by all means, lead the way.”
If I were to die tomorrow…what truths would I have the courage to speak? Free of pride, free of shame, what would they say?
And so, Aristide spoke. He spoke an unpopular viewpoint, upholding Chara Rigas as worthy of Queen Lilica’s hand in marriage. He purposely threw the Canaveris claim for victory by appealing to a crowd primed to celebrate and support the Rigas couple, regardless of who designed the better float, thereby turning the vote into a popularity contest. Bolder yet, he accredited Nia on multiple fronts, bringing to light her hidden achievements that serviced the Crown and their most ardent allies. At that moment, he had become so upfront, so fearless, that if anyone were to accuse him of preferential treatment towards Nia, he would unfalteringly proclaim his love for Galeyn’s prisoner, and welcome the fallout of his controversial confession. It was morbid to consider, but he felt a sense of invincibility manifest alongside the state of his rapid deterioration. After all, who could harm someone slated for death? Not that he doubted Nia, Isidor, and Alster’s ability to lift his curse, but it was also important to prepare for the worst case scenario, and contemplating such a scenario had, ironically, granted him life, and his appreciation of it. How it twinkled beneath the glint of chandelier lights, a writhing, tangible thing precious to hold, but just shy of his crumbling hands. Around him, everything breathed; the walls, the floor, the sky above his head, and the earth beneath his feet. By teetering over the edge of existence, he felt close, closer, than he’d ever been, to discovering the beating heart of life itself. Amid the crowd cheering now for the Canaveris name and the float that Alster Rigas, in true, predictable reversal, had influenced, the connection to this material plane was so profound, it almost overwhelmed him.
And Nia wasn’t there. She wasn’t there to bask in the celebratory applause, wasn’t there to listen as he’d recounted her growing list of influential deeds for the majority to discover, wasn’t there to stand by his side as an equal. Suddenly, the elation of the moment rang hollow in his skull, like a fading echo of a water droplet falling from a cavern wall into a stagnant pool. Here, in the apex of his ode to life, she wouldn’t share in it. Once the moment crossed into the realm of fond memory, it wouldn’t warm him nearly as much to remember than if she had been there.
It was all his fault; because he chose honesty over tact, and invalidated her hope.
If I were to die tomorrow…would this be the last I see of you? In distress? Our last potential moment of joviality, dashed?
Compelled to keep both feet firmly planted in reality, Ari focused on the man and lady of honor who gathered beside him, though his attention mainly fixed on the man who defied and rejected his gift—who, knowing Alster, had viewed it more as an act of charity. “You do realize the kingdom will still interpret this as your win,” Ari, smiling for the audience, spoke out of the side of his mouth to Alster. “Upon recalling this moment, they will say, ‘How bighearted of Alster Rigas, to defer his win to the needy and less fortunate Canaveris lot. What an upstanding fellow, this Rigas man is.’”
Alster, also presenting a pleasant veneer for the public, whispered back, wasting not a second to reply; “Like I was going to accept a win based on popularity, and not on merit. I’ve little doubt that if I were to tally the true vote, I’d find proof of a Canaveris landslide victory. Am I wrong?”
At that, Ari’s smile took on a secretive tilt. “I suppose it shall forever remain a mystery to you, Lord Rigas.”
Alster raised his eyebrows, intrigued. “Do I smell a challenge, Lord Canaveris?”
Ari never had the opportunity to answer Alster’s goading inquiry. Isidor stepped into their circle, interrupting their little tête-a-tête, but by no means disrupting anything of import. As a matter of fact, Ari beamed to see him make an appearance, despite appearing as though he would rather be anywhere else.
“I appreciate your congratulations, Isidor. Ah, yes, we had a five-person collaboration altogether, including my eldest nephew here,” he gestured to Nico, who responded by giving Isidor a deep, respectful bow. “Nico painted the murals for each season, as well as the sculpted hibiscus centerpiece. His renderings of the natural world are without peer for a young man of his age. And Laz—“ he stopped, mid-sentence, when Isidor mentioned Nia and her fireflies. “I am certain she would be rather tickled to hear your glowing endorsement of her work,” he said, scouring the crowd a third time in case she made a sudden reappearance, and trying to mask his concern—and disappointment—when she had yet to re-emerge from whence she came.
“I hadn’t the slightest idea she conceived of the wedding ceremony for Elespeth and me,” Alster added to the discussion, seemingly wishing to grant Nia her due. “I would like to thank her in person, as well, but—“
“—Say no more,” Ari gently interjected. “I shall search for her. If you will excuse me,” he withdrew from his company before anyone could protest or volunteer to tag along. Stay with Nico, he informed Laz, who hesitated in her assignment in favor of accompanying Ari.
You cannot possibly walk far on your own, Laz’s worried reply appeared in his head.
Rest assured, Laz, I am never far from help, should I require it. Hardly mollified by this statement, Laz begrudgingly stayed behind, arms crossed over her chest in disapproval, as Ari traveled across the ballroom en route to the exit doors, his trusty cane helping along his steps.
If I were to die tomorrow, Nia…then I would very much like to see you smile. To see you happy…one last time.
At the beginning of their trek to the Night Garden, Hadwin thought little of wandering around a place he’d actively avoided since Gardener Locque’s shade implanted a flower on Rowen’s grave and instructed him to tend it. After all, a grave was a grave, no matter whose body it contained. What impacted the living even more was if the restless spirit decided to haunt their every waking and sleeping hour. Rowen herself wasn’t tied to that plot of land, just her cremated body, so he had nothing to fear from increasing his proximity to her final resting place. But the more they veered closer to her burial plot, the more he felt the sudden urge to turn around and leave.
“Hey kid,” he planted his hands behind his head, making his upcoming request sound as casual as possible, “this particular area stings my nose something fierce. They must plant some kind of wolf’s bane here or something. Let’s—“
He paused, catching that all too familiar timbre as it reached his ears. Nia. And what a grade A part of the Garden she chose to inhabit for her drunken binge!
Knowing Teselin would want to investigate, he followed her lead, emerging on the other side of the tree where Nia had planted her bum. The woman was a right wreck, but he already divined that earlier, when they joint invaded the libations table and consumed whatever quantity of wine they could fit down their gullets at once. While the two chatted about Nia’s ongoing issues, Hadwin leaned a shoulder against a tree, sighing dramatically at the whole endless ordeal. “How long ago was it when you were serving Locque? Two months, give or take? You think folks can get over your past affiliations that lightning quick?” He scoffed and laughed at the same time. “Please. Wanna know how long it took me to gain Elly’s trust after I bent over backwards doing nothing but saving her sorry arse and those of her pals? Patience, my friend, is not your strong suit. But never is a strong word. Nothing is ever never, if you catch my drift. That’s so fucking finite. ‘Sides, the D’Marians seem to like you enough, and that’s all Ari’s doing. Hell, Al’s, too. Sure, you’re not gonna win everyone over, but that’s not the point. The point is earning your freedom. Folks can still despise you while at the same time admitting you’re a useful git to keep around. Story of my life right there.” His arm came away from the tree trunk, shimmering in areas where it made contact with the bark. “As long as you’re an asset, they’ll be more willing to turn a blind eye to your nefarious past. Quote me on that.”
Not like his pep talk would penetrate the formidable layers of her self-pity, anyhow. Tutting away his easily ignorable advice, he raised a hand and mirrored her wave-off gesture. “This ain’t a great place for your pity party of one, believe me. Get out of this thicket, at least. You’ll be attracting bad energy.” Bad energy…Well, which is it? He chided himself. Either Ro has no power here or she does. She’s either just a dead body or more.
But…nothing ever was finite, after all. Never clean-cut. Always changing, always liminal, always yes and no. Both.
Both were true.
As Nia heeded his warning and wandered away with her empty wine glass, a reflexive shiver climbed up every inch of his vertebrae. “Nah, I’m done unwinding,” he made an about face, more than eager to traipse back in the direction they came. “Let’s enjoy the rest of tonight in whatever way we can. Plus, that’s where the wine’s at, anyway.”
Only after they left the vicinity of Rowen’s grave did Hadwin’s shoulders finally relax and his jaw release its tension, but they immediately returned when his acute nose and ears detected the approach of an unwelcome visitor. “Hide!” Hadwin hissed, pushing Teselin towards the nearest bush, a broad-leaved hedge that would conceal her nicely if she crouched and didn’t make a sound. Preoccupied with camouflaging his charge, Hadwin didn’t have the time to join her before Aristide Canaveris caught a glimpse of him under the ambient haze of the bioluminescent flora.
“Hey there, fancypants!” Grinning, he jumped onto the path and sidled near the Canaveris lord, thereby forcing the other man’s gaze from the bush. “I’d say it’s a nice evening for a walk, but let’s be real; it’s not. Muggy as the inside of a giant’s armpit, right? It did a real number on you!” One casual glance-over revealed Ari’s current sorry state. Leaning on his cane as a literal crutch, the well-dressed D’Marian lord now tracked mud on his boots and the bottoms of his fine coat. The fine, gentle waves of his glossy hair clung sickly to his head, slick and slimy like seaweed, and an explosion of gasping breaths rattled through his beleaguered body.
“M-mister Kavanagh, good evening,” Ari managed to sputter, and also managed to tailor his tone, best as his ragged lungs could convey, with a cool, clipped air. Oh, the man did not forget Hadwin’s improper relations with his niece, even when he was struggling for his life!
“Geez, you really need to take a breather. Here, grab my arm.” He stretched one out towards Ari, but unsurprisingly, he rejected the offer.
“No, thank you. I am…I am quite able on my own.”
Hadwin raised a skeptical brow, but withdrew his arm. “Sure, sure. So what brings you out here? Got tired of being in your element and thought you’d slum around in the Night Garden awhile?”
“No, I,” he propped himself tall, arranging the cane in a bracing position beneath his trembling hands, “I have reason to believe Nia might have come this way. Do you happen to know if this is true?”
“It is. She ain’t doing so hot, but neither are you, so I daresay the two of you are an ideal match at the moment.” He jabbed a finger in the direction Nia had gone. “Have at it. Maybe you can successfully get through to her.”
“I doubt it, but…” his mouth drew into a tired smile, “thank you, all the same.”
“Yeah, don’t sweat it." He observed the perspiration dripping from Ari in rivulets. “On second thought, nevermind.”
Before the Canaveris lord resumed his struggle journey, he stopped mid-stride, as if remembering something. “Oh, I have been meaning to ask you—how is Miss Kristeva faring?”
Hadwin lowered his brow suspiciously, sussing out Ari’s intentions behind the innocent-seeming question. Was she well, in other words? Stable? Unlikely to cause another destructive episode?
Except…he was being sincere. Concerned about a repeat incident, sure, but tangled among those fears lay threads of genuine care for the summoner, in the form of his worry for the integral part he played in isolating her from his family and the D’Marian settlement at large.
“Yeah, she's as good as good could be. Her arm’s showing gradual improvements, too. She’s a bit bummed she couldn’t go to the ball, but,” he shrugged, “can’t help that. She’d do a lot better if, you know, you lifted that ban on her and all.”
Ari nodded, as if in ready agreement. “I wish her well. Honestly, I do. Would if the situation were any different, but at this juncture,” he trailed off, staring at the tip of his cane. “…I do what I must. To preserve the peace. I do not expect understanding or forgiveness. Good evening, Mister Kavanagh.” Without another word, the Canaveris lord, second wind restored, continued on his path to find Nia, grunts of effort following his every uncomfortable movement.
“That man is damn near ready for the grave,” Hadwin commented as he fetched Teselin from the bush, brushing away some deadfall from her skirts and shoulders. “Well, all safe and sound! Fancypants is Nia’s problem now, and since he’ll be occupied with her for a while, you won’t have to dodge him at the ball…if you still wanna head on back there.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and shuffled forward on the path. “I’m game for whatever.”
“Oh… yeah. Right. You’re sober as fast as you’re drunk, aren’t you?” Sigrid, in her own inebriation, had completely forgotten that several glasses of wine would likely be out of the faoladh’s system before she fell asleep that evening (provided she didn’t pass out first.) That small fact didn’t make her worry any less; it didn’t lessen the disappointment that she felt in having hoped that at least one of them was having a good time that evening. Seeing Bronwyn happy was… somehow, fulfilling. Motivating. She didn’t know why, and didn’t have the faculties to contemplate it, but there was something about her smile (her real smile, not the shaky, upturned frown that she currently wore.) Was it her fault? Would Bronwyn be having a better time if she hadn’t wandered off and given into her weakness by imbibing in alcohol yet again. It wasn’t like the masquerade, where she had only been pleasantly buzzed, and had amped up the courage to dance with Bronwyn. That potential had been dashed approximately two or three glasses of wine ago. Even if she had the courage at this point, she was too far gone.
And, apparently, that was fairly evident to her cousin, to the point where he could no longer play dumb or pretend that he was there under any other pretenses than to keep an eye on her drunk ass. At first, she was willing to tolerate his presence, all the while knowing full well that he saw her as a potential problem that had to be intercepted. That was mere moments ago, when the blonde warrior still felt some vague semblance of tolerance. Now, with no hope of turning Bronwyn away from the same self-destructive behaviour she engaged in (and somehow feeling vaguely responsible for it, as irrational as that was), and with Haraldur calling her out on her terrible decisions, that single thread of tolerance snapped.
“As a Gardener-in-training, you have no ‘obligations’ to do anything, Haraldur. Because you’re in training.” It wasn’t the words she wanted to say, nor the tone she wanted to use, but the wine had already steadily dissolved Sigrid’s social filter. “No one asked you to mind us like you would our children. I have exactly zero inclination to go spend time in the Night Garden, and I don’t need it anyway. But since you’re so concerned that I’m not fit to be here anyway… Allow me to solve both of our problems.”
Sigrid slammed her empty glass down on the table a bit too hard. The stem broke, and what remained rolled off and shattered on the floor. It hadn’t been her intention to make her exit in such a dramatic fashion, or to make a scene, but there was nowhere for her frustration to go. So the former Dawn Warrior collected it, and brought it with her as she stormed out of the ballroom. She made it safely outside the doors, listening to the heavy thud as they shut on themselves, before tears tore free of the prison of her strong will and poured down her face.
It’s not fair… that should have been us, Naimah! Months ago, that should have been us. We… we should have been married.
Why, oh why, couldn’t she let go? Why couldn’t she move on and heal? Because life wouldn’t let her forget. Naimah’s memory was around every corner on any given day, and just when she thought she could see beyond the shadow that her absence left behind, another reminder tore open that healing wound with all the savagery of a hungry predator. She couldn’t feel happy for Lilica and Chara; she couldn’t even feel happy for Elespeth and Alster, despite that she had shown up precisely to support them. She couldn’t even look out for Bronwyn, who must have been dealing with her own demons, because she was already far too fucked up, and not fit for the formality of that ball.
So the blonde warrior, with her tear-strewn face, kept one hand against the cool wall to steady herself as her uncoordinated legs took her further and further from the celebration that simply didn’t bring her any joy.
“If I’m being honest, Ari… I never really thought we could win against you. While Alster and I worked very hard on our piece, and are still very proud of our final product, neither of us are artists. And I think this kingdom has already seen its fair share of alchemy and magic; what it really needs is art. And I can’t pretend to be an artist, even if I know my way around a sketchbook with charcoal.” This congratulations wasn’t out of the blue; it was too smooth for Isidor to not have practiced, in order to deliver it in such a smooth manner. The Master Alchemist really had anticipated his and Alster’s loss, by some means or another. At the very least, he personally saw the Canaveris float as superior in many ways to the Rigas-Kristeva float, though he never would have said as much to Alster.
“Not to say I didn’t give my all to this competition--I’m sure you already know as much, Alster,” he felt the need to add, lest the Rigas mage think that he threw the competition. “But… I must give credit where it is due. You and your family make formidable opponents; I daresay I can almost see the appeal of your and Alster’s friendly rivalry.”
Elespeth wasn’t sure she agreed with this ‘rivalry’, friendly or not, but considering both her husband and the Canaveris lord were at least maintaining civil exchanges (while still trying to out-gentleman one-another), she didn’t dare interfere with Isidor’s carefully-worded exchange. The poor man already looked as though he was running on borrowed energy; she was willing to bet that moments from now, he’d vacate the premises and return to the comfort and solitude of his room. “So… that ceremony was Nia’s idea all along.” The former Atvanian echoed her husband’s wonder and surprise. Sure, she was on relatively good terms with the Ardane woman, but why did Nia feel the need to go out of her way to plan something as ambitious as a wedding for someone else. “I’d love to know what inspired her to do something so… out of the blue. I never thought Alster and I would have the opportunity to renew our vows in a more official way. When you see her, please give her my--our--thanks.”
Mention of the one Master Alchemist who (strangely) wasn’t present seemed to have gotten to Ari more than he had let on; rather, he appeared almost… uncomfortable, in this moment without her. Elespeth was frankly surprised that the Ardane woman wasn’t glued to her lover’s side, and it didn’t seem as though the earth mage had envisioned this win in such a manner, without her. Alster barely had time to finish his sentence, when Ari insisted on leaving to find Nia, without so much as a polite ‘good night’. Ultimately, this worked in Isidor’s favour; it was the perfect excuse to slip out under agreable pretenses, instead of making a mad dash for the doors when no one was looking.
“He could use a hand; and it’s not like I’m much of a dancer, anyway.” The Master Alchemist declared, before anyone else could react and jump in to help instead. “Alster, Elespeth, I hope you have the evening that you deserve. I know I wasn’t around for your official union, but I am happy to have been part of this one.”
With a final nod, Isidor departed, just about as quickly as everyone would have anticipated. Ari was already well out of sight, but he knew where the D’Marian leader was going, and genuinely believed he could use someone to watch his back. He knew how the man reacted to stressful situations, and if he suffered a debilitating flare-up before he found Nia, then he would need some assistance.
The trouble was, Isidor was absolutely no good at tracking anyone, and within the vast Night Garden, Ari’s flamboyant colours did not stand out among the already brightly coloured flora. He blended in almost perfectly, whereas the dreary Master Alchemist, dressed in conservative black and grey, stood out for how muted he was against the colours. Where do I even start? He wondered, hoping he hadn’t gone in over his head thinking that Ari even wanted any help. At the very least, if he happened upon Nia first, he could tell the semi-infuriating woman that her paramor was desperately in search of her, and then they could track Ari down together, thereby solving the problem completely.
But it wasn’t Nia that Isidor ran into first in the Night Garden; it wasn’t Ari, either. It was Hadwin, and the one person who always seemed to be at his side. A person who he should be there for a lot more… but he wasn’t. And as a result, the faoladh had taken up that mantle.
“Isidor.” Teselin stopped in her tracks, surprised to see her brother here, of all places. She’d spotted him at the ball about an hour ago; why had he left to come here, instead of the privacy of his room?
“Ah… Teselin. Hadwin. Has Ari come this way, by chance?” Isidor opted to forego any small talk, knowing that it likely wouldn’t go well when Hadwin was involved. “He left to look for Nia, but considering what becomes of him when he undergoes stress, I thought it best to go after him in case he end up needing assistance and doesn’t find Ardane in time.”
“We just ran into him moments ago, actually. You’re headed in the right direction.” The summoner offered, gesturing over her shoulder. “I’d offer to help, but… I’m not sure that Ari would want to see me right now. Or, anytime in the foreseeable future…”
Isidor’s heart sank a little as his sister’s voice dropped. He managed to offer her a genuine smile, and hoped it would be enough to lift her spirits. It hadn’t escaped his mind that he still owed her for a promise that he was beginning to feel was impossible to keep: nullifying or taming her magic. He wasn’t sure a lifetime of research or trial and error could deliver what she wanted; in that sense… he had already let her down. “You look lovely tonight, Teselin. Go to the palace and enjoy the remainder of the ball; you deserve to have a moment in that dress. Surely no one will harass you with Hadwin nearby.”
“You know… that’s just what we were thinking. I’d like to see more than a glimpse of it. And to extend my congratulations to Alster and Elespeth. It’s the least I can do considering he’s been working so hard to restore function to my arm.” Isidor’s words must have uplifted her a little, because she returned his smile in kind. A real smile. “Good luck, Isidor. It’s so kind of you to be looking out for Ari.”
They parted ways, then, and sure enough, it wasn’t long before the Master Alchemist caught up with Ari, who appeared to be wandering aimlessly, with no more idea as to where the Ardane woman had gone than Isidor did. It wouldn’t make any logical sense to trail the earth mage at a distance, and would only make him come across as suspicious, so he reached out to the bewildered man. “Ari.” He tried not to startle the man, who hadn’t seemed to have realized he was there until he spoke up. “I thought you might like some assistance… because I don’t imagine you have that tonic on you?” At the guilty look that crossed Ari’s face, Isidor assumed he was right. “Let’s see if we can find Nia together. I… really needed an excuse to get out of the palace, anyway.”
Ari agreed, and so the two proceeded to search the vast Night Garden for a single individual who could honestly have been anywhere. With the Garden itself being more of a forest, finding anyone at any given time was no simple task. They stopped to ask a handful of Gardener’s along the way; some had no advice to impart, and others claimed to have seen the elusive Ardane woman, but it had been some time ago, and they had no idea where she might be at this given time. “We’ll find her, Ari. And this is the safest place she could possibly be.” The Master Alchemist pointed out, as Ari appeared to become more disheartened, the further they searched without success. What could have possessed Nia to wander out of the ball, seemingly missing all of the praise and credit that Ari voiced to the entire crowd on her behalf? Wasn’t it that very credit that she’d sought, since she'd been granted more freedom as a prisoner?
The two searched for the collective time of over one hour, and to no avail. Some had spotted Nia Ardane, at some point in time, but no one quite knew where she was. It was getting late; the ball would likely be ending soon, and the kingdom would retire for the night. Where the hell had this aggravating woman gone? Isidor was just about to suggest they take their search elsewhere, in case Nia had finally wandered away from the sacred garden, when something glistening in the grass caught his eye. Adjusting his spectacles, Isidor crouched and picked up what was undeniably one of the same wine glasses that had been present on the libations table. It did cross his mind that it could have belonged to Hadwin, who was no stranger to reckless consumption of alcohol, but he had been in Teselin’s presence. Isidor’s younger sister wouldn’t have stood for allowing the faoladh to litter this precious terrain with an empty glass. Upon closer inspection, the coloured imprint of lips smudged the rim. This glass had more than likely been in the possession of a woman, prior to being unceremoniously abandoned on the ground…
“I’d like to assume this doesn’t belong to her, when I specifically instructed her to fast from any influencing substances.” Iisdor could not hide the disdain from his voice. But he knew better than to second guess himself. “...let’s go this way. Just in case.”
Isidor and Ari continued to wander the Night Garden, and it wasn’t long after finding the wine glass until they appeared to encounter one of its boundaries; where the trees and brush began to grow thinner, and eventually made way for a clear, trickling stream, maybe ankle deep at most. Where it began and ended was anyone’s guess; even in all the time he spent alone, Isidor had yet to know the entirety of the Night Garden. But the water wasn’t the first thing to catch the Master Alchemist’s attention: rather, it was the figure slumped against a tree, salmon-coloured gown wrinkled, and tendrils of her hair loose from the intricate weave at the back of her head. She was alive, evidenced by the rise and fall of her chest, but very much unconscious.
Isidor exhaled a sigh of relief--and frustration. “If she had a lot to drink… it’s possible she just passed out,” he offered to Ari, who rushed to the unconscious Nia’s side. “Like I said, this is absolutely the safest place for her to be… although I think it is high time you take her home to rest properly in a bed.”
Reluctant to have Ari strain his body over carrying this deadweight woman, Isidor knelt and hoisted Nia into his arms. Curiously, she was also barefoot (although not uncommon for someone heavily under the influence of alcohol to lose their shoes), but what struck Isidor as particularly surprising was the smooth, unmarred skin revealed when her skirts folded over her bare knees. Alster must have done some amazing work on her injury, he thought to himself, though his eyebrow knit in confusion. Though… I was almost certain that scar remained.
Bronwyn heard Haraldur groan aloud, as if expecting this exact turn of events would occur the moment he traded subtlety for directness and addressed her insidious spiral towards inebriation, Ever the peacekeeper, even while drunk and dazed, she tried to interject between the two fighting cousins, to no avail.
“Sigrid, he didn’t mean that at all,” she said, appealing to the blonde warrior, despite her flaring temper. “He’s looking out for you as he would for anyone else he loves. There’s not an inch of condescension in him. He’s only concerned.”
“I don’t want to argue,” Haraldur raised his hands, palms out, to demonstrate his unwillingness to further test or irritate her. “Bronwyn’s right. I’m not trying to—“
His attempts at reason were silenced by the shatter of the glass goblet subjected to too much pressure when it slammed upon the table, followed by the unceremonious slamming of the door as the responsible party made her hasty exit. Nearby minglers, subjected to the spectacle, watched Bronwyn and Haraldur out of the corner of their eyes, concerned mutters filling the vacant space where Sigrid once occupied.
“Ugh…why am I so bad at this?!” Haraldur’s uncharacteristic outburst startled Bronwyn as he took his wine and kicked it back with the fervent enthusiasm Sigrid had displayed moments ago. “‘Obligated to…’ what the hell was I thinking? I always bluster my words. I can’t…I haven’t been able to help a single goddamned person since I took this path. In fact, I seem to make everything worse!” Like Sigrid, he also slammed the empty glass on the table, but measured his self-control so that it didn’t break from rough handling. “I’m better off as the silent swordsman. At least that’s a role I know how to play outside of my wife and kids. I can’t fuck up if I’m not speaking.”
“I don’t think you’re doing anything wrong,” Bronwyn, contemplative, fiddled with the stem of her half-full goblet. “You’re a protector. That’s in your nature. You can’t very well stifle or defy your nature. Except…she’s also a protector by nature. What happens when one protector figure tries to protect the other? They clash. I believe Sigrid feels undermined. Like she has no agency. Someone with such a fierce independent streak doesn’t know how to ask for or accept help, and receiving it unsolicited can be considered an insult.”
Haraldur, listening with rapt attention, could only give a defeated nod. “I just want so badly to prevent another potential tragedy from befalling her. The last time I let her go, she…” he sighed, unable to finish the thought.
“I understand. And I think Sigrid understands that, too. Subconsciously. But it’s much easier to give your close relatives grief, right? Better to explode at them than at some innocent bystander.” Finishing the rest of her wine, Bronwyn, unlike her predecessors, set it gently on the table. “I might need to take a break from this crowd, too. My headache is…pounding.”
“Of course.” Obligingly, Haraldur stepped aside for her to go. “…Thank you, Bronwyn. For your perspective.” For her, he presented a small smile of gratitude. “You’re good for her, you know. Please keep watch over her in my stead. I’ll honor her wish and…stay away.”
Once outside the emotionally-intense ballroom, Bronwyn didn’t have long to recover her wits in the hallway before she was met not only by Hadwin, but…Teselin.
“What’s up, Bron-Bron?” he hailed, head tilted curiously at her. “You look fucking spooked out of your mind.”
“And you look like you just climbed out of a swamp,” she shot back, referring to his drowned-rat appearance.
“Hah, that?” He swept his wet crop of hair from his forehead. “It got stuffy in there, so I took a bath in the rain. My slick new look’s gonna turn the room on its heels in awe, you’ll see!” He placed a hand over his forehead in an exaggerated show of looking for someone. “Where’s your other half? Thought you two were pretty inseparable by now.”
You’re one to talk. She wanted to acknowledge his inseparable half, for the sake of politeness, but she still couldn’t bring herself to look at Teselin’s general direction or even scrounge together a greeting. “She’s…she left. A little while ago.”
“Because of the whole proposal thing?” Hadwin ventured. “Damn…what is it about tonight that’s souring everyone’s mood? Everyone’s so fucking miserable, they can’t even get it together a few hours to celebrate!”
Again, you’re one to talk. “Your cake’s a hit, at least.”
“Yeah?” His eyes glinted knowingly. “Had a few slices yourself, I take it?”
“…No!” She shot, defensively. “…One. Just one slice! And it wasn’t even that good. Too sticky-sweet for my tastes.”
“Mmmhmm.” His mouth turned into a smug grin. “Whatever you say. Well,” he lowered a hand onto Teselin’s shoulder, “the kid and I are gonna go in and enjoy what’s left of this event. And no worries, cuz we still have Nia’s invisibility cloak if we wanna be covert about the whole thing.”
“Ah, yes. Well…tread carefully.” She nodded in Teselin’s direction, the closest she could muster to addressing her directly. “And enjoy your night. Compensate for all us miserable folk who can’t ‘get it together.’”
“Will do! Oh, and Bron?” He caught her gaze, his discerning eyes pinching, probing. “It happens, you know. When it awakens to its fullest potential. From here on out…things are gonna get real bumpy for you. Hang in there.”
Oh, did she have a bevy of follow-up questions for him, like, What the hell do you mean, ‘It happens’? Bumpy, how? This is going to be a regular thing, how? Am I going to go mad? Explain yourself! But he and Teselin were gone, having already traversed through the doors to the ballroom, and she wasn’t going to run back inside and withstand the mental onslaught just to beat up her brother until he made sense. Rattled, she turned away from the music and merriment and wandered down a random hallway, unaware she was heading straight towards…
“Sigrid?”
The blonde warrior was sluggishly skating along the walls, and even from her vantage point behind her, Bronwyn could tell she had been crying.
“S…sorry for my intrusion,” she stammered, walking alongside Sigrid, but not paying her distraught face any heed. It wouldn’t be proper to stare so intently at her grief. “My bedroom is in this direction, so I’ll be going this way. I’m done drinking for the night, looks like! I think it’ll only make my headache worse.” Biting her lip, she added, “Would you care to accompany me there?”
At first blush, Ari suspected Hadwin might have led him astray on purpose. Considering his twin decrees to have the wolf-man and his young charge ousted from the D’Marian settlement indefinitely, he wouldn’t put it past Kavanagh to exact his petty vengeance. However, he understood Hadwin to be a friend of Nia’s, and if she was legitimately in emotional distress, the rambunctious faoladh would want her to find a sympathetic face for comfort.
She fled from me, a not-so-friendly voice reminded him. Why would she clamber to see you so soon after you condemned her to this horrid state with your thoughtless words?
She is not well, he countered to the naysayer in his head. I must attend to her, no matter how much or little she cares to see me.
You cannot even attend to yourself, came the immediate retort, like a ricochetting pebble lobbed from his reflection and smacking him straight at his face.
It was true…but he had no choice but to deny the truth. To deny how his lungs, restricted to half-capacity, lifted leaden weights every time he breathed, or how aligning his spine straight was akin to fighting against the antithesis of a back brace, pushing him down in place of raising him up. His legs lost their flexibility around the knees, prompting him to overcompensate his footing with wide, awkward strides, and his hands were only useful for gripping his cane. Amidst his flailing attempts to walk, along with the sweat pouring into his eyes, he carried himself with dignity, always aware of his public persona and loathing to dispose of it just because the majority of his ‘public’ almost exclusively included trees, bushes, and other assorted botanicals. But in order to fool himself into believing he was able-bodied and capable, he refused to drop the performance. To drop it was to admit defeat…and he would not surrender until he found Nia.
So concentrated was he on his task, he didn’t notice Isidor’s arrival until he felt a hand lightly graze his arm. Alarmed, he whirled towards the source, almost losing his balance and keeling over in the process, but a quick repositioning of his cane had averted almost irreversible disaster. If he fell, it was over for him. “Isidor,” he said, removing the elements of surprise from his voice. It was enough that he upset one person today; he could not be the cause of upsetting or fostering guilt in another for simply hailing his attention.
“You wish to…assist?” When Isidor asked after his tonic, Ari lied and mentioned he had left the bottle in his quarters. Honesty had already ejected Nia from his company, compelling him to tell only convincing but harmless falsehoods. The truth? He had taken Isidor’s tonic before departing for the ball, but its efficacy had worn so thin as to render its potency almost absent. “Surely, you did not need to inconvenience yourself so.” But as he explained his ulterior motive of wanting to extricate himself from the ball once he conceived of a plausible enough excuse, Ari gave a thin smile and nodded. “Very well. I imagine two sets of eyes will expedite the process. Your assistance is more than welcome.”
Through sheer willpower, Ari spent the next hour concentrating on maintaining his body’s homeostasis while at the same time sharpening his eyes for any sign of Nia. Fortunately, his condition never deteriorated, all thanks to the healing properties of the Night Garden, but the journey was still a harrowing one, especially whenever they veered off-path and dodged tree roots and fallen sticks, some of which he clumsily dodged or stumbled upon. To optimize their search, the two men, with the exception of querying Gardener passersby, dispensed with conversation, a detail he assumed Isidor found refreshing. But as the night wore on with no sign of Nia, Ari, unable to persist in his quietude, finally broke the silence. “I shudder to admit this at all, but we are making no headway on our own. Perhaps we should recruit one of the Kavanagh wolves to lend their nose to the endeavor. We,” he placed a bracing hand over his quickly fluttering chest, “we alone are not adequate, I’m afraid.”
No sooner did he voice the closest he dared to defeat than Isidor collected a glassy material from the ground. As he presented it to the light, the specimen revealed itself to be a crystal wine goblet, the very same from the palace. Considering their proximity, it could have belonged to anyone fancying a late night stroll in the Night Garden—a woman, by the imprint of lipstick tinted in the exact shade of the one Nia wore—but the evidence, and his instinct, suggested otherwise.
“You may be right,” Ari said politely, hesitant to contradict Isidor’s optimistic assessment of the goblet’s original owner when he knew it belonged to Nia. “In any case, we do have a lead, however conjecture-laden. Best we follow in its direction.”
Their blind sojourns through yet more bramble and protruding roots eventually led them to a small clearing where the ever-present bioluminescence highlighted the reflection of running water burbling downstream…and the unmistakable figure slumped against a tree next to its shoreline.
“Nia.” Dropping his cane, Ari hustled over to the unconscious woman, falling heavily on his knees to inspect her condition. Alive. She was alive. Unconscious, which Isidor also confirmed, but otherwise unharmed. On the surface, anyhow. Seeing her in such a state, firsthand, due to his callous words…I have driven you to drink.
“How could I have allowed this to happen?” he heard himself saying aloud as Isidor crouched down to hoist Nia over his shoulders. It was even more insult to injury that he could not carry the woman he loved to safety when it was a monumental effort just to prop himself upright from where he’d landed on the ground beside her. Mud-stained from his knees to his boots and precariously perched upon the cane he’d recovered, Ari had to scrounge for every reserve of calm just to detach from his flare-up inducing emotions of worry and guilt. “It was a mistake to remove her guard tonight. …And it was a mistake not to accompany her, but alas, she seemed intent on privacy and…” trailing off, he sighed. “There is no use in dwelling upon past transgressions. It is more prudent to focus on the present.” As Isidor carted the unresponsive Nia away from the stream, Ari followed close beside them, several times insisting that he relieve Isidor of the responsibility by at least redistributing the weight of her legs into his hold, but his attempt to help was always met with demurral. In place of physical contribution, he expended his ever-waning energy on a more lucrative use of his resources, and contacted Laz via psychic link to ready the Canaveris carriages in front of the palace-facing entrance to the Night Garden.
“I informed Laz to bid good night to Lord and Lady Rigas and Her Majesty on my behalf,” he said, as they neared their destination. “They have been apprised of the situation. Laz and Nico shall meet us there. At least,” he looked appraisingly at Isidor, “if you are willing to accompany me to the villa?”
Once they reached the carriages and after Isidor had rested Nia’s unconscious form gently upon the cushions, a hand extended toward him in the darkness and yanked him away from Ari and Laz, who, discussing random logistical matters with the coachman, hadn’t noticed, and pressed him against the dark, hidden side of a tree.
“Listen to me, Isidor.” The harsh, hushed voice, feminine in tone, gripped him by the shoulders, allowing him to suss out her identity. Despite the shadows obscuring most of her features, a Master Alchemist of Isidor’s caliber was able to determine that Tivia Rigas was the one handling him with forceful intent. “Go with Canaveris. Watch over Nia. Make sure she doesn’t leave the villa. Under no circumstances will you allow the two of them to make physical contact whenever she awakens. At least not until she’s properly aware of her surroundings without alarming Ari in the process. Do you understand?” Strained notes of frustration peaked as she continued. “If Ari ever learns the truth about Nia, the resulting shock and stress will kill him, and no one will be able to save him. No one. And you,” she paused, her fierceness wavering, the grip on her shoulders loosening, “I will not burden you with the truth. You’ll figure it out soon enough.”
“I’m trusting you to do this for me…again,” she breathed, so inaudible as to be mistaken for a sigh. “I’m going to fix this, but I’ll need your help to protect Ari and Nia. Alster’s help, too, if things grow dire. He and Elespeth will be your allies. In the meantime, learn what you can from Nia. Listen. Observe. Investigate. Deduce. Utilize that incredible brain of yours to its fullest benefit.” A faint smile appeared in her tone, lilting it upwards for an airy moment before crashing down to a low, ominous rumble. “If you don’t see me again…well, I failed.” Sliding her hands from his shoulders, she stepped back, withdrawing. “I’m sorry…for hurting you so terribly.”
In a shimmer, she was gone, as if she had never been there at all, existing only as a figment of Isidor’s imagination.
In reality, Tivia Rigas did not disappear, not yet, but backtracked to the very stream where Isidor and Ari had retrieved Nia Ardane. She had almost cursed her poorly-timed luck when she not only located the blasted woman after the fact, but that she didn’t get the chance to hide her before the two men happened upon her body and hauled her away from the area. Oh, how she had wanted to abduct Isidor at that moment and somehow abscond with Nia, but that messy operation would have ended in a miserable failure, and raised more questions than answers. Besides…she could never oppose him. Instead, she had followed after them, inwardly cursing the entire length of their painfully-slow trek towards the carriages until which time she met her opportunity to isolate Isidor and hurriedly sell him a hasty, modified plan.
As she approached the waterside, she slapped her cheeks and blew out her lips, hyping herself for the insane feat she was about to perform. Willingly.
She was really going to do this again, wasn’t she?
Kneeling by the stream, she placed a curious indigo-colored leaf, the only one left behind by Nia, into the water, allowing the cool liquid to wash over her fingers before she closed her eyes to meditate. The hum of familiar celestial energy enveloped her, an overwhelming, intense star-power that burned its white-hot incandescence through her vessel, supercharging her compatibility with the universe to cosmic levels, and allowing her physical form to perform as a temporary ethereal conduit as she opened herself to infinity…and yielded to the sea of stars. Oblivion unraveled before her, and opened the gates of endless possibility to her sought-after destination.
Now, she had truly disappeared from this reality. And entered another.
Drunk as she was, Sigrid knew the words she would utter to her cousin would be hurtful. She knew she would come to regret them as soon as they passed her lips, because Haraldur only wanted to help, and meant her no ill will. He didn’t think her weak or helpless, and it wasn’t his fault that she’d made it so damn obvious she was in distress. Had it been him, or Bronwyn, or frankly anyone she vaguely cared about (even Hadwin Kavanagh), it was no question that she would have done exactly the same thing. But the pain, accompanied by the alcohol, savagely destroyed her social filter and conscience in that moment, and all she wanted was someone, anyone, to feel even the vaguest semblance of impact that she did as a result of this event tearing open wounds that would never fully heal. So she’d hurt Haraldur, and had walked away from Bronwyn… and, the truth was, she wasn’t entirely sure that she even wanted to be alone. But, it was safest that way--lest she lash out at yet another unsuspecting and undeserving person who only wanted to help.
So the blonde warrior decided to take all her misery to her bedroom and cry in secret until she was either out of tears, or out cold--whatever happened first. But she didn’t get too far until a familiar voice behind her sought her attention. Why, Bronwyn? Why do you have to be here at my worst? Sigrid internally fretted. She didn’t want to break down in front of this woman, and didn’t want her to take notice of the fact that she was already beginning to crack. But she had just verbally assaulted Haraldur, right in front of the faoladh woman… Perhaps her state of mind was already too obvious.
“...Bronwyn.” In all of her grace, it didn’t appear that Bronwyn was here to hold her accountable for hurting her cousin. It would have been what Sigrid deserved, but she chose empathy, all the same. “You know, this is why I had to leave the Dawn Guard. I couldn’t uphold their values anymore… particularly that of putting the safety of others ahead of my own. I’ve failed at that far too many times, including tonight. I could hardly be there for my friends… any of them. Alster and Elespeth, Haraldur, even you. Because I just can’t let go of the past… and it follows in my shadow, hiding just around any corner, anywhere I go.”
Feeling the hot pressure of more tears threatening to spill, the blonde warrior turned away and wiped her eyes dry. If it were up to her, she would sleep away the remainder of the night and well into the morning, nursing whatever hangover she’d managed to give herself. But she couldn’t turn down Bronwyn’s request, and… she couldn’t quite put a finger on why that was. Hadwin’s sister was someone she just couldn’t find it in herself to refuse. “...of course.” Sigrid nodded, turning back when the remainder of her tears had been mopped up with her sleeve. “I’m going roughly in the same direction. Should we get you some water first? I know you metabolize alcohol faster than me, but I’m not sure I’ll be in any condition to help tomorrow morning…” On the contrary, it was more likely that she would be the one in desperate need of assistance.
“Ari… I think we can both agree that Nia’s decisions are a result of her own agency. You cannot possibly blame yourself for her reckless behaviour.” Isidor sighed and adjusted the Ardane woman in his arms as they began to retrace their steps. Ari was expectedly shaken up about finding her in such a condition; it concerned Isidor, the belaboured way the earth mage put one foot in front of the other. Shaken perhaps wasn’t the right word: the man really was tearing himself up from the inside-out. He looked as though he felt completely to blame, and surely, that was far from the truth.
“...this is probably my fault. I put a lot of pressure on Nia to get better.” He felt impelled to say something to alleviate Ari’s guilt. Seeing him this way made him feel complicit in this entire scenario. “I’ve been… I realize I have a tendency to approach her unkindly. Harshly. And, at this point, without good reason. Everyone has vouched for her in terms of following the rules and all my conditions. I should have realized when it was time to gradually lift all these restrictions… I’m sorry, Ari.” The Master Alchemist’s face softened. His shoulders would have slumped a little if he weren’t supporting Nia in his arms. “Tomorrow, we’ll talk, all three of us. That is, if you’ll agree to it. I think… that I owe Nia an apology. And I think, hearing it from me might help her. At least, it’s worth a try, if it will in any way prevent future destructive behaviours, such as this.”
With their person of interest safe and found, it took far less time for the two to make their way out of the Night Garden, and back toward the palace, where Ari had informed him he’d already arranged a carriage to take them back to the villa in the D’Marian settlement. Isidor half-expected Ari to dismiss his suggestion to offer Nia an apology once she was awake and coherent, until the Canaveris lord suggested he accompany them. Perhaps he did see the necessity in having him approach Nia in a more kindly manner--or, the necessity of having the capable hands of a conscious Master Alchemist if he happened to suffer a flare-up.
“Of course--yes, of course I’ll accompany you.” Not like I would be sleeping if I returned to my room, anyway. Isidor carefully arranged Nia’s sleeping form upon the cushions of the large carriage. She stirred temporarily, but did not awaken; at the very least, she was safe, and would probably end up regretting it when she did wake up to the hangover of the century. “What have you gotten yourself into…” He muttered, but was hardly able to finish his thought before something--or someone--grabbed him from behind, and before he could register what was happening, found himself yards away from the carriage, standing in the shadow of a massive tree trunk…
…and face to face with Tivia.
“...Tivia.” He hadn’t seen her since the night of the Masquerade, and even then her presence had been fleeting, to the point where he questioned whether he’d seen her at all. In fact, he couldn’t even see her now, but he would know her touch, those hands, anywhere. “I… I had already planned to go with Ari to keep an eye on Nia. What’s going on? Is there something about her I should know?” How in heaven or hell did he keep the Ardane woman and the Canaveris lord from touching?! She was all over him more often than not, even in public, when displays of affection could be risky since their relationship had yet to become public knowledge, outside of the villa. “What ‘truth’ about Nia are you talking about? I--I want to help, Tivia. Especially if Ari’s life is on the line… but I don’t know how I can if you can’t tell me what’s going on.”
It was no use: when Tivia was determined to keep her secrets, nothing would change her mind. Not only did he now feel he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, but he had absolutely no idea who he was carrying. “What do you mean, you’ll have failed? What are you going to do, Tivia? You can trust me--if you trust me to help you, you can trust me to understand why, and what…”
She was gone. No further explanations, just a vague apology, and then… nothing. “Tivia…!” The Master Alchemist turned around, scanned his surroundings, but… he was alone. In the distance, he heard Ari call to him. The carriage was preparing to depart.
Carrying with him tenuous yet vague knowledge, and some role he did not yet understand, Isidor returned to the carriage and stepped inside. Laz sat up front with the driver, while Nia’s sleeping form took up almost an entire seat, with Ari seated right next to her head. Please don’t wake up yet… Isidor silently bade the sleeping Master Alchemist. He took a seat next to Nico, and proceeded to bounce his knee nervously for the duration of the ride to the villa, saying nothing the entire time, all the while keeping his gaze solely on the sleeping form of Nia.
Fortunately, the Ardane woman did not stir on the short ride back to the Canaveris villa, and no sooner did the carriage pull to a halt that Isidor carefully gathered Nia in his arms again and left. “Ari, would you permit me to stay the night?” Isidor asked before they had even made it inside the villa. “I’d like to be here to apologize to Nia when she awakens and set things right with her, but… I’d also like to keep an eye on you, if you’ll allow it. Forgive me for saying, but you don’t seem well.” Ari didn’t immediately reply, but his expression said it all: especially in that he seemed to know just how unwell he actually was.
They made their way inside, at which point Nico bade them all goodnight and retired to his room. Laz remained close to Ari’s side, for reasons that needn’t be explained, and as Isidor neared the office that he had once used as an alchemical workshop, he slowed. “Would you mind if I keep Nia in a guest bedroom near this office? If she’s drunk enough to have passed out… I anticipate her being very sick upon awakening. I’m going to stay up and put together something to lessen her symptoms in the morning… and something for you, as well, which I hope will make you feel better.”
He feared Ari would protest, and want to keep Nia next to him in his own bed, but the Canaveris lord looked too tired and defeated to argue. Isidor did genuinely worry for him; and he would keep good on his promise to concoct something to improve the earth mage’s health, even if only temporarily. Bidding Ari goodnight, Isidor found a nearby room to lay Nia’s sleeping for. Considering she had hardly stirred despite all the movement of the carriage, he genuinely was concerned at her level of intoxication… but also at whatever it was Tivia had implied. Something was going on with Ardane, something beyond overindulging in alcohol, and somehow, it was up to him to figure out what that was.
Fearing that she might awaken some time in the night without anyone to help her or wander off to find Ari, Isidor ultimately decided to work at the desk in that guest bedroom, so as to simultaneously keep an eye on the sleeping woman, should her state of consciousness begin to shift. It wasn’t ideal; he didn’t have a lot of room for the supplies that Nia had kept on hand in the workshop, and the lighting wasn’t ideal, but the Master Alchemist managed to make it work and concoct a couple of hasty elixirs for Nia and Ari (the latter being far more complicated than the former) to treat their differing conditions. As it turned out, he finished Nia’s just in time, removing the vial from an alchemically crafted flame at the same moment that the figure on the bed shifted and let out a groan.
“...fuck.” The Ardane woman stirred on the bed, rolled onto her side and clutched her stomach. “Just one glass… wasn’t even strong wine. Why do I feel like this…”
“Here!” Isidor wasted no time, and was at her side in a matter of seconds. “Take a sip of this; it’ll settle your stomach.”
Nia didn’t resist as he helped her sit upright and placed the warm vial to her lips. “...ah, Issy. You’re a godsent.” She sighed and smiled. “The hell was in that wine? I only had one glass. I might not be the drinker I used to be, but my tolerance isn’t that shit…”
“Just… one glass? Are you sure?” Even for someone who hadn’t touched alcohol in months, Isidor had a hard time believing that one glass of wine would cause them to pass out. Something wasn’t right, and he needed to find out exactly what was going on… but he had to be delicate about it. Never had Isidor felt so unqualified for a task. Tivia, you should have had Alster on this… not me! “What… what do you remember, Nia?”
Nia hunched over and rubbed her temples. “One glass--that’s what I remember. I didn’t want to get too fucked up for Al and El’s second wedding.” She sighed, wondering just how she’d managed to fuck that up. “I know I was lucid enough to take a stroll in the Night Garden with Ari… hey, where is Ari?” She looked around, as if only realizing at that moment that she wasn’t in her usual bedroom. “Is he alright?”
A stroll in the Night Garden with Ari? But Ari had gone in after the fact to look for her. “Ari’s fine. Sleeping peacefully. He was concerned for you, so I stuck around in case you woke up and required assistance.” Isidor hurriedly explained, making his best effort not to give her any excuse to go look for (or touch) the Canaveris lord. “Ah, Nia… how has your leg been? Since Alster healed it a few weeks ago.” He changed the subject, not only to deflect from the current topic, but also to gain a better understanding of what was going on with the Ardane alchemist. “He must’ve done a formidable job; I don’t even see a scar from the injury.”
“...huh?” Nia rubbed her head, and surveyed the room for water. Anticipating what she wanted, Isidor hurried to pour some from a decanter at the other end of the room, and handed her a cup. “Did I hurt myself or something? My leg feels fine.”
“No, not recently, but… before. Your leg was pretty badly hurt.” Isidor took a seat on the edge of her bed. His brows knit together in concern, and he could feel the heat in his face encourage his forehead to perspire. “Alster healed it over some weeks ago…”
“You sure you're not drunk off your ass, Issy?” Nia chuckled into her cup. “Can’t recall the last time I hurt my leg badly enough to need Al’s superior healing to deal with it. Though I wouldn’t mind his superior magic right about now… hurts my head just to talk.” She held her head heavily in her hands, and groaned again. Her squinted eyes suddenly widened, and she stared at her left hand in horror. “...fuck. No way… where is it?”
Isidor frowned and leaned in. Was she hurt in some other way? Her hand looked completely unmarred. “Where… is what, Nia?”
“My ring. Fuck, Ari will be so goddamn heartbroken if I lost it…” The Ardane woman frantically looked here and there, under pillows and sheets. “I need to go back to the Night Garden. I know I was wearing it when I went for a walk with Ari. Issy, he cannot find out I lost my engagement ring!”
“J-j-just calm down!” Acting on a knee jerk, Isidor placed a heavy hand on her shoulder as she made to stand up. “I, um, I think I might know where you lost it. But you need to rest--drink the rest of this elixir.” He handed the vial to her hands--which had a tendency to tremble when she was under duress. Yet, they were completely steady, right now… “Ari is fast asleep, so let’s keep it that way, and he won’t have to find out. Just give me a little bit of time and I’ll figure it out, alright?”
Nia’s eyes had already teared up, but the appreciation in her eyes was genuine as she threw her arms around Isidor’s neck. “I’m damn lucky to have a friend like you.” She sniffled. His shoulder grew damp with her tears. “Please let me know if you find it. Ari made it, one of a kind… not like it can be replaced.”
“Try not to worry. Everything… will be fine. Just, wait here? Finish the elixir, have some more water. I’ll be back shortly.”
Dislodging from the Ardane woman’s arms, Isidor quietly exited the room. By now, he was sweating nervously… and he didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know what was going on. Maybe… maybe Alster would have more insight.
Fumbling in his pocket for the resonance stone that connected to Alster’s, Isidor didn’t stray far from the bedroom to ensure that Nia would stay put. He pressed his back to the wall and raised the resonance stone to his lips. “...Alster.” He hissed a sharp whisper, hoping it would be enough to rouse the Rigas mage. “Alster, it’s Nia. Something’s going on with her. She passed out drunk in the Night Garden, and… I just need you to get down here. To the D’Marian villa.” The stone felt slippery in his sweat-slick palms. “She’s determined she and Ari are engaged, she claims her leg has never been injured, and there is no longer any sign of injury… she’s calling me Issy. Please, I… I realize this seems ridiculous, but there is something going on, and I can’t figure it out alone. I need you to get down here.”
Bronwyn never viewed herself as a bastion of comfort for others. Much as she tried to embody that role in the past, she, like Haraldur, struggled to present as eloquent, believable, or confident when trying on a particular aspect to which they weren’t accustomed. On more occasions than she could count on both hands, Hadwin and Rowen had called her out for trying too hard and falling victim to the ideal inculcated by her Sight, rather than following and trusting in her own beliefs. Because of the clan expectation to be more than herself, she never learned how to be herself, and till this day, continued to struggle with the concept such that any attempts at authenticity always came off as…inconsistent. Clumsy. Full of second-guessing and obsessive introspection. The fact that Sigrid seemed at all comfortable around her came entirely by accident. Still, Bronwyn questioned what the blonde warrior even tolerated in her. She wasn’t particularly interesting or dynamic; any pizazz she carried was inherited secondhand from her infamous siblings. Nor was she gifted at interpersonal relationships. Whatever promising friendships fostered between Elespeth, Alster, Briery, and even Teselin were dead in the water before they ever learned to swim. And yet, Sigrid didn’t hate her company. On the contrary, she opened up to her, completely unprompted, and spilled her troubles, her fears, about being too much of a failure to function as a member of the Dawn Guard, and as a reliable friend.
“I don’t think you failed tonight,” she said, looking towards Sigrid, but not at her. “You were there, supporting your friends. You made the effort to go, and to stay, despite the difficult situation thrust upon you. That much, I can see in you. Honor, integrity, steadfastness, and fidelity…these traits aren’t lost on the people who know you. You’re doing your best, and you wouldn't be out here, struggling, if you didn’t care. And, for the record,” she chanced a smile, however much it pinched and twisted her headache, “I think you’ve been here for me plenty. So let me be here for you. Does that sound fair?”
At the mention of water, Bronwyn cocked an eyebrow. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll drink some water if you drink some with me. I have a pitcher in my room. It’s…it’s up to you, of course, but,” she wiped a sleeve over her face, not to dab away tears, but to shield the embarrassed heating of her cheeks, “you could stay. …Sometimes I don’t like to be alone at night. It’s…I guess it’s a holdover from clan life. I was never alone. Never had any privacy, for that matter, but…the adjustment hasn’t been easy. I…I’ve always wondered,” she fiddled with the golden neckpiece she’d borrowed from Briery, “does the Dawn Guard take outsiders? And are they…looking for new recruits?”
Before Sigrid could consider the answer, they rounded on Bronwyn’s door. “Well…even if you don’t want to stay, there’s plenty of water inside, so…you’re free to come in and freshen up. If not, I can grab you something to drink.” She raised her eyes, meeting Sigrid’s ice blue ones. A curious heat roosted there and lingered, a sensation she experienced two other times. When she was attempting to comfort Isidor in his room, and when she calmed Hadwin’s mind during one of his psychotic episodes, preventing him from assailing Nia with her most crippling fears. Unbeknownst to her, an ambient glow rimmed her amber irises and projected toward Sigrid, encapsulating her in feelings of warmth and hope.
Alster knew the Solstice event was beginning to wear thin once the majority of his and Elespeth’s companions thinned out of the ballroom, for some alarming reason or another. Ari and Isidor left to locate Nia, who later had been found passed out in the Night Garden from too much alcohol consumption and delivered home to the D’Marian villa with the remainder of the Canaveris party in tow. Haraldur and Vega retired early to relieve their nanny, but from the Forbanne Commander’s haggard features, there was more to the story. According to a few eyewitnesses, Sigrid got upset with her cousin and stormed out after breaking a crystal goblet. And when Hadwin came around to greet them, an invisibility-cloaked Teselin close behind, they learned that Bronwyn hadn’t felt well and exited the ballroom shortly following Sigrid’s minor spectacle.
“Just one disaster after another, innit?” Hadwin remarked as he shot down another goblet of wine, ignoring the scandalized looks he received from his disheveled—and drenched appearance. “And I for one ain’t the one creating them, for a change. You know, beyond the average amount of discord.” He clacked at his muddy boots, for emphasis. “Sure, I get that everyone’s got issues but damn did they unload full force tonight. Bummer it had to happen on your night.”
“They were here when it mattered most. I don’t begrudge them anything,” Alster said, not as bothered by their disappearances as Hadwin seemed to imply. “Though I’m saddened to hear they’ve been having such a difficult time. I wish I could have done more. Been a better host to them and made sure their needs were met, at least.”
“Psh,” Hadwin scoffed. “It’s your and Elly’s big night! I think you can stand to slack off for a few hours.”
“Still,” he glanced over to Elespeth, wondering if she felt the same way. “I’m especially worried about Nia. Here, it was she who was thoughtful enough to throw us a wedding celebration, but she couldn’t stick around to benefit from the credit she was owed. And now that we know she drank herself unconscious,” he gave Elespeth’s hand a gentle squeeze, “…She didn’t deserve such a bleak end to an evening she expressly arranged for us.”
“So one night’s a bust,” the faoladh shrugged. “There’ll be others for her. You can’t dole out happiness for everyone, y’know. There are times when everyone’s just fucking miserable and there’s nothing you can do about it. But on that cheery note,” he gestured to the shimmering space beside him, “I believe someone’s been itching to tell you two something all night long.” Teselin partially emerged from Nia’s invisibility cloak, revealing her head and shoulders and a heartfelt message of congratulations to the renewed newlyweds.
“Thank you,” Alster smiled, impressed by the summoner’s efforts to attend despite the implied suggestion that she not be present, seeing as her appearance at a ball so soon after the averted masquerade disaster would not be…appropriate. “I hope you were about to enjoy yourself, marginally?”
She did, but kept her evening’s activities deliberately vague, and he wasn’t eager to pry. “Well, enjoy what’s left of tonight, both of you! And Hadwin,” he caught the rain-soaked faoladh’s eye before he retreated, “thanks for the cake. You know, I’m always surprised by the fact that you can bake, but that’s twice you’ve made something for our wedding, and twice I couldn’t believe how tasty it was.”
“Well don’t get used to it. No way am I reforming my wanton ways to settle down to become a provincial baker,” Hadwin snorted as he soured his face at the ludicrousness of the hypothetical premise. “Anyway, we’ll let you two lovebirds free to fly. Got a whole night ahead of you, so,” he winked lewdly, “don’t forget to consummate the marriage!” At that, the faoladh wandered off, barking loud his laughter for all to hear while the couple of honor stood in his wake, red in the face.
“…He’s not wrong,” Alster ventured, after a length of awkward silence drifted over their heads. “We never consummated our first marriage…for obvious reasons, of course,” he added, not wanting Elespeth to linger too long on the bittersweet memory of their inn wedding at Braighdath, where her heart was too weak to stay on her feet for long, let alone engage in intimate physical activity. “It’s a crusty tradition, and shouldn’t even apply to us when we’ve been active a long time, but,” his eyes sparkled with lust, “why not have a crack at this proper consummation business? It could be fun, pretending we were ever a conventional couple. A to be continued, if you will, from last week’s masquerade.” To her, he extended his hand and presented a gentlemanly bow. “My lady—would you first care for a stroll around the Night Garden? I believe we’ve a ‘seed’ to ‘plant’ there,” his smile broadened with mischief at his unnecessary innuendo as he looped an arm around her waist and led her from the ballroom to outside.
The late summer evening was wreathed in a heavy, sticky haze—owing to the earlier rainstorm—prompting Alster to unbutton the collar of his elaborate but stifling Canaveris-approved suit. Entering the Night Garden had dulled the humidity somewhat as the self-regulating space had always sought to strike a balance of climate and temperature, but even a magical healing garden could do so much to curb the auspices of summer abundance.
“I wonder if we’ll see her tonight,” Alster mused aloud, half to himself, as they promenaded down the main pathway, arm in arm. “Others have seen her too, I’ve heard, but I wonder if they’ve been able to discern her identity. Oh, sorry, I was just thinking out loud,” he looked sheepishly at his wife. “But I never told you about that evening yet. The night where I admitted myself to the sanctuary. I didn’t trust my sanity at the time, but since there have been a spate of encounters involving this mysterious Gardener, I feel a little better about telling you what happened. In truth—“
A loud buzz in his pocket interrupted his train of thought—and his confession. Frowning, Alster fished the resonance stone from his coat, the one linked to Isidor. What could be the matter? Flashing Elespeth a soundless apology, he brought the object to his mouth. “Isidor? Is anything the matter?”
It turned out, something was the matter, and it involved Nia. The good news was that she’d awakened from her alcohol-induced coma. The bad news…
“No, this isn’t ridiculous. You were right to ask for my help. I’ll be over in moments. Hold on.”
Returning the resonance stone to his pocket, Alster grasped Elespeth’s hands, nothing but regret etched onto his features. “Looks like Hadwin was wrong about something. We really can’t slack off for more than a few hours. Will you wait for me?” Leaning forward, he planted a kiss on her lips. “Hopefully Nia’s just suffering alcohol-inspired delusions and this won’t take long, but if it does…I’ll see you back at our quarters.” And with a nod of farewell, he stood back a few paces, activated his portal magic, and walked through the air, arriving at the front doors to the Canaveris villa. Knocking gently on the door, he waited for Isidor to let him inside, and as they traversed the corridors en route to the chambers where Nia had been lodged, he asked to be fully apprised of the situation, every detail, from the moment they fetched Nia from beside the stream, to the present.
“So Tivia was the one to inform you that something is awry with Nia, but wouldn’t tell you why,” Alster summarized, keeping his tone to a whisper in case Laz, a sleep-resistant Ari, or Nia herself overheard. “And she doesn’t want the two of them to touch, or to be in the other’s company for long because the shock of what Nia ‘is’ will kill Ari? And Tivia went off on her own to ‘fix’ the problem—do I have this right?” When Isidor nodded, Alster leaned against the wall, thankful for the extra bolstering support as he continued to gather and vocalize his thoughts. “She thinks she’s engaged to Ari, and the scar on her leg is missing, nor does she believe she ever sustained an injury in the first place. Normally, my first guess would be that she’s having a delusional episode, whether from the wine or from the intense desire to ‘escape’ this world and fabricate her own fantasy, but if her scar has legitimately disappeared, and Tivia is involved, and concerned,” he paused, thinking back on her surprise arrival at the ball, the even more surprising story she relayed, and shocking clarity dawned on him. Tivia’s sudden transparency and confession…it couldn’t have been a coincidence. She was arming them with the information they needed to solve this confounding conundrum.
“Tivia paid Elespeth and me a visit earlier, at the ball,” Alster began, slowly, uncertain of how Isidor would digest the information he was about to convey. “She told us where she’s been these last few months. Well, for us, it’s only been months. But for her, it’s been a lot longer. Years longer,” he said vaguely, omitting the specific time-frame, respecting Tivia’s desire to spare Isidor the details. They were for her to share, if she so chose. “She…she’s been living in another world. A parallel one, closely related to this one.” He kept careful watch of Isidor’s expression. “If that’s true, then isn’t it also possible that the woman housed in this bedroom is a…different Nia? Which also begs the question; where is our Nia? Relatedly…where did Tivia go?” A reflexive shiver assailed his spine as a supernatural chill crept up the back of his neck and pressed, with frigid, spidery hands, over his skin. The theory he posited…it was outlandish. Inane. But not impossible, if its sole corroborator could be believed. And he believed Tivia…wherever she had gone.
“Let’s…test this theory.” Stiff-legged, Alster reached for the latch to Nia’s chambers. “A delusional mind must have its limitations. Besides, there are certain tells to watch for, that will differentiate a sound mental state from a dissociative one.”
Knocking on Nia’s door, he waited for a verbal go-ahead before entering. “Good evening, Nia. Didn’t think you’d see me so soon?” Alster brushed on an easy smile, masking, he hoped, any sense of wrongness or anxiety. “Isidor tells me you’re concerned that the amount of alcohol you drank doesn’t correlate with how you’re currently feeling. I’m sure it’s nothing, but I’m all about taking precautionary measures and I want to rule out any other causes for your malaise. To test your cognition, I’m going to ask you a series of questions. Easy ones, no worries. And then I’ll be back to enjoy my wedding night with Elespeth, so you can rest assured; you’re not keeping me from her for long.” He sat on the edge of her bed, affording a closer view of her legs. A cursory inspection revealed that, sure enough, he detected no indication of a scar. Only smooth, unbroken skin, never scored or marked by the dagger of Osric’s vengeance-seeking son.
“May I see your hands?” Obliging, Nia placed them into Alster’s open palms. Not a tremor in them, despite her distress over losing Ari’s “engagement ring.” He redirected his attention to her face, watching her eyes for any signs of mental disturbance. Despite the fog of alcohol consumption, they appeared clear, attentive, not dilated, wandering, or trance-like and gone. She looked at him, not through him. “Aside from the obligatory ‘What is your name and how many fingers am I holding up?’ questions,” he made a show of rolling his eyes at the cliche, “let’s go with this one. What do you remember from my and Elespeth’s wedding? What guests were in attendance? How was the cake?” Giving her a moment to answer, he proceeded with his next questions. “How did you and Ari first meet? When did you get engaged? How did we come to know each other? I’m sorry,” he added disarmingly. “I’m just rapidfiring questions at you, aren’t I? Just answer what you can…and we’ll call it a night.”
Meanwhile, the “Nia” who Alster posited as missing, was indeed elsewhere. The drunk-addled woman opened her eyes to a room she found familiar, beside a man she also found familiar. Aristide Canaveris leaned over her, concern knitting his brow. In her hungover gaze, he appeared as the picture of health, his brown skin aglow and looking supple to the touch. Were it not for the furrow casting wrinkles across his fine features, it would have been easier to spot his eyes,crinkling with youthful exuberance and verve, a feature the Canaveris lord normally lacked, always having been conservative and careful about how he spent his finite energy sources.
“Nia? Thank the stars you’re awake,” a huge sigh of relief expired from his lungs. “You must have imbibed an inordinate amount of alcohol last night. I realize the desire to celebrate, but I daresay you might have taken it too far this time around. Here.” Making sure not to jostle her too roughly, he readjusted the pillows behind her head and repositioned her into a semi-upright position. “Isidor’s tonic should have you in tip-top shape.” He presented the small, amber vial. “This should also aid in your swift recovery.” He pressed a black lava stone into her palm, which Nia knew would remove the toxins from wherever the wielder placed it. “And water.” He pushed a goblet into her available hand. “A meal will be on its way to us shortly. Since you slept through breakfast, I have taken the liberty of merging lunch and breakfast, so you would not miss out on your morning favorites. I know your appetite to be rather ferocious after a night of drinking,” he broke into an easy laugh, “so do not hold back on my account.”
“Honour? Are you sure your Sight isn’t making you see something that isn’t there?” The words slipped out before Sigrid’s alcohol-addled mind could think better of it--but as soon as they were out, she realized the damage she might have done. How Bronwyn’s sight caused her to doubt herself, time and again, and suggesting that she wasn’t seeing clearly… “...I didn’t mean that. Don’t listen to me, Bronwyn, I’m… I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m too drunk, and I’m better off keeping my mouth shut…”
The faoladh woman didn’t even need to bargain with her at that point. The former Dawn Warrior felt guilty enough that there was little to nothing she would have refused Bronwyn. “Absolutely. Of course, whatever you want. If you…” Her question regarding the Dawn Guard almost made Sigrid stumble. She placed a hand on the wall. “...you’d really want that? To become part of the Dawn Guard?” Why did that suddenly fill her with despair? Because she left the Dawn Guard? Because she felt as aimless and ungrounded as Bronwyn likely did?
“I… don’t know if that’s the life you’d want, Bronwyn. It’s regimented, and you’d have to learn to fight in a way that is very different from what you’re used to. But… if it’s something you’re really considering, I could… I could speak with Rowen. It’s seldom the Dawn Guard ever turns anyone away.” her expression softened. The Dawn Guard had been there for her when she was alone and needed belonging. Maybe they would be good for Bronwyn, but then…
She might not need me anymore. And why did that bother her so much?
It was a strange sensation, this desire to both want to spend the night in Bronwyn’s room, contrasted with the shame of wanting to wander away where no one could see her in such a state. That was, until she stopped just outside of Bronwyn’s door, and met her golden eyes… and that shame disappeared. So did that empty throb in her heart that had once been filled with longing for Naimah. She didn’t know how it was possible, but those tears behind her eyes threatening to fall finally evaporated. Were it not for the alcohol in her system, she might have felt… well, stable.
“... water. I’ll just have some water, with you.” She decided at last, as she pushed the door to Bronwyn’s chamber open. “I lost track of how much I drank… and I’m not sure how much you consumed. For either of us to be alone tonight might be… irresponsible.”
“I… don’t think it’s delusions. Or even anything alcohol related.” Isidor agreed with Alster’s suspicions that there was more to this story than a simple hangover. “That scar was on her leg days ago. And neither you nor I removed it, so even if she were lying… that can’t be explained. What… what do you think Tivia meant? What does she know that we don’t, Alster?”
Of all the explanations, all the possibilities that would have come to Isidor’s mind… this wasn’t one of them. Not what Alster proposed, because it sounded just so outlandish and beyond the realm of possibility that he’d sooner have believed the Ardane woman was lying. But if Tivia had managed to permeate space and time and live in some parallel dimension…
“Okay… okay, let’s say for a moment that it’s true.” Isidor pinched the bridge of his nose. Trying to make sense of all of this, on no sleep, was giving him the worst headache. “Tivia is a star seer, and is capable of things that we can hardly imagine. Nia is… not. She’s an ordinary person with the skills of a Master Alchemist. She can manipulate matter, but not time. So how does our Nia disappear, and this… this other Nia end up here?”
If this was truly the case, then it was up to them to find out, without altering Ari or upsetting the woman in the room behind the door. The Nia that might not have been their Nia. But it was only sound, as Alster suggested, to rule out the obvious first.
It was a struggle to wipe the concern from his face when he accompanied the Rigas mage into the room, where an eager Nia perked up. “Issy! Did you manage to find it? My ring?” At his guilty expression, her shoulders sagged. “Al, I don’t imagine you happened to come across my engagement ring anywhere at the palace? I can’t believe I lost it… Ari will be so heartbroken.”
Alster wasn’t here about her ring, though. He was here for other reasons entirely, none of which she particularly felt took priority over her precious, missing jewelry. “My cognition? Ah, I had some wine; there’s nothing wrong with my mind. Can’t we save this until after I’ve found my ring?”
“We’ll… find it, Nia.” Poor Isidor was practically sweating from keeping up the ruse that this conversation was at all ‘normal’. His heart was racing just standing in the room, pretending like he truly intended to go and find a ring that, to his knowledge (and everyone else’s), didn’t exist. “Alster is just concerned, is all. And so am I. We found you unconscious… shouldn’t we make sure there isn’t anything wrong?”
The Ardane woman pouted, her brow creased with a combination of concern and impatience. Isidor half expected her to refuse, but Alster was a trustworthy individual and exuded much more calm and security than the quivering likes of himself. When the Rigas mage asked for her hands, she presented them, palms up. Completely steady--something that hadn’t been characteristic of Nia Ardane since Locque had fallen, and she had run for her life. “This is silly, Al… Your wedding was a surprise. Queen Lilica officiated it; gave you, like… a little Night Garden seed to make it official, yeah? All your usuals were there: Chara, the royal Sorde couple, Sorde’s cousin… the faoladh girl, who’s been spending time around since there’s no one there for her with her brother gone.” However, she made no mention of Teselin… and with Hadwin ‘gone’, it did not seem like a good omen. “To be honest, I don’t remember the cake because I didn’t have any. It was pretty, though; whoever Lilica has that bakes for the palace made those flower petals on it look real. And… come on, Al.” It was Nia’s time to roll her eyes. “I thought you and El wanted me to stop going on and on about how my path and Ari’s crossed so serendipitously. I’ve already gone into detail about how we met in Braighdath, shortly after you D’Marians arrived to take refuge. I had no intention to speak to him or get to know him, but… I did. I was just a nobody, and he treated me like a somebody, when he had absolutely no obligation to get to know me at all. He made me feel, oddly… safe. And that was when I realized I needed to get away from Locque, the safest way possible.”
“Safest way… possible?” Isidor couldn’t help but interject. This all sounded entirely ludicrous… but he wanted to find out. “What…exactly do you mean?”
Nia turned her head and raised an eyebrow in Isidor’s direction. “Are you sure Al shouldn’t be looking into your cognition, Issy? Were you asleep for months? Or was I just really that good at pretending to be on Locque’s side, while I worked with you, and Al, and Ari, and Queen Lilica and Chara to disarm her before she could wreak havoc? I mean, I was good enough that I managed to pull the wool over Rowen Kavanagh’s lies for a while. Is this…” The Master Alchemist’s expression fell. “...you’re still hurting, aren’t you, Issy? About what happened to your sister?"
“About…” Isidor’s mouth went dry. “Teselin…? What…” What do you think happened to Teselin? He wanted to ask, but he wasn’t sure how he would handle the answer.
“I knew it…” Nia pulled away from Alster and snapped her fingers. “You do blame me, don’t you? I knew you were holding it in, Isidor. If you’re angry, or upset, or--"
“No--no, it’s fine. Everything’s fine. I… apologize for detailing the conversation. Alster, I’ll leave you to it.” With a faltering smile, Isidor nodded to his friend and the other Master Alchemist and took a hasty leave of the room.
Nia’s expression rapidly shifted from confusion to genuine sadness. “Tell me honestly… he’s not alright, is he? He’s been keeping it in all this time. And… and he doesn’t want to let on that he’s been resentful this whole time, that Ari and I got quietly engaged on the same day that you and Queen Lilica and Tivia… you know.” She turned her eyes downward, and she seemed to exhale guilt. “With… Teselin. When Rowen and Hadwin killed one another and she just… lost it. Issy must know I never wanted that for her. No one did. Surely, he must know that? Forget about me.” She shook her head and threw her legs over the side of the bed. “I’m fine, Al. And forget about the ring… I’ll go backtrack right now and find it. You should be there for Isidor. The person who needs you the most right now is the person’s whose own little sister temporarily became a terror even greater than Locque, all as a result of some tragedy. I had a little sister; I can only imagine what he must be going through. I’m… I shouldn’t be a priority right now.”
While her alternate counterpart was busy perplexing her friends and loved ones in the world where she found it so hard to thrive, Nia awoke to daylight, a familiar bed, and a familiar face. Her temples throbbed and her mouth felt dry, all telltale signs of a hangover: a feeling with which she was intensely familiar. Understandably, Ari was there, looking over her with a brow creased with concern. Shit… what have I done now to make him worry? “Ari… damn. How long have I been asleep?”
In one hand, the Canaveris lord handed her a vial. The substance felt familiar: a tonic to treat hangovers. She’d crafted many, herself, in the years she’d been turning to alcohol for comfort, but she hadn’t crafted this one, so it must have come from Isidor. Ari must’ve asked him on my behalf… I wonder how pissed off he is with me. “I… I’m sorry, Ari. I got really carried away. I was reckless. There was just… I guess I just had a lot on my mind, and no way to deal with it. Not an excuse, I realize but… it’s the truth.”
It hurt to talk; every syllable pounded in her temples like a stick on a drum. Uncorking the vial, Nia downed the sharp-tasting tonic, and between that and the volcanic stone, began to feel the discomfort lift almost immediately. She expected Ari to feel crestfallen, disappointed, but on the contrary, he looked… bright. Vibrant, and far more energetic than she remembered him being just the other night, where he’d relied heavily on his cane for support. Was he somehow feeling better today? Perhaps Isidor had helped alleviate his symptoms. “Oh, I’m…” She was about to tell him she wasn’t all that hungry (on the contrary, her stomach was still rather unsettled from binging on so much wine), but she couldn’t bear to diminish Ari’s vibrant smile, or his laughter. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen him so… so happy. So she tried to mirror that smile to the best of her ability.
“When have I ever been known to hold back my appetite?” She chuckled, and made to brush his dark hair behind an ear with her fingers… and paused, when her fingertips made contact with his warm skin. “Ari? How… how are you feeling?” Without an explanation, she put down the water he’d handed to her and touched his cheeks, his neck, his hands, which were completely bare. No gloves. “You… it feels as if…” Her brows knitted together. Were her senses off? Could she be wrong, too hungover for accurate perception? No… no, drunk or sober, she knew the chemistry of Ari’s body almost as well as her own. And it had… changed.
“I don’t… Ari, I don’t feel a single trace of your curse.” She murmured in disbelief. “It’s like it’s not there. You’re… completely normal. Healthy.”
She expected the Canaveris lord to mirror the very same shock and surprise as was surely painted in her features, but instead, Ari’s face read only confusion and… concern? And when he replied, his words almost sounded foreign. As if he were speaking another language entirely. “I… what… what do you mean, Ari? We’d only just talked about going through with the procedure to lift your curse before Al and El’s wedding ceremony. I haven’t done anything yet; Isidor hasn’t even declared that he feels I’m ready, although I can tell you, I am…”
But she wasn’t making sense to him, in the same way that he wasn’t making sense to her. It appeared as though she was genuinely worrying him. Ari pulled away from her and asked her to stay put, and she couldn’t help but take note of the limber way his limbs moved as he moved from the bed and to the door, leaving her temporarily alone with her confused thoughts. “What the fuck…” The Master Alchemist touched her face. Was she still drunk? Having delusions? Had she hit her head when she passed out? “Am I dreaming…?” There was no possible way this could be real…
When Ari returned moments later, he didn’t return alone. Isidor was at his side, and the Kristva brother shared the Canaveris lord’s perplexed expression. “Nia… just how much wine did you consume last night?” Isidor adjusted his spectacles and looked upon the other Master Alchemist with not disappointment, but genuine concern. “I did wonder if you’d hit your head when you fell… may I?”
He took a seat on the edge of the bed and pressed his palm to her forehead without any hesitation; as if his comfort levels around her were as easy as if he were with a good friend. On any other occasion, Nia was sure he was loath to touch her. “...so, Ari says… you really can’t remember the procedure? That you, me, and Alster successfully lifted his curse several weeks ago?”
“...it really happened? Don’t you think I’d remember something like that?” Hadn’t she spent the past few weeks trying to prove to Isidor that she had what it takes to go through with the procedure? Nia could remember a lot about the past few weeks; but most of it consisted of worrying for Ari’s health. Nothing to do with curing him.
Isidor exchanged a concerned look with Ari and removed his hand. “This was the first time such a procedure has ever been performed… she was out for almost a week. I suppose it isn’t beyond the realm of possibility that delayed memory loss might result as a side effect. I could consult Alster on this, but I can’t detect anything physiologically off, otherwise…”
“You don’t have to talk like I can’t hear you.” The Ardane woman raised an eyebrow. Could it be true, though? That they had gone through with the procedure, and somehow, all of her memories of the past week had become incredibly skewed?
“Oh… of course.” Isidor flinched, and appeared genuinely remorseful for having made her feel awkward. “Apologies, Nia. But your sudden lapse in memory is rather concerning… do you mind if I approach Alster? It’s possible he could have a better idea of what’s causing this. At any rate, we should keep an eye on this to make sure it doesn’t progress… Can you remember anything recently? Last night, for example?”
Now, she was dead certain she hadn’t imagined the happenings of the night before; she wasn’t creative enough to dream up something so monumental. “You think I’d forget about the surprise wedding for Al and El that I thought up in the first place? Or the little box I made for Chara Rigas so that her proposal to Queen Lilica would blow the room away? As if.” She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Then I… headed out to the Night Garden. And apparently lost track of how much wine I had…”
Both Isidor and Ari’s expressions mirrored relief. Well, apparently she wasn’t remembering everything wrong. “Well, that’s a good sign. Perhaps this is all temporary, and it will come back to you.” The Kristeva alchemist spoke with an air of hope. “I’ll go speak with Alster, but personally, I’m not particularly concerned. You could do with some rehydration, though… Plenty of water today for all you drank last night. I’ll task you with seeing to that, Ari…”
Isidor stood and left the couple alone in their chambers, at which point Nia finally obliged and took a long sip of water that Ari had offered her earlier. “I promise, Ari, I’m fine. I’m… more than fine. You look… I’m just glad to see you so happy.” She put the water down again and took his hands. He felt so warm, and strong, and healthy… this couldn’t be a dream. It was far too vivid, too real. Even the sweetest dreams didn’t feel like this. “I’ve only ever wanted to see you this happy and healthy and… to be this happy with you.”
Gently tugging on his hands, she pulled Ari down to meet, and didn’t hesitate to capture his lips in a kiss. And she was so wrapped up in this moment that she had yet to realize to delicate, intricate ring on the fourth finger of her left hand…
“No. Don’t…you don’t have to apologize, Sigrid.” Bronwyn gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “My Sight isn’t as developed as Hadwin’s, true, but…I don’t feel that I’m wrong. Honor is more than upholding tradition or a specific code of conduct. I believe one can follow their own code of right and wrong. You might feel like you’ve abandoned it, but…maybe you’ve misplaced it, or can’t recognize it? …Now it’s my turn to apologize.” Didn’t she say she’d no longer preach about virtue as if she knew what she was talking about? She was just regurgitating what she saw, unprompted. No wonder why her siblings thought her so insufferable! “It’s not my place to tell you who you are as if I’m the authority. Again, I’m sorry.”
But Sigrid didn’t seem offended by her slip of the tongue. In fact, she was the one concerned about causing offense. Not only that, but did Bronwyn detect a hint of…upset, regarding her interest in joining the Dawn Guard? “I have absolutely no trouble in a regimented environment when I’ve already had a strict and similar upbringing. In fact, I welcome the structure. I’m a quick study, besides. I can learn their fighting style, I’m sure, but,” again, she tried to dismiss her burgeoning interests with a noncommittal shrug, “if you think I should, for whatever reason, reconsider…I mean, just the other day, I was talking about heading out of Galeyn to go on some journey of self-independence, so is it any wonder I’m throwing random ideas at the wall? I have no idea what I want, it seems…but I can’t deny that joining a company that knows what it is and what it stands for sounds so incredibly tempting.” And yet…Sigrid didn’t seem all too enthusiastic about her joining? She wondered why. Did it open yet-to-heal wounds in the ex-Dawn warrior? Was she being inconsiderate? Insensitive to her past? “It’s…it’s just a thought,” she blurted. “Not looking to insult you. I’m…I’m spitballing, you see!”
But then every other thought and feeling ground to a halt as she experienced that thrice-felt sensation, and watched the uplifting effect it seemed to have on her unwitting recipient. “Did I do anything to—” Her entire body shivered as a reflexive wince sucked through her mouth. “Fuck,” she cursed, throwing a hand to her suddenly throbbing temple. It felt like a woodpecker was hammering at the side of her skull. Her vision blurred as she fumbled for the keys to her chambers, but they fell out of her uncoordinated hand and clattered to the floor. “Dammit. Let me just…” but when she bent over to fetch the keys from the floor, she lost her balance and stabilized her fall by planting her hands against the door. “No need to worry,” she whispered, resting her forehead against the smooth wood and trying to regulate her shallow breathing. “I did something with my Sight and…now it’s given me a blistering headache. I just need to lie down a moment. Could you…I hate to ask, but could you give me a hand?”
While Alster entertained the idea of this Nia hailing from some closely-paralleled alternate existence, curious speculation turned to dread once she answered, with perfect lucidity, his pressing questions. Not only were she and Ari engaged, but she’d also been allied with them from the very beginning, acting as a spy as they all secretly plotted Locque’s downfall? Even more alarming; Hadwin had died, launching Teselin into a spiral of destruction so cataclysmic, they had no choice but to end her?
He didn’t blame Isidor for stepping out of the room. The flood of information was too absurd for any logical person to process without questioning their sanity, or at best, reacting with some degree of shock. For his part, Alster, hands free of his inspection of Nia, slung his arm against his face as if to cough, and then turned away from the bed, muttering an excuse about needing a quick drink of water. Reaching for the decanter supplied in every Canaveris room, vacant or occupied, he poured himself a cup and gulped it down greedily, half wishing it were a stiff drink…something to take the edge off him. What the hell do I do now? He thought furiously while hoping his temporary time-out didn’t elicit too much concern from the ‘other’ Nia. Other…was he so quick to draw the most far-fetched conclusion possible? Granted, he was used to the complex, the fantastical, and the miraculous, often participating in such phenomena himself. And yet…Isidor had brought up an interesting point. Nia, as far as they understood her particular oeuvre and skill-set, hadn’t the ability to travel across time and space. Hells, even he had a limited grasp on what he was able to manipulate. Portal travel? Yes. Transiting the ether-realms? Intimately. But accessing the vast, infinite network of possibility in the form of another reality altogether? Apparently, that was now in Tivia’s domain.
Another thought rattled him. Was this incident somehow Tivia’s doing? Perhaps residing in another universe for so long before returning to her home had destabilized her, and by proxy, any world she touched thereafter. Was that why she was so keen on ‘fixing’ the aberration? Was it an apparent mistake on her part? They would not know for certain…because the only authority on the matter was currently missing, and Alster had a feeling she was elsewhere. Off-world.
A little more information would have been nice, Tivia! Frustration threatened to cramp his jaw, but he reworked his features into controlled calm as he spun back around to face Nia. “It’s…Isidor’s been going through a lot,” Alster admitted, and it was in no way a lie. When had the beleaguered Master Alchemist found any semblance of relief or legitimate joy for himself over the past few months? “But he’s not one to address his pain or seek help. He ignores it and distracts himself, either throwing himself into work or throwing away the very concept of sleep. I can’t blame him for it; not at all. …No one wants—wanted—“ he corrected, “such a fate for Teselin. I’m sure Isidor knows and understands we fought hard to save her, but ultimately, we had to make a difficult call…one of the most difficult calls of my life, I’d wager.” Although he lied in order to support Nia’s narrative, the possibility of Teselin’s darker fate coming to pass had haunted him so much, he often agonizingly imagined scenarios in which he had no choice but to kill her. His words might have been false, but not his sentiments.
“I need to go to the Night Garden anyway. To plant my and Elespeth’s seed,” he rummaged for a smile. “I’ll be on the lookout for your ring, so rest assured, we’ll find it. No need to go there on your own when you’re in the midst of recovering from a hangover. I’m sure I could recruit Bronwyn and Had—I mean, Bronwyn,” he almost flinched at his clunky recovery, “to lend her nose and her eyes for the task. I want you to rest, foremost. If you do this for me, I’ll see what I can do about Isidor. Does that sound fair?”
Basting on another smile, Alster bade Nia a stilted good night and closed the door behind him. He found Isidor further down the hallway, looking utterly lost and overwhelmed. If only he could make good on his promise to the other Nia and cure him of his ails, or at least offer him a replenishing night of sleep…but he knew that Isidor—and himself, for that matter—wouldn’t be doing any sleeping tonight.
“…This is a lot to take in, I know,” he spoke over the tense silence. “I can’t confirm what’s happening for certain, but Nia is very lucid and I can’t detect any hint of falsehood, delusion, illusion, or demonic possession,” he threw out that last one as a half-joke, but it hardly landed. “If we’re to continue indulging this…theory of ours,” he sighed, “then there are a few things we can investigate.” He held out a hand and ticked off his fingers, one by one. “We can scour all of Galeyn in search of her doppelgänger—rather, the ‘real’ Nia, our Nia, the one we know—we keep monitoring this one and ensure she doesn’t leave or escape on her own, because who knows what damage she’ll cause to her reputation if she spills out this alternate history to less-than-receptive ears, we discern Tivia’s status—whether she’s on this plane of existence or not—and we figure out why and how this happened. Nia’s unaccounted hour or so is vital to our understanding of what’s going on, so if we can fill in the holes of that evening, I believe we might be closer to the answer. I might know where to start. Isidor,” he furrowed an apologetic brow at his exhausted friend, “I’ll need you to stay here and watch Nia. We can’t have her escape unattended, and meeting Ari at all may end in disaster. Try and gather any other information about her, if you can. I know this situation isn’t…great,” he laughed at the underestimation, “but we’ll figure it out. Tivia believes you’re right for this job, and she’s a star seer, so…she might know a thing or two about how the threads of fate unfold.” He threw a supportive hand on Isidor’s shoulder, hoping his lukewarm encouragements somehow eased his friend’s erratic mood.
“I’ll contact you with my findings and I’ll come around again, if possible. If there’s an emergency, you’ll find me here in moments, I promise you. We’re in this together, alright?“
Having exhausted any other avenue of aid thus far, Alster dropped his arm, stepped far from Isidor’s immediate radius, opened the air, and stepped through it, ending up back at the palace. Wasting no time, he vaulted down the corridors and arrived in front of Teselin’s door. Considering the hour, the majority of guests had already returned to their homes and the palace was beginning to settle into a sleepy, after-party hum. Operating on a hunch, Alster knocked on the door…
And Hadwin answered. His hunch was indeed correct. The rambunctious faoladh could have been out celebrating all night, as was his tendency, but he had chosen to retire early to see Teselin to bed.
“The hell you here for? Shouldn’t you be having it out with your wife?” It was one of the weirdest thoughts he was ever likely to have, but something about hearing the faoladh’s glib, gritty voice sent waves of intense relief through him. In this universe, he was still alive, and if he were still alive, then…
“Is Teselin inside?”
“Yeah, she’s asleep, but…what’s got you so bent out of shape?” Hadwin frowned and squinted, trying to read Alster’s fears, but to no avail. He had the sense to shield his mind prior to the visit, not too keen on the faoladh learning the frightening implications of what he and Isidor currently faced. “Well whatever’s twisted you up, you don’t want me to know about it. Fair, fair. It’ll slip out eventually, though, so warning to the wise.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “So what do you want?”
“Before Ari and Isidor found her by the stream, I believe you and Teselin were the last people to speak to Nia tonight,” he said, selecting his words carefully. “Tell me everything you can remember from that exchange. What she said or how she behaved…what she was doing. Anything at all, no matter how small or irrelevant.”
“Wow…you weren’t kidding when you said you were really concerned about her,” he snorted, but obliged as he drew his eyes upward in recollection. He recalled the conversation, Nia’s fragmented state of mind, the wine glass in her hand, the leaves that a Gardener gave her…
“—Wait,” he interjected, fixating on that little detail. “Tell me about the leaves. What did they look like? Do you know anything about the Gardener who presented them to her?”
“I mean, I’m not too great with color recognition, but,” Hadwin scratched the side of his head, “they looked dark blue. Other than that, nothing to write home about. They were just…leaves. Heart-shaped, veiny, around half the size of her hand. She never mentioned the Gardener’s identity. A nebulous ‘they’ and that’s it.”
Alster didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, but…according to Isidor, every Gardener-on-duty he and Ari had approached that evening claimed not to have seen Nia at all. And the only other Gardener that offered simple leaves and flower petals as cure-alls, not tinctures and poultices that everyone else usually crafted and mixed…
With a hurried, “Thank you,” Alster left a befuddled Hadwin and bolted from the door. En route to the Night Garden, he bumped into Elespeth, who, having tired of waiting for him, was heading back inside to their shared chambers. “El.” Hardly missing a beat, he grabbed her hand and pulled her back towards the Night Garden, “help me look for her. Help me look…for Locque.”
They launched into the Night Garden, with Alster briefly filling his wife in on what in the blazes he meant. Two heads and two pairs of eyes together helped cut the time in half as they, after about a half hour of active searching, found who they were looking for.
“Locque.” Tentatively, he approached the young-appearing, innocent Gardener, who, as usual, was scouring the Night Garden in hopes of finding the thief with the green eyes. Despite moving on from his rage and thirst for vengeance, encountering the purer iteration of the woman who simultaneously caused him so much grief, and so much healing, filled his convictions with…confusion. How did he engage in conversation as if nothing were amiss? Squeezing Elespeth’s hand for courage, he addressed the Gardener. “I…need your help. A friend of mine, who was in great mental distress, consulted a Gardener, who gave her three, heart-shaped, dark blue leaves. She was later found, unconscious, beside a stream on the outer fringes of the Night Garden, but when she awoke, she…wasn’t acting normally. She’s referencing memories that never happened to her, but there’s nothing wrong with her cognition, far as I can tell. She’s lucid, undisturbed, and not under the influence of any virulent substances. It’s just a cursory take, though. We haven’t done a toxicology analysis on her blood yet to double check, nor have I run any more involved tests on her brain and brain chemistry to draw any definitive conclusions. What…what do you think might have happened?”
In a different reality, the Ari who Nia recognized as her own grew increasingly more concerned as his betrothed not only admitted her general apprehensiveness, whose warning signs he must have missed, steeped as he was in pre-marital bliss, but that she didn’t remember being responsible for one of the most significant alchemical success stories of her vocation. At first, he thought she was joking, that her obsessive stroking of his hands, neck, and face amounted to a bit of playful teasing, but he thought otherwise when her expression displayed genuine confusion.
“Of course I am completely healthy.” He concealed some of his initial worry with a bright smile. “It is all thanks to you. Isidor and Lord Rigas, as well, but mostly you. Do you not remember the procedure that saved my life from certain death, which unshackled my mobility and freed my emotions?”
Apparently, she did not, and in fact denied her involvement in the procedure insofar as it had yet to occur. “Will you excuse me for a moment?” When he returned, he was accompanied by Isidor, who ran a preliminary assessment of her current state of mind. He was inclined to agree with Isidor’s tentative conclusion; a lapse of memory as a delayed symptom of the intensive procedure that had left her in a one-week coma. It did not affect her more recent experiences, it seemed, as she was able to recall the goings-on of last night’s celebration. He would yield to Isidor’s expertise on the matter; nothing that a little rest and rehydration couldn’t resolve. So when the Kristeva Master Alchemist departed, Ari retrieved the untouched vessel of water from the nightstand and returned it to her hand. “I would suggest a day of leisure and replenishment; what say you? After our ‘brunch,’ so to speak, in which I encourage you to supplement your water intake with plenty of fruit, we can take a stroll about the settlement, especially as it is a fairly mild, breezy day.” He took a seat on the bed, lifting her unoccupied left hand to his chest. “We have not bathed in the undercity bathhouse for quite some time, either, and its mineral properties will provide a boon to your health. These are but a few suggestions; I happily welcome any activity, seeing as I am no longer restricted by my curse. There are a host of new activities I have not yet tried.”
But before he could name any of those particular activities, Nia discarded her water in favor of meeting him for a kiss, and he had no complaints or compunctions over this course of action. Happily, he accepted her affections. Then, detaching his mouth from hers, he grazed down her neck and arm with his lips until they met her left hand, and the brilliant ring resting on her fourth finger. “Last night’s wedding and ensuing proposal have reenergized my plans for our own. Now that we are in a competition against time with Her Majesty and Chara, I do wonder when we should set our date? Before or after? A royal wedding will be near impossible to outmatch in grandiosity and spectacle.” He stared out the open window, ruminating out loud. “A spring wedding is undoubtedly popular, and in early summer, we can capitalize on the reemergence of the fireflies, but those months are quite a distance away, and I daresay autumn is an enchanting time period one should not pass over or squander. I would love to hear your thoughts, Nia.”
A knock on the door interrupted their lighthearted chatter. Rising from the bed, Ari called, “Come in!”
A woman of tall, towering stature entered, her features unrecognizable to Nia, but not her unmistakable earthy scent of clay and stone, nor her stout, stable bearing.
“Ah, Galena, excellent timing.” He gestured for her to enter. Obliging, the golem passed through the threshold, pushing along a wooden cart filled to the brim with a variety of goods, ranging from assorted summer fruits, tiny cucumber sandwiches, strawberry-infused sweet biscuits, chilled soups, puffy pancakes with syrup and cream, and a plate healed with caramel-drizzled profiteroles. Galena’s brilliant sapphire eyes sought Nia’s, her smile radiant and welcoming. “Good afternoon, Miss. How would you like your tea?” She lifted the steaming kettle from the cart’s topmost tier. “The usual, or are you feeling a tad more daring today?”
There was dire logic to Bronwyn’s assessment of how Sigrid was currently feeling. Could is be true that she still had her honour, but had lost sight of herself somewhere along the way? Come to think of it… she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt secure in her own identity. Certainly, when she had been part of the Dawn Guard. Again when she had learned of her blood relation to Haraldur, and then once again when she had spent that short but precious time as Naimah’s other half… “...I’ve lost my sense of self because I’ve been defining myself by those whose company I’ve kept for as long as I can remember.” Sigrid sighed at the realization, and pressed her head against Bronwyn’s door once they were safely inside her room. “I left the Dawn Guard because I no longer felt like a part of them. I’ve pushed Haraldur away because I have no place as some permanent fixture in his life, considering we will one day end up going our separate ways. And when Naimah died, I… I lost all sense of being. And that hasn’t changed. I don't know my honour anymore… because I don’t know who I am.”
While despair curiously no longer gripped the blonde warrior the way it did in the ballroom, she was still keenly aware of that emptiness in her chest. But… that didn’t mean it had to be Bronwyn’s problem. The faoladh woman was suffering her own identity crisis, with the death of her sister, and her decision not to return to her clan, like she had mentioned. Who was she to try and dissuade her from joining the Dawn Guard if she needed to surround herself by good people who would look out for her? “The Dawn Guard was like a family to me; really, the only family I’d known for most of my life. They’re a regimented lifestyle, but I can promise you, they look out for one another unlike any other community I’ve ever known. They… would take care of you, if that is a path you would like to pursue.” Sigrid lifted her eyes from the ground. “Really--I didn’t choose to leave them because they made me unhappy. Just after everything that occurred with Gaolithe, and then Naimah… I’ve got too many demons they’re not capable of helping me face. But they’re good people. If you’re really interested, please let me introduce you to Roen. I can’t recall that they’ve ever had a faoladh among them; you could really give them an advantage.”
Even if it makes me even more irrelevant, more useless… If it’s what she thinks is best for her, then I really would be forsaking my honour not to help.
“...Bronwyn?” Sigrid pushed herself away from the wall when the faoladh woman suddenly dropped her key and fell on her hands. “Are you alright? I-I don’t know how to help you if your Sight is causing you problems…” The former Dawn warrior looked over her shoulder at the door. “Should… I go and get Hadwin? Maybe he can…”
The faoladh woman didn’t seem concerned enough to stoop to accepting help from her brother, but she did request assistance to lie down, which Sigrid obliged right away. “You should drink some water… It might help? At least, insofar as alcohol could be making it worse…” Sigrid knelt, gently taking Bronwyn by the arms, and hoisting her upright with minimal effort. She helped her onto her bed, before immediately proceeding to pour her some water. “Are you… going to be okay? I’m not causing your Sight to go awry, am I? Tell me if there’s anything I can do to help…”
“I knew it… I knew he’s been off. He’s been putting on such a good act of keeping it together since… since it all happened.” Nia--this other Nia’s--eyes and lips drew downward into a decidedly sad and concerned expression. “I can’t believe he had me fooled for that long… and here we are, all celebrating weddings and proposals when he’s obviously feeling such a terrible loss. I… I feel awful. And I can tell you it isn’t from a hangover.”
Aside from a hangover (and one she was still confused as to how she’d suffered it from a single glass of wine), however, Nia felt fine. She didn’t need to be watched or tested any further, and frankly, she wanted to make sure that Isidor was alright. The Master Alchemist was about to suggest she go and speak with Isidor himself when Alster stopped her. “Oh--of course! You mean you haven’t planted that seed yet? Go one, this night was supposed to be for you and Elespeth. I didn’t work my ass off planning this just so you could worry over me. I’m fine, but if it’ll make you feel better if I rehydrate a bit, then consider it my wedding gift to you.”
Meanwhile, Isidor was pacing back and forth in the hallway like he had no idea which direction he should be headed. “Why didn’t Tivia just tell me what she knew?” He hissed, and raked his fingers through his hair. “I--we don’t know what we’re dealing with. Why is this happening now? How… how am I supposed to deal with this? Tivia asked me to keep Nia--this Nia--away from Ari. Well, in a handful of hours, he’s going to wake up, and if she doesn’t try to get to him before then… I-I can’t lie to save my life, Alster! You can’t honestly expect me to have all of this under control on my own while you investigate? Nia--or whoever this is--is going to have me figured out long before we have any idea what’s going on with her…”
It would have to be one of them: someone has to investigate that hour where Nia was missing from the palace, while the other had to keep a close eye on the action of the current Nia they were dealing with. And Alster was the only one with the ability to travel from place to place in the blink of an eye… Much to his chagrin, that left him as the only option.
When Alster winked out of existence, Isidor uttered a stream of curses under his breath to get it out of his system before he took a breath, and re-entered the bedroom where he’d taken this seemingly alien version of Nia. “Ah, Nia…”
“Isidor… I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me for being a total asshole? I…” Tired of feeling confined to the bed, Nia sprung to her feet and took Isidor completely by surprise , pulling him into a hug. “I really thought you were keeping yourself together. I should have known you were suffering alone… and no one should have to do that. Please don’t feel like you have to. I had a little sister, too, you know. And I lost her, too. Not… not in the same way that you lost Teselin, of course, but I get it. And I wish I could tell you the pain goes away…”
The Kristeva alchemist froze, so uncertain of how to react. Last he’d checked, Teselin and Hadwin were both absolutely fine, but she seemed determined that they were not. Believed it to her core, such that there were actual tears wetting his shoulder. And it dawned on him that, unfortunately, this might be exactly the opportunity he needed to have her stay put until Alster contacted him again. “...the pain of losing Arisza never went away, either.” He offered, hoping to hell that this story was one with which this Nia was familiar. “I’m all too familiar with it already. Maybe… maybe you’re right. And shouldering it alone isn’t what I should be doing.”
Gently, he pried her away from the embrace, and dared to look her in the eyes. “...would you… keep me company for a while? Please, don’t say a thing to Ari. I don’t need him worrying for me as well.”
Meanwhile, Elespeth had all but given up on waiting for her husband, and was on her way back to the palace when he suddenly seemed to appear out of nowhere. “Alster…!” He gave no explanation, no apology, and his next request was… wold, weird, and beyond what she could ever imagine him asking. “...what? Locque?”
The Rigas mage launched into a speedy explanation of what he understood of the elusive ghost of the once terrible witch on the way back to the Night Garden. Truly, it all sounded completely absurd to his wife, until they came upon a young Gardener who appeared to be desperately looking for someone, or something. Alster didn’t hesitate: he approached and addressed the young girl by name… and, sure enough, she responded to it, despite that she neither looked nor acted anything like the Locque Elespeth had come to know. “Oh… of course. What is it I can do for you?” The sweet Gardener asked, clearly eager to be of help. She listened to Alster’s explanation, word for word, and furrowed her brow in thought. “I’m afraid… that is a tricky question, as I am not familiar with your friend, nor which particular Gardener lent them help. But… I could show you all of the leaves that fit that description, as well as take you to that stream. Perhaps you’ll find some answers you’re looking for.”
Locque did precisely as she’d said, leading the Rigas couple through the Night Garden, where she showed them approximately five different samples of leaves, varying in their shades of blue, and some a little more heart-shaped than others. Once Alster had a sample of each, she took them to the westmost outskirts of the Garden, before the very same stream where Nia had been found hours earlier. “I’m not sure of the nature of your friend’s mental distress, so I can’t say for certain which of those leaves she was prescribed, or why… and I cannot say why she ended up here. There’s been some superstitions around this particular stream for longer than I’ve been around, I can say that much, but nothing definitive. It’s entirely possible they ended up here as a coincidence… but I’m afraid I cannot explain your friend’s odd behaviour.” The innocent, young Gardener appeared wholly apologetic. She’d really hoped to provide some definitive answers. “The best I can advise is that you bring your friend back to be assessed by a Gardener--perhaps a Head Gardener, at best. The Night Garden may then provide the guidance you seek.”
The Master Alchemist had been so wrapped up in the news of Ari’s cure and recovery, as well as Isidor Kristeva’s warmness towards her as well as genuine concern for her, Nia hadn’t taken notice of the fact that her left hand was not bare. When Ari alluded to their wedding, she’d at first assumed that he was joking, or hinting to a future where that would somehow be possible and acceptable in the public eye. Some distant possibility for the two of them (despite that they had never discussed marriage), except… what she wore was clearly an engagement ring. It was so intricately designed, the band like flowering vines of white gold, and the gem, a duochrome green and purple, shaped like a delicate rose. No one aside from Ari would ever have had the vision and talent to create something so beautiful, and so customized to her. He was dead serious: they were going to be wed. To have a wedding, here in Galeyn, before the entire kingdom. And she couldn’t even recall the moment they had gotten engaged--a moment that she knew, had it ever actually come to pass, there was no way in hell she’d forgotten, not even if she was black-out drunk.
She must have been dreaming; it must have been a dream. Everything was too… too goddamn perfect. It was a scene straight out of a distant fantasy she’d ruminated on back when she’d had the luxury of lazy mornings where she would sleep in and fantasize about the life she wanted to have with Ari. But those dreams and daydreams had never lasted this long, or seemed so… so fucking real. She’d never felt the heat from Ari’s skin in those little fantasies, and she’d surely never imagined Isidor treating her with such respect and, dare she say, camaraderie. Something is going on. I need to know what is going on, one paranoid part of her mind urged. Meanwhile, the other, stronger segment echoed, Who cares? Are you really going to be so asinine as to waste this moment worrying about the fact it might not be real?
Nia knew the responsible thing to do would be to actively start to deduce what was awry, and why. Why Ari was suddenly so healthy, and how she had managed to be a part of that without remembering anything. Why Isidor was treating her like a friend, without a trace of resentment. Why she was engaged, and couldn’t remember a damn thing about it. All of these questions needed answers, but since it was clear she was already expected to know precisely what was going on, seeking out those answers would only cause her to appear mentally unwell and concerned everyone around her. If she wanted these answers, she’d have to find them through gradual and organic discovery… and, to be honest, that was just fine with her.
“I think… we should hold it whenever it feels right.” Nia tried to put herself in a mental place where she simply chose to accept what she was hearing, all of the oddities and inconsistencies. Act like it was all normal, and then maybe, either these ‘lost memories’ would return to her, or she’d discover the truth simply by playing along. “I mean, of course, it would be in bad taste to plan it at the same time as Queen Lilica and Chara. That is gonna be a whole event, in and of itself, but I suppose it all depends on what you want from it, Ari. If… you think the public would be accepting enough of our union to hold it publicly and invite all of Galeyn, then I think it’s only fair we consult the Queen first, so that the two events don’t coincide. But, if we choose to marry more quietly, privately…” She took one of Ari’s hands in her own. It was so warm, such a beautiful, rich brown, completely void of any dry tinges of the grey, stone matter she was sure she had detected just the other day. Nothing but flesh and lifeblood. He felt so healthy, his pulse so strong and full of life, she didn’t want to let go. “Then, I guess, it wouldn’t matter when it happens. There is something magical and special about both options. I’m fairly impartial to either; what would make you happy? To put on yet another event of a lifetime, something that our friends and allies would always remember, or a memory for only the two of us?”
Before he could answer, there was a knock at the door. Ari gave permission to enter, and the door swung open to reveal… a complete stranger. The woman was staggeringly tall, with a distinct scent of earth and clay that she recognized as being characteristic to Laz, but… but this woman was not Laz, not in any of her forms. She looked, sounded, and acted astoundingly different from how the Master Alchemist had come to know Ari’s helpful golem. Of all of the strange occurrences that had befallen her in the short time she’d been awake, this, perhaps, shook her the most.
Shit… what the hell is my usual tea? “...why don’t you surprise me?” Nia smiled to cover up her nerves. “It all looks damn good to me.” That part wasn’t an exaggeration: it was a far cry from the careful diet Isidor had cultivated for her, but if she’d already done what was required to cure Ari… then evidently she was free to eat what she wanted.
After the kind and helpful Galena set up the massive meal before them and humbly took her leave, Nia experimentally picked up a strawberry and popped it into her mouth. It tasted like any other strawberry; no better or worse. If this were a dream, she wouldn’t have tasted anything at all, or it would have tasted out of this world. This was clearly reality; and that was what made this all the more perplexing. “You know I am always up for a nice walk or a soak in the baths. But… what do you feel like doing? Or, more specifically… what would you like to do that you’ve never done before? I mean, as a result of your curse holding you back? I mean,” she leaned on her elbow and studied the glow of Ari’s health, the warmth in his cheeks and the brightness in his eyes. “Would you say it’s time we really start living? Tell me everything you’ve wanted to do--and let’s start today.”
Bronwyn’s intended protest whistled soundlessly out of her mouth as Sigrid lifted her into her arms, knocking the breath out of her lungs, both literally and figuratively. Pride, what little of it remained, demanded that she take offense at being handled like a delicate maiden and not a fierce wolf who was more than capable of walking a few feet on her own. When she’d asked Sigrid for assistance, she expected a crutch of support and an arm to anchor her upright, not…this. The light jostling bludgeoned her head like pounding, gauntleted fists, but she preferred the pain over the deep flush that started in her cheeks and flared down her neck. Yes, normally she would abhor someone carrying her unnecessarily, but in Sigrid’s arms, she felt different. Safe, protected, and…something else. Something deeper, more profound and visceral. Her entire body stiffened, not knowing how to respond to Sigrid’s careful, caring touch. Having no frame of reference from which to compare, the entire experience was a novelty too new for her to understand properly. It was the first time, far as her memory reached, that she had been carried. And it was both thrilling…and confusing. Terrifying. Because she didn’t know what it meant.
Once her back hit the bed, Bronwyn slowly slid her arms from Sigrid’s neck and adjusted her hammering head against the pillow, trying to summon some semblance of a halfway functioning adult and not a drooling, tongue-less idiot who stared openly and couldn’t speak.
“I,” she cleared her throat, “thank you for your help. I think I’ll be fine come morning if I stick to a regimen of plenty of water and rest. Only if things don’t improve will I then seek my brother’s help.” She made a face at that. Much as Hadwin didn’t enjoy others doting on him while bedridden, she was hardly thrilled to switch places as the unwitting recipient. Moreover…she shuddered to learn more about what he’d meant earlier that evening. My Sight is awakening and it will only get worse? Is tonight just the beginning? A mere taste of the madness that’s to come?
Hadwin was the sole person in all of Galeyn who could help with this specific issue, and yet…
I’m not ready. I don’t want this. I can’t lose any more control than I already have, and my mind…is about all I have left.
To drown the thought, she took the proffered cup of water from Sigrid and literally drowned the inside of her mouth, washing the bad taste clinging to her tongue and to her incessant ruminations.
“I didn’t get the chance to say it before…but I don’t know who I am, either,” Bronwyn confessed, choosing one heady subject over the other. But anything was preferable to fixating on her Sight, especially on the provocative, impossible to expunge image of Sigrid sliding a ring onto the skeletal hand of her dead lover. In a sense, Sigrid was in part the cause of her Sight going awry…but so was the rest of the ballroom. And yet, it was Sigrid’s image that left the lasting mark, a mark capable of leaving nightmares for days to come. “It comes as no surprise, really,” she chuckled weakly. “For the majority of my life, I defined myself by my clan. By my father, and by the wishes he entrusted me to carry out. Though I’m far from his reach and influence, I still desperately cling to what’s left of my family here. First it was my sister,” she sighed, still too uncomfortable to refer to her by name. “And now, it’s my brother. But he won’t let me do that, so I’m left floating here, with no idea of my purpose, or if I have one at all. That’s why the Dawn Guard tempts me. The structure, the strong emphasis on family, the cohesive, controlled wholeness of it all…I crave that, Sigrid. I don’t know if I’m solving one problem with another. A replacement clan for the one I lost, and a new place I can use to define myself, but…” a hopeful smile tugged on her lips, “it’s worth investigating, all the same. Will you,” she hesitated, staring at her half-full cup of water, “still be around, if I decided to pursue that route? It’s pathetic of me to say, but…you might be my only friend, and I don’t think I’ve had one before and,” her shoulders tensed, eliciting a flinch in response to the surge of pain they pushed into her head, “it’s…nice. Nice to have someone who…understands.”
Equipped with five leaves of varying shades, sizes, and shapes, Alster and Elespeth followed the strangely solid apparition of Locque to the suspected stream where their Nia had allegedly disappeared. By all accounts, it appeared as an innocuous waterway, the telltale bioluminescent mushrooms scattered along its landscape, but considering its location within the boundaries of the Night Garden, nothing had so mundane a purpose.
Standing by the shoreline, Alster watched the water, swelled from the previous rains, tumble over rocks, hissing as it raced around the inner corners en route to a broader tributary, river, or lake further beyond. Or maybe…to another place entirely.
“If you don’t mind my asking…what are the superstitions associated with this place?” He anticipated the answer before she gave it. A portal. To another world. Just as he had theorized…and feared.
“I’m curious about the legends surrounding this stream, if you have any tales to share at all. This…might sound ludicrous…” This entire venture is ludicrous; here I’m asking the younger version of my most reviled enemy to help me understand if my friend swapped positions with a parallel version of herself, using the stream as a conduit and the leaves as catalysts. “But,” he continued, “our friend,” he referenced Elespeth in the ‘our,’ “is referencing events that never occurred in our world. Closely related events, but with wildly different outcomes. I have other reasons, too, but with the speculative evidence I do have, I believe she might not be our friend, but an unsuspecting visitor from a world that mirrors our own, and that our friend has taken her place in the mirror world…and one of these leaves helped her to do it.” He fanned them out before her like a hand of cards. A flush of hearts. “If you had to choose, which of these leaves might have the capability of trading places with one’s counterpart to a reality almost identical to one’s own? It might be beyond your ken to determine, but I’ll take your best guess. We…need to get her back,” he added, appealing to the Gardener through a more emotional plea. “If we don’t, another person might die. The man who loves her needs her specific expertise to lift an insidious curse that’s slowly killing him. We have to act quickly if we’re to prevent this outcome.”
After Locque’s younger spirit divulged all she knew, Alster, nodding, presented an appreciative smile. “Thank you, Locque. You’ve been very helpful. I hope you find what you’re looking for. Good night.” As the ethereal Gardener departed, Alster looked to Elespeth, who, unsurprisingly, hadn’t the foggiest idea what had just happened. To mentally recover from his second encounter with the ghostly woman, he finally took the time to explain the situation. “She was the Gardener who helped me…who prescribed me those flower petals,” he admitted, his eyes elsewhere, because his thoughts were elsewhere. “I didn’t want to tell you, or anyone, because I wasn’t sure anyone would believe me, and that they’d react in anger, thinking I was making a mockery of their pain for spinning such a story. And if anyone did believe me, I feared I’d cause a panic. For a while, even I didn’t believe me, but for a few weeks now, I’ve heard stories about a mysterious woman asking around for a man with green eyes and a striped tunic…and then I knew I didn’t hallucinate that encounter. It’s…been hard for me to reconcile. Even now, I…I’m not sure how I feel about her, but what I can say is that she’s a benevolent being, some residual leftover after the Night Garden cleansed and burned away the majority of her soul. She also seems to have short-term memory, as she didn’t appear to remember me at all. I don’t know how she can interact with the physical plane as if she were corporeal, but…the Night Garden is nothing if not full of the miraculous and unexplainable. Like this stream, for instance.”
Glad for the segue into more relevant territory, his eyes blinked, all awareness returning from his introspective trip through complicated emotions and memories. “Nia must have consulted her—or another Gardener on duty—for some measure of relief to her pain. Did she ask to leave this plane of existence for another? I doubt it, but…we can’t know the severity of her state of mind at the time.”
With the leaves in tow, he wandered around the banks of the stream, stopping suddenly when he sensed an unmistakable energy hanging in the air. “Tivia was here, in this spot.” He gestured at the ground. “I can feel the aftereffects of her spell lingering around this area. The magic pops, and drives into you like splinters,” he rubbed a spot on his arm where the little tingles of pain refused to retreat. “Whatever she did, the amount of celestial energy she used was immense. Immense enough to travel…to an alternate realm.” Yet another theory of his proving itself as an almost definitive yes. Locating Tivia’s celestial energies only served to confirm what he already presumed true.
“There’s only one more thing for me to glean before I share my findings with Isidor. This shouldn’t take long.” Leaning against a tree (knowing better than to muddy up Ari’s fine coat by sitting on the ground), Alster closed his eyes and tapped into the Rigas Blood Seal by which all Rigases, alive and dead, were inextricably connected. It didn’t take long to discover Tivia’s status; according to the Blood Seal, she didn’t exist at all.
Gone. Again.
Fluttering his eyes open, Alster pushed from the tree and breathed out a sigh of resignation. “She’s gone,” he told Elespeth. “Not dead; I would have seen that. She’s gone from this world…and according to what Isidor told me from his surprise encounter with her, she’d declared she was going to ‘fix it.’ So I can only assume she’s there, too. With our Nia, worlds away. Now,” he wandered closer to the waterline, just shy of wetting his boots as he contemplated what to do, “if I use the appropriate leaf, draw from the power of this stream, and draw from my own magic reserves like Tivia did, I might be able to open a portal and access this other world. I,” he furrowed his brows at Elespeth, gauging her reaction, which didn’t bode well for his odds of approval, “…I want to enjoy the rest of our wedding night. To plant our seed in the Night Garden and to lay with you. But…I don’t suppose that’s going to happen tonight. I’m so sorry, El,” he kissed her gently on the lips, feeling as regretful as he likely appeared. “But Isidor needs me and we have to retrieve Nia…and ascertain Tivia’s safety. I might need to stay here tonight and expand my understanding of portals…somehow. But first,” he whipped out the resonance stone connected to Isidor and waited for a verbal sign of his availability. After a few attempts, Isidor answered, sounding almost relieved for the interruption.
“How goes it with Nia? Is everything alright on your end? Listen,” he paused, not knowing how to approach the situation delicately, “I’m at the stream where you and Ari found Nia. According to the Gardener who led us here, it’s rumored to act as a portal between dimensions,” he chose to omit the identity of the Gardener, figuring Isidor had enough to worry about than a ghostly simulacrum of Locque wandering about. “Tivia’s fleeting energy signature is here, too, so she must have gone after our Nia. I confirmed it with my blood link to the Rigases. She’s gone. No longer of this world. The only two solutions I can find at this rate,” he hesitated, “is to wait it out and hope Tivia succeeds, or I can devise a way to open a portal on my own. I have all the necessary tools; plus, I’ve opened portals to other worlds before, so it’s not beyond my capabilities. If I have a breakthrough, I’ll let you know, and we’ll bring Nia back to this stream to deliver her home. She’ll come willingly if she knows her “ring” is still here and unaccounted for.”
The golem known as Galena smiled with a brilliance to equal the shine of her liquid-metallic hair and chose a different tea kettle from the tray; one painted an alluring shade of red. “I shall choose this one for you, then. And don’t you dare watch me!” she warned, good-natured mischief alight in her sapphire eyes. “If it’s to be a true surprise, you will need to cast your eyes away as I mix—or do not mix—the cream and sugar; otherwise, I will dub that an unfair advantage and won’t take you seriously when you correctly rail off the exact ingredients and their measurements for the umpteenth time,” her shoulders sagged, feigning exasperation. “One day I will stump you yet!” She delivered the dainty porcelain cup into Nia’s hands. “Perhaps today is that auspicious day.”
“Or perhaps not.” Ari chuckled as Nia, true to form, listed every element and accurate percentage of the tea before it even touched her lips.
“Oh I have not surrendered this game!” Galena declared as she turned to exit the room. “The next batch of tea will be the one to confound you, Miss Nia. Of that you can be assured.”
“Ah, Lena will never learn when to admit defeat,” Ari said as he took his own cup of aromatic tea and took a measured sip. “Always brimming with childhood curiosity, but always believing she can outwit the experts.”
As they dined on their extensive lunch in relative silence, Ari, after finishing his plate of sandwiches and fruit, returned to their wedding-related plans. “I for one cannot fathom why you are apprehensive about a public ceremony when everyone so adores you; after all, you were instrumental in defeating Locque. Why wouldn’t all of Galeyn approve of our union? Are you still second-guessing the validity of your contributions?” Setting down his plate, he turned to Nia on the bed, taking both her hands in his own. “Everyone acknowledges your former associations with Locque. It was true that some doubted you at the time, but hold nothing against you now that you have proven where your loyalties lie. Must I restate it until it registers?” He wiped a dark smudge of makeup off her cheek and kissed it. “You are a hero and are worthy of every happiness. Aside from all you have done to save me, look no further than Osric and his family for definitive proof of your brave deeds. Oh, that does remind me,” he rose from the bed, strode across the room, and plucked a letter off his dresser. “This was delivered to us earlier today.” He handed her the letter to peruse. “Osric and his family would like to invite us to their inn for dinner this evening. I heard his wife is to bake you your favorite pie. And here I go, overstuffing you with too many decadent morsels that are sure to ruin your appetite for later,” he sighed, only now realizing his error. “That is, if you still wish to go.”
While on his feet, he fetched a water basin and a clean cloth, setting it carefully upon the night dresser for Nia’s use. “I shall leave you alone to freshen up and prepare. If we are to attend Osric’s dinner, I am afraid we will not have too much time to fulfill my exhaustive list of desirable activities, but I am never impartial to an afternoon stroll around the settlement. Now that I can walk long distances sans my cane, it has become a new favorite pastime. I know it is hardly daring or provocative,” he smiled an apology. “A small shame that Mister Kavanagh is no longer with us. I am certain he would have had no trouble devising a multitude of questionable and illicit schemes for me to pursue. Alas, as unimaginative as I am outside of my workshop, I am afraid you will have to contend with my humdrum, unadventurous wishes for now. Pray they become an inkling more exciting once I acclimate to the newfound freedoms you’ve so afforded me.”
Before he made to leave, he caught sight of a noticeable blemish on Nia’s exposed calf. No, not a blemish, but…a scar? His smooth features again folded with worry and concern. “I do not remember you sporting such a horrendous scar. It cannot have escaped my notice before, especially as it appears so recent. Forgive my prying, Nia, but…did something happen? Something to which you felt I should not be privy, and which you needed to conceal?” There was not an ounce of judgement in his voice as he gently rested his warm, pliant fingers upon the upraised, jagged tissue. “You would tell me if there was anything I could do to help, yes? As always, I am here for you. Ever since our chance encounter in Braighdath, I am here. It is no longer necessary to spare my feelings out of fear of a flare-up.” He met her eyes, carefully scanning the bruises hidden beneath her brown irises. “If you are not well, we can postpone the dinner for another time. I am certain the Osrics would not be inconvenienced. We have yet to RSVP, after all.”
