by Drae Box
Jules looked past Richard at Raneth, said something he didn’t catch, and ran. Richard didn’t slow. Raneth followed but leapt to the side when Jules turned, a splayed hand aimed at him. The sticky substance missed Raneth, splattering to the ground just behind him and to the side. The royal official started to gain on the villager and the criminal. He came alongside Richard. “Back off,” warned Raneth.
Richard grinned. “No. I’m doing this for Aldora.”
Idiot. Raneth lowered his head, but looked towards Jules, making sure the criminal wouldn’t catch him unaware with another shot at him with his gift. Dagger. Raneth plucked one of the throwing daggers from his belt and flicked his wrist. It sliced into Jules’ calf muscle and he tumbled to a knee, screaming. Raneth dodged another shot of the Rivermud’s blood-gift, but Richard was still running. He had dodged the gift-attack too, but Jules wasn’t aiming for him. Even though Raneth had slowed Jules down, he couldn’t slow; Richard was going to get himself killed if he got too close to Jules. For some reason, the Rivermud didn’t see the villager as a threat, but if he got close, all bets were off. Jules climbed to his feet, yanked out the throwing dagger and flung it at Richard’s face. It flew over Richard’s shoulder and Raneth caught it as it almost sailed past his ear. That’s when he saw it.
The royal official stopped running and frowned at Richard’s back. Bright but tiny motes of white light were erupting around the villager, before dispelling. A ragged breath at his side told the Bayre that Aldora had caught up. “What’s that?” she asked, gasping in a breath.
A vague memory tugged at the deeper corners of Raneth’s mind. Whatever Richard was doing, it was familiar. “Gift.” He frowned, thinking back to his days with Master Redler at the Royal Official University, the hours spent every week trying to provoke every trainee royal official’s gifts. His Common Gift of Ice had already been provoked, and the Bayre blood-gift was always provoked in the womb. The hours in gift mastery sessions had been long and dull for the young trainee until practise had been allowed. Finally, the memory snapped into place as Richard and Jules took a right turn, vanishing from his and Aldora’s view. “Common Gift of Fire provocation. He has to stop.” Raneth pounced forwards again, and he heard Aldora suck in a breath along with a profanity as she surged into motion behind him, struggling to keep up.
“Why?” she asked.
“Gift provocation is deadly.”
“Mine wasn’t,” said Aldora between breaths.
Raneth rounded the corner and burst onto a street. No sign of Richard or Jules either side of him, so he followed the alleyway, heading between two more houses and bursting into High Street. There. Jules was making a run for the main gate, Richard close behind him, with fire clinging to his feet and legs. Richard looked as if he didn’t know — he was still running. Raneth chased after them. “You stopped and focused on something else.” Raneth gulped in a breath and flung his Common Classed gift’s white mist at Richard’s back, trying to calm the flames that now reached the other man’s waistline. He turned and grabbed Aldora, shoving her into an alleyway that led to two houses’ gardens. “Stay here. He’s going to explode if he doesn’t stop.”
“Explode?”
Raneth didn’t bother to reconfirm, leaping back into motion. “Richard, stop! That’s the Common Gift of Fire!” He saw Jules look over his shoulder. Was that fear he could see on the Rivermud’s face. Sensible. “Stop!”
Raneth couldn’t blame Jules for ignoring him, but Richard yelled back at him. “No way! I feel strong! I can catch him!”
“That’s the gift! You’ll blow up!” There was no way he was going to catch up to either of them, not when he had slowed down long enough to make sure Aldora was out of harm’s way. “You must stop!” Richard didn’t answer, so Raneth charged ahead, flinging more of his gift’s mist at Richard. Bin. Alley. Tree. Carriage. Raneth started to pay attention to the things he could use for shelter. The fire running up Richard’s body had reached his fingers now, and Richard wasn’t slowing down. He was almost close enough to grab Jules. Almost close enough to scar the criminal for life, assuming Jules survived the hottest fire known to exist. “Stop!”
“You stop!” snapped Richard over his shoulder, flinging a hand at the white mist Raneth had aimed at him. The mist evaporated and the fire reached the top of Richard’s head. Richard stumbled and Raneth stopped running, watching. Jules kept going. Raneth could feel his body vibrating with his heartbeat as Richard stumbled to a knee. The villager tried to suck in a breath.
Oh no. Raneth glanced either side of him. A pair of metal bins was just a little bit ahead of him, on the left of the street.
Richard sneezed. Flames gushed up from his body, an uncontrollable spear of fire reaching through the clouds above. Raneth jumped behind the bins and curled up, sweeping as much white mist as he could managed around his body. His heart raced. He’d have to hold his breath. Hold it for as long as possible. Even if he passed out. He’d die otherwise. He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes. Raneth’s gift provocation lessons made him suck in a breath the instant a loud boom crashed through the village, hurting his ears and making his innards shake. He heard a ripple of fire, heard the crash of flames smash into the metal bins at his side, and felt the heat burning through his mist. He threw up some more, still holding his breath. If he breathed now, he’d suffocate — the air would be too hot, and the oxygen gone. But it was eating through his mist. He kept flinging it up, the pulse of his heart pounding in his tightening chest. He needed to exhale but he didn’t dare; Raneth couldn’t remember if it was safe to exhale. The bins at his side were getting too hot. They must be melting. How they hadn’t melted immediately was anybody’s guess. His throat felt tight, tightening with each beat of his heart and he was sure that if his eyes had been open, his vision would be blurring. This is it, he thought, the words barely stringing themselves together in his mind. He could feel the invisible tug his Bayre talisman was giving his father, but his dad would know better than to fly into fire that shot upwards in a cylinder and outwards like a circle. At least, he hoped so. His father’s dragon scales were fire resistant, but they weren’t immune to gift-fire. The royal official’s lungs were screaming and his attention swept to his chest, the Bayre forgetting to summon more gift-mist. Can’t breathe. Mustn’t breathe. It was so hot. So hot. All he had to do was suck down one breath and this would all be over, but he clung on. He had a date with Aldora to go to. Aldora.
Aldora
She’d disobeyed Raneth. Yes, he was doing his job, but that didn’t mean he had to die. She watched her royal official dive behind a set of bins. She darted back into the alleyway she’d just come out of and pressed her back to the wall. The Dagger shone in her right hand, and a cracking boom erupted through the air, louder than the thunder earlier, so loud that Aldora screamed as her ears stung from the noise. She leapt back as fire rushed past the mouth of the alleyway, tendrils reaching towards her in the alley, failing to get very far. The air felt hot but still breathable as she sidestepped further away, her eyes transfixed on the fire. It was gushing past, continuous. Raneth. The sting of tears collecting in her eyes angered Aldora, and Richard’s stubbornness made her even angrier. Why didn’t Richard stay out of it? She sobbed, ignoring the heated air pressing against her left side, grateful that the fire wasn’t creeping further into the alleyway. In her right hand, a comforting and warm pressure cupped her hand around the Dagger of Protection’s grip. She glanced at it. She’d forgotten she’d been holding it, and if there was ever a time to use it, it was now. She tightened her grip briefly. Help me save Raneth, she thought at it. She didn’t know if it heard her when she thought at it, but it was becoming part of her process with it. Please don’t let him be dead. She eased closer to the flames, wincing as she turned to fully face where she was going, and rose her right hand in front of her eyes. She heard a pop and a bright light momentarily blinded her, making her stop walking.
As she opened her eyes, she realised the heat from the
fire wasn’t reaching her anymore and the air was cooler, although still warm. She sucked in a breath, looking at the large blue dome waiting for her at the end of the alleyway. Fire still swept past, but the dome was absorbing the fire that touched it and dispelled it, whilst a small slither of fire that could still get past it continued on. Aldora pressed a hand to the dome but it didn’t melt at her touch like it usually did. She stepped inside and looked towards where she had last seen Raneth. A column of fire reached into the sky further down the street. She swore. Aldora squinted, trying to see the bins where Raneth had leapt. “Raneth!” The fire roared around her protective dome. She couldn’t see him. She couldn’t... He’s there! She could just make out a curl of white mist poking out from the wave of thigh-high fire. She pointed her gold blade towards her best friend. Save him. Do it for him too. A blue teardrop fell from the Dagger’s blade. Like a dark blue marble, it rolled away from her, vanishing as it left her dome. She couldn’t see it in the fire but within seconds, the pop and the blinding light made Aldora close her eyes and when she opened them — more hurriedly than she perhaps should have — she saw Raneth. He wasn’t burnt but he wasn’t moving. Get me to him. She strode forwards, spotting as the Dagger of Protection dripped two more of the blue orbs. She turned her head away, closing her eyes as both popped and flashed at the same time, creating a tunnel of domes for her to reach Raneth. She knelt at his side.
He was warm to the touch and a sheen of sweat clung to his skin. She pressed a hand to his shoulder. He wasn’t breathing, but she could see his eyes moving under his eyelids, sluggishly, but they were. “You’re safe, Raneth. Breathe. Please breathe.”
Her friend whooshed out an exhale before he sucked on the air in their bubble. He breathed a few more times before he warily opened an eye, and then the other, looking around. Aldora looked behind her. The other three domes had vanished, leaving them with just Raneth’s dome. Aldora knelt next to him and hugged him tightly. “We’re having that date,” murmured Raneth against her ear, wrapping his strong arms around her. She cherished the firm hug and wrapped her arms even tighter around him, smiling against his cheek. “Even if it kills me.”
“Don’t even joke,” she uttered. He shifted slightly and she drew her head back to see what he was doing. Looking at her. Still holding her. He was looking at her lips. Slowly, he inched his mouth to hers, and Aldora closed her eyes as their lips touched.
Epilogue
Aldora
THREE WEEKS LATER
Aldora paced in the throne room under the watchful gaze of Prince Pedibastet. Raneth had told her not to worry but she was. She glanced towards a doorway and wished she had bought a slightly shorter dress, just so she didn’t keep almost tripping on the Giften-sodding thing. “What are they saying now?” she asked the Prince of the Cats. Her body was trembling, knowing that Raneth was standing at his hearing just a little distance away; she could barely hear what the tribunes, Cray and that royal official captain were saying in the other room. There were seven tribunes. One for each year of Raneth’s active service as a royal official. She was furious. Raneth had been picking her up for their date when Captain Rhiannon Danae had rode up to them. Aldora hadn’t even gotten into the carriage Raneth had waiting for her outside her house. That cow had demanded Raneth come immediately to the palace, that his hearing was to take place and he wasn’t allowed to miss it. Aldora bristled as she flung her fists to her side, clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her skin. “Not even for her,” Rhiannon had said, giving Aldora a look of disdain.
Prince Pedibastet’s black tail flicked just as angrily side to side. He sat to the left of the throne room, near the wall, giving him both a view through a less known doorway in the corner of the throne room, as well as a better chance to correctly hear with his superior ears. A corridor of unused cells stood between them and the hearing room, and Cray had left the door slightly ajar as he had brought up the rear, giving Aldora an apologetic smile as he requested she wait in the throne room. “Won’t take long,” growled Aldora, mimicking Cray’s earlier words. “They’ve been in there for four hours. It’s not his fault Richard blew up!”
“One of the tribunes is commending Raneth on one of his recent assignments. He caught the criminal in a day.”
“No, Pedi. How’s it sounding?”
“Oh.” The tabby-and-white cat flicked his tail. “I’m not sure. Half of the tribunes seem to hate him — from the tones I’m hearing — but the others like him. One a bit more so than the rest.”
At least her feline friend hadn’t left her to suffer the wait alone. Aldora strode to his side and joined the cat, welcoming as Prince Pedibastet climbed into her lap and curled up there, his face aimed at the hearing. Aldora snuck a glance that way too. I can’t even see into the room. She ran a hand down the black and brown streaks between Pedibastet’s ears. “What about now?”
“The captain is insisting Raneth provoked the villager into gift provocation, and that he should be given dishonourable discharge for failing to protect Cray, and tried for endangering the Kingdom’s People.”
“What?” Aldora shook her head. “That’s ridiculous!”
“Cray and some of the other tribunes just said so too. Oh wait...” Pedibastet lifted his chin off Aldora’s lap.
“What?” said Aldora. “What now?”
“Cray’s asking them to come to a finding. You should move. We shouldn’t make it obvious we’re eavesdropping.” The cat stepped out of Aldora’s lap but looked up at her, the tip of his tail twitching. She eased away from the throne room’s edge and stood nearer its centre. The Prince of the Cats stayed where he was. He wasn’t exactly known for keeping secrets or minding his own business. His tail stilled. “I lost count.”
Aldora frowned. “Lost count of what?”
The thud of footsteps made Aldora take another step back, even though she couldn’t be seen yet. She held her breath as the glaring Royal Official Captain stomped past her, heading out of the palace without even sparing her a glance. A clatter of several footsteps sounded after her and Aldora waited, toying with the yellow ribbon that criss-crossed down the arm of her brown dress. She’d like the detailing when she had been in Najiba’s, but now she was wearing it, it felt over the top. Silly. Old fashioned even. She didn’t even like dresses, although the giddy surprise on Raneth’s face when he’d seen what she was wearing had made her smile before blushing.
Cray led the tribunes into the throne room, shaking their hands and thanking them for their service, recommending they get going before it grew too dark to ride, offering fresh horses from his stables. Aldora noticed one tribune lingered. You’re not welcome anymore, she thought as he nodded at her politely. Go away. She watched as the tribune turned to Raneth, who looked… He’s hiding what he’s feeling. Raneth’s face was too neutral. He wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t frowning either. He listened to the tribune as they spoke softly to him, preventing Aldora and perhaps even Cray from hearing what he was saying. The tribune then clapped Raneth on the back and excused himself, leaving the throne room. Then it clicked who that was. Tribune Jovian. The same tribune of the First Legion that hadn’t felt Aldora could help save King Cray. She took a hopeful step closer to Cray and Raneth. “Well?” she asked.
Cray nodded at Rikward, who stood in the entrance hall as he did most days, and the bronze doors were gently shut, robbing the parting tribune the ability to hear any more of their words without getting a telling off from Rikward. Cray smiled and Aldora looked to Raneth. He was relaxing now. His shoulders, which had been hunched just a moment before, lowered, letting her enjoy the royal blue suit he had chosen to wear for their date, a smart grey waistcoat nestled against his chest underneath with a lighter blue shirt nestled beneath that. He rubbed the corners of his eyes tiredly.
“Raneth was given seven black points, a stern telling off, and congratulations,” said Cray, his smile growing further as he spoke. “Just narrowly avoided being demoted a rank.”
Raneth co
cked an eyebrow at Cray, and then smiled at Aldora. “I’m fine. That tribune wants to be in my good books. He reduced the black points I might have been given, which stopped the demotion some of them were pushing for.” He glanced at Cray. “It’s just as well Cray and that tribune like me.”
“Careful of Jovian,” warned Cray. “He’s up to something. It’s never good news when a tribune wants to be friends with a royal official.”
“Thanks,” uttered Raneth. He strode to Aldora and took her hands in his. “I’m afraid we’ve missed our reservation at the restaurant.”
Aldora nodded. “I gathered as much.”
“That’s today?” asked Cray.
Aldora frowned at the king. There was little chance he hadn’t known that Raneth was taking her on their first date today.
“That won’t do,” stated the king, before he beckoned for them to follow him towards the doorway behind the thrones. “You can have dinner with me. It’s not the same, granted, but I’ll give Raneth the day off tomorrow before he has to arrest the other criminals assigned to him, so he can take you somewhere properly tomorrow. Even if it’s just a nearby cafe.”
“Thanks, Cray,” murmured Aldora, slipping her hand into Raneth’s. They followed the king into the kitchen.
