The Other Side of Magic

by Ester Manzini

  “What? Comforting you?”

  “Talking. A lot.”

  She sighed and caressed Gaiane’s damp hair.

  “Better than keeping quiet and thinking.”

  “Oh.”

  It was Gaiane’s doing. Leo wouldn’t ever dare so much with someone that shocked, but Gaiane grabbed the back of her head and pulled her close, crushing their mouths together.

  Angry. Desperate. A mark, and Leo melted in the sudden heat.

  A kiss different from any she’d ever had, tasting like tears, blood.

  Freedom.

  A knock on the door, and they parted with a pop.

  They were both shaking, and none dared to turn and face whoever was staring at them.

  The giggle and cough made Leo flush even more and jump on her feet.

  “Ampelio told me you were here.” Larsa winked at Leo, then craned her neck to peek behind her. “Princess, Mirone would like to see you.”

  “I’m fine,” Gaiane said, a little too high-pitched. Larsa held the door open and pointed at the corridor with her thumb.

  “You might want to come to the infirmary anyway. At once.” Her voice was more serious now. Leo and Gaiane exchanged a long look, and eventually the princess sighed and rose.

  “But I’m coming too.” Leo said. She took Gaiane’s hand and followed her down the tunnels.

  Chapter 23

  The room Larsa had called the infirmary was merely a stretch of tunnel where a few people lay on the straw, guarded by other figures. Their shapes were shadows behind the screen of a white linen curtain pulled across the corridor.

  Gaiane stopped and looked at Leo. She was still dirty from the explosion, and what little skin Gaiane could make out under the dust was clammy.

  “You want me to come with you?” she asked, and Gaiane wanted to scream a heartfelt yes. She needed grounding, the reassurance of Leo’s steady presence, her hand in her own.

  She sighed, though, and shook her head.

  “I can do it. I know what awaits me. But could you wait for me when I’m done?”

  Leo pursed her lips and nodded.

  “Alright. I’ll be over there. Somewhere,” and she pointed her thumb behind her. Larsa smiled and took her under her arm, guiding her away from the infirmary.

  Gaiane closed her eyes and counted to three. Then to ten. Then she realized her heartbeat wouldn’t relent any time soon, and her breath wouldn’t come out slower and calmer, so she twisted a lock of hair on her finger and moved the curtain away.

  She didn’t recognize the two soldiers on the straw; she tried not to stareat the emptiness under the bandages where the first man’s right leg was supposed to be. She forced herself to look at the second one. Someone had placed a thin cloth over the face, their chest was wrapped in a thick layer of bandages. It was impossible even to tell their gender.

  The third cot sported a small audience gathered all around it.

  Ligeia, surrounded by a small escort of guards, Evandro included, turned around. Her eyes met Gaiane’s, and she gasped visibly.

  The young queen called Evandro with her hand and muttered something in his ear. The knight nodded and whispered an order; the group followed him down the other side of the corridor.

  * * *

  Before they disappeared, Gaiane saw a flash of dirty white silk among them, and a shiny bald head.

  Alcibiade was still alive, then. Prisoner?

  Her hands prickled and she rubbed her on her sides. Fearful thoughts crowded her mind, the shadow of a future she’d never imagined before now looming over her, but Ligeia joined her in a few strides and opened her arms.

  “Gaiane, I… I have no words to thank you. And to ask your forgiveness for not having believed in you,” she said. Instead of hugging her, Ligeia bowed with a smile. Gaiane was oddly grateful for that.

  “I did want to help,” she managed to stutter out. Her knees were weak again, and small white lights danced at the corner of her eyes. She needed to look behind Ligeia, to the last wounded on the cot, and yet she didn’t want to.

  Ligeia took a deep breath and clenched her hands in front of her. For a while she didn’t speak, but when she eventually did, her voice was low and kind. Too kind.

  “She asked of you.”

  She. Her mother. Suddenly Gaiane regretted not having Leo with her.

  “How is she?” she asked, closing her eyes. The answer, whatever it was, was a blade swinging upon her head.

  Silence. Gaiane bit the tip of her tongue and looked at Ligeia, frowning.

  “Tell me.”

  “She refused any form of treatment, magical or otherwise. Mirone said there’s little he could do anyway.” Ligeia lowered her head. “It must be so hard for you, Gaiane…”

  “May I speak to her?”

  I won’t cry.

  “You should. I don’t know how much time she has left, but try at least to convince her to take some of the laudanum Mirone saved for her. It will ease the pain.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  It took Gaiane every last drop of her determination to take a step toward the cot. Ligeia rubbed her back as she passed at her side and murmured an encouragement.

  Cibele Asares was dying, it was true. Nobody could survive such a gruesome wound, and even under the linen covering her from her chin to her knees, Gaiane could see the blood seeping through the bandages. Still, she smiled at her daughter, and the long, pale hand on the covers moved slightly to call her.

  “My little dove,” she murmured.

  Gaiane sniffed and crumpled on her knees at her side.

  “Mother,” she said. In her soul, where hatred or resentment were supposed to be, she only found exhaustion and pity. Eventually, her fingers moved on their own and took the dying queen’s hand. Cold and weak, it folded around hers.

  “Your father is dead,” Cibele said, and Gaiane acknowledged her with a bow of her head. “You won’t mourn him, will you?”

  “How could I? I never knew him, and he never cared. He killed Alcmena,” she added, and blinked back tears.

  Cibele caressed the back of her hand and looked at her. They had cleaned her face and brushed her hair. The symbol on her brow was faded.

  “I should’ve been there, not that woman. When you learned to walk and when you said your first word. I should’ve let you bruise your knees and climb every tree in the gardens. I missed so much…”

  “It’s too late for that, mother. I just…”

  Gaiane choked on her words.

  Anger was still somewhere behind the trauma. A small part of her wanted to lash out and hold every day of imprisonment against her mother.

  She knew it was too late for that, too. She swallowed her bitterness and bowed her head.

  “I just want you to know that I forgive you.”

  The queen laughed, or she tried to. Her face twisted into a grimace, her breath became quick and shallow, and Gaiane held her hand more tightly.

  “You… you shouldn’t…”

  “I choose to. Not for you, mother. For me.”

  A dry sob, and Cibele looked at her again. Her eyes, already fading in the shadows of her eye sockets, sparkled.

  “You’re so much more than I could’ve thought, daughter mine. Strong, brave and headstrong. What a queen you’ll be…”

  Gaiane almost jumped up from the cot.

  “Queen? Me? You must be joking!”

  “You’re my heir, and Zafiria is yours. I only regret not being there to see what you’ll make of it.” A rattle shook the body, and Cibele spat out some blood.

  Without thinking it twice, Gaiane wiped it from her mother’s chin with her sleeve.

  “I’m not a queen. I don’t know what to do!”

  “But I do. You’ll free the laborers and forge an alliance with Epidalio. Reinstate the Laskaris, too.” Sarcasm veined Cibele's tone. “Undoing all I’ve worked for my whole life.”

  “It’s too early for that, mother. You need to rest.”

  “I’ll
have more than my share of rest soon enough, child. I’ve signed the official investiture already, at the presence of the Council.”

  “Mother, why?” Gaiane sighed, and tears dropped from her lashes.

  Cibele rose her hand with a sneer and a groan, and Gaiane leaned into her caress.

  “It’s all I can give to you, love. It won’t make up for my past mistakes, but it’s your birthright. You’ll make good things, and I’ll be proud…”

  A spasm seized her, and Cibele arched her back, kicking the sheets. Gaiane panted, looking around for help. She only saw a dented mug on the ground behind the cot.

  “Mother, you must let Mirone help you. He can treat any wound, he was the Laskaris royal doctor, he will…”

  “Damn them all!” Cibele panted. Her muscles relaxed, and she gasped for air.

  Gaiane sniffed and clutched her hand. So cold.

  “Please. As a last favor to me, drink this,” she said, stretching to take the medicine.

  Cibele convulsed again, and the smell of blood filled the air.

  “Why? I’m dying anyway,” she spat out.

  “Mother, I implore you…”

  Had she blinked, she would have missed it. The look on Cibele's face was as sweet and motherly as it was swift, and it immediately twisted into a suffering grimace.

  Gaiane didn’t ask twice. She held her mother’s head up and pressed the mug to her lips.

  Half of the liquid, dark and pungent, trickled from the corners of her mouth and stained the covers, but she still managed to swallow some.

  She coughed, retched and spasmed again, and Gaiane feared the potion could’ve caused her even more agony.

  Eventually, though, Cibele panted and lay on her back, and closed her eyes.

  “Diocle wasn’t a good man,” she whispered with a smile. “I despised him for so many years, but I could never really hate him. He gave me you, Gaiane. I made mistakes, but I loved you.”

  Gaiane stifled a sob against her palm.

  “I know, mother,” she said under her breath, not knowing, not caring whether it was a lie or not. “Goodbye.”

  And after a few minutes, the queen’s labored breath slowed down. Light as the beating of a butterfly’s wing, like those on their banner, the heart of Cibele Asares started to falter. To jump, and then to race to keep up.

  It stopped, and the hand Gaiane was holding went limp.

  Tears spilled on her cheeks, and she fell on her mother’s body. She cried until she couldn’t anymore, her whole body sore, her limbs weak.

  Nobody disturbed her for a very long time. When a gentle hand stroked her hair, she was almost drifting away into unconsciousness.

  She rose and blinked.

  Leo was there, clean and serious.

  “You don’t need to be alone, unless you want to,” she whispered.

  Gaiane looked at her mother’s corpse. It was a weird thing, so alien from what the living woman had used to be. A wax replica of Cibele Asares.

  She sniffed and caressed her mother’s cold cheek one last time, then stood up.

  “I know I’m not,” she said. She took Leo’s hand, and together they left the infirmary.

  * * *

  …

  * * *

  Nikaia buzzed with activity.

  They had buried the victims and signed letters. They had cried and laughed, and everyone was at least a little bit terrified by what was to come. A kingdom to rebuild from scratch, a new, young queen eager to give everything she had for peace.

  Evandro sighed and leaned back against the stable’s wall. Blackberry--Ampelio, damn him, was right: the horse only answered to that name, now--snorted softly and peeked from over his stall, trying to nibble at his ear.

  “Stop it, you,” he said with a chuckle.

  “Why?”

  The small voice startled him so much he jumped and knocked his head under the horse’s jaw. With a grunt and massaging the blooming bump, Evandro checked in the horse’s stall.

  “Hey, little rascal! You’re not supposed to…”

  “I’m never supposed to be anywhere! And mother says it’s safe now, so don’t tell me what to do,” Rea said, pouting. She had straw in her black hair, and a smear of grass on her pants. She wasn’t alone, and a small group of other kids ran away chuckling from the stable.

  “Well, your mother, the queen, is technically right,” Evandro said. He joined the little girl, casually sitting with her back against Blackberry’s huge shin, and offered her his hand. “Still, this is no place for a princess.”

  “What, the stables?”

  “Under a war horse’s hooves.”

  Rea scrunched her nose and rolled her eyes. She complained some more under her breath, but then she took Evandro's hand and let him carry her out in the sun. The way she squinted in the light, shielding her eyes with her fingers, made Evandro smile in earnest.

  “You know, you look exactly like your father when you do that,” he said. Rea cocked an eyebrow at him.

  “Really? I never met him. Mother said he died before I was born. Did you know him well?”

  “I… yes, my lady. You can say that.”

  “I don’t want to be a princess. It’s boring,” she said, leaving his hand and kicking a pebble.

  “Boring? The last princess you met saved this country and walked away from an explosion, so…”

  Rea dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

  “That’s because Leo is very smart. Did you know she can make blue and white and red flames? I want to make fireworks too!”

  Evandro laughed and led her under the archway where two men were discussing about what kind of stone they should use for rebuilding. One was very bald, and the other had an impressive mustache. They both greeted Evandro and Rea with a grin.

  “Fireworks, you say? Are you sure your mother would approve?”

  The two workers bowed at once, and Evandro turned to see Ligeia come their way, with Leo and Gaiane in her trail.

  “I don’t think it really matters. Yesterday she wanted to be a knight, and at breakfast Ampelio sang for her, so she decided she wanted to be a bard instead.” Ligeia smiled, and Rea trotted to her, jumping in her arms with a chuckle. “I’m sure Leo won’t have anything against teaching you some of her tricks once you’re all grown up, right?”

  Leo shrugged and winked at the girl.

  “If your granny and your mom will let you come visit me, I’ll show you everything I know. First, though, I need to go home for a while. Da needs medicines.”

  “Mirone is good with medicine! Did you ask him? Once I was covered in red dots and he made them go away!”

  Leo winked.

  “Don’t worry, Rea, I’m well stocked up. And who knows, maybe I’ll move closer to Nikaia with my family. Or to Zafiria,” she added, smiling at Gaiane.

  All of them looked better. They were cleaner, and walking freely under the sun made Ligeia’s black skin glisten like the gems at her throat. She wasn’t dressed like a queen yet, but her dark blue tunic was spotless, her boots new, and Evandro didn’t doubt it was all because of the many people coming to Nikaia after the news had started to spread.

  Gaiane, arm in arm with Leo, still had dark circles under her eyes, but smiled more often now.

  “I don’t really want to go back to Zafiria,” she said, rubbing Leo’s forearm. “Even if Leo will come with me…”

  “I have a reward to collect. Also, I can’t leave her on her own, with all those mages plotting in every corner.”

  “I know, but I’ll miss everyone. And it’s going to be lonely.”

  “For that, you shouldn’t worry too much,” Ligeia said. She patted her daughter’s head and looked at Evandro. “I may have a quest for our brave Dawn Star.”

  * * *

  A week later, they left Nikaia.

  Not a goodbye, Ligeia had promised them, but many tears were shed nonetheless. Again.

  A small parade escorted Gaiane back to her homeland: what was left of the Coun
cil, sulking and jumpy and very unhappy about the accommodations, and twenty loyal Laskaris rebels, wielding ragged old banners of gold and green.

  Leo rode at the head of the group, of course.

  Evandro closed the line, and he pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

  “... and think how far we’ve come! When I met you, you were dead! And you stank like a goat. A goat that’d been dead for a week of two, I might add…”

  “Ampelio…”

  “But now? You’re the Dawn Star again, and let me tell you, I knew it. Did I say this already? I probably did. Very glad you washed yourself, too. Kind of miss the beard, you looked good in it, you know?”

  Evandro snorted and dropped his hand.

  Ampelio rode at his side, his blond hair golden under the sun.

  A quest, Ligeia had said.

  A punishment, Evandro thought, but couldn’t stop smiling when Ampelio poked his calf with his boot.

  “Come on, you can say it. You’re happy you met me, saved me and kept me around!”

  “Don’t push your luck, kid…”

  “Not luck, just common sense. Hadn’t it been for me, nothing of this would’ve happened. And I found a story to tell, to booth!”

  That was it, their not-so-secret mission: word of the rebellion in Nikaia needed to reach every corner of Epidalio, and who better for the task than a gossipy, silver-tongued bard?

  Ampelio shone like a lit candle, flushed cheeks and that glimmer in his eyes that he reserved for Evandro alone whenever they exchanged a look.

  It happened quite often.

  Evandro looked behind them, at the road swallowed by the trees over yet another hill. Nikaia was there, somewhere in the distance.

  Ampelio, out the blue, started to sing. A wordless melody came to life in his deep tenor voice. No magic this time, even if Leo was distant enough not to stop him.

  Their knees bumped together when Blackberry took a step to the side. They both smiled like loons, then Ampelio trotted forth, turning his tune into a saucy tavern song. A good chunk of the party joined in, and Evandro grinned.

  “You’re right, I’m happy I met you,” he whispered to himself.