by G. H. Duval
Her Aspect lashed at her where she held it in check, the platform she had created from the rocks trembling, and she hurriedly pulled her mind back to the work at hand before Luster noticed her lapse.
Rote exercises complete, Luster began taking them through what Spring now easily recognized as a Chaining exercise. The lesson was designed to teach the budding Shepherds how to interlace their abilities to form a single, desired effect. Luster walked the inner perimeter of their small circle slowly, compelling each student he passed to hold his gaze. He did not approve of many of the habits she and her peers had brought with them from their previous, untrained use of their abilities. At the top of his list were closing one’s eyes and or gesturing with one’s hands, both of which Spring relied on greatly.
At his command, she attempted to recall her Aspect, trying to reach that elusive mental state she’d recently been taught before reaching for her Aspect. Doing this while watching Luster, his motions slow, smooth, and mesmerizing, was still difficult for her. His very peace was distracting, and she repeatedly had to pull her thoughts away from musings related to his origins, his accent, his mannerisms—all of which were somehow soft, rolling, and alluring. She breathed in and out, making each a count of five, and thought about the feel of the earth beneath her feet. Her urge to close her eyes was unbearable, but she fought it, keeping her eyes firmly on her instructor as he once more passed her. Intractable as he may be, Luster was equally patient. He would not rush them.
On his third rotation past her, she felt her core release, and her Aspect flowed into her mind. She smiled as the warmth of that presence spread to every fingertip, to her toes, to every inch of her skin. The power of her Aspect pulsed in her, yet she kept herself restrained—her portion of the exercise was yet to come.
Gauldry—the au Feur with whom she had spoken at her Declaration—stood to her right. It was his responsibility to begin this particular Chain. She pointedly did not look at him, as this was not only discouraged but considered rude. She felt tension where their hands joined and understood he was still working to call his Aspect. After several more minutes, Gauldry’s hand grew noticeably warmer, and the air before him began to shimmer. Gauldry looked directly ahead, and the point where he looked began to steam, as did the ground at their feet, and the slate of the towers around them. The air around the steaming shimmer began to crystalize into ice as Gauldry pulled the heat from all about them—the fact that it was early winter and precious little heat was available made Spring’s regard for him grow even more.
No wonder he had needed the extra time, she thought.
He had cast about for all the nearest heat sources and drawn them to him. A shiver ran through Spring’s connection with the earth where some of the warmth trapped deep in the ground beneath her feet was being pulled away; she soothed her Aspect to allow the release. Each of her counterparts would be similarly at work, for the true purpose of Chaining was not to teach the Shepherds to combine forces—though this was important—but to teach them how to allow their Aspects to work together.
On cue, Anleah focused her gaze on the ice crystals. Immediately, they began swirling as she coaxed them into the form she had been instructed to create. In this case, a spear. To Spring, it appeared that she was stacking the crystals as if they were children’s blocks—layer after delicate layer. Gauldry continued to feed her crystals as he pulled heat from around them and redirected it to pool at their feet, which, Spring had to admit, felt rather lovely. His hand trembled slightly in hers, and she worried at the strain he was bearing. This, too, they were learning: endurance.
The ice swirled faster, and, though still vague, the shape of the spear emerged. Anleah grunted, and their cluster’s au Ciele—Dirk—responded. His eyes dropped for a moment to their feet, and when his gaze returned to the ice spear, warm currents accompanied his gaze. Luster made a small tsk sound but let it pass. Dirk’s use of the currents was two-fold: he used air to keep the increasingly heavy ice sculpture aloft, and he directed Gauldry’s warmth to smooth the crystals, melting them into a seamless whole. Gauldry, relieved, siphoned the excess heat and dispersed it back toward the original sources from which he had borrowed. As a result, the spear hardened, and the tip acquired a shimmering, menacing look.
Luster nodded to Spring, and she nearly moaned as she released the delicious and excruciating power she had been holding at bay. A spray of pebbles rose from the ground, the sound of each particle clinging to another reminding her of lapping water. Spring struggled not to move her hands as she imagined what she wanted of them. They twisted into separate ribbons of streaming stones and waited for Dirk to do his next part. The ribbons lifted from where they hovered just above the ground to wrap about the base of the spear to create a haft; the smaller ribbon he wrapped around the spear’s tip. Spring released her hold on her element with a final direction to hold firmly to the ice. It obeyed.
“Excellent,” Luster crooned, turning to point at the nearest tower wall. “How about that dark, lavender-colored slab just below the last window, Dirk?” He tossed the question casually, as if it had just occurred to him.
Grinning, Dirk focused on the point, and in the next breath, their newly-created, beautiful spear of ice turned and went hurtling through the air, meeting its end as it crashed at full speed into the wall. Dirk’s aim had been true.
They all smiled, breathing in pleased, relieved gasps as the spear broke apart and bits of ice flew through the air, glimmering as they caught the bright sunlight streaming into the courtyard. The muted sound of clapping sounded from where several students in the Spirit niche watched from their enclosed bridge above. Spring acknowledged them with a small wave, noting that her sister was not among them, before whistling softly to her Aspect. The pebbles she had called forth sank back into the ground, shifting below the surface as they made their way back to their original positions, though her companions could not know this. She had learned it was easier this way as the sight of hundreds of pebbles and stones hurrying back across the ground to Spring’s feet always made her mates cringe a bit.
Luster nodded, mumbling to himself. “Better,” he finally pronounced to his spent students. Every ounce of breakfast they had enjoyed had long since been spent by their bodies. Spring’s glance at the sun’s position only confirmed what her stomach was telling her. She knew better than to mention any of this to Luster, however.
He glanced at their drawn, expectant faces and relented. “Oh, very well!” Exasperated, he waved them away with an admonishment to freshen up before entering the dining hall as they ran from the courtyard back toward their dorm’s entrance.
Unsurprisingly, Dirk reached the door first, and he made quite the show of holding it open for the rest of them—without the use of his hands. They teased him, poking his midsection as they passed inside, and Spring turned to Gauldry.
“Are you alright?” she asked him, letting her voice drop so as not to intrude on the chattering passing between Dirk and Anleah. “That was a nasty stretch of Chaining today, and it was worst on you.”
Gauldry nodded, smiling just a bit, but he couldn’t hide that he was well and truly spent. “It went pretty easily for me last time, so I expected a tougher load today. I’ll be fine once we get something to eat.” Spring smirked at him. “Alright. A LOT to eat.” They both laughed before splitting off to their separate rooms to quickly use the washbasins and change for the afternoon meal.
She followed Anleah into the room they shared and immediately noticed an envelope on her pillow. She ran to her bed and snatched up the heavy, cream-colored note trimmed in green ribbon and sealed with the Hevlin stamp.
“Aha! Another love letter from your adoring Lord Hevlin is it?” Anleah called playfully from her end of the room, where she poured water into her wash basin before turning in search of a clean uniform.
Spring was relieved that Anleah hadn’t made a play for the note like she often did, launching them into an infuriating game of keep-away that Spring could never w
in against an agile Water-touched opponent like Anleah. She must be hungrier than Spring realized to pass up the opportunity for mischief.
“Actually,” Spring began, perplexed, as she opened the note and found in place of Jayden’s clipped, crisp handwriting a flowing, feminine script. “It’s not from Jayden at all.”
“Hmph,” grunted Anleah, scrubbing ruthlessly with a washcloth. “Who then?”
“His mother,” Spring supplied, nerves entering her voice as she finished the note. She let the note fall into her lap. “Apparently, Lord Hevlin will soon be back from his latest trip to Farkoast, and he’d like a look at me. As would his brother, the Duke…though she is too polite to phrase it plainly.” Spring wondered just how involved Lord Hevlin had been in approving her match to Jayden. What if Jayden had pressured his father into it? What if he didn’t actually approve of his son’s betrothal to a provincial girl who did not belong to one of the Great Houses, au Terre or no?
“Spring,” Anleah said in a serious tone she rarely employed, and it was all the more effective for it. She was sitting on her bed and sliding into her leggings. “The Hevlins are savvy traders, and Duke Hevlin is the greatest among them.” Spring nodded, wondering where this was going. But Anleah was from a well-to-do family herself, only once removed from a Great House, so Spring trusted what Anleah had to say.
“If you’re harboring some notion that Jayden or his parents sought this match without his consent, banish that from your mind. There is nothing binding on House Hevlin that he does not carefully arrange. Consider his taking a Senechali woman to wife!” she continued. “It was a wise move, connecting him to a powerful family, and he did it despite the scandal he knew would ensue from snubbing the host of Coerdan daughters that had been offered. By adding a gifted Shepherd with the highest of connections to his House, he is, no doubt, wanting to cement one of the greatest trades he’s ever orchestrated.” She delivered this without a trace of humor or irony.
“Excuse me, Anleah!” Spring retorted. “But I am not a thing to be traded, like a fur or a barrel of fish!”
“No, my friend,” Anleah agreed as she stood and reached for her tunic. “You are much, much more valuable.” She slid into the tunic, settled it into place, and pulled on a blue belt. She looked Spring squarely in the eyes and winked.
Spring burst into relieved laughter, and Anleah joined her. “Must you always be so dour? They have already embraced you. Even before your sister was named Candidate. I can’t imagine a scenario that would change their pledge to you and yours now!”
Spring had to admit that her friend made a sound argument. She realized that the days of thinking her relationship with Jayden was just about the two of them were far gone. She had seen enough, grown enough, since coming to the Steading to know better. It did not lessen what she felt for Jayden or what she knew he felt for her.
She moved to her small writing desk, pulled out one of the few sheets she possessed of the fine paper produced by the au Terres of the Steading, and began composing a response to Lady Hevlin’s invitation to dinner at the Duke’s home upon the arrival of her husband. As he was still several days off, there was enough time that she could send the note by messenger rather than using the Steading’s Missive Stations. It was a personal, luxurious touch that she hoped would convey her appreciation and respect for Lady Hevlin. Anleah lifted a brow when she realized that Spring planned to bypass the convenience—and lower cost—of sending a message via the apprentice au L’espris who manned the Stations, but she kept any thoughts on the matter to herself.
“Will you be at that much longer?” Anleah practically danced with her eagerness to be off to the dining hall, but she did not want to be rude and leave her roommate behind.
Spring grinned. “Oh! Go on before you fall over from starvation!” She said, laughing. “I’ll be there shortly.”
Anleah bolted from the room, and Spring smiled as she heard the chattering resume with Dirk, who it appeared had been waiting in the hall for Anleah to emerge. She wondered for the hundredth time how long it would take Anleah to realize what was blossoming there, but she had decided from the start to stay out of it.
She finished the note, sealed it, and began quickly moving through her own ministrations. She was just about through, sliding back into her green boots, when a knock sounded at her door. “Come,” she called, standing and adjusting her belt.
Gauldry stood in the doorway. “Is all well, Spring?” he asked, concerned. “You’re usually the first one out.”
“I’m fine,” she assured him, collecting her cloak and sliding the note into an interior pocket. She pulled Gauldry back into the hall as she closed the door behind him. “But I’m starving! Let’s go!”
After a quick detour to deposit her note with the messenger service, they arrived at the dining hall to find that they were among the second wave of diners for the mid-day meal. More than half of the benches were already full, and those that remained would most likely require her niche cluster to split up, so she did not bother scanning for Anleah and Dirk. In fact, they spent so much time together as a cluster that some time apart, when they could get it, only improved their tolerance for one another.
She and Gauldry made directly for the board at the back of the massive chamber, the smell of roasting meat so powerful to her famished senses that her mouth began to water. She collected a tray and methodically set about filling every inch of it. As they moved to find a table, her tunic lifted suddenly and so powerfully it almost tossed over her tray and into her face. It was a testament to her long years of familiarity with Dodge that she did not overreact, and she kept both herself and her tray in place. “Why don’t you go on without me?” she said to Gauldry with a rueful smile. “I believe an old friend is requesting my company.”
Gauldry shrugged good naturedly. “Alright. We’ll see you later, then.” The fact that Gauldry slipped into the plural pronoun barely even registered, as they were all learning to think and act as a collective within their niche.
She scanned the room and finally caught sight of Dodge seated at table that was wedged between two corners. It was a nook, really, and one that was usually occupied by instructors, who preferred to eat somewhat apart from their pupils. Today, however, Dodge had the table to himself, and with the storm-cloud expression he wore, she had no trouble discerning why.
“Well, hello to you, too!” Spring said, not hiding her irritation with him as she set her tray down, perhaps a tad more firmly than required, and sat across from him. “‘Hello, Spring! Please join me,’ would have worked just as effectively by the way.”
Dodge did not respond right away as she had caught him with a full mouth. He eyed Spring’s tray while he chewed, enumerating with his eyes the double portion of roast lamb, the bowl of stewed carrots and turnips, the parsnip puree, the three rolls, and the full cup of gravy. For dessert, she had availed herself of not one, but two servings of the apple and pear cobbler with a thick layer of cream poured atop.
“What?” she demanded around a mouthful of lamb, puree, carrots, and a large chunk of a roll, which she had dipped generously in gravy. She was so hungry, she simply could not eat fast enough, and not even Dodge’s recent penchant for drama was going to delay her in sating that hunger.
They held one another’s gaze for several beats—Dodge watching her incredulously and Spring silently trying to retain an air of ferocity while furiously chewing the massive quantity of food she had shoved into her mouth. She could feel the strain of the mass against her cheeks and cursed the fact that she most likely resembled a chipmunk. After another moment of deadlock, Dodge’s eyes wide and his mouth partially hanging open in wonder, the two devolved into laughter—Spring nearly choking on her food. She forced down the last few bites, reaching for her water goblet, and reveled in the relief that came with the full-bodied, bellowing laughter they were both enjoying. This had always been the heart of their friendship: the ability to laugh at and with each other.
When they had subs
ided, and Spring regained her breath, she began, “Look, Dodge…”
“No!” he almost shouted, reaching across the table to place a hand on her wrist. “I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to apologize, because that’s who you are.” His tone and the look he gave her left no room for argument. “But you have no need to apologize to me, Spring. You aren’t the one who did anything wrong.”
His hand retreated and the way he glanced down at the table told her to keep her tongue. After what seemed too long a pause, he finally met her eyes. He seemed prepared for something unpleasant. “You love him, don’t you?”
Spring nearly choked all over again. What? she thought, confused. Was his behavior somehow related to Jayden?
“If you mean Jayden,” she began, unsure of her footing, then paused. She and Dodge had been raised as brother and sister, and she had never noted an issue between him and Jayden—never had a reason to believe that Dodge did not approve of Jayden, though he had issued some volleys here and there at Jayden’s expense. But that had always been in good fun—making light of Jayden’s aristocratic standing. She was completely baffled by the direction the conversation had taken.
“Yes, Dodge. I love him.” The words set her heart to racing and her stomach fizzing. She had never actually said those words aloud.
“Is there some issue with him you’ve not shared with me?” She asked the question and held her breath, afraid there was some dark secret, some awful truth about Jayden that would shatter the trust and love she had only recently allowed to fully blossom.
Dodge took a deep breath and let it out slowly, shaking his head slightly.
“No, Spring. My issue is not with Jayden.” Relief flooded her, and she began breathing again. “My issue is with me,” he continued. “I am the idiot who has the issue, and it will be up to me, alone, to correct it.” He forced a small smile to his lips before adding, “Will you forgive me?”
