Accustomed

by Kyra Gregory

  Deros nodded, staring numbly behind her, “Of course,” he said. “Do you require anything else?”

  “No,” she whispered, bracing herself against the table. “Actually, will you please send Ellyn in as you leave?”

  “Of course,” he said once more. He took an uncertain step forward, placing his hands tenderly on her shoulders as he pressed a kiss into her hair. He left the room and Ellyn came in, beginning to potter around the room while giving her a moment in silence. Nonetheless, Sybelle could feel her eyes on her back. It was then, letting go of the table long enough to cradle her head in her hands, that she fell to the ground when the strongest wave of unease she’d ever felt swept over her body and robbed her of consciousness.

  She awoke to the fresh sheets of her bed, lying on her back with Ellyn beside her on the bed, looking over her with large, watery eyes, and the physician with his assistant at his side. A cold, damp cloth behind her neck was the most irritating sensation she felt at the time, causing her to recognise the discomfort in her sluggish body as soon as she tried to inch away from it so that it could be removed. She licked her dry lips and, immediately, Tygus reached for a jug of water, bringing the cup to her mouth. Her throat felt raw and the water helped, though it felt ice cold when it hit her hot, almost acidic stomach. “How long have I been out?” she asked, dropping her head back down onto her pillow.

  “Not very long,” Ellyn replied, brushing her hair out of her face.

  “You must rest, your Majesty,” Vyncent said, placing his hands gently onto her shoulders.

  Sybelle lifted a hand to her face, breaking out into a smile, “Perhaps,” she said. “But, for the moment, there’s much to be done.” She looked to Ellyn, pointing across the room, “I need a paper and pen.”

  Ellyn was about to refuse her with a short glance towards the physician and his assistant. She immediately reconsidered, however, and got off the bed to retrieve all she’d asked for, as well as a wooden box which unfolded into a small writing desk that Sybelle was able to prop up against her knees once she was helped into a sitting position. She was given some space as she scripted her reply to Gyles as best she could, cradling her head in her hand against the writing desk as she held back the uneasy sensation in her stomach. She opened up the desk as she was finished, fishing out an envelope before sealing her letter within it.

  Vyncent passed her a stick of wax to drip onto the seal while Ellyn returned from retrieving her seal from her throne room. She stamped it firmly on the liquid wax, holding it in place for a moment before removing it. “It’s important that you retrieve Deros’s letter to Gyles before having a messenger leave with this,” she said, handing it to Ellyn. The young servant girl nodded, scuttling off the bed to leave when no other instructions were given. Sybelle placed the writing desk aside on the bed, slipping further beneath the sheets as her eyelids became heavy. “Give me an hour to rest,” she said, her voice robbed of the strength she’d been known to convey. “But wake me if anything of note occurs.” She slipped into unconsciousness once more, hearing nothing more than the quiet movement around her as she was overlooked in her sleep.

  When she was awoken, just as she’d asked, she could hear Deros’s strong voice on the other side of the door as guards argued with him and Vyncent gave her a brief check up in spite of her insistence that she was fine. “Let him in,” she said, exhaling softly as she slipped her legs out from beneath the sheets. Tygus went to the door and saw to it that Deros was allowed in while Ellyn draped a gown over Sybelle’s shoulders when she shuddered against the cold of the room. “Is she well?” Deros asked the physician, his tone a demanding one.

  “She would feel much better if you didn’t raise your voice so much,” Sybelle interceded, reprimanding with a light glare. Deros’s mouth fell shut and he swallowed, looking to her with the concern that had been hidden beneath his display of frustration. “I’m fine,” she replied. She looked to the physicians and dismissed them with nothing more than a cock of her head and a flutter of her eyelashes. She dismissed Ellyn to bring her some much needed nourishment and, with that, she left herself alone with Deros. He was dressed as he would have been for the role of Count and Captain General, his lean, muscular form clear with his formal attire of black trousers and boots, his black shirt and jacket. He looked so much like the man of power she’d seen the first time she visited Evrad, when all this had started. But he carried himself differently when everyone was gone. His shoulders slackened and his rigid form, one that had inflicted so much pain on others, softened into one that she could see herself receiving more warm embraces from.

  He licked his lips, shifting with a timid uncertainty that she’d become familiar with, “Are you truly well?”

  “You needn’t worry about me,” she said, smiling as best she could, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “You ask me to do the impossible,” he said, shifting again, emitting an uneasy chuckle. His worry was touching, she had to admit. No matter what ever happened between them, no matter what his feelings were towards himself, he always turned to her with the same unwavering respect and affection. She grew thankful for it, finding herself quickly revitalised with his presence alone.

  “Has anything happened?” she asked, making her way, ignoring his guidance, towards the dressing table where she splashed cold water onto her face.

  “Nothing at all,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’ve gone and overlooked everything. Ewin has been busy with the new recruits; they’re plentiful but not exactly the most skilful.”

  “That is why we have weapons,” she added, patting her face lightly as she took a look at herself in the mirror. The dark circles under her eyes were more prominent now, even in spite of the rest she’d had. She would have to see to it that she slept the next night.

  “King Alessio hasn’t moved from his place on the beach,” he went on, “they have just been camping out on the beach, only occasionally taunting our men on the wall. No new ships have come and gone.”

  Sybelle began to fume, running her fingers through her hair as her skin started to flush with heat. “Arrogant bastards,” she murmured beneath her breath.

  Deros smiled as she turned to face him, “Don’t let them worry you,” he said. “Let them sit on our beaches for a while. Perhaps they’ll expire with this growing heat.”

  “I doubt they’ll be so easily removed,” Sybelle sighed, extending her hand so that he would return her to her bed. “Though, to be fair, I don’t think I’ll be happy if they simply sail away from here and call it a day,” she confessed.

  Deros lifted the covers over her as she slipped back into her bed, placing a hand to her pounding forehead. “Perhaps so much talk of war is what’s making you so sick,” he said.

  “Perhaps,” she said, unwilling to argue with him on the matter. “But, even if it is such a case, I cannot help but want to make them suffer for what they’ve done, and for what they continue to do,” she said. She glanced over at him as he poured some water out into a cup, “Doesn’t that make me a terrible person?”

  “Maybe,” Deros said, shrugging his shoulders. “Though I’m no better of a person for assisting you,” he added.

  Sybelle stifled a smile as best she could, finding that she failed beneath his curious stare, “I often find comfort in that fact,” she said. “I don’t think I could live with myself were I the only one ever guilty of such dark feelings.”

  Deros took a seat on the side of the bed. Even in doing so, she couldn’t deny that she felt him putting distance between them. “Are you having a moral crisis?”

  She smiled, ignoring the fact that she was to answer such a question, “Have you ever had one?”

  “I may still be having one,” Deros replied, a short smile growing on his lips.

  She wanted to ask what he meant by that but she was sure he wouldn’t be able to put such feelings into words. If he wanted to expand on that, if he thought himself capable of it, he would likely have said it. She rolled her head
along the pillow, looking into the distance, out the window to see the pale blue sky. “I don’t want to keep you if you don’t want to be here,” she confessed. “I don’t want to say or do anything else that will keep you here if this is the last place in the world you want to be.”

  Deros leaned forward, placing his hand on hers and squeezing it with his long feelings. “I want to be here,” he said. He hung his head, “I want to be here more than anywhere else in this world, and I shudder to think what would become of me if you ever turned me away,” he said. “But I would leave,” he added, “I would leave in a heartbeat if that was what you wanted of me.”

  Sybelle forced herself upright, slipping her hand out of his just enough to entwine their fingers together. She placed her head against his shoulder, slipping her other arm loosely around his waist. “I love you,” she confessed, tearfully, her voice cracking.

  Deros flinched, his breath catching in his throat at the sound of her quiet words. His fingers slipped into her hair, massaging her scalp while his arms around her tightened. “It’s because of you that I’ve been blessed to know of such a feeling.” He held her out at arm’s length, just enough to allow her to look at him, “To be loved, and to love in return,” he started, shaking his head, “I’ve never known of anything in the world more beautiful and more worthy of being cherished.” His hands slipped from her shoulders, cupping her face in both his hands, his touch tender against her skin, “I love you—you with the darkness, and the light.”

  Sybelle nestled herself in his chest, tucked in his arms, beneath his chin, as she squeezed him tightly in an embrace of her own.

  CHAPTER 7

  GYLES STOOD ON the deck of Evrad’s main port, looking out at the hustle and bustle of merchants and buyers that ran back and forth, going about their business as proficiently as possible so as to return to their relatives. Many were still putting their homes back together, many of them having to share with one other, sometimes three or four families in a single home, while the community assisted one another as best as they could. At the docks, nothing seemed to have changed. It was business as usual for the fishermen and merchants, even if it was unlikely that many of the people would be able to afford any luxuries until their houses and businesses were back in order.

  But, for the moment, businesses were not Gyles’s priority. While the brisk movement of people along the promenade and beach often distracted, his attention was otherwise focused on the four Evradian ships, owned by the former King and Prince. They were grand in scale, the grandest in all of Evrad to have ever entered their ports. Their dark green masts, an unusual feature, were suitably large to move a ship of that size, providing shade over much of the port. Intricate designs were etched into the sides of the ship, with a large figurehead of the King himself in the form of a merman, conquering the sea. Frankly, it was quite laughable, Gyles thought. Evrad had never been the conquerers of the sea, a title more attributed to the people of Azura who had a fleet much greater than that of Evrad. However, King Nero had been a man of great ambitions, and it wasn’t all too surprising that, perhaps, there was a time in which conquering the sea and their trade routes had been one of them.

  “Sir Arrer,” a voice called in the distance.

  Gyles looked over his shoulder, seeing Lukas’ head bob up and down as he attempted to get through a crowd of people on the dock, too narrow to hold so much foot-traffic. “Gyles, please,” he corrected, for what he thought to be the fiftieth time already.

  “Gyles,” Lukas breathed, nodding.

  “Gather your breath,” Gyles said with a half-hearted chuckle, “you’re no use to me if you suffocate yourself.”

  The guard bent over, bracing his hands on his knees as he got his breathing back in order while following Gyles’s line of sight out to the sea. “You’ve stood here for hours already. What are you looking at?”

  Gyles glared in his direction, asking, “What’s it matter to you?”

  Lukas pulled himself upright, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him to look out at the sea just as he did, hoping to see whatever it was that he could. “You know the people think you’re absolutely mad, right?”

  “Let them think what they want,” Gyles said, sighing with exasperation. He looked over, eyeing him up and down; he wasn’t carrying any letters, nothing worth showing him. “What is it you wanted to tell me so eagerly?” he asked.

  “Ah!” Lukas recalled, having forgotten almost entirely. “I’ve found the people our former general asked for; they were just where he said they would be,” he said.

  Gyles nodded, licking his lips before he prompted further, “And?”

  “And I’ve sent them on their way to Lionessa, just as you asked me to,” he said.

  Gyles inhaled deeply. The salty air was refreshing in his lungs. “And the boy? The one that I asked you to find?”

  Lukas’ shoulders slackened and he exhaled, hanging his head, “I’ve tried but come up with nothing. With nothing more than a name, and an occupation as a servant, it’s more difficult to find him than it was the others,” he said.

  “I know,” Gyles said, hanging his head as he shifted his weight. “My apologies,” he said, glancing towards Lukas, “I’m sure you’ve tried. I don’t expect you to be capable of finding him in such a short spread of time.”

  “I’ll keep looking, you needn’t worry about that,” Lukas said, leaning towards him so much that Gyles was sure he could feel each individual word leave his lips and brush against his ear. “Although, I must confess, I’m curious as to why you’re in such a rush,” he continued, uncertainly. “You claim not to know if he’s in any danger or anything of the sort, only that you wish to hear from him,” he continued, “so what’s the rush? Can this not wait until after we’ve dealt with everything else?”

  “I’d rather not,” Gyles said. Lukas’s frustrated exhale was enough to remind him of his earlier promise. He’d said he would be more open, at least with one person, so that his behaviour could be trusted, what with the people of Evrad hardly capable of trusting a Lionessan blindly. “With what we have planned, I may find my time here is more limited than I would like,” he added, “and I worry that this may be my only opportunity to do what I came here for.”

  “Will you not tell me what it is you’ve planned then?” Lukas asked, inching towards him as though they were now divulging a great secret between them.

  “Now you ask too much of me,” Gyles sighed, turning his back on the sea as he began to make his way through the crowd, followed closely by Lukas. “All I can tell you is that you needn’t worry about Evrad,” he said. “It will be safe, so long as we act swiftly.”

  “And you?” Lukas prompted, looking him up and down. “What about you? Will you be safe?”

  Gyles chuckled, “I’ll likely put myself in a bit of a pinch,” he confessed, glancing in Lukas’ direction and showing him his comfort with such a fact, “but I don’t think it anything I cannot bring myself out of.”

  Lukas shook his head, his eyes well-trained on the path ahead of them, “I’m both scared and strangely reassured,” he murmured.

  Gyles clapped a hand on his shoulder, smiling widely, “You needn’t worry, Lukas. Trust me. Leave these matters to us, and just do as I ask, knowing that I have your, and Evrad’s, best interests in mind.”

  Both reluctantly and faithfully, Lukas nodded. He wanted to trust him, that much he could see as clear as day within him, but Lukas was wounded from the despair that Evrad had suffered at the hands of Lionessa, and trust was a little beyond him, even now. Well, Gyles didn’t care if he believed in him or not, only that he was successful in keeping Evrad, and Lionessa, safe, as proof enough of his words.

  ***

  Receiving letters in the earliest hours of the mornings every three or four days or so was becoming a regular occurrence. Like clockwork, on the third day, while she was still bathing or getting ready for the day, there would be a hard knock on the other side of Sybelle’s door with an announcement that
it was a messenger with an urgent letter. All letters were considered urgent, though they hardly ever truly were. It tended to put a lot of people around her on edge, though she didn’t care for it, finding it was better if her men were constantly prepared for the worst.

  She would seat herself at the dining room table, often alone, after scanning just the first few lines of Gyles’s script, ascertaining that nothing truly had gone awry in the span of time it took for messengers to travel back and forth through Evrad. Her breakfasts were light and simple, her stomach hardly at ease with food in the early hours of the morning, allowing her eyes to scan the page freely while her fingers dipped into a bowl of fruit and fed her without much thought.

  She sat back in her seat when she came to the end of her bowl, staring at the final lines of the letter. She looked around, finding Deros’s place at the table set but with nothing having yet been touched. “Where’s Deros?” she asked, leaning over the side of the chair at the guards posted at each of the doors.

  “He was called away by a messenger, your Majesty,” one of the guards replied.

  “By a messenger?” she asked, with furrowed brows, leaning back into her seat.

  Ellyn appeared at her side, looking down at her with her usual worry-filled gaze, “Would you like something else, your Majesty?”

  “No, Ellyn, thank you,” Sybelle replied, bringing herself to her feet with the letter still grasped firmly between her fingers. She made her way down the corridors without any additional company, still scanning the details that Gyles had given her. Evrad had ships, sizeable ones at that, but they had no more than a handful of men left that were worthy of any actual fighting. That could pose a problem but she hoped it would be one that new recruits in Lionessa could solve at least for the time being.

  She made her way into her throne room and took a seat at the marble table, looking over the sketched map of the East of their continent. Lionessa was at the top of the large landmass, with Evrad just below them with an equal amount of land. Practically twins, both of them had ports and beaches along their coasts, some larger than others, just as some were more important than others. To the furthest north of Lionessa, just less than a day by sea from where King Alessio sat on her land, was Azura, a naval port for any countries deeming trade routes by water as an importance for their economic growth.