by K L Hagaman
as a normal morning ritual, and left her chamber.
The soldier at her door, clad in the sandy-toned uniform of the Dorai, had stayed the night through for safety as ordered by Suna— tasked with being her escort and aide for the duration of her time in the domes. Lilja felt him a sort of substitute Keeper, and because of that, she subconsciously, and unjustly, didn’t care for him.
Kaden had no replacement.
Joss was his name, and his appearance was all but an inversion of her true Keeper. His hair was black and straight, long, tied off in a type of chonmage. His skin was akin to her own, dark and rich, and his eyes were a deep shade of caramel. He seemed pleasant enough, but too…by the books. He was rigid, especially compared to Kaden.
“King Suna has said to escort you to his dining quarters for breakfast whenever you are ready, Princess,” he’d spoken with a bow of his head, clicking his heels when she’d come out of her room. And that’s how she ended up there, having breakfast with Suna.
The quarters proved familiar, set up a bit like her own family’s back in the spires. Sequestered off the main dining hall, this room was set for more private and informal gatherings. The outside wall was made up of the dome, providing a vast view of the dry lands beyond. In the morning sun, the ground blazed orange with vapors waving up from the scorched earth like a mirage of watery grass.
“Princess,” Suna greeted, standing politely from his chair at the round table as he gestured for Lilja to have a seat. Her escort pulled out a chair for her before withdrawing back against the wall.
She took her place across the table from Suna, and breakfast was served. Lilja was pleased to find the food familiar, and she suspected it an intentional gesture—a kindness.
“Thank you,” she spoke.
Not long after though, the Princess was on with business.
“Again, on behalf of the true Wys, king Suna, your aid is appreciated and we are in your debt.”
Suna smiled as he lowered his cup, licking his lips. “It is our way, is it not?” he said of the relationship of the Dorai and Wys.
“Yes,” the Princess returned, grateful for the alliance and brotherhood. It sparked a hope in her heart that she desperately needed.
“Now,” pleasantries aside and breakfast being eaten, “What will our course of action be?” Suna wondered aloud. “I’ve already spoken with my captains this morning, and they are all in agreement that the Accordance must be notified and summoned in regards to the Tokū and the affairs within the borders of the Wys, immediately.”
“I’m in complete agreement,” Lilja promised.
“Excellent.” The king gestured to Joss who immediately went on his way to carry out the unspoken orders.
“As for more immediate actions, what is your hope from our aid?”
“My hope, firstly, is that the Dorai can help assess the situation in our territory,” she explained having thought this over. “When we left, though it was clear war was active, the sounds of our sirens calling for retreat echoed not long after it even began.”
Suna sat back in his chair, mulling over that curiosity under a contemplative brow.
“I do not know the circumstances surrounding that, but as we’ve remained hunted, I would assume the first battle was won by the Faithful.”And quickly so. It was a happening most mysterious, not that she was ungrateful for a ceasefire among her people.
“So you wish for us to investigate the fate of the true Wys.”
“Yes. Hopefully the Dorai can aid in acting as peacemakers and defenders.”
The king nodded at the request, finding it a sound and reasonable one, but there was something else on his mind.
“Princess,” Suna inquired. “I did not have the heart to ask last night in light of the news you shared, but…is your mother—”
“She’s well last I saw her and with Captain Palu Diaz, who has proven my father’s trust in him true,” she interrupted.
Suna nodded, genuinely grateful for the news. “She’s a noble queen who I admire very much. I’m glad to hear she is safe,” he confessed with a heavy sincerity that Lilja appreciated.
“Now,” she carried on. “Of the Tokū: I wish to send a scout immediately.”
Suna slowed a bit. “Ahead of the Accordance?” The question already breathed of his hesitancy.
Lilja gave one soft nod in confirmation.
“For the sake of—?” he wondered.
“Current news and a truthful account of the affairs there.”
“Simply a scout? Nothing more?”
“Nothing more. I believe we simply need another attesting of the activity there, and if we go about seeking it peacefully, I don’t see why that would be at odds with the Accordance.”
The king was thoughtful before he answered. They had to be careful and respectful of the laws that were in place—that they were bound by. If discovered, having sent a spy of sorts wouldn’t be interpreted as a peaceful gesture.
But in the end, he found the request worth the risk, under the circumstances. They all needed accurate intelligence and time was of the essence.
“Very well. I have a trusted man,” Suna started of his nomination. But the Princess had something else in mind.
“I would like to go.”
“I beg your pardon?” Suna retorted in a snort of surprise.
“I believe my eyes are needed. And this whole affair has been brought upon us by my people’s ill-actions. I must do as much as I can myself to atone for this.”
“Princess, respectfully, I do not think it wise to put yourself in such a position of uncertainty.”
“Respectfully, I am Commander of the Wys.” And he lacked the authority to stop her. Her holding this discussion with him was simply for propriety’s sake at its heart. “The decision is ultimately mine.”
Suna sighed quietly, unsettled by the declaration but understanding all the same as he adjusted uncomfortably in his chair.
“Please then, allow us at least to provide you with the means for your task.” She’d need supplies and a craft. Support.
“Thank you,” Lilja said in genuine appreciation, more grateful than she had words to express yet again. “I know how very much I am asking of the Dorai, king Suna.”
The man bowed his head. “Just do me a favor,” he requested.
“Yes?”
“Be safe.”
Chapter Ten
The Other
Kaden looked at Haleth blankly. No weaver? What exactly did she think he was? Not for the first time, he took note of her oddities.
“You’re a Towen, Kaden,” she sparked adamantly, almost offended by the fact he didn’t know already—that he hadn’t figured it out instinctually or had been told.
For such a curt and heavy revelation, the Keeper’s demeanor remained constant as he looked at her, surveyingly. It was hard to get
a read on his thoughts, but it didn’t look like he believed her. And that was because, very simply, he didn’t.
He was a weaver’s son, and he’d known that from birth.
Haleth sighed, seeing the need for demonstration though she was dumbfounded by such a thing. She picked up his good hand by the wrist.
“Watch,” she instructed as she slid her hand up his palm and pressed them flush, lining up their fingers before them.
Her hand was unnaturally warm, but not unpleasantly so.
Kaden’s eyes drifted back to hers for a moment and found them already watching him. Closely. But she ticked her head back to their hands after a second.
At first, nothing happened, but then Kaden felt it—the prickle. There was a buzzing of something akin to electricity that moved slowly like a fuzzy tingle through his hand. Then without warning, the sensation
took off, surging violently through his entire being and he involuntarily jarred upright.
In case he tried to pull away, Haleth had snatched his wrist with her other hand and was holding him in place, determined he see. Determined he understand his worth.
>
Their veins had been set aglow, ignited by the electricity flowing between them, blazing like threads of molten iron beneath their skin. The trails ran over their bodies, reflecting the series of tangled but efficient root systems there—the paths of their life source. The blood in their veins.
After a moment, seeing him steady, Haleth slowly lowered her hand to her side and watched with an ever growing light smile, helpless against the appreciation of such beauty.
Kaden stared at his arms as the orange glow gently pulsed down his veins to the rhythm of his heartbeat.
He looked up at her with an unexplainable expression. “What is this?” he asked breathlessly, wanting to know. Needing to know. But the answer was already there in his heart.
“Magic,” she told him tenderly, eyes trailing over the illuminated rivers as they throbbed through him. He was beautiful.
“Kaden, you’re so much more than you know…” He was more than just a conduit, a manipulator of magic. He was magic.
His eyes returned to his skin as the energy, light, magic—as all of it slowly faded back into wherever it had come from.
“I don’t understand.”
Haleth’s gaze swept sympathetically up to his face now that the light had gone.
“But my mother’s a weaver.” So how could he have been anything else? Human had been on the table at one point, but that possibility had flown out the window the first time he’d accidently weaved. He’d sent his plate flying after a rather nefarious run in with some much disliked vegetables.
“What about your father?” Haleth wondered, exploring the possibility.
“…I never knew him,” he said quietly after more thought, finally looking up and meeting her eyes.
“He must have been Towen,” she figured casually, puzzling things with him—how he’d mistaken himself for so long.
A Towen? Why wouldn’t his mother have told him? Wouldn’t she have known? Had she known?
For a time, Kaden was quiet, and Haleth let him be. His thoughts were many and loud, and she gave him space to sort them.
“So what now?” he eventually asked of himself—of all of this.
“We finish mending you, and then…your path is still your own. You can set back on your way to handle whatever it is that got you here, or…” she said, lingering a little as a feathery feeling tickled his heart. “We can finishing mending you and you can stay. …We can teach you about who you are.” He could be with his kind, learning about all that he was—all that he could be.
Kaden puffed an audible breath, head falling to the side as he closed his eyes in as much mental exhaustion as physical. He couldn’t do that—he couldn’t stay. Lilja needed him, and he needed her.
“Nothing has to be decided on today,” she reminded gently. He needed time to heal and think.
After a little more silence, Haleth took a deep breath and tucked a curl behind her ear. It immediately sprang back out in rebellion, unruly and wild for as crisp as it was. “I’ll bring you something to eat. You must be famished. Just…rest a little more. Okay?”
Kaden nodded. “Thank you,” he muttered quietly, his mind and heart heavy and distant.
Haleth made to leave, but at the threshold he stopped her with a call, eyes thoughtful. “—Not just for the food,” he explained.
She looked over her shoulder with a faint smile. “I know.”
Chapter Eleven
The In-Between
When Haleth had returned, she’d found Kaden behaving and resting, which she felt oddly accomplished by.
She seemed to have a good feel for his nature.
Along with the promised meal, however, came a letter for him from his Princess. Apparently Lilja had sent word to him as quickly as she could, and it had simply been waiting for him to wake and be read.
Haleth left the Keeper in peace to eat and read, not feeling it her place to stay uninvited, but encouraged him to rest more when he was finished with both. He truly needed to take things slow, and her concern was palpable.
“I’ll come by later for your dishes and to check on your shoulder again,” she promised.
Kaden was sitting in bed, the wooden slab of a tray next to him. “I appreciate it,” he thanked sincerely, true to his nature.
With little more, she’d parted, and Kaden was finally able to open the letter from his Princess, thoughts of food abandoned though his stomach growled in protest. But he was far hungrier for the words scribed by his love’s hand than any meal.
Tangible messages like this, on paper, were far safer at the moment, seeing as the airwaves were likely being monitored by the Faithful. They could be hacked far more easily than a vessel could be intercepted and mail shuffled through.
The Keeper and Princess found themselves fortunate that the post only took a day or so, as the crow flew.
With a slide of his finger, he broke the seal and unfurled the paper.
My Ocean,
How can it be so hard to write to you when it’s so easy to talk to you? I hope you’re well. The Towen have told me you’re progressing some but that you still need time.
Please, Kaden, listen to me, and take these words as an order as much as they are a heartfelt plea—whatever it takes for you to heed them. Please, do not leave Shinrin before you are ready. I want you whole. I want you well. I can’t bear the thought of you plagued by a mark gained in my defense, charge or not. So please, for me, stay and rest. Heal. I’ll wait.
Dorai has agreed to stand with us and we have called for an audience with the Accordance. I’m hopeful. I’ll share more when I can.
I miss you.
-Your Moon
He read the letter more than once, eyes carefully retracing certain parts with a yearning most abrasive to his heart. He hadn’t been this far away from her in a very, very long time.
It was a curious pain, loving someone.
Honest man as he was, Kaden finished his meal and rested as Haleth had suggested. But he couldn’t settle himself. Words paced between his ears of things he wished to say to her—his Princess.
Eventually, the need broke him, and he rose from bed once more.
It was easier this time—his wits having returned—but his shoulder was starting to smart something wicked just from the bit he’d tried to use it while eating. Controlling his hand had proven…complicated. It was unruly with wild pings of…discomfort.
Looking around the room, he noticed a wardrobe of sorts that he hadn’t before. Behind the hanging nest of a bed, it was partitioned off from the rest of the room. One would imagine for a spot of privacy when changing in an otherwise open-air abode.
He found his pack hanging neatly and a few pairs of clothes that looked roughly his size. He assumed his uniform was long gone…
Kaden’s hand rested over his shoulder, and for a time, he simply drifted off in thought.
After a bit of consideration, he’d picked up a loose shirt of the same material and color as his pants, and slipped his head through its hole before working his good arm through its sleeve. As for his lame arm, he left it beneath the article of clothing, unable to really do more with the limb bound as it was to his torso; not to mention, based upon what he’d seen of it earlier, he doubted very realistically that he could even move it that far on his own.
And then he left his nest, room, whatever it was called.
The suspended bridge outside ran both left and right, but he chose to take the direction he’d seen Haleth come from.
It was curiously beautiful, Shinrin. Kaden favored the trees over the spires, as they reminded the Keeper of what home had always been to him—the wilds. But it was a land vastly different than any wood he’d ever been in.
With the sun setting, the pods hanging in their trees began to illuminate, bathing the forest in what looked like an odd sort of glistening dew.
Around him, a few people walked the bridges with their comings and goings, but with the distance and length of them, he made no contact with a single one. He was curi
ous of them, the Towen, even without his apparent connection, and wondered when he’d have more in him to explore—to learn. To see if meeting some of them roused any understanding in his heart and mind.
Below him, the forest floor was bare save for all that should be found there: ferns, shed needles, wildlife, shrubs, and the scrawny, lesser trees with undoubtedly lofty dreams of reaching the heights of their mothers one day.
But a familiar song of a voice drew Kaden’s attentions back to the trees and he followed the tune over the bridge until he came upon a particular nest not far from his own, though it was triple the size.
Through its opened door, he could see Haleth sitting on the floor over a wooden bowl, singing a faint rhythmic tune. Though there was no fire beneath it, the contents were simmering. She carried on for a few more minutes, and Kaden simply watched from a distance, finding the spell mesmerizing. Whatever it was she was doing, the liquid in the bowl was shifting in both hue and viscosity—he could tell as much by the reflection of color on her face and the thickness of the bubbles as they popped. Eventually though, her song faded and the substance settled.
“You’re welcome to come in,” she said without looking up, tapping the substance in the bowl as it hardened some. “But you should be resting.”
Kaden gave an unapologetic smile. “What’s the fun in that?” he asked jokingly, taking a step in but not drawing any closer.
The place was simple but filled with an air of a life new to him. Colorful tapestries, wind chimes, herbs, and trinkets hung from suspended twines of varying thickness throughout the home’s branch-woven walls. They appeared to be in a living room of sorts, with an extremely slender spiral staircase leading both to an upper and lower level tucked back in the far corner.
“Sit,” Haleth instructed him.
Kaden heeded and sat across from her with the bowl between them.
“What is it?” he asked, peering in.
“It’s for you, actually. A balm to help your body restore,” she told him, picking up the cupped dish and moving to draw closer to him, sitting up on her knees. “I was going to bring it to you for your shoulder when I finished, but as you’ve come here…”
