When Forces Rise

by Meagan Hurst

  It was amazing the perspective eight months could provide. Right now, however, was not the time to dwell in the past. Z moved over to the bed and tensed as she caught sight of the injuries that the healers had been unable to tend. Her fingers twitched as the desire to heal surfaced, and Z had to clamp down once more on that ability. The Mithane was watching her, and she knew he had seen the small movement of her fingers.

  “Azabell?” she called at the figure in the bed, to turn the Mithane’s attention from her.

  The woman on the bed stirred at her name and opened her eyes. Azabell’s mouth opened at once and Z held up a hand quickly when she realized the Ryelention was in agonizing pain. “Don’t speak,” Z advised as she regarded the bruised and bleeding young woman before her. “I just wanted you to know I was here and planning to speak with you when you recover. Your news is grave—I know—but neither of us can afford your death. I will speak with you when you are well.”

  She turned and left the room before anyone could say a word. Crilyne and Nivaradros exited a mere step behind her, and she felt a moment’s relief at the lack of hostility between the two. It wouldn’t last, but she’d hold on to it while she could. Only when she was several halls away from Azabell’s room did Nivaradros put a gentle hand on her shoulder. It wasn’t a command to stop, but she could feel his desire to talk and slowed her pace.

  “Yes?” she inquired.

  “That was unexpected; are you alright?” Nivaradros’s tone was calm but worried, and she hid a smile as his eyes brightened considerably.

  “I’m fine, but the Mithane would have killed me had I tried to question her. She is far too injured, Nivaradros, and she would have spoken until she lost consciousness.”

  The Dragon raised a brow, but said nothing further. Instead he nodded and glanced over at the Shade as they continued walking to her rooms. “Will you be available to remain for a time?”

  Z felt her mouth open in shock as Crilyne regarded the Dragon with uncertainty. “I can be…” was the very cautious reply. The Shade was visibly distrustful of Nivaradros, but knowing their past, Z was impressed.

  “I’ve been summoned to explain myself to the Dragons,” Nivaradros explained. “I would like someone to be with Z during the time in which I am absent.”

  His request left both Z and Crilyne speechless. For different reasons. Z managed to find her voice first. “You are not going to the Isle alone!” she hissed as she shoved her doors open and stepped inside. Nivaradros and Crilyne trailed her inside. She shut the doors behind them. The Dragons held much against him, and very few of them gave him any credit at all for his virtuous actions. Not to mention that his interest in her was still seen—as far as they knew—as a problem. Z didn’t want him walking into an assassination attempt.

  Nivaradros’s expression gave nothing away. “Z, it is far too dangerous—”

  “For you!” she snarled. “Did you forget what happened last time?”

  The Dragon’s expression didn’t change. “Z, you would likely be the target this time.” He actually glanced at Crilyne and Z wished she could decipher the look the two exchanged.

  “You don’t have your form!” she hissed. “You can’t shift—”

  “Believe that I know this,” Nivaradros replied in an icy tone, but she could see he was willing—barely—to concede that point. It was also clear he was unwilling to risk her. “Azabell is here to speak with you. You cannot brush her off to come attend a Dragon Council—”

  This time she cut him off. “Give them your regrets,” she began. “And summon Veilantras.”

  “To what end exactly?” Crilyne inquired, causing her to glance his way. For once the Shade wasn’t following her—it was such a win Z almost wanted to comment on it.

  “Because we’ll need her backing if Nivaradros is to survive a meeting with the Dragons.” Turning to face Nivaradros once more, Z sighed. “It’s past time to update her…Nivaradros, we have to tell her everything. Starting with what you did to keep me alive before my immortality was granted, and ending with what has happened since.”

  Green eyes went neon. “She is a Dragon.”

  “She cares about you. The knowledge of the loss of your form will worry her. She will be an ally in the Dragon Council if you don’t infuriate her while you are catching her up to date. Plus, we will need to have one Dragon ally on the Council given my lack of standing with the Rangers.”

  “You still have standing; you are a ruler of multiple kingdoms,” Nivaradros countered as his eyes flashed. “Or have you already forgotten? Also, need I remind you how your last meeting with Veilantras and myself went? You kept attacking her with magic!”

  “She was attacking you,” Z pointed out grimly. “And after everything you had done to save me it didn’t feel right.”

  “She didn’t know,” Nivaradros pointed out with a small smile. “I couldn’t tell her—especially not then. You were very fragile.” The Dragon glanced at Crilyne. “I suppose I owe you credit for somehow managing to keep her alive until I returned.”

  “In all honesty, Nivaradros, I played a very small part. The Mithane is the one who saved her.” Crilyne glanced at her and inclined his head—letting her know he was well aware she was irritated at being ignored. “I was one of a very long line of immortals and mortals who helped make her strong enough for public settings.”

  She felt her face turn slightly red. “A very long line,” she agreed. Lost in the past for a moment she recalled the Rangers—her Rangers—and began to turn away from both the Shade and the Dragon. Nivaradros gently caught an arm.

  “No, you can’t walk away,” Nivaradros murmured in her ear as he pulled her against him—trapping her as she struggled against his hold. “We’re not finished yet.”

  “I still think we need Veilantras,” she insisted as she continued to fight against his hold. She could see Crilyne hated watching this, but it was too damned bad. The Dragon and she often ended up getting physical during their discussions. In a mortal relationship it was a bad idea—hells in most relationships it probably was—but for them it worked. And neither of them was seeking to harm the other.

  “Alright, alright,” Nivaradros said in a voice that was meant to be soothing. “I will summon her. Now, will you please stop fighting me? Your wrists are bleeding. Not that you would notice.”

  She opened her mouth to respond when there was a tap on the doors. Giving Nivaradros a black look she moved to open it. The Mithane was waiting with Nirthanie—his newest Keire. Since the Mithane’s reinstatement Nirthanie had been clearing the guards of anyone Midestol had influenced—with her help. As a result, the two of them were on a decent standing. Letting them in with a gesture, she stepped back and raised a brow at Crilyne. It was an old signal between them and it felt surprisingly good to see his slight nod in reply.

  “Mithane,” he greeted the Alantaion ruler. “Nirthanie. What brings you to Zimliya’s quarters?”

  “It was not my idea,” Nirthanie said dryly as he glanced at his ruler. “The Mithane, however, called an urgent meeting of his Council—which you are a member of, I shall remind you, Zimliya—and when he stepped out mid-meeting to come speak to you about something he has yet to disclose even to me, I was concerned and decided to follow.”

  Nivaradros chuckled. “Due to what occurred during one of the last council meetings, I am not surprised by your concern. Mithane?” the Dragon added as he turned to the Alantaion. “Is this for Zimliya’s ears only?”

  “It is not,” the Mithane answered with a small smile. “I wanted to congratulate her on her surprising consideration of Azabell’s health. I did not expect such a response to her condition.”

  Not even Nirthanie could manage to keep his disbelief off his features. Upon seeing everyone’s features the Mithane rolled his eyes and threw up his hands—clearly comfortable enough with Nirthanie to drop his formal attitude in front of him. “This was much easier when none of you knew me well. Alright, I came to inquire on whether or not Zimliya wou
ld grace me with her presence at dinner tonight.”

  “It’s Z!” she hissed as Crilyne and Nivaradros smiled. “And is it a Court gathering?”

  “Why is that a problem? You are a member of the Court,” the Mithane pointed out. “Zimliya—Z—you will rule in my stead and you will have to make the occasional appearance in Court.”

  “I am living in Arriandie for the moment; what more do you want?” Z asked irritably.

  “For you to show up to the occasional dinner—with Nivaradros.” The Mithane glanced at Nirthanie and nodded once sharply.

  The Alantaion Keire nodded in reply and reached into his pocket to pull out a small box. “It is past time you received this,” he said quietly. “I was ordered to give it to you upon your arrival, but we expected you months ago, and due to the time and state of your return, the Mithane thought it would be far wiser to wait to give this to you.” Holding out the closed box he waited for her to take it.

  She made no move to do so. High on her list of dislikes was being handed a box containing something unknown. Especially one this ornate. Still, with four sets of eyes on her there was little she could do to get out of this. Accepting the box as though it would attack her, Z tentatively opened it and grimaced at what was inside. It was a ring that signified her status as the Mithane’s heir. A ring that therefore cemented his adoption of her—something she still wasn’t certain she was okay with despite the fact she had agreed to it.

  “Is it that bad?” the Mithane inquired a good ten minutes later.

  She debated whether to jump out a window. “No—it’s fine…it’s just…”

  “A ring that signifies both the fact that she has family and that she has a kingdom to rule one day. Since none of her other kingdoms have given her items to designate her as ruler, she has not gotten over her shock—and dislike—of her situation,” Nivaradros explained. “I will work on it,” he added as the Mithane opened his mouth to speak.

  “You have a lot to work on, it appears,” Crilyne observed. “I do not envy your position, Dragonlord.”

  “I am standing right here!” she growled at both of them—as she continued to eye the ring unhappily.

  “It won’t bite—put it on, Z,” Nivaradros insisted. “You wear the amulet of the Rangers, yes? And that has far more intrusive qualities than this has. Not to mention you wear without comment, when required, all the rings and necklaces that denote your standing on the other kingdoms’ councils. It is just another sign of your status. Why is it such an issue?”

  “Because it is more than the average ring—and those were hard enough to get her to accept,” the Mithane sighed. “Z, you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to.”

  Z could almost taste Crilyne’s disgust over those words. “She does,” he said stiffly. “After everything you have done for her—she does.”

  “She has done much for me as well.”

  “Of course she has, but after everything she put you through…” Crilyne scowled at her. “Put the ring on, Z, or I will put it on for you.”

  Nivaradros growled and for a minute everyone who wasn’t Crilyne took a step back. Eyes heading toward neon the Dragon drew himself up to his full height and fixed Crilyne with a threatening stare. Silence filled the room as Z cursed and put the ring on before things could get worse. “It’s on, alright?! Nivaradros, quit it!” she said in a hurry as the Dragon approached the Shade.

  He froze and Crilyne began to chuckle and inclined his head to the Dragon. “Well played—very well played, Nivaradros. I can see now I have misjudged you even more than I thought…and I have the feeling you will turn out to be something like Zimliya. Full of surprises.”

  Z was in shock, but she hid it well; those two getting along and working together was going to be a problem. Nivaradros had already won most of their verbal arguments during the past five or so months. He had changed her, and she had changed him; which was what bothered her the most. Glancing at Nivaradros, she watched as his eyes shaded back to a steady dark green and he inclined his head to her before turning to the Mithane who was watching him with slightly narrowed and mixed colored eyes.

  “She will be there,” Nivaradros told the Mithane before offering Nirthanie a nod. “Perhaps in return for her cooperation you can offer to help her handle Azabell?”

  Relief hit her, and she realized Crilyne and Nivaradros had planned their little game to benefit her. It was a warning as well, though; Crilyne knew how to manipulate her, and Nivaradros had an inside path to get her to change far more easily than anyone else. With both of them working together she had a formable team, but she would also have to watch them. For a different reason than when they had been adversaries. They had revealed this to her on purpose so she could plan around it or with it, accordingly.

  The Alantaion ruler who had just officially adopted her was waiting for her to speak. Nirthanie was channeling Chevello and pretending to listen to nothing in an entirely convincing way. Offering him a smile, she turned to the Mithane and bowed.

  “Mithane…” she said in a voice that shook. Even though she had known all these years he had intended to somehow make her part of his family it was still hard to accept—made harder by her lack of a stable upbringing.

  “Evieck—or Father if you wish,” the Mithane corrected. “Honestly, Zimliya, you accepted this a long time ago and now you have a problem with it?” His eyes shifted to brown, and he didn’t speak again. He waited for her, as he always did.

  “Evieck,” she managed to say. “Do you have any recommendations or preferences for my attire for the evening?”

  “Something more formal than you would generally wear, but something you are comfortable with. Would you like me to send someone up?”

  “No I probably have something around—you’ve done enough.”

  “You are family, Zimliya—I’ll never have done enough.”

  He left on that note, and Z glanced at the ring she had slipped over the middle finger on her right hand. It was elegant, magical, and her, which was impressive as she would never have considered anything her ‘style.’ Thankfully, it wasn’t gold, but silver. The runes that ran down each side of the ring were in the ancient form of the Alantaion language and glowed as she read them. It was a subtle reminder that her eyesight had improved—the runes were smaller than an ant. The central stone in the ring was an amethyst, which was the Mithane’s chosen stone.

  “It’s nice. It suits you, and in comparison to Shevieck’s ring, it tells me the Mithane knows you quite well.”

  “He’s good at reading people.” Smiling as she glanced up at Nivaradros, she shrugged. “Seems to be a trait a lot of people I know share.”

  Crilyne cleared his throat. “You have that same ability. Granted yours is more reading and then knowing how to use someone to their fullest ability.”

  “I have to get ready for dinner. You two are coming as well so you should at least change.”

  Turning away, Z headed to the wardrobe she had bothered to put clothing in and began to go through it impatiently. As she did, she began to feel nervous. To her clothing wasn’t important, but over the years she had learned what it meant to other people; much like she had learned about the power of words. She had learned to work within everyone else’s guidelines by watching, listening, and responding appropriately. Unfortunately, the anxiety it produced had never really lessened. Crowds still overwhelmed her, except when she was on the field or in an Alliance meeting. She knew them though—all of them; even after the Thinyen’s betrayal she still could say she would trust most of them to a certain extent.

  Finding nothing she considered decent, Z put her head against the door in irritation. She needed a dress. A very fancy, practical, and proper dress. The Dragon and the Shade had it easy; their outfits changed little over time, whereas she was expected to both follow the current style and yet do something exotic. A hint of magic made her look up, and she watched as a dress slowly appeared in her wardrobe. Cursing the seamstress who seemed to still feel
indebted to her, Z carried the dress out of wardrobe and headed into a separate room to change.

  Changing was easy. As with most immortal attire, servants weren’t required to assist during dressing, and as with most Alantaion clothing, magic was included. The dress flowed up over her skin like some heavy liquid that was far denser than water. The magic sent her senses off, but having gone through this before—several times—she tolerated it. When it was over the dress was on and despite the fact her magic was still reacting to the Alantaion magic, she knew the feeling would pass.

  Of course, when she looked in the mirror, the magic to which she was reacting became the least of her concerns. The dress was a deep teal that was probably very, very in style, and it would guarantee she would be the center of attention. Besides fitting her better than a second skin it revealed—like so many of the dresses she had been awarded over the years—her back in its entirety with all of its scars, and the front covered her breasts while revealing everything else down to her hips. Which displayed the rest of her scars, including the one that everyone always noticed first: the scars that the Mithane hated to this day for his inability to heal them completely. The dress made her glance at the ring on her hand and she paused. He was giving her too much and she wanted nothing more than to run.

  At a knock on the door two hours later, she opened her eyes. “Zimliya?” Crilyne called from outside of the door. When she didn’t respond another tap sounded. “It cannot be that bad—honestly for someone who is perfectly comfortable walking around without any clothing on, you react in the oddest of ways to dresses.

  “Do I have to send the Dragon in?” Crilyne wanted to know when she stayed silent. “It is a dinner, Zimliya. A dinner in which you formally take your seat as the Mithane’s heiress. I realize this is the first formal and official presentation you have undergone since having been handed several kingdoms, but you deserve this.”