by D. E. Morris
“Ooh, take a few steps back,” Lyra urged with glee. “Watch!”
Cavalon backed up a few paces and crouched again. The baby finally got himself on all fours and crawled to his toy chest. He gripped the polished wood with chubby fingers and pulled himself clumsily to his feet. Cavalon glanced at Lyra. “He’s walking?”
She nodded. “Call him to you.”
“Lucien. Come on. Come see me.”
A stream of drool leaked between Lucien’s lips and ran down the front of him. He laughed and pounded the top of the toy chest.
“Come on, Lucien. Show me what you can do.”
It was slow at first, a little shake of the hips, one foot moving slightly forward, then the other. But once he got his momentum up he started across the room, straight for the man encouraging him. As soon as he was close enough he launched himself forward too much and began to fall, but Cavalon scooped him up and tossed him in the air. “Look at you!” Lucien screamed and flapped his arms, clearly understanding he was being praised. “You really are a little man now, aren’t you?”
“Muh! Muh muh muh!”
“Really?” laughed Cavalon. “Are you sure about that?”
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lyra stand and give a small bow of her head. “Your Majesty.”
“Muh muh muh!”
Cavalon turned his head and finally understood. Lucien must have seen her enter before either of the others in the room had, for standing in the open doorway was Nuala. Her simple flowing robes were white and her golden hair fell in ringlets over her shoulders and down her back blending in with her wings. She looked more like the innocent woman Cavalon had left weeks ago than the cold hearted queen he'd witnessed just a short time ago.
“Cavalon.” Her face lit up as she said his name and it was the only prompting the Badarian needed to cross the room and wrap his free arm around her to hold her as close as possible. He felt Nuala's arms encircle his torso as she turned to press her cheek to his chest. “I was starting to think you would never come back.”
“I told you I would.” He bent to place a kiss on top of her head, then let her go so he could pass Lucien to her. The baby reached for his mother with excitement and Nuala took him happily, showering his face with kisses. “He's gotten so big,” Cavalon marveled.
“Yes, he has.” Lucien reached for Nuala's face with his chubby hands, gripping her cheeks and pulling her face close to his to give her nose a very wet and open-mouthed kiss. “Oh yes, thank you. I love you, too.” She looked past her child to his wet-nurse and asked, “Has he been fed yet?”
“Not yet.”
“That's my fault,” Cavalon volunteered. “I wanted to see him.”
Nuala smiled up at him but quickly returned her attention to Lyra. “You may take care of him now, just return when he is asleep.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” The young woman bowed her head once more, then shared a quick smile with Cavalon before taking Lucien and leaving the room.
“When did Lyra become Lucien's nurse? You had someone else with him before I left.”
Nuala bent to pick up the toys left on the floor, pausing only to give Cavalon a sad smile. “His first nurse was not able to stay and Lyra lost her child. I knew she would care for Lucien better than anyone else.”
Cavalon's jaw fell slack. “I'd completely forgotten she was pregnant when I left. What happened?”
“When she was born there was no breath in her and her skin was the wrong color. The physicians tried to save her but were unsuccessful.”
“That poor girl.”
Nuala closed the lid to the toy chest and turned to face Cavalon, wrapping her arms around herself. “She has been in my court since she was but a child herself. She still is a child in many ways and her suffering was a hard thing to witness. When she was well she begged me to take her on as Lucien's nurse. I could not refuse.”
“Because you have a big heart.” Cavalon opened his arms and Nuala fell into them. It felt right to hold her so close, to smell the perfume of her hair and brush the wispy plumage falling from her shoulders. “I missed you,” he whispered, his lips against her temple. “I missed you so much.”
“Ashlynn sent word of what happened. I was so sorry about Nealie.”
“Badru's having a really hard time with it. He doesn't talk about it, but I can tell.”
“Did you find her heir?”
Cavalon shook his head and released his hold on Nuala. “No. Badru wants to wait a few days before we follow the lead you sent Ories with. Even though you broke your own laws to get it, we're all grateful.” He sat on Nuala's bed and scrubbed a hand over his chin. “I tell you one thing, though, if I didn't have to see Ibays again for awhile you wouldn't hear me complaining about it.”
With a soft laugh, Nuala sat beside him. “Can you tell me about it?”
He inhaled and gave a lazy shrug. “There was a lot of walking. We had a guide with us who was young and annoying. I swear he never stopped talking. Sometimes I liked him, most times I didn't.” He paused, recalling the night in the castle ruins. When he spoke again his voice was hollow. “We think we found the place Nealie was tortured and killed. Badru is certain of it.”
“Where?”
“Some old ruins in the middle of nowhere. I guess it was a functioning keep at one point, but it's been taken over by feral Gaels and marauders.”
Nuala frowned. “Badru believes they are the ones to have done this?”
“Not exactly. He thinks it was done by magic and the ones we fought-”
“You fought them?”
“They fought us, we just fought back.” He decided Nuala didn't need to know how close he'd come to death that night. It wasn't something he liked remembering himself. “These guys were brutes, the type to maim and kill and ask questions later. I got the feeling from Badru that Nealie's death was slow and well thought out.”
The winged queen frowned. “You said she had enemies.”
“More than her fair share, that's for sure, but she wasn't stupid. She wouldn't have ticked off the wrong people. Nealie liked making the weaker her prey. She was a classic bully and knew her limits even if she didn't like to admit to them.” Cavalon looked at Nuala, pensive. “Something about this whole thing feels...intricate. Like there are a lot of moving parts that we don't even know about yet.” He told her of the scroll Ashlynn showed him, the symbols, his tattoo, everything he could think of that happened since he'd last seen her. It felt freeing to let it all out, to talk to her about it and hear her thoughts on matters. For all her softness and gentility, Nuala was one of the most intelligent women Cavalon had known in many years and he found he valued her insight above others most times.
Lyra returned before it was too late and left a sleeping Lucien with them. Nuala kissed his peaceful face and laid him gently on the bed, surrounding him with pillows so he wouldn't roll away. When she was sure the baby was safe and asleep, she took Cavalon's hand and led him out onto the balcony where they could talk above a whisper.
“What were you saying before Lyra entered?”
With a shake of his head, Cavalon gave a lazy shrug. “I don't remember. It's your turn to talk anyway. I'm tired of the sound of my own voice.”
“A first for you, if I'm not mistaken.” She smiled winningly up at him and Cavalon quirked a brow.
“Probably,” he chuckled. “Spending all that time with Jessiah helped me appreciate silence all the more.” Reaching out, Cavalon grasped one of her golden ringlets and gave it a gentle tug. “What's been going on here?” Just asking the question reminded him of what he'd seen only hours prior and his expression went from soft and calm to something darker. “I was on the Isle of Contest tonight.” Nuala's eyes widened in shock and Cavalon nodded grimly. “Want to tell me what that was all about?”
“What were you doing there?”
“I made Ories lead me.” He was only shading the truth a little; no need to get the onyx winged man in trouble. “I know I haven't been here long eno
ugh to really understand a lot of the Volar laws and traditions, but what I saw tonight...that looked intentionally cruel and inhumane.”
Nuala visibly stiffened and he could feel the heat radiate off her body as her demeanor shifted. “It was both of those things, but the punishment fit the injustice she committed herself.”
“What in the world would justify cutting a woman's wings off?” he asked hotly, glancing inside and trying to keep his voice down.
Taking a breath, Nuala squared her shoulders, her eyes cool and hard like they had been at the sentencing. “She was one of our Alybaen messengers and chose to take a mate while there. A mate, may I point out, not a spouse. Their relationship resulted in a pregnancy and she gave birth to a wingless dwarven child. While I was not pleased with the union it did not break any Volar or Alybaen laws. However, when she drowned her child because of what it was I was not going to sit idly by and let it pass as a corrected mistake. The Alybaens, had I let them exact their justice, would have simply had her killed and be done with it. I arranged to have her tried before her own people so they could all see what poor judgment can produce, and have her continue living without the use of her wings.” She took a breath and wet her lips. “For a Volar to live without wings when they have known them their entire lives is worse than death. They may or may not grow back, depending on her heritage, but she will never fly again.”
Cavalon was speechless. There was nothing about what he'd just heard that sat well with him on any level. To kill a child was inexcusable, but he could still hear the woman's cries as her wings were hacked from her body and it stirred the acidic contents of his stomach.
“You may not approve of the way this was taken care of-”
“No, you're right. I don't approve.” Cavalon shook his head, trying to rid himself of images and sounds, “but these are your people, not mine.”
The statement quieted them both and set an uneasy feeling to the air. Before he'd gone Cavalon knew this uneasiness would have had Nuala scrambling for something to say to lighten the mood so it surprised him when she looked outward with a confident expression and said, “I do not regret my decision.” Her chin was lifted and her shoulders back, relaxed. This was not the woman he remembered and he was taken aback once more.
“What happened to you while I was gone?”
She looked over at him, a sad smile darkening her face for a quick second. “I learned what it was like to rule on my own. Noé and I did not have much time together as husband and wife, but I knew him for many years before our union. Even when he became High King of the Volar at such a young age he was well loved and respected. He was fair, he was just, and though sometimes he could be harsh I truly believe he was the best this kingdom has ever had leading it. When we were joined I became the softer side of the kingdom. I was the one to speak to Noé and calm his temper. I tamed his tongue when necessary. We were two very different sides of a coin and once Noé was gone my people saw they only had their soft queen left. With you gone and Ories stepping aside to let me resume my duties there were many who sought to see exactly what they could get away with.”
“I didn't know.”
“No, you didn't. But I could hardly fault you for that. I didn't know it would be that way, either.” Nuala sighed delicately. “As much as it pained me to let you go that night I see now that it was what was best for both of us. I never realized how much I'd come to rely on you and depend on you. It wasn't fair.”
“I wasn't complaining,” Cavalon replied with a shake of his head. “It felt nice to be wanted and needed again, even when I knew it wasn't healthy.” He reached for her hands, holding them in his larger grasp with care. “I don't know how much longer I'll stay here from now on, though.”
She looked up at him, puzzled. “Because you continue the search for Nealie's murderer?”
“Because of how complicated it will make things.” He brushed the back of his hand over her warm cheek. “I...love you, Nuala. That's a scary thing for me to admit, but I've been lying to myself about it for long enough. The thing is, I'm not like you. I'm not like your people. And you're their queen, not just some messenger. I have all of these feelings for you that I shouldn't and all these feelings for that baby in there that I shouldn't because he's not even mine. You're not mine. None of this is mine and the more time I spend here, the easier it is for me to allow that line between what belongs to me and what doesn't to blur.”
Reaching up, Nuala took Cavalon's hand and pressed his palm to her cheek. “Do you think my people so cold?”
“No. In fact the Volarim are some of the friendliest, most accepting people I have ever known.” He shook his head, lips pursed. “But like I said, you're not just one of them. It doesn't take a genius to know they'd be a little less accepting of me if things were different. You said it yourself that Noé was greatly loved and admired. If they see me stepping in and looking like I want to replace him how do you think they're going to react?”
The winged queen shook her head, not easily deterred. “You would not be their king, Cavalon. Even should you want to it could never happen for the simple fact that you are not one of us.”
“So what would that make me, your favorite courtier?”
She smirked, chuckling quietly. “We call them chevalier servants here, and no, you would not be given such a title. That implies you are a lover and nothing more. Other rulers before my time, here, in other kingdoms prided themselves on the number of servants they collected, but I am not like that. If you became my husband, should we agree that is something we both want, that is all you would be - my husband.”
Looking down at her, Cavalon's brow wrinkled slightly. “This is the kingdom of Braemar. Kingdom.”
“And now it is a queendom.”
“You can't just change the rules.”
“Why not?” She stepped back from him, a playful smile on her lips. “Why be Queen, High Queen at that, if I cannot change the rules?”
Cavalon couldn't help himself and shook his head to try to hide his smirk. “When I was a kid the very idea of a woman leading a kingdom was almost heresy. It was a man with the crown and that was it, and if you entertained ideas that it could or should be otherwise there was a high price to pay. It still is that way.”
“While the rest of the world has grown and moved on, the Sandlands have clung stubbornly to their old ways of thinking. Though they do not worship the Great Dragon, they believe men should rule and women should remain silent and in the shadows as is indicated in the ancient scriptures. I have always been more of follower of the new covenant, one that would allow a woman to be more than an afterthought. We were created to be equal even in our differences, not to be simple, submissive, and subservient.” Nuala shook her head. “Besides, you are no mere mortal, Cavalon. You are the Elemental of Light. In your own right you rule all of your kin.”
“We don't,” Cavalon argued gently. “It took me a very, very long time to accept that and to remember all the things my mother taught me about what I would become. We exist to serve, not mortals, not Gaels, not ourselves, no one but the Great Dragon - the Giver. We are His.”
“His chosen.” She nodded. “What I am trying to tell you is that you worry too much. Were I to choose a peasant from Caedia or an elf from Mirasean there would be mutterings without a doubt, even if I chose from among my own countrymen, were they not Volarim.”
Cavalon chuckled. “I like how you compare a peasant with the elves.”
Nuala's smile hinted at regret. “The Volarim and the elves work together when necessity calls, but their expressed independence has been trying on relations. When one is told they are simply not needed there is little desire to sustain a working relationship, let alone a friendship.”
“You don't have to explain yourself to me. I have my own opinions of the elves and not just because I don't like Tasarin.”
Tilting her head, Nuala looked up at Cavalon with question. “I always suspected your dislike for him was because you had feelings for Lu
ella.”
“I was friends with her father for many years and, because we were opposite Elements, we were closer than brothers. Luella is almost like a daughter to me.”
“I see.”
“It can happen, though. Has happened. You have such a deep bond with your opposite Element that, when opposites are male and female, your feelings for one another can become complicated. You spend so much time with your opposite that the love you feel for your kindred and your friend can easily turn into something more...confusing.” Nuala nodded and looked down, tracing a finger over the wood grain of her balcony banister. Sensing a shift in her demeanor, Cavalon took her chin in his hand and made her look at him. “This is not the same thing.”
“Isn't it? Cavalon, you have been here for nearly an entire year and we have spent a great deal of time together.”
“And then I left for almost four weeks. Are you telling me that my leaving made you realize your feelings for me weren't as legitimate as they seemed? I mean, I never actually gave you the chance to tell me whether or not you felt the same way I do.”
“Of course I do. I...I do love you, as hard as that is for me to admit. I feel as though I am betraying Noé somehow, but your leaving only made me understand just how strong my feelings for you are.”
“I understand that guilt all too well, believe me. The thing is, you are alive. I'm alive. Cutting ourselves off from ever getting close to anyone again is not the way to remember and honor the loves we have lost before. It only makes us lonely and bitter. Nuala, if anything this time apart made me realize how much you mean to me.” He paused, taking her small hands in his. “I was always afraid of this moment.”
“What moment?”
“The one where I realized there was another person alive I couldn't live without.”
