by V. S. Holmes
She walked slowly back to her room, trembling hands hidden in her skirts. The sound of her retching echoed against the tile of her privy room. She heaved again and again, wondering if she was sick enough everything she had become would fade, all the monstrous things in her mind would disappear. Perhaps Alea would return if she could rid herself of enough. Stomach empty, she lay on the floor, cheek to the cold flagging. It was impossible. There was nothing left of Alea inside her now, only cold and dark.
Chapter FOURTEEN
The 42nd Day of Aeme, 1252
The City of Ceir Athrolan
ALEA’S EYES WERE OPEN, but unseeing. Power filled her, but she did not use it. She reached deep into the earth to touch the massive icy pools within the bedrock. It was a way to center herself when insecurity threatened. Consequently, the exercise had become a daily ritual. Knocking cut through her concentration and her power faltered.
After the third knock, she sighed. “Who is it?”
“Daymir, Dhoah’ Lyne’alea.”
Darkness retreated from her skin and she smoothed her hair. When she pulled the door open it was with a smile.
Daymir’s own smile faded when he met your eyes. “Are you all right? Your voice sounded odd.”
She gestured for him to sit. “I was practicing my power.”
“Hence the glowing eyes?”
She glanced in the mirror. Power still lit her irises. “Forgive me, I know it’s unnerving.” Sitting across from him, she changed the subject. “I see you have once again timed your visit to coincide with my midday meal. Shall I call for our food and be done with the pretenses?”
Daymir’s smile curled ruefully. “That would be appreciated.”
When she had ordered their meals she returned to her seat with a quiet sigh. “Our talks are a welcome diversion from dark thoughts.”
“I feel the same. I train with the men, but knowing our skills will be needed soon darkens the fun.” He tilted his head at her curiously. “You’ll ride to battle again?”
It seemed so obvious she almost wondered if he was joking. “Yes.”
“We were incredulous that you went to Shadow. I think only respect kept many from calling it foolish, begging your pardon.”
“It was foolish.” She was surprised by the embarrassment heating her neck. “I knew little about my power and vulnerability.”
Daymir smiled. “I’m glad when you lead us next it’ll be with the strength of your peoples’ teaching behind you.”
She looked down, frowning. Whatever her answer would be, it was stopped as their meals arrived.
Daymir apparently had seen, however, and after a few moments he asked gently, “Why did you frown when I spoke of them?”
“We disagree on several point, one being my power and how I should wield it. I can only hope they see my wisdom and aid me in the battle against the gods.”
Daymir tilted his head. “Are you worried you can’t do it alone?”
She looked down at her food, chewing thoughtfully. “No, but I went into every battle thus far with allies at my back. I would hope the most dangerous of all would be no different.”
“Have you made any more headway with your studies?”
“I believe I have. Your notes about the source of their power helped a great deal.” She could feel his senses sharpen each time she mentioned how much power she actually had.
“Yes, I thought that would be useful. Their magic can be destroyed along with their souls—though how you could do such a thing, on such a scale, I would rather not think about.”
She smiled. “Understandable. I promise you, though, it will be done.” She sat back, allowing their plates to be cleared and replaced with tea.
Daymir stared at her a moment, and she stared back, wondering at the dance of allies, nobles and friends. “I have an offer for you.” His voice was lower than usual, and his features serious. “The reason I called on you today, actually.”
Alea wondered suddenly if the abrupt tone was due to nerves. She had never seen him nervous. She poured them tea then made herself comfortable, waiting.
When they were both settled, he cleared his throat. “Your brother is acting king—an ally, no less. Your father is a crowned king. This makes you Mirik’s princess.”
She had not thought of herself as such. In the face of her other roles it seemed trivial. “I suppose, yes.” His words hurtled toward the territory Bren warned against.
“Once this war is over, what were your plans?” He twirled his cup in his hands, almost splashing tea onto the burgundy brocade of his tunic.
“I hadn’t thought on it. My energy is better spent preparing so there is an after.”
Daymir took the gentle, yet pointed rebuke in stride with a smile. “And we will all be glad for it, I’m certain. I had a suggestion for you to think over. I stand to inherit Athrolan. With your political power, and obvious wisdom and level head, we would make a good match. It would be a position of wealth, for your comforts and the challenge of ruling for you mind. And,” his voice lowered with well-concealed nerves, “I hope the acceptable companionship of myself.”
Alea stared at him for several moments, speechless. “Are you proposing marriage to me?”
Daymir shifted. “I am.”
She rose abruptly and went to the window, staring out. She felt his eyes bore into her back. She wished she was alone, so she could pace and worry the way she did on nights she couldn’t sleep. Instead she stared unseeing down at the gardens. Marriage. Two years ago it had been something she needed to survive. She had been ready to start that life. Daymir posed an equally political and pleasant match, but something had changed. Her mind laughed at the idea now. I’m not a young girl in need of protection. I am the Destroyer of Gods, the Creator of Worlds. On the tail of those thoughts came another that she pushed aside. She knew who was the best match for her now. She straightened, still looking out the window. “What do you see when you look at me?”
“Excuse me?”
“What do you see?” She turned, letting only a fraction of the darkness inside her show. “When you sit there, on my couch, staring at me, what do you see?”
“I see our ally, I see Dhoah’ Lyne’alea.” He frowned.
She looked away. “You are so used to getting your way—not because you were spoiled, for I don’t believe you were. You work for everything you have, with your mind and your money that you forgot sometimes other people work harder. You are mighty, Daymir, but my mind is darker than yours and my money far less and this makes me mightier than you. You are so used to getting your way that you only see what you want.”
“What am I supposed to see?”
“Your aunt made a stupid mistake.”
“Her Majesty is not stupid.”
“No, but she is scared, Daymir. So very scared of her kingdom falling to ruin, of her people dying. A worthy fear, to be sure. But fear is dangerous, because it makes us desperate and desperation leads to stupidity.” She did not move, save for her lips. Her eyes bored into the reflection of his, but even bounced off glass her expression was terrifying. “She believed me when I told her I would raise Athrolan, when I told her I would save her kingdom from falling. She believed I would even restore the Laen to power. So scared was she that she allowed a monster into her city. And you can’t even see it.”
His eyes were bright when she finally turned back, and cold slipped into her heart. He was afraid, certainly, for fear of her was an instinct, like fear of a storm.
But some men enjoy the sound of thunder, despite the fear. “Ah. Here I am trying to make you understand my power, hoping you’ll stop your pursuit, when really, all I’m doing is making you more curious.”
“You can think on it, if you wish. Like I said, after the war.”
“Lord Daymir, I appreciate the sentiment, and the kindness with which it is offered. You would make a fine companion. I think, though, your offer shows a misunderstanding.” She stepped over to where he sat and leaned forward, placing
her hand on his. “I am not lost in this dangerous world. Perhaps I was, when I first arrived, but no longer. You forget I am not a human, and will not sit on a human throne. I cannot bear you heirs. I neither need nor seek political power. After this, all I seek is peace.”
Daymir’s lips tightened. “Do you seek it in the heart of Arrowlash?” The words were not cruel, but his tone was tense.
She winced. “Arrowlash is my ally and guard. Our relationship is no more than that. It is also none of your concern.”
Daymir rose abruptly. “Forgive me for imposing on you, Dhoah’ Lyne’alea. Good day.” He bowed to her and showed himself out. The click of the door closing broke the tentative surface of Alea’s emotions and she dropped her face into her hands. That very well could have been the last proposal I ever receive. The last chance at the life of a woman. She curled onto the couch, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and wept. What chance did I ever really have of marrying and growing old beside a kind man? What wife would Creation and Destruction make? She mourned that life, but a deeper part mourned the girl she once was.
A gentle knock interrupted her thoughts and when she ignored it a second, more persistent one sounded. “Sistermine, it’s me. I saw Lord Daymir leave. His face...did you two argue?”
She collected herself then padded to her door. Bren was turning to leave when she opened it. His gaze ran over her tear-stained cheeks and swept her into a tight embrace. He stepped inside, arms still around her, and nudged the door closed with his foot.
“Toar, what happened?” His arms tightened around her and she felt her tears wet his shirt breast. “Did he hurt you?”
She shook her head quickly, pulling away and drying her eyes. “He asked me to marry him.”
Bren’s brows shot up and he pulled her onto the couch beside him. “Judging by his face, you declined.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Is that tea still hot? I think we could both use a cup.”
A tiny, real smile bloomed on her face while he poured her a cup. The world was at war and former Lieutenant Barrackborn’s greatest concern was his sister’s tears. “He was kind and thoughtful and gave me every reason to agree.”
“I wondered if he’d propose and if you’d actually agree. I thought he’d ask after the battle, though.” He shook his head.
“He offered to let me think about it until then. I can’t imagine that life. Am I wrong? What other offers will I have, Bren? I know I’ll never be a mother, but I had hoped to be loved. Am I selfish for wanting it all?”
Bren put down his tea and wrapped an arm around her again. “Alea, where are these thoughts coming from? I didn’t know you wanted any of this. You could still have children.”
“No, my body is not meant for it. I thought it was a curse, but now I think it is the combination of human and Laen blood.”
“What do you mean?” The confusion on his open, angular face was almost comical.
“I don’t bleed. Other women bleed with the cycles of the moon, twice a month. I never have.” She shrugged. “I made my peace with it a while ago, but I still pictured my old age beside another.”
“Oh.” Bren sat back. “Why are you suddenly afraid of never?”
She sniffed, steadying her breath. “Perhaps, as a soldier, you made peace with mortality years ago. When my home was attacked I saw death—truly saw it—for the first time. Death surrounded me at Fort Shadow in the infirmary tents. With Arman I reversed it even. Somehow, I never realized that even if the world has an after, some people may not. For them, their world ended with this war.” She sighed. “Am I making any sense?”
His soft laugh rumbled through her shoulder. “A bit. Seeing death is one thing. Understanding that it can happen to anyone is another. Understanding it can happen to you? Some people never realize that.” He rested his chin on her head. “When did you start thinking this way?”
“It was gradual. Part of it came from Arman and Shadow. Seeing death so inglorious, without the rush and fear of danger. Part of it came from studying in Le’yan. As frustrating as my time there was, I learned a lot from the texts they had. I read about the splitting of the world. It is no wonder why they fear me.” She sat up and took a few calming sips of her tea. “I’m sorry. It occurred to me that Lynelle sacrificed herself to split the worlds. It’s easier to break than to mend.” She was quiet for a moment. “What if I have to do the same to bind them?”
Bren pulled away further to look her full in the face. “You’re my only sister and I love you, dammit, and you’re not going to die.”
She smiled again, broader. “Bren, you’re babbling. I love you, too. It’s not death that bothers me, mostly. I worry I’ll leave things undone. Unsaid.”
Bren gripped her hand. “I promise you’ll get through this. We all will.” He pulled her over and rested her head on his shoulder again.
She let him hold her, her tears drying, the sudden emotions retreating back into her chest. There was another, darker fear that she did not share. She was afraid of herself.
Φ
The 43rd Day of Aeme, 1252
The City of Ceir Athrolan
Alea woke late in the morning, blinking at the bright light streaming in the window. She stretched and the day before rushed to the fore of her memory. She groaned and lay back down. My focus is waning. She winced and tossed off her covers. It was late and she should plan for the battles ahead. A soft knock interrupted her perusal of her wardrobe.
Giire smiled as she stepped in at Alea’s bidding. “Good morning, Dhoah’, I knocked earlier, but you seemed still abed. I brought you some tea and a message from Master Rulhan of the smithy as well.” She handed Alea an envelope before pouring a cup of tea.
Alea opened the message hurriedly. “Please inform Master Rulhan he can deliver my armor here. Also, I think a bath would do me good.” She paused. “Could you have a note delivered to Lord Daymir?”
Giire curtsied. “Of course. I’ll draw up your water.” She glanced back at Alea for a moment. “Begging pardon, but you had armor ordered?”
Alea began to undress. “For the battle.”
Giire looked down. “You’re so mild-mannered, I forget you are a warrior.” She stepped into the privy to prepare the bath.
Alea frowned. Is that what I am? She wrote a quick note to Daymir then hurried into the bathroom with a happy sigh. Warrior or not, the luxury of a hot bath will never be lost on me. As she sank into the water, she thought back to Vielrona. The darkness in her heart then had been a different color, perhaps, but she recognized the signs of the same isolation and depression. What took me out of that mood, then?
Giire hummed softly as she worked the tangles from Alea’s hair.
Alea suddenly grinned. “Giire, do you often go into the city proper?”
“A few nights, yes. There is dancing and music, not to mention handsome faces.” Her hands were gentle.
Alea stepped into the towel that the girl held out, enjoying the rough fabric on her skin. Her mind twisted back to the small purse locked in her desk. “Giire, I have a bit of coin. If I wrote you a list, might you get me a few things?” When she nodded, Alea moved to her desk, drying her hair as she went.
Giire read over the short list Alea handed her a moment later, brows knitting. “Dhoah’, why do you want a wig?”
Alea sat on her bed. “Giire, you may have noticed I’m unhappy. It’s been a very long time since I laughed and danced and listened to music. I’d like to go out into the city, and I’d like to just be a woman for a night.”
Giire’s eyes lit up. “I know just the place!”
Φ
The 43rd Day of Aeme, 1252
Tinkling rang through the manor, signaling a message and Daymir pushed away his paperwork. His conversation with Alea the day before left him irritable and in no mood to speak with anyone, even through parchment. Currow brought the envelope up a moment later.
“My lord, Her Majesty wishes to see you before you take supper. And a letter is here from Dhoah’ Lyne�
�alea.”
Daymir took the envelope with a frown. “Thank you, Master Currow.” He opened it as his steward exited.
Lord Daymir,
I wanted to apologize for the way our conversation ended. Your offer brought up thoughts and fears that have plagued my mind for some time now, and I cannot face them until after the battle. In another time or place I would be happy to consider marriage and I am honored you thought of me. I hope this will not greatly affect our friendship, for I value it, and would be sad to see it fade.
When, and if, you are ready to speak again, you know where to find me.
Yours,
Dhoah’ Lyne’alea.
He wanted to reply, but his ill humor would help little. He brought Alea’s letter to his study and called for his summer cloak. Even as a child, he had met with his aunt in the evenings for private, casual conversations. It was through these, he was certain, that his interest in politics arose. As gentle as she was, his aunt was a smart woman and knew her post well. Daymir waited as he was announced, then stepped into the anteroom. His manor house was larger than the royal suite, but the finery here was unrivaled. The anteroom led into a large receiving room that adjoined a study, beyond which was the queen’s sleeping and dressing quarters. They normally took tea in the more intimate study, but this evening, Tzatia waited for him in the receiving room. Here the decorations were the formal colors of Athrolan, as opposed to the queen’s favored lavender. She stared out the window. He could not see her face, but her back was stiff.
“Evening, aunt. Shall I order tea, or do you wish to take supper together?”
“Lord Daymir, I am your queen and your should address me as such.” Many would have thought the tremble in her voice was anger. Daymir knew better. It was fear.
“What is it?” He ignored her request for formality. “Who has upset you?”
She turned and he saw, regardless of fear, her face was livid. “You, Daymir!” she faltered. He reached to steady her, but she backed away. “You think you can swindle and pinch and I won’t notice? You may be Treasurer, but goodness, I am Queen!”
