by Paris Hansch
“Ban!” A figure yelled across the grounds. They weren’t happy.
Ban stood up straight. “That’s my cue. Wouldn’t want to keep Father waiting. Don’t worry, one day we’ll fight together again, just you and me.” He jogged off, waving a hand.
Anton pulled his knees to his chest with a sigh. General Barrett hated it when his son spent time with him instead of Alexander.
“The more useful one, he says. Don’t waste your time with the spare.” Anton pursed his lips. The general was right; no one should waste their time on him. Ban must simply feel sorry for him. There was no other reason why he would continuously bother him so. He was always the one with plenty of other friends. Anton gave Doll’s grave a lingering gaze.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can, Mama.”
He got up, trudging back toward the castle. There was nothing for him to attend to, no duties to uphold. The firstborn had the bearion’s share of the inheritance and the responsibilities. At least if he had been born a woman, it wouldn’t seem odd to devote his time to other things, like his sister. Traditionally, he should have been given a position of relative importance, such as the general or a councilor overseeing some area of Anadrieth. But Alexander refused to burden him with anything of the sort. And so, he wandered around the castle like a lonely spirit, not skilled at anything in particular but not a complete dunce, either.
The maids steered clear of him as though they could feel his irritation, and Anton found himself in front of a familiar door. Pure white Calveran stonewood, intricately carved with golden symbols. His sister had gotten it commissioned ages ago, her obsession with the empire rendering her room a cacophony of random artifacts. Or so he remembered; it’d been a long time since he had been in her room. Or since they’d really spoken.
You don’t need her.
Anton shivered as cold fingers wrapped around his neck, the woman’s voice whispering in his ear.
You have me.
She ran her fingertips down the length of his scar.
I know you best.
Anton closed his hand over hers, but he could only feel his face. The woman wasn’t there, of course—just a shadow in his mind. Like a leech, waiting to prey on his innermost thoughts. It had been a little while since she had appeared.
I never left.
Anton shivered, rubbing his arms. Laughter echoed from inside the room, and he took a step back from his sister’s door. That servant girl must be in there now. He shook his head, turning on his heel and stalking in the opposite direction.
Even if it were possible, there was no point in reconciling with his sister, not after eleven years. She wouldn’t know who he was. He didn’t even know anymore. The woman gripped his hand.
But I do… Anton the Brave.
Chapter Three
Adelia
Lady Adelia pulled the Lanadese deerabit blanket around her shoulders with one hand while the other furiously scrawled across the parchment with her quill. Candle wax had long since hardened in small puddles on her table, and pieces of parchment covered every spare surface, including the floor, with strange symbols repeatedly written and crossed out. Mountains of books were piled around her in a small fortress, containing everything from children’s stories and romantic tales to military tactics and the history of the empire.
As she copied the symbols over and over, her understanding of dragon script grew more muddled by the minute. Comprehending the words was one thing, but understanding the sentence structure was proving impossible. It was a dead language spoken only by the dragon gods, after all. Adelia scrunched up the parchment and threw it across the room.
“Dragons,” she cursed. “This is impossible.”
A proper lady must not be prone to outbursts.
She blinked, rubbing her face as the morning sun reflected in her eyes, casting a rainbow of colors through the Lysanthian stained glass windows. Was it already morning? She hadn’t slept at all. She didn’t have time.
Adelia suppressed a yawn and gently brushed the pages of a leather-bound book, admiring the faint crest of a single dragon clutching a book pressed into the strap—a mark she had only seen in reference to the capital’s dragon temple and the only mark bearing one dragon, not two. It was always somewhat comforting to touch, as though she could feel a familiar presence emanating from the pages, and this particular page could greatly assist in their battle efforts, should it come to that.
Adelia jumped at the sudden knock at her door and quickly shut the book. When Mina entered, she let her shoulders relax.
Mina took one look at her and tilted her head in an almost motherly gesture, even though she was younger than Adelia. At least, so they assumed.
“You were up all night again.” Mina’s tone reprimanded her, but her eyes held a spark of humor.
Adelia fiddled with her golden hair, glancing up at the ceiling. “Maybe.”
Mina stepped through the only bare spots on the floor amongst the parchment and began pouring her tea.
“And you’re not dressed, are you?” She nodded her head at Adelia’s blanket.
“You’re one to talk,” said Adelia. Mina’s uniform was practically falling to shreds around her; if it had been anyone else, she would have been absolutely mortified to be found in this state.
A proper lady must always be presentable.
“Come now, we can’t have that.” Adelia stood, taking a sip of the tea. It was completely ice-cold somehow, but she drank it anyway. She ushered her handmaiden over to her closet, rifling through a sea of Elorian gowns as they chatted for several minutes, bursting out in laughter when Mina recounted the earlier tea incident. The look on her brother’s face would have been something indeed. Adelia basked in the warmth of their conversation. Her best friend was always willing to talk to her.
A sudden pang of regret filled her, but it didn’t belong to her. It was like a dark cloud passing through her body, there and gone as quickly as it had arrived. These strange feelings seemed to be getting stronger by the day.
“Adelia?”
Adelia shook herself from the moment.
A proper lady must always be focused.
“Right. As I was saying, I’ve been terribly stuck on this one particular passage,” said Adelia as she did up the clasp on Mina’s dress. “The gist is about the legend of the dragon gods, but there’s something off about it.” It would be interesting to translate, but the real reason she wanted to understand it was because it was next to a page marked forbidden. At least, that’s what she thought it said.
“What legend?”
Adelia frowned, gesturing to the massive tapestry covering her entire back wall. The hanging was intricately weaved in Lysanthian spidion silk, the edges decorated with Elorian oyfish pearls. “What do you mean, what legend? You must know of it. Everyone does.”
They turned toward the tapestry. It depicted the three great dragon gods—Chaos, Destruction and Rebirth—controlling the balance of nature, the four elemental guardians of Earth, Air, Fire and Water. The spirit guardians manifested into the Golem, Pegasus, Phoenix and Sea Serpent, opposing each other from each corner. It was a magnificent centerpiece, the pride and joy of all of her treasures. Although it was only an artist’s interpretation, Adelia kept it dust-free at all times.
A proper lady must always be surrounded by elegant things.
Mina shrugged. “I thought it was just art. If I knew of such a legend, I don’t remember.”
Adelia bit her tongue. Just art. That piece was worth more than a year’s wages in gold, not to mention it depicted their very gods themselves. She let out a breath. Of course, Mina probably wouldn’t remember—it was lucky they even found her alive. How insensitive of her. Every child was taught the legend, though it seemed to be more out of obligation nowadays rather than reverence. A pity.
A proper lady must always know her history, but only voice it when necessary.
As they helped each other dress, Adelia began with the most dramatic storytelling tone s
he could muster.
“Two thousand years ago, at the dawn of time, our lands were filled with nothing but endless war and death, almost wiping out humanity.” She paused for effect, but Mina didn’t react. “Two of the three dragon gods took pity on our plight: Destruction and Rebirth—the two lovers who could never be apart. They crossed from the spirit realm to take on human forms, becoming the progenitors of the Fey family and forging the Empire of the Dragon Gods as we know it today.”
Adelia pointed at the tapestry to the two dragons intertwined, just like they were on the imperial crest. She pulled a brush through Mina’s hair, working out the knots and picking out the bits of straw. “Their divine presence granted the legendary power of the spirit arts to their people in order to protect that newfound peace. The Dragon Goddess of Chaos remained behind to oversee the elemental guardians and guide fallen humans safely across realms. We’ve lived in peace ever since.”
There was a long silence.
“That’s it?” asked Mina, wincing as Adelia yanked out a particularly tough knot. “I’m no scholar, but it seems rather… short?”
“Well, of course, there are more details. I was just giving you the quick version,” Adelia huffed.
“Like?”
Adelia finished pinning a lock of her own hair back with a jeweled hairpin and readjusted her lyrecrane pendant—a moonstone carving of the bird in flight—her precious gift from Mina.
A proper lady must always be as beautiful and delicate as a winter lily.
Adelia opened her mouth, then paused. She had scoured every book there was on their gods, but there wasn’t much more information besides that. The wording hadn’t even changed much over time, as if the same person had written every book.
“I’m… not sure.” It was just their legend, as it always had been.
Mina met her eyes, a look of almost pity crossing her face. “What is written isn’t always the truth.” She glanced at Adelia’s desk. “May I see this book?”
Adelia picked up the book and held it close to her chest. It was heavy, and the worn cover wrapped protectively around its treasure, the front drooping over the rough edges of torn-out pages. She’d searched everywhere for the missing pages but hadn’t had any luck in finding them. After a moment of hesitation, she handed it to Mina, hovering over her shoulder as her friend brushed her thumb over the strap.
“Four hundred years old… I cannot open it,” Mina murmured.
“What do you mean? The strap is quite flimsy. I’m more worried about it falling apart than anything.”
Mina shook her head, handing it back. “It’s not mine to open.”
Adelia furrowed her brows. Mina had always been both straightforward and cryptic at times, but this didn’t even make sense.
“You seem more on edge than usual,” said Mina.
Adelia stiffened.
A proper lady must never show her true emotions.
But Mina can always tell, Adelia retorted inwardly. Truthfully, she didn’t know what was wrong. Perhaps she was just surrounded by everyone else’s stress. But she had to tell Mina something or else she’d never let it go. “I guess I’ve just been worried about my brothers. Alexander’s grown even more distant, and Anton… well, you know.”
Mina gave her a gentle smile. “I’m not the one you should be telling that to.”
Adelia clutched the book, glancing at the floor. “I can’t.”
Mina retrieved the tea tray, placing a hand on her arm. “You’ll find a way; you always do.” Her hand slipped away. “The festival is right around the corner, after all. That should cheer you up. I’d better return to the rest of my duties now. I’ll come by later.”
“Oh, all right.”
Adelia’s gaze lingered at the door as Mina left, the violet finery of her dress flowing away. She’d never liked the color for herself, but the dress perfectly followed the curves of her friend’s figure, and the color brought out her eyes. Though, on second thought, it probably wasn’t the most appropriate thing for a servant to wear. Adelia smiled. It suited her far more than a servant’s rags did, anyway. Mina wouldn’t mind, and if anyone complained, they could answer to her.
Adelia flopped onto her bed, practically engulfed by the mound of soft blankets. What would she do now? The silence in her room was suffocating. She wasn’t tired, and she couldn’t bear to look at one more symbol of dragon script. And now, there was no one to talk to.
A proper lady shouldn’t consort with servants.
She threw her pillow against the wall. “Shut up!”
A proper lady shouldn’t raise her voice.
Adelia clenched her fists. She shouldn’t give a dragon’s claw about what the late Lady Adalynn—her mother—had thought. But she wasn’t wrong, either. Adelia wiped her face and straightened her clothes. It would do no one any good if they saw their lady in such a state. She needed to clear her head.
As she opened her door, she came face to face with another maid, her hand raised to knock. It was just Jane, who covered her momentary shock well. A perfectly presentable maid, several years younger than herself, and never so much as a word out of place.
“Pardon me, Lady Adelia. I was just coming to see if you needed anything.”
Adelia pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Converse with me.”
Her face fell. “It… wouldn’t be my place, milady.”
Adelia tapped her finger on the doorframe. “Forget about place. Just ask me how my day was.”
Jane fiddled with her apron, balling it in her palms. “How was your day… milady?”
“Awful. I’ve been reading the same sentence over and over, and I can’t understand it at all. But I believe the information could help my brother, if he’ll ever listen to me. Do you want to come and take a look?” She gestured inside.
Jane visibly paled, swallowing. “Me?” she squeaked.
Adelia fought not to sigh. She could sense that this wasn’t going to go anywhere. Every maid’s reaction was the same. No one would dare talk to her, and even if they tried, they were too ignorant to manage a decent conversation.
“Never mind. Come with me.” She grabbed Jane’s arm, almost dragging her through the castle. If she couldn’t talk, she could at least be good company. Several servants stared at them but quickly looked away, pretending to be busy. They crossed the center courtyard and under the stone archway, coming to a set of tall, double doors.
Adelia pushed one open, taking a deep breath of the musty air. Tall shelves filled the room as far as the eye could see, with precious books lining every possible inch. She let go of Jane as she wandered down the rows, the narrow windows around the room illuminating the dust in the air. No one was ever in here except for her, and though she appreciated the silence, it was just another place she faced alone.
Adelia headed straight for the back row, sliding the ladder over and plucking two books from the tenth shelf. The books weren’t organized in any logical order, but she knew exactly where to find anything she wanted.
“Milady?”
Adelia climbed down the ladder. “Yes?” She could almost feel Jane’s discomfort, like a prickling sensation on the back of her neck.
Jane glanced around the room. “What can I do for you now, milady?”
Adelia pushed one of the books into her hands and settled herself into a chair. “Read with me.”
Jane awkwardly clutched the book, turning it over.
Adelia waved a hand. “Go on, it’s all right. That’s one of my favorites. The knight in that one braves the terrors of the sea to rescue his princess.” Someone had once said that her eyes looked like the sea, just like Anton’s. Maybe she could see the ocean someday, too. It was supposedly like an endless river, both beautiful and dangerous. Eloria was the only region with direct access to the Sea of Dunite, though not a single person had managed to cross the sea. If only she were allowed to leave, perhaps she could board one of the great ships and sail off to a new land.
Adelia curled her legs up, di
ving into her own book. As she sped through the pages, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander. What about her own story? Was this the part where a handsome young knight came to whisk her away to a new adventure? The stories never talked about what the lady did while she waited—only that she must have a handkerchief to give her knight, and perhaps bestow a kiss on his cheek. Her fingertips brushed against the handkerchief that she kept in her pocket at all times, just in case.
Jane was still standing there, eyes wide, like a foxen who had just realized that it had been spotted. She seemed to be stuck on the first page.
Adelia closed her eyes for a moment. How foolish of her. The poor girl probably couldn’t read, though ‘education was at an all-time high,’ according to Anadrieth’s councilors. Unfortunately, her brother took their word for it as law. Footsteps echoed down the hall, and Adelia stiffened.
Speak of the bastard, and they appear.
Councilor Dallan strode toward them, his shoulders pulled back in a way that made his chest puff out. He was so obnoxiously arrogant; she couldn’t understand why her brother kept him by her side, though at times, they acted exactly the same.
“My lady,” he drawled, holding out his hand.
She didn’t want to, but she couldn’t refuse. Adelia stood, slowly giving him her hand. She struggled not to flinch as his bristles tickled her skin, and he lingered for just a moment too long.
“I thought I would find you here,” Councilor Dallan said.
When he didn’t let go of her, Adelia tugged her hand out of his grasp, subtly wiping it on the back of her dress.
“Did you require something of me, Councilor?”
He smiled, sticking the tip of his tongue out to wet his lips. “Not in particular. I was just passing by. I don’t have much longer to enjoy our little chats, after all.” His gaze noticeably traveled across her figure.
Adelia narrowed her eyes. “A pity. Please do explain.”
Councilor Dallan chuckled. “I’m afraid I cannot, my dear. Some things aren’t mine to tell.”
She let the book slide through her hand, allowing the paper to slice through the skin of her finger.
