by Paris Hansch
Scarlet hesitated for a moment before nodding and running off.
She returned a little while later with an armful of books that almost covered her face. When she splayed them out on the bed, Adelia frowned. It was a rather strange array she’d picked. There was The Lonely Princess, one of her favorite children’s stories, but there was also Elorian Cuisine: The Sweet Secrets, as well as Alchemic Discoveries of the New Ages by Master Sabir—the greatest inventor to have ever lived. There was even one of her notebooks in which she practiced dragon script, among other irrelevant texts. Then, it dawned on her. It was the same awkwardness that she had felt from Jane.
“Scarlet, can you read?”
Scarlet shook her head, her cheeks slightly flushed. “The matron thought to teach us how to do chores, instead.”
Adelia smiled. “Then, I guess that’s step one.” She began writing a list of repeated symbols in the common tongue. At least she could handle writing if she concentrated. “This is the common alphabet…”
They continued for a while, drowning out the stress of the war preparations. The more she concentrated on teaching Scarlet, the less other people’s anxiety affected her. Scarlet seemed to relax around her, too, though she wasn’t exactly a fast learner, and Adelia could feel the girl’s frustration mounting. Eventually, she threw up her hands.
“I can’t do it anymore,” Scarlet huffed. “There’s just no point.”
“Reading and writing is a vital skill—”
“I know that, but I won’t be around long enough for it to matter.”
Adelia gave her a strange look. “You’re only young, Scarlet. There’s plenty of time to learn. Take it slow.”
She shook her head. “You don’t understand. I’m not a normal kid, and I never have been. People who are different don’t have a lot of time, just like Ivory.” Scarlet sighed.
Adelia put a hand on hers. “Ivory?”
“She and Blue were my best friends. Ivory suffered from something… something no one could fix. They left two years ago to search for a cure and never returned. She didn’t have a lot of time left.”
Adelia sensed the sorrow buried in Scarlet’s heart. Scarlet had been alone for a long time, just like herself. And it certainly hadn’t done her any good. If she could help it, she wouldn’t let Scarlet grow up to be like her.
“Everyone’s different, you know.” Adelia glanced at her still legs. “Sometimes, we mistake that to mean that we aren’t capable, worthy or important. What happened to your friend is unfortunate, but there’s no guarantee it’s going to happen to you.” She smiled. “The important thing is, you’re here now, and you have the choice to act. You might get nowhere, but if you don’t try, there’ll be no chance.”
Scarlet looked up at her, her hands clasped in her lap. “I’m the spirit of fire… and that’s not a fate I can escape. There are things I don’t have a choice about.”
Adelia knew that she was right. She slipped into her spirit sight, taking a mere moment to concentrate; it was as natural as breathing now. Scarlet’s spirit was a burning orange, almost impossible to look at directly. It was almost as though it lay dormant—a brightness that had far from reached its full potential. Adelia glanced at the others within the infirmary. Including herself, their spirits were all an ethereal violet—the mark of a human. There was no hint of humanity within Scarlet at all.
Wait.
There was a tiny flicker within her, deeply intertwined with the fire spirit. Just the barest of hints—enough for Scarlet to be Scarlet.
“You might not be able to choose the hand you’ve been dealt or even the things that happen,” said Adelia. “But you can choose what you do about it.”
Scarlet gave a tired smile. “Maybe.”
Adelia took a breath, pulling her close and nestling with her amongst the books. “Come on, tell me all about your friends. Where did you all get such funny names?”
Scarlet leaned on her shoulder. “Well, actually, if you didn’t have a name, the other kids kind of gave you one, but not in a nice way. I was Red, of course.” She twirled her hair. “They bullied Ivory about her white hair, so that’s what she was called.” She propped her head on her arm. “But Blue saw something more.”
“So, Blue gave you both new names?”
Scarlet nodded. “Blue said we deserved names that made us feel beautiful.” She sighed, gazing off into the distance. Then, a smile crossed her face as a memory came to the surface. “And then, there was that time we all played a joke on Penelope…”
They talked and giggled for what seemed like hours. It was only as Scarlet began to drift off in her arms that Adelia realized that she hadn’t even thought about their situation for a while.
“You’ll always have a home here,” she whispered.
Adelia sighed, staring at her legs. They didn’t move, despite her earnest concentration. At least she was less nauseous and could move her arms more freely now, but they could hardly support her entire body weight. Before all of this, she could have at least been helping Cynric and the others gather supplies. But now, there was nothing she could do.
What use was she? Frustrated tears pricked at her eyes. It wasn’t fair. Hanabi could still walk, could still do her job. All she had wanted was to help people, but the cost had been too dear. Her brother would surely be more protective now. Dragons, if she couldn’t even relieve herself alone anymore. At that thought, Adelia repressed the urge. It was humiliating. She was weak, defenseless and pathetic—just like everyone had always wanted a Lady of Anadrieth to be. Even worse, she would never again have the chance to see the ocean.
You’re stronger than you know.
Mina’s words echoed in her mind, and she brushed them off immediately. The princess couldn’t possibly know what she was going through right now, and she clearly didn’t care. She regretted making that blood oath. There had been real power behind it, and she didn’t know what had come over her. She didn’t blame her brother for not following suit. It was foolish and impulsive, and Mina had deserted them at the last moment. What could be more important than this?
Adelia squeezed her eyes shut, then snapped them open, forcing those thoughts from her mind. Despite everything, Mina had still been her closest friend. There must have been a good reason behind her actions, even if she didn’t understand it.
You’re stronger than you know.
Adelia gritted her teeth. She wasn’t strong, not physically. But there was one thing she could do. Adelia struggled to pull her book out from her pouch and somehow managed to heave it onto her lap. Tucked inside was the little gift that had been left on her table. She assumed Mina had sent the letter, but she couldn’t understand why she’d only written her initial, but right now, it didn’t matter. The information inside was far more important.
Adelia scanned her notes, flipping to the page where the section was torn out. She still couldn’t decipher much more, only that it was under the heading forbidden. There was a symbol that referred to self, then the one next to it meant an action or feeling involving oneself.
She clicked her tongue. There had to be something she could do to figure out what the rest of it said. All her other notes were back in her room, so she’d have to rely on her memory.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t as difficult as she’d thought it would be to remember what she’d already translated. There seemed to be a slight connection between her and the words now, as though they made a little more sense. But there were no clues in the new pages she’d been gifted. It was entirely in dragon script, and if anything, the handwriting was more scribbled than it had been before. As though it had been written frantically… or in anger.
Adelia let out a frustrated sigh. If Mina had wanted her to read it, she should have left a note about how.
Scarlet stirred, yawning. “What’s wrong?” she murmured.
“It’s nothing,” said Adelia. It looked like whatever was in her book would be trapped behind years of research that they didn’t have. She would h
ave to get to the capital and get her hands on the imperial temple’s library, but of course, that would be impossible now.
“What…” Scarlet blinked at the book on her lap. She scrambled upright, leaning closer and flipping through the pages.
“Be careful,” snapped Adelia, pulling it from her grip. “This isn’t something you can practice reading.”
“No, wait.” Scarlet grabbed another book, thumbing through it and looking at the common language. “Definitely not. Let me see that again,” she said earnestly.
Adelia hesitated, but there was a curious desperation coming from the girl. She opened the front cover.
Scarlet stared at it for a while, squinting.
“Property… of Marie Bellemore—for Bellemore eyes only,” she said slowly.
Adelia stared at her. Even she hadn’t been able to read that part, and she’d been trying for dragon knows how long. Could it be?
“Try this sentence.” She flipped forward to a place where she knew she had the translation right.
“Priestesses are the… steward of all living beings.” Scarlet frowned. “What’s a steward?”
Adelia couldn’t believe it. Her heart beat loudly, her hands trembling with excitement.
“How is this possible?”
Scarlet shook her head. “It’s like, I’ve never seen those symbols before. They’re unfamiliar, just like the other books, but the meaning is imprinted in my mind. This has to be the same language Mina spoke to me… the language of the spirits.”
Adelia’s mind was reeling. Of course, it made sense. The dragon gods’ original purpose was to control the balance of nature, after all, and since Scarlet was a part of that nature, her spirit must be able to innately recognize her original language. She quickly placed the extra pages in front of her.
“Please… it’s so important that I know what this, what all of this, says.”
Scarlet paused and nodded. “I’ll give it my best shot.” She squinted at the words. “Winter, Year 1970 of the Fey Dynasty. That’s almost four hundred years ago, right?”
“Yes.” She was too eager to know more, but she forced herself to calm down. “Please, continue.”
Scarlet sounded out the words, reading so slowly that it was almost painful, and Adelia scribbled down the translation as she went. After a few minutes, she had finally begun to unlock the secrets that had eluded her for so long.
I write this to preserve the records of our existence and knowledge, for it will soon disappear from the people’s memories. As the only daughter of Celia Bellemore, the Head Priestess of Anadrieth, it is my solemn duty. My name is Marie Bellemore, and I am the last priestess standing.
23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Anton
Anton tightened the straps of his leather armor, shifted the sword on his waist and wrapped his cloak around his shoulders, fastening the pin. They would be riding out shortly, and he would be at the front with his brother. He caught a glance of himself in his mirror and paused. He wore the clothes of his status, but he looked nothing like a lord or even a soldier. His face held a heavy exhaustion, and he felt hollow.
His brother had wanted him to cut his hair a little so that he wouldn’t be hindered on the battlefield, but it wouldn’t have mattered if he did. His fingers brushed over the scar that was covered by his hair. His left eye was marred by a faint milky white that clouded the piercing blue. He’d gotten used to it over time, so much so that it didn’t bother him anymore, but he’d never truly get his full sight back in that eye. Elaine kept her mouth shut, though, as he’d asked.
He shook his head. He couldn’t linger here any longer. He’d already said goodbye to Doll, but there was still one more thing he needed to do before he rode out. Anton closed his door, setting a brisk pace. He didn’t know if he’d be welcome, but there was a very good chance that he’d never return to Anadrieth again.
His chest felt heavy and fluttery at the same time. Ever since that awful Hanabi had used her powers on him, everything was coming in more vividly. He was acutely aware of his inner thoughts and the subtle shift in his chest as his heart beat a little faster. And he knew that this might be their last chance to talk; he would regret it if he didn’t take it. Anton took a deep breath and opened the infirmary door.
“Adelia.”
His little sister glanced up at the sound of his voice. With the late afternoon light streaming across her bed, she looked as radiant as ever, if not more so. The little redhead was curled up with her, and they were both engrossed in a book. He almost didn’t want to disturb them, but he approached anyway.
“It’s almost time,” he said.
“Oh.” Adelia glanced behind him, her eyes searching the doorway.
Anton shook his head. “It’s just me. He’s… not coming.” Adelia looked at the sheets, and Anton cleared his throat. “I’ll be at the front. His orders.”
“I see,” she said. She was attempting to hide her dejection, but he could see it as plain as day. They gazed at each other for a long moment. There was nothing to say, not after all this time.
“I…” he faltered. “Keep each other safe.”
Adelia gave him a small smile. “Good luck.”
Anton’s fingertips tentatively touched her hand. “It’ll be all right,” he whispered. He pulled away quickly and left the room, their touch leaving a burning imprint on his skin. He paused outside the infirmary and swallowed, taking a deep breath. He would hold his head high, at the very least.
The soldiers were stood in rows outside, ready to march. Their people crowded the grounds and spilled out into the streets, making a path for them. Anton joined his brother at the front and mounted his horse. When Alexander gave the order to move out, they began their slow trek from the castle grounds.
All was silent, save for the sound of the horse’s hooves echoing on the stone. They’d be forced to travel in the dark in order to meet the Lanadese on the battlefield in time, and that could lead to casualties by itself. The villagers held out flowers and handkerchiefs, wishing them luck, but the solemn atmosphere was suffocating. A child wailed in the distance before being hushed by their mother. It was as if everyone seemed to know that this would be their final march. Anton gripped the reins and averted his eyes. He couldn’t handle watching everyone else’s sorrow, too.
“For Anadrieth!”
A voice cried out at the top of her lungs, and Anton whirled around, along with everyone else. Adelia was leaning out of the window, whistling and cheering. The corners of his mouth tugged up slightly. It was just like her to make a scene. Her cries resonated throughout the streets, and soon, the villagers joined in, their cheers escalating.
“For Lord Alexander!”
“You can do it!”
“We’ll be victorious!”
“Protect our home!”
“Anadrieth’s finest heroes!”
“Dinner will be waiting!”
The soldiers returned their cheers, raising their fists in the air. Anton stole a glance at Alexander. Neither of them joined in, but he could tell that his brother was secretly comforted by the show of support. As Alexander raised his sword in the air, the crowd cheered louder. The soldiers spurred their horses forward, picking up the pace as they cut through the city streets. Their people’s cries slowly faded off into the distance, and they headed into the Celestine Forest.
Anton gripped the reins, doing his best to breathe through his mouth. His horse’s feathery mane almost seemed to envelop the horse itself, but their rushed exit left no time to tend to something so insignificant. Still, he had to conserve his energy, and it was better than walking, like some of the other soldiers had to do.
He sneezed twice. They weren’t the delicate kind of sneezes, either. A few people turned to stare at him, and Anton kept his chin held high and his back as straight as a board. Luckily, by this time, it was already getting dark. He almost thought that he was using his spirit sight again, until he realized that the hundreds of litt
le lights that floated in the air were actual lanterns, trailing behind them in a long line. Anton turned his head slightly, watching the men whisper out of the corner of his eye.
“This is real war, ain’t it?”
“I wish it weren’t. You ever killed anyone?”
“What do you think? I can barely use my wife’s kitchen knife.”
They were right to be scared, even the ones that had been in battle before. He didn’t have much confidence himself, either. He swallowed with difficulty, his throat dry. A man yelped in front of him, and Anton’s horse stumbled, sliding a little in the snow before regaining its balance.
He clutched his chest, breathing out. There was a little slope behind them with a few invisible roots sticking out of the ground. Maybe he should have been paying more attention instead of focusing on his nerves.
“My ankle…” the other man moaned.
Another soldier supported him, calling for aid. Anton sighed. This was ridiculous. Most of the preparations had been taken care of, but they were still left with a dangerous trek through the dark forest. Another cry called out in the distance. At this rate, they were going to lose half of their army before they’d even gotten there.
His mind began to wander, and he wondered where the princess was now. Was she reclining in her palace? Perhaps she was with the prince. Did she even know that they were marching to their death?
Remember, I’m your friend.
He still couldn’t figure out what she had meant by that. If there was anyone who didn’t have a single friend, it was him.
“Thinking?” said a voice beside him. He didn’t have to look to know that it was Cynric. He sat so much taller in the saddle compared to him.
Anton met his eyes. If even the young lord felt betrayed by the princess’ abandonment, he couldn’t imagine what her imperial guard must have been feeling.
“Why are you still here?” he asked.
Cynric gestured at the man who tripped. “Injury.”
