From Silver and Chaos

Arrival

Chapter Fifteen : Arrival

I would never admit it Mahon, but the Ainthoch estate was a pleasant place to stay. Unlike Adotlan or Dratlan, the halls were always balmy and warm, heated by a hidden Magin magic that Fyr gushed over with Naira. The food was delicious, but I found it heavy for my stomach and often could only stomach half a plate before I felt too full and sluggish.

The mornings after our arrival were spent in relative calm. I walked the paths along the fields in the morning, with the mist rolling across the long grass and the growing light glimmering off the golden coats of beautiful horses. I pulled tiny windows into the Abyss in my free-time, and they grew by inches as I practised everyday.

Fyr and Naira Ainthoch got on brilliantly and Fyr swore that if Naira had been gifted with magic in her blood at birth, she would have made a brilliant Magin.

I woke that morning the same, sneaking out of Mahon's room before the servants roused at dawn to begin preparations for the day. I made not a sound, slipping back into my rooms before the workers crept through the halls, cleaning below and waiting for the bells to ring as the house roused.

No meetings at dawn. No training soldiers with clashing swords to listen to at breakfast. No crises to deal with before noon. It was nice. Safe. I liked it. I drank a dark, earthy tea as I stood at the steps of the house and stared across the fields. I walked a stable-hand lead a young colt out to the field and once free from his clutches, the colt launched across the field with the world.

The world felt quiet. Calm.

I could imagine a life like this. Not living in a stately home, but a life where the mornings were calm. There wasn't murder and destruction before breakfast. I smiled against the rim of my cup, content flooding through me at the thought that I could be happy after the Insurgent was gone. I had been consumed with action, with solving the problems that the Insurgent left in his wake all while drowning under my own loss and pain.

I tried to shelve the feeling. The guilt it brought was sharp and swift, even though deep down I knew I deserved to be happy. Or at least, that's what I told myself.

The click of a cane sounded behind me. "Seeker Birchwood."

I turned, hiding a grimace. "Lord Ainthoch."

"Hmph." Royce Ainthoch didn't look happy. Though I had never seen him look happy – only when speaking with his wife. "My father always believed that titles were important. That the idea of propriety should be observed at all times. My brother believes the same."

"Do you?" I asked.

"It is considered proper." Royce walked up beside me, shifting his weight to the cane. His wince was subtle. "But it is hard to feel like your home is your home when no one will use your name. It took my wife years to feel comfortable breaking the habit in front of our servants, but... I wanted my children to be comfortable in this house."

"Lord Ainthoch seems comfortable."

"I have heard you call him Regan." Royce cut me a sideways look, those dark eyes sharp and assessing. It felt like I was being taken apart with one look – like he was a man with Zentin abilities. "And my son appears to trust you."

"He has been a great ally to the Legion." When he shifted again, settling his leg awkwardly, I asked. "Do you mind if I ask what happened to your leg?"

He glanced down at it. "Oh. A bad accident when I was a ...younger man. It was after my children grew and after Regan could shoulder the responsibility of this role so I am glad for that. I've heard rumours that you have your own injury?"