Heir of Fire and Ice

Six days to go...

When Elentiya woke, golden light was shining through the curtains, Xenia's bed made, the occupant long gone. She was... not tired. At least, she was, in a good way, but fatigue no longer weighed down on her. Glancing at the clock from Melisande, she realised with a start that it was eleven a.m. She had never slept through breakfast before, not in Antica. Never slept this late. She must have been really exhausted, and considering that she had before used the full extent of her healing magic and not been so tired, that was saying something.

She rose, dressing in a sunset pink dress she had bought last week. She decided, if she was not permitted to revise or heal, that she would visit the khagan. She knew she probably should have gone sooner, but hadn't actually wanted to. It was odd, she supposed, that she was so willing to go now, but there wasn't really anything else she wanted to do. 

Walking through Antica in her silk pink embroidered slippers, it was odd. Everything else was the same, but with her hair pinned up instead of down around her shoulders, the dress swishing around her legs, she felt different. Not out of place, but not belonging. The gates of the palace loomed ahead, but she was let in easily enough. Fools. She may not be carrying any weapons, but should know that she herself was a weapon. What her ears meant she could do. Maybe it would, admittedly, be impolite to not allow the heir to the throne of Terassen in, but should at least be more careful. Send someone with her. She saw them marking her, but it was ridiculous when she could move fast enough to be less than a blur to their eyes. Maybe it was pointless to send someone with her. Anyway, she wasn't planning anything.

She strode into the throne room, head high, and bowed, holding for three breaths. Then rose.

"Hello," She said in Halfa, "I am Princess Elentiya Whitethorn Galathynius of Terassen. Though I have no doubt you already know that." She was aware that she had become a different person. Still Elentiya, still her, but a different part of her. Perhaps the part of her that was going to be queen. 
"Aelin was surprised you didn't come sooner." She hadn't expectes a formal greeting. Nesryn and Sartaq had only visoted once, but it had been enough to realise that the relationship between them was not formal. Or that Nesryn was anything other than direct.
"I apologize for that. I have been busy in the Torre." Formal. "Though, I also wanted to meet the legendary Kadara, if I may." Sartaq's eyes sparkled. They had a mutual love of flying, and Elentiya had asked so many questions about the ruk...
"Perhaps, if you would be so kind as to attend dinner tonight, I could find time. The Khagan was known for his hate of formality and meetings. Which, of course, he had many to attend. He was notorious for finding excuses to miss them.
"In fact, I'm sure no one will mind if I slip away now."
"By that he means 'Nesryn can do everything for me'", Nesryn cut in, but laughed. "Fine! Go!"

Elentiya glanced a little nervously at the ruk below her. Sartaq had given her the honour of riding a ruk. On her own. She had stared in disbelief as he explained that she was used to flying. Stared and stared. Then laughed, thinking it a joke. But he was serious. Worst. Idea. Ever. But she'd never get another chance. So here she was.
"Urge her forward, like you would a horse. When you get to the edge, she'll know what to do. She can fly, something people sometimes forget. You can ask her where to go, but don't try to fly for her. Now go!" She took a deep breath, urging the ruk forward towards the edge. Gods - she wanted to stop, but the ruk continued on and jumped and. And then they dropped, the ruk's wings tucked in. She screamed, of elation. Of the total and utter freedom. The wings shot out. And then they were soaring, and there was calm. They were untouchable from the world below. She looked back for Sartaq, but realised with a start that he was back at the tower in the palace. She couldn't be bothered to feel fear of being alone for much longer. Anyway, she wasn't alone. She should've asked the ruk's name. It seemed wrong to define her by her species. She knew how much it could hurt. But up here there was no need for words. She was free.