Old Relations

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Late spring, Alistair camps outside Leif's castle, so Rozenn and her people- and Clementine and hers- gather up their supplies and walk Clementine's snowy road to Wiceliwen. Patrick's suspicions are confirmed when she tells her people to gather their things. They're leaving Chourmondeley behind. So, Patrick gathers his things- his sword, two seashells, some sand dollars, a green string, one fancy pair of clothes, one dingy pair, a storybook, and a handmade bow.

Before they leave, he finally gives Lena the feather he got for her. He tucks it behind her ear and makes her a new crown of flowers. He kisses her cold cheek once and tries not to look back (but he cries and cries and cries).

Outside the Zara and Zephyrin Towers, Leif's army is set up facing a rugged band of soldiers, trading insults. The red tents scattered along the hills betray Alistair's position in the hills.

This is it, Patrick thinks, slinging his bag off his shoulder and setting it down on the bedroll.

Rozenn's direwolves stalk the camp, lurking behind every corner and sniffing every nook and cranny. The one with the yellow eyes and chipped ear follows her everywhere she goes, silent. Rozenn's hair is pulled back, a bow slung over her shoulder. She watches the tree line, scouring the field for Alistair, but he doesn't show his face.

A shadow looms over Patrick's shoulder and he glances over, surprised to see Jaide. She smiles at him and drops to the floor gracefully, sitting criss-cross. Befitting the weather, but not battle, her arms are sleeveless, tattoos bared to the world. Parick follows the curling script of one in a language he can't read.

"Hey," Patrick greets, hoping he doesn't come off as confused as he is.

"I'm sorry about Lena," Jaide says.

Patrick tenses, nods. He'd rather not talk about her- not with Aodhan, especially not with William, definitely not with Jaide, either.

Jaide purses her lips, eyes darting to the side, then leans in as if she's about to say something secretive. "Alistair's going to lose," she says. "He doesn't have enough men, so you don't have to worry about that."

"I wasn't," Patrick answers, searching her face for answers he won't find. "There's not even any dragons here."

It's not a complete lie. He's not worried, more perturbed by the prospect of meeting an old acquaintance. He doubts Jaide is all that worried. Maybe she's trying for small talk?

"Uh, is something wrong?"

Jaide shrugs, says in an unaffected manner, "Lena was like your sister, wasn't she?"

Patrick swallows. "Yes. She was."

"Mine asked me to dinner."

"Really? What changed?"

"I don't know. Maybe she got sentimental."

"Are you going to go?"

"I don't know."

A pause, then: "Why are you telling me this?"

Jaide shrugs again. "Who else am I going to tell?"

"Um, did you want an opinion?"

"Sure."

"You should go."

Jaide looks at him levelly, nods once then clears her throat and stands. She hovers there for the flutter of a heartbeat, says to him, "Thanks, Patrick. Don't die."

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