These blueberries are delicious. Gods and their Saints I should've stuffed some in my pockets before leaving my solitude. It's quiet there, free from noises that will have my head lighting itself on fire. Sadly enough, I've had to leave the silence because I've run out of food to keep me content, and the kitchen's watched by Jades who have too keen of eyes to not notice a few apples, slices of meat, or bottles of kidzra going missing. Which leaves only one option: Going into the throne room that now has its long tables out and set for everyone to eat at.
I hate the idea, knowing full well that even if my connections to my sisters are currently muted by myself, there's no physically hiding my body walking into the large room. I've noticed how the Jades talk quieter, always tracking my footsteps when I walk into the halls, waiting until I'm out of earshot - a rather accurately long distance considering I don't remember telling them about our enhanced hearing - before continuing on with their reports or gossip.
The second I step foot through the large double doors, it'll be clear, and not because of how I reek of power. Not to mention that only those with fellow magic blood can sniff my scent.
Gods answer my prayer that my sisters won't be in the throne room when I get there.
Speaking of the Gods, it seems they've brought more help to our side. I spot Lance, Darius, and The Bhaltayr walking with a few new faces toward the Glass Tower across the hall. They all mostly look older, a small group not dressed formally enough to be the court, but ruggish enough to be the court's hellhounds. Too bad that they don't send my evil radar wailing, it'd give me a reason to run over and decapitate them all. Then again, I'm pretty sure they'd all be fried chicken if Darius felt anything.
I stop in the shadow of one of the large doors, watching as their group turns around the corner to the hall that will lead them to the Jade's new living slash hiding place. I'll keep the little fact in mind, just in case I need to find an escape route after...this.
I start pacing in the dark, avoiding the rays of sunlight that trickle in from the windows. My sisters are blood, they're laced within my bone and pump through my heart. Their pain is my pain, and their love is my love, even if they do make me want to scream at the top of my lungs and shake them until my fist goes from holding their collar to giving them more than skin bruises.
Branka is here, avoiding her isn't hard when she doesn't leave the Queen's side, but it's the Queen's side in which I'm supposed to be guarding, which makes my life so much harder.
Gods just walk in Ro.
I've walked onto battlefields, fought fights that weren't in our favor and have lived through more loss because of my damn immortal life. You'd think I could walk into a giant ass room, find the food, and then sit down and eat it before disappearing again. Plus, who knows, maybe my sisters aren't in there.
Oh, who am I kidding, I know they're in there. I know that just like I know they're all picking at their plates, stalling time in hopes I'll show. Why give them the satisfaction of waiting? Why give them the conversation they undoubtedly want?
Because they know you're pacing debating the thought.
Which will make it even more satisfying to walk away, I argue with myself.
But heathens I'm so hungry.
I haven't eaten for only one day, I've starved longer.
But you've been standing here smelling the tangs and spice of the food. You should go in.
They hurt you - Branka hurt you - so make them hurt in return.
But they're my sisters, their pain is my pain, and mine is theirs in return. They know I'm hurting maybe their comfort is what I need.
Their comfort is their pity disguised, you know that. You know they'll take her side.
But dammit so would I.
"Fuck," I seethe, and push away both saint and demon off my shoulders and walk into the room.
Food, food, food, food, food - don't think about anything but food. You love food, you want it because your stomach is empty and it's annoying to hear it screeching every other minute. The food is on the east end of the room, a smaller serving than that of which is a normal feasting size for castle staff, but only because most of the stock is being saved for tomorrow. For the court of Vandaria.
Food.
Let's see. Okay, there's meat, grapes, potatoes, bread that's likely slightly stale, some vegetables, and-
Ro
Food! I'm hungry. I grab a plate and start piling stuff up, enough to take back to...food. Three pieces of meat, two scoops of grapes, I think my stomach can manage a potato, and maybe-
Rohana.
Maybe I'll stop by the Glass Tower afterward, see who our new allies are and why we're to trust them. Being in closer proximity could also allow me to dig deeper, and find answers they may not want me to find-
Ro, please-
I slam my plate down on the table, every dish rattling and the grapes bouncing off of my plate and onto the ground. The room empties of noise, but I don't listen. Tanith is strong and persistent, and she can speak words against my mental walls, but she can't get in, not unless I let them down to respond. She's slippery, which only makes me keep them strong and spin around to come face to face with an already scowling Nilsa and the other eight of my sisters.
"Stay out of my head," I tell them.
"Tanith wouldn't have to pry if you would just stop this small rebellion and come back."
"It's not a rebellion, Nilsa-"
"Then what is it?"
I don't answer right away, and take a quick glance around the room before letting my power unfold and freeze time outside of us. "Pain. It's the pain of true betrayal, Nilsa. Betrayal of a person I put everything into and got a huge lie in return that had me - that had all of us - mourning for years. Forgive me if I don't go back to holding her hand and telling her every little bit of my life and its happenings."
"Your Lady One, you're supposed to be leading us and sticking to the Queen's side. It's your blood oath."
"Just because I take a few days to try and deal with the fact that my best friend who died forty years ago, is alive, doesn't mean I'm abandoning the one thing that I know will never betray me."
"Then come back, Ro," Inna begs. "We need you, our Queen needs you, Branka-"
"Finish that sentence, Serephina, continue that pattern, and you'll suddenly find yourself talking to air."
"Threats, Ro, really?"
I turn back to Nilsa, fed up with her pulling her age authority over me. "Branka made it clear that she doesn't need me or any of us. Who am I to deny her her wishes?"
"Stop being a brat. Branka made a mistake, yes-"
"A mistake!" The statement is clearly laughable, and I nearly chuckle at the thought. "I'm pretty sure that if you told her what she did was a mistake, she'd argue otherwise. She knew what she was doing, she knew where it would lead - what it cost us, and what I..."
"She's our sister, Ro, same as you."
"You see, Vanya, the difference between the type of sister I am and the type of sister she is, is that I would've told one of you - likely her - if not all of you about what I found out."
"Would you now?" Mak speculates.
"Yes, I would've. I trust each and every one of you enough to know that if I needed to fake my death, you all would ensure that the secret was kept. That you'd take it to your own graves. Branka left us," I add slowly when Nilsa opens her mouth again. "Have I ever left you? And yet you stand by her side because I can't handle this piercing pain at the fact that all I want to do is forgive her, but how do I forgive someone who stabbed me in the back when they were the last person I ever thought would pick up the knife?"
"Rohana-"
"I'm not mad Nilsa," I interrupt, forcing my nails into my palm to keep me from crying again. "I could never be mad at one of you, even Branka, but that doesn't mean I'm going to smile when I'm near her, nor am I going to be able to promise that there won't be tension. If she wants to apologize, fine, but words don't fix what she did to me, nor will they ever. You all have been good at knowing when to keep away from me because one wrong word, one wrong move, and I'll be doing something we'll both regret. Do that now. Let me figure it out, and stop breathing down my neck because I'm not cracking jokes with the rest of you."
"We care, Ro. That's why we're here," Kathika confesses.
"This is childish, Rohana. Really," Nilsa starts, pulling the big sister's voice out of her pocket.
"Childish?" I ask. "Is that what we're calling a backstabbing, betrayal of trust, and keeping your closest friends in the dark, now?"
"You need to come back. We're not asking that you forgive and forget, but we need you. Today. Now."
"You know what is childish? The fact that you guys don't trust that I'd come back. You know I planned to - tonight, after eating and sleeping off this headache and then checking in on Darius to make sure that he's not at the bottom of another bottle before walking to the Healer's Tower. It's funny. My trust, it seems, only runs one way."
"Ro-"
"Get back to the Mater, and don't leave her with little protection like this again. Don't wait up either, my decision to return is unquestioned, but remains to be unseen - and don't try and tell me otherwise, Nilsa. Despite the sting of your questions I trust you all to be fine without me for a little longer. I'm sure the time between then will be plenty for you to think about just how much I'm the last person you should be accusing of harming you physically, mentally, or by bone or soul."
They call my name as I turn around and grab my plate, but I let time return down its path before misting into my room. My plate's just clinking down onto another table as I open Darius's box and let three more drops of my blood drip onto the stone before it pulses. With the totem working, I drop to the ground, my eyes already blurred and cheeks wet.
Time and time again it's been proven that life is unrelenting in its trials. My first trial was losing my family, my second a heart wrenching thing - quite literally - that I'll never speak of, the third learning to live without them, then losing Cleménce and her sister afterward, the forty years of mourning and remembering, finding Dawn and upholding her promise, Xaxias, the awakening of the elementals...and now this. A test of trust. My test is to find if my trust in others will hold when theirs seems to be eating away. The funny thing is, I already know that no matter what they do my loyalty and trust will hold. I already know that every time I see them I'll instantly forgive them. That I'll hurt afterward because deep down their words and actions hurt in ways I'll never portray. For forty-two years I've learned to keep secrets, to mask my feelings, and keep them so that they wouldn't hurt anyone else. Despite my profession, despite my dirty hands, I don't like hurting people.
Of course, those who deserve it deserve it, but those who are closest to me...their pain is my pain, yes, but I'll die before I let them feel my own before I let them see how much I hurt, and how much of it I've hidden. It's not a lot, but it's enough.
*****
I wake up on the floor, eyes crusted and cheeks stiff from dried tears. The headache's gone at least, though I have to pull a strand of hair out of my mouth and wipe off the drool on my arm. I don't remember falling asleep, only that I was thinking and crying when I suddenly did. I didn't even dream, just swept into cold darkness.
My plate is still untouched on the table behind me, Darius's totem open and clearly working. As much as I'm mad that my sisters thought I'd be at the bottom of another bottle, it's as I said. I forgive them every time and then hold a grudge before forgiving them again. I'll go back sometime tonight, but I need to go see Darius and Lance and their new friends before anything else.
And yes, I'll be stalling.
First thing on the list: take a bath.
I don't bother with warm water and start scrubbing in the freezing cold. My body protests the temperature, but it wakes me up and clears my head. I was smart enough to grab a change of clothes yesterday from a room downstairs, and I slip on the tight pants that are actually meant to be loose but seemed to have been used by a skinny stick. Then a looser shirt before slipping on my weapons, jacket, boots, and coat.
Time to make an entrance.
As much as I would love to mist into the room and scare a few crones, it's probably not my best idea. So instead I mist into the halls of the Glass Tower, only scaring a few Jades at their posts. I honestly, did not, whatsoever, memorize Blaise, Julyan, and Reynald's shifts. I just got lucky.
"Where are they?" I ask no one in particular.
"I'd threaten to hang a bell around your neck," Blaise says. "But something tells me that even those would fail to tell us when you decide to pop in."
"You'd be correct."
"Downstairs in Arthur's room. A little heads-up, they're all prone to throwing a knife. Or two," Reynald warns.
"Oh, good. A little excitement." I leave them to their small talk and mist into the hallway below me.
Darius likely knew the moment I misted above, likely knows I'm here now, and plan to walk in. If he's not sending wind to push me away, nor keeping a barrier up - which I really should look into training him in - then I'll be fine. That or he wants to see how I'll react to a few flying blades.
My hands twitch at the ready.
I throw open the door, though not hard enough to make it smack against the wall. I prepare to dodge a few knives but none come, so I take in the room and its exits, its fillings, and the people. Darius, Lance, The Bhaltayr, the Jade they call Rykiel who has a twin, and now seven newbies who all range in age but are all still clearly spry. Three boys, and four girls, all cleaned from their earlier scruffed appearances. I glance them over once, though it gives me more than one would normally think a glance to, and then walk to the fruit bowl between Henry and Alex.
"Shouldn't you be elsewhere?" Henry attempts to scold me, crossing his arms as I pick up an apple. The fruit is in short stock during the season, and I do love my apples.
"Aww, I thought you'd be happier to see me," I say sarcastically.
"Pardon us if we're in the middle of something and prefer you be doing your blood-sworn job."
"I am doing my job. As we speak my ten sisters and Siscilla are watching my mater."
"You keep saying that," Alex says, cutting off a slowly angering Henry. "Mater, Pater...what does it mean?"
"Uh...well, in Thralia, we don't usually call our rulers King and Queen, we call them the Mater Natura and the Pater Princeps. Mother Nature and Highest King, though the direct translation for Pater Princeps is Father High."
"Suitable," Mal mutters under his breath. Bernard beside him throws his hand over his mouth, the others trying not to laugh. I'll admit the translation is rather mixed up in their order, but it is what it is. Sorry, Darius.
"Highest King? Couldn't you have come up with something a little more...more?"
I turn back to Henry, crossing my arms and stepping close to him. His friends stiffen, Lance turning around fully in his spot on the couch while Darius just sits back, not looking over at all.
"You would have the Thralian title that's been used for centuries, changed because it's not to your liking? The liking of a man with not a single drop of Thralia blood, nor loyalty to any of its people aside from its King, a friend?"
"One would think that's the only loyalty that matters," he argues, stepping closer. "And it wouldn't hurt to rename him Father Flame or something."
"Ha! Pater Flamma? That's hysterical, and it sounds like a dessert - and believe me, the people of Thralia would rather suffer at the hands of Xaxias than to see their land's traditions swept away by a doltish, scrupulous, mutt of a-"
"Rohana." I hear the calm warning in Darius's voice and instantly back down, though I don't literally step back. My shut lips make Henry's own lips smirk smugly, and I want to cut them off.
"That's it?" We all look to the lady with silky silver hair, dark skin, sharp cheekbones, and a resting scolding face. "He says nothing but your name and you stop the name-calling the boy clearly deserves? He insulted your religion, your beliefs, and the beliefs and ways of you and your people. Cute as he may be, he was being an asshole, in a manner of speaking."
"Máirín," Lance seethes.
"You speak of our ways," I say, giving Henry one last death glare before walking to the couch and sitting between Darius and Lance to join the conversation. "Of respecting them, do you know them?"
"We don't," she admits unashamedly.
"How far have you gotten into catching them up?" I ask Lance.
"We got to the part where my sister nearly caused a tsunami. I talk fast, and it's easy to get through the whole storyline when you know which details are important, and which won't do any damage after having to tell it several times already," he adds when I glanced at the clock.
"Why didn't you just call Tanith?"
"The mind reader?" One of the men points out. Pale-skinned, dark hair with grey roots, green eyes, tall, broad-shouldered, and bearing a thick accent. An interesting man...
"We didn't think they'd want their minds probed," Garrison states.
"Tanith would never do anything she hasn't been ordered to do. If any of you had any objections-" I explain to the seven men and women sitting in chairs across from me "-I'm sure Darius would unquestionably adhere to your wishes and ask that Tanith not go anywhere near your minds."
"Ask? Why does that claim sound a lot like an order?" the pale-skinned, ice-blue eyes, dark-haired, and clearly related to the man beside her, asks.
"I'm sure you know by now that I'm Rohana, Lady One of the Ginerva, blood-sworn to guard and protect Thralian's land, its people, and above all, its rulers. Along with that, we took vows, kept in line by blood oaths, to do anything and everything for the elemental rulers. There's a whole document that my sisters and I have memorized and can recite, should you ever wish to hear it. But in short, per your questions, the blood oaths we took keep us from ever, in any way, shape, or form, disobeying any clearly given or implicated order given to us either directly from the Mater or the Pater, or passed through a highly ranked, pureblood Thralian, appointed with such a duty to do so.
"In other words, if Darius or Clarice order a - what you call - a Lord or Lady, to relay their order to us, we must also obey it. All Lords and Ladies of Thralia take similar vows, shorter and lesser in numbers, as well as open to more leniency so that the court has the right to take actions without the interference of the elemental's wishes and needs. We don't rule as you do here."
"That's clear enough," Al mutters.
"So you holding your tongue is because of a vow you spoke? Nothing more, nothing less?"
"No, Máirín," Lance answers. "As Jades we take our own blood oaths, dropping our own blood upon the codex my father wrote. As the Ginerva, their blood oaths run deeper."
"He speaks the truth," I continue to their suspicious looks. "If Darius ordered me to slit your throats and throw your bodies out the window, I couldn't object. My body would move on its own, grab a blade on my person, and slit your throats quicker than you could think. My power would freeze each of your time to eliminate the issue of you fighting back, and should any of the not blood-sworn men in this room try and stop it, my power would reach for them next.
"If I did try and fight against the order, I'd soon find myself on the ground dying. Of course, the moment I hit the ground my sisters would be in this room the next second, and Darius could just repeat the order to them, and their powers and their skills would carry it out. The moment we take our vows, we lose a choice and put the trust in our elemental rulers to never give such orders."
"But you would do it if they did?" The third man asks, his voice clearly deeming him the eldest in the group.
"We would. Darius may have only stated my name moments ago, but there was a clear order in it, so I obeyed."
"Why make such a decision to give up your free will?" the third, and youngest, woman wonders.
"This world is full of many evils, some of which yearn to dethrone the most powerful people they can think of. In such a world, those powerful people need other people they can trust and count on to never betray them. Taking the oath eliminates the worry of whether that loyalty will stand. Along with the vow to never disobey an order, there's the vow to never divulge any information regarding our duties, personal information of both the members of the Ginerva and myself, as well as the elementals and anyone else they deem fit for the secrecy. If you were enemies of ours, I wouldn't have been able to say a single word to you about this."
"So now you simply trust us?"
I don't trust anyone. Not anymore, I think.
"No, but I trust him," I say, nodding to Darius beside me. "And if he hasn't turned your lungs to raisins and your body to ash, then I suppose you're worth keeping around. The only question is, why? You're all Jade Assassins, Arthur's purposeful implication stated that clearly enough, but you haven't been in the House of Jade nor this castle before this, so why are you showing up now?"
"They're the founders of the House of Jade, Rohana, a little respect would be nice."
"Sorry, Henry, I didn't realize I was asking you," I retort, turning around to face him.
"You never specified who you were asking, therefore the question was open for anyone to answer, brat."
"You like picking on me. Either that or you're afraid that my sisters and I are the only ones who can do the job you can't."
"No, no," Máirín interludes, stopping Darius's next order. "We've been sitting here for hours with no excitement, a little break wouldn't hurt."
I wait for Darius to give the order anyways, but he doesn't, instead, he gives me a warning look that's pretty much an order to not go too far. I can already feel the oath settling on my tongue. Still, I have enough freedom to play Henry's jealousy game.
"Why do you hate me, Henry?"
"I never said I hated you."
"And yet you've done nothing but give me spiteful looks and had a clear enough demeanor every time you see me."
"I don't hate you," he restates slightly slower this time.
"Then what? Do you envy me and my power? Envy my life span? Or is it my pretty looks?"
"You may define your face as pretty in Thralia, but here in Vandaria, we label it as macabre."
"So then I'm exactly your type then. Sorry to say that I'm not into green-eyed snakes."
"Don't be sorry, I'm not into old crones. They're...wrinkly."
"You claim not to hate me, and yet you don't hesitate to insult me."
"Habits are hard to break."
"Throwing insults is a habit?"
"It's become one to people who like to throw words."
"Wow. You finally speak words that make sense." His jaw works itself, and that silent order calms my upcoming retorts into something more submissive. "But seriously, what's your issue with me?"
"Why do you care so much? Does it bother you that someone finally doesn't like you?"
"Plenty of people hate me, a good number of them want to kill me."
"So why care so much for my dislike for you?"
"I don't." He pulls back, standing up straight from having unconsciously leaned toward me.
I smile at the victory, a small game I've played for decades in getting people to admit their secrets without saying them. All I needed was a hook and positioning my body at just the right angle for both him and myself. I needed to watch Darius's reaction, and he's been shifting slightly, trying to keep his guts from spilling out.
I smirk openly. "Deep breathes, pater, it should be easing now." Darius meets my eyes, his understanding of my little scheme becoming clear enough. I almost laugh at how wide his eyes go.
"No more games, Rohana - that's not an order, but I'm sure you can make it a promise," he sighs, taking another deep breath as his stomach settles.
Jokingly, I hold up my right hand and vow, "I promise, pater. Besides, I know everything I need to. Well, almost everything," I say, turning back to the seven sins. Ooh. I like that. The Seven Sins. "I believe you never answered my question. Why are you here?"
"Why do you think?" Máirín challenges.
They're the first mentors from the House of Jade, Rohana. Be nice." I ignore Henry and focus on Máirín.
"Are you asking because you want me to guess? Or are you asking that I take what I've already absorbed, list them, face facts, and make my conclusions so that you can see just how good and reliable I am to be guarding Clarice?"
The woman shrugs, an indifferent expression holding her face in place. "You're one-hundred and thirty-two years old, let's see what the time has bought you."
"Very well." I scoot to the edge of the couch, putting my elbows on my knees as I give them all one last look over. I don't take too long, knowing that they'll think I needed more time than I've already had since I've walked in. Plus, the looks were just more for show than anything, my mind's been running since I saw them in the halls, of course, aside from when I was crying and fell asleep, but after that was full of theories put to question when I came here.
"I'll start with you," I say to the youngest woman to my right. "You're the youngest here, and I didn't get that from your appearance, though it does help. Your main characteristics such as age don't matter, none of you will be impressed by that, so let's make this interesting, shall we? Since I've walked in you've been tracking me like a hawk, only mothers do that when their child is nearby, but you've borne no children. I'll get to how I know that right now. You've all sat down in your chairs in this order on purpose. You, for example, chose the chair closest to Arthur, which means you're deeply connected to him and have a motherly protective need over him. Just for the record, I've been told nothing of you, and Tanith hasn't touched a single one of your minds. I'd know if she had.
"Back to you, darling, there's only one person who Dawn would've ever trusted to continue raising her children aside from Aldred. Mary Veronica Shrantz. I know it's you because, for the few times I've brought up Clarice, your jaw has shifted. You've been told her story, you know where she is, and you're angered that my sisters and I won't let you anywhere near her due to her memory loss.
"The narrowing of your pupil just confirmed that, and yes, I can see that from all the way over here. Secondly, despite your younger age, you're the original here. Aside from your name, I've known nothing of you before this point. Anyways, Lance here is your kin, of a sort, and yes, I did just use his true name, everyone in here knows it and I'll explain how they do momentarily. You, Mary, know it because you've kept it for a long time. How do I know that? Well, it's as I said, you're the first out of the seven first mentors at the House of Jade, which means that you were somehow connected to Aldred and Dawn before any one of them joined.
"Considering the fact Lance grew up in the House of Jade, which marks the beginning of its construction roughly twenty-one years ago, and the fact I earlier pointed out about Dawn intrusting her children's life to you, means that you've known him since he was a babe, perhaps you were even there for his birth. Thank you, Lance, for proving my point right by stiffening your shoulders. Relax, I'm not here to harm her, and I'm the last person to do so."
He glares, but settled back against the couch anyways.
"You're also the person who called the other mentors in. Seeing as you're the honorary mother of the Mater and Princeps, I'd highly doubt that you'd ever willingly leave their sides in such a time when they needed you the most. Which means that there's a reason we, nor the Rheasydia children, have seen your face in the House of Jade nor the castle grounds since the Elysian Ball, and just now return. You've been gathering forces.
"Now, onto why this brown-haired, green-eyed, tanned skin, rather skinny, five-foot-ten man who chose to sit next to you. He's smiling because he's cocky, and also because he thinks he can portray a front I know to be false. This entire time I've been here, he's silent as the night. He shifts in his seat closer to you, Mary, and creates no sound to prove that he did so. One would think both he and the chair were not there, but I've been paying extra attention to him because of it. But why shift towards you and not the frail man on his right? Now the men beside and behind me think it's because you two are lovers, if not lovers then soon to be lovers. They're wrong, though that's the front you both want to give. You want your enemies to make the wrong assumptions.
"Truth is, you're siblings. You have no physical similarities, as your parents were of two races and each of you got different characteristics. Not to mention that you, sir, have a rather horrible aging face, so people would only naturally think your age to be years over what it is. Of course, you turned that to your advantage and have since altered your appearance to fit that of one's assumption, but it's easy enough to smell the only a few days old grey dyes in your hair and to spot the small pieces of flexible plastic you put over your eyes to change your eye color from brown to green. I noticed because I've used such eye color alterations and know that they give off a certain glare that's not natural in certain lighting.
"So you're brother and sister. Two down, five to go.
"Now you, kind sir, are the oldest here. You have no cane but your leg bothers you. No, you haven't rubbed it, but you've had it stretched out this entire time while your other leg has flexed, extended, and bounced. Such movements would normally be present in both legs, but you have an old injury you don't like to acknowledge, likely because of its memory. So you shut it out, only shutting it out only allows it to be found by eyes who look for such things. My eyes.
"It's been my experience that it's the fighters - the true warriors - who refuse to let an injury stop them. I would know, my sister Nilsa is our champion, and for good reasons. I'm sure you'll love to see it. That gleam in your eyes at my claim proves I'm right. You like a good fight, you like fighters who can't be beaten. Aside from your not-so-secret passion, there's more, but we'll come back to that."
He hurmphs to the two I've already - and only partially outed, seaming impressed so far.
"Now here's where my fun starts," I say to the two interesting male and female who sit directly in front of me. "With you two clearly related scums. Unlike those two over there, you don't hide your familial relationship, though you're not brother and sister, your cousins. You have similarities, but they're not definite like siblings have. The only explanation is that your parents are siblings and you each gained their features. Though you may not hide your relationship, you hide your nationality. You have accents and have dressed and made yourself look as if you've originated from Kaweth, but you're actually from Avyana in the eastern continent. Your accents are spot on, except that you both have difficulties not rolling your r's. You've gotten better over the years, and only a slight slip now gives it away, so small and so quick that people likely dismiss it for whatever reason. That, or they don't listen for it. I listen to everything. It's my job.
"You haven't changed your appearances too deeply, as Kaweth and Avyana have roots from the same ancestors. Thralia has a deep collection of history, and as you can imagine, I've had not much more to do in my decades. Your clothing is the biggest thing you both rely on. You could've honestly fooled me, but again, the accent tipped me off, and that's when I noticed that, unlike Kaweth's people, you bare no inked marks on the inside of your fingers to represent your families. Instead, you honor them by intertwining different colored strings - each color coordinating with a specific family member - with your hair. You've shortened the strings and kept them intertwined to the very back of your head beneath the rest of your hair so people don't notice.
"It's why you, boy cousin, have long hair. Sure, it adds to the deception of your nationality as Kaweth since the men of the heritage keep their hair at shoulder length, but I suggest using darker colored strings than the bright ones you currently have. Now, forgive me ma'am, but I'm going to skip you only for a few seconds and move on to Máirín." I say to the eldest woman who wasn't walking with their group earlier. "I save the best for last.
"Máirín is also connected to the Rheasydia's - though not as deeply as Mary. Like the eldest man, she's a fighter, though he prefers fists, whereas she prefers blades. Smaller ones, to be exact. Aside from that, you have secrets of your own. I've only seen Aldred in passing, but I know what connection runs in both you and the woman beside you, and just how it connects you deeper into the Rheasydia children's life. Of course, your last name isn't Rheasydia, neither of yours is. That fact's clear enough, as I'm sure that Lance or his sister would've caved to their curiosity and gone looking for such people like yourselves. So what precautions could you have taken?"
The woman finally lets a reaction slip by. It's nothing more than a glance at Lance beside me, but it confirms that my current theory is true.
"Well, there's the last name change, of course, but also the hiding. You, Máirín, hid in plain sight. I'm a person of magical blood, I can feel magic when it's near, and I know a practiced healer's work when I see it - or rather, feel it. You had a healer completely change your facial structure, or at least, what they could. I sense that most of the healer's work was done on your jawline and cheekbones, and you wear no plastic in your eyes because you have no need for it when you take eye drops to keep them blue. Eye drops that you likely get from whatever healer did their work on you in the first place. You, ma'am," I say, turning back to the older woman. "Have no physical need to change, as it was your husbands features your children inherited, or at least the children that we know of.
"Question here, is, should I tell the well-kept truth? Or do you wish to spill the beans?" I pause, taking the moment to take a bite of my apple to get my dry mouth watering again. They should be the ones to speak, but they won't do it. They both have fear in their eyes, fear of what someone in the room will do when they hear it.
Still, I let the questioning silence go on until I've satisfyingly eaten half my apple before sitting back against the couch so that they have direct eyesight of the man beside me.
"Máirín and this woman are daughter and mother. Despite the dark coloring of her mother's skin, Máirín carries her father's lighter skin color. People are so messed up these days that they would never for a second think the two related, even if Máirín here did have her original face."
"That's the big secret?" Mary's brother asks.
"No. The big secret is that Máirín has a brother, likely more siblings along with it, but it's this brother that's the shocking truth. Máirín, here, is a sister to Aldred Rheasydia and an aunt to both Lance and Clarice. The woman beside her is the mother to Máirín and Aldred, and grandmother to Lance and Clarice. It's why they're here. Their family is in need of them, and they can hide no longer."
Everyone's gaping, their heads swiveling between Lance and his hidden family. I can't necessarily tell if Lance is gaping himself, but his eyes are wide and glossing, so I'd make an assumption that he is. No one says a word, the only sound filling the silence is my intense crunch of consuming the rest of my apple. Come to think of it, I probably should've finished that plate of food I had before coming here. My stomach's going to start rumbling if it doesn't get anything else after this apple.
I finish it, but no one is still speaking up. I'm somewhere between yelling at Máirín and her mother for not scrambling to explain themselves, and continuing on with my revelations because it satisfies me to keep seeing everyone react to the unknowing of the people before us. Not even drinking brings me this much bliss.
I wait a few more seconds before wiping my sticky hands on my pants and speaking again. "I'll just continue on then-"
"I don't think now's a good time, Rohana," Garrison whispers.
"Well unless you want to be a part of a very private conversation..." He doesn't answer, and I look to Darius and wait for his nod before really continuing.
"We'll start back over here with Mary," I say, sitting back on the edge of the couch to once again block Lance's view of his family, that way he can look away and think. "You're trained as the rest of the Jades are, nothing too special of a skill set, though you do thrive in gossip and rumors, just like your brother. As I stated earlier, he's silent as a ghost, which means he's a fantastic spy and likes to play with his shadows. The elder man is a hand-to-hand combat specialist who has never lost a fight, though he considers his leg to be a curse, not a loss. The boy cousin is a torturer. Out of everyone here he has the steadiest hands, that which could only belong to two types of people. An artist, or a trained torturer. His girl cousin is a warrior, one who is especially skilled with those twin scims she's been trying to slyly position herself to draw from behind her chair.
"The grandmother is a healer, you can smell the tonics, elixirs, and any other healing scent on her, not to mention find their contents beneath her fingernails. Máirín is a knife thrower, likely the one who taught her niece and nephew if I've read the situation correctly.
"I pointed out earlier that Mary left Lance and Clarice to go find forces, but there is no army nearby, no navy in the sea nor any other kind of large force, only you seven. None of you have magical blood, only skillsets that differ and yet work in tandem, so I'm left to question why it is you seven that are so important. It's an easy enough answer to find. Henry called you the first mentors of the House of Jade, which means that everything the Jades know and train to use, you all have, in a way, taught those skills. You're not here to give us an army, you're to train and arm it.
"The Jades need no training, but the castle guards, Vandaria's army, and the Devil's Pride Fleet could surely use whatever it is you can gift them before death comes. So you'll train them all. You're here to prepare us for the fight, but there's another reason, you, girl cousin, are here. Those scims are designed to look like ordinary steel, but I can smell the difference. They're Glycian Steel, the strongest metal in Ker, forged by a very small group of people who only know how to create weapons from the rare metal due to passed down knowledge. The knowledge that was and never has been written, but passed down generation by generation. That small group of people is well hidden and they, along with their steel, have been nothing more than legends for centuries.
"You hold rare and long-lost weaponry that could very well aid us greatly in the war to come, and you know where to get it. You know who to go to in order to mass-produce such things, which is why Mary knew exactly who else to bring. Your cousin. Legends are passed down through tales told around fires, each time it's told it changes, and soon the true legend is lost, but Thralia writes everything down, keeps it edged in stone, and into the very earth of the island.
"Legend states, that those who know how to properly form and wield the formidable metal, must first learn on their own how to do so. The metal is slippery and sharp, cruel, and unrelenting in its defiance to be used. The metal, in a way, is alive when it's raw, and only when it accepts its forger will it allow itself to harden and become a single thing. The Glycian Carvers, the people who forge the metal, are said to have scars all along their hands because of how many times the metal will resist and cut them. Legend also states that those said scars can never heal because of how toxic the metal can be when it's raw, and though it's not poisonous, it does hurt like a bitch. So. Am I wrong?"
"No," the girl cousin answers, her arms already crossed.
"Good, then I can move on."
"There's more?" Ethan groans, looking like he could fall to the ground and take a fat nap.
"All seven mentors know the true names of the Rheasydia children. Mary, as well as Máirín and her mother, are clear enough as to their reasons how, and Mary told her brother in confidence. The elder man knows likely from direct information from Aldred, and the cousins know because they wanted something in exchange for their aid and weaponry knowledge. Of course, names weren't enough, so they asked for more. What? I don't know, but they likely spent it all during their years of hiding. Lastly, Rykiel knows their names because he's a shadow trained by Mary's ghost of a brother, and as such, he likes to snoop in the shadows and hear things."
"Rykiel?"
"He was in the corner behind his old master when I walked in. Then he snuck around and shut the door that I left open." Everyone turns to the door, now closed, and Mary's brother smiles proudly. "He was sticking to the corner behind Benny and Amel earlier, but now he's standing directly behind Winston-"
"You have got to be fucking kidding me." I smile as Winston starts scolding Rykiel, Ozzie, and Alister joining in because they got spooked as well.
"You ruined my fun," Rykiel says to me as he walks to stand by Lance.
"The first and last time I shall do so, I swear." I hold up my right hand to seal the vow. He gives me a bemused look. "Now that we're all done here, I say we all leave and get the much-needed rest before day one of training."
"But we've yet to finish getting caught up on what's happened since the rescue of Clarice," Mary points out.
"Tanith can get that done in seconds rather than an hour if you're all up for it."
"It's not as bad as it sounds," Darius adds gently.
"You'll have all the knowledge you seek, and then some," I promise, giving a very pointed glance to Lance who's still not listening to our conversation since I dropped the familial bomb on him. Both Máirín and her mother are watching him carefully, their silent plea enough of a signal for the rest of us to bounce.
The cousins stand up first, then Mary and her brother who helps the elder man stand. Darius follows, the Bhaltary not hesitating to file out into the halls first. Everyone follows, and I make sure Rykiel does too before standing and placing a hopefully comforting hand on Lance's shoulder.
"I'll send Katarina up when I see her next." And with that, I leave, not bothering to give Máirín a warning glare when she knows the threat's there.
I close the door behind me quietly and then mist to the front of the group and purposefully cause Malen to quickly shuffle out of the way before he rams into my back. I let him keep walking, smiling at the glare he throws over his shoulder. Once Darius catches up to me, I match his pace and walk by his side.
"How'd you know that they were his family? Really?" He asks me.
"The grandmother's necklace," I concede. "It's a simple chain that carries two small stones. Birthstones, each with a letter attached to it. One of them had an 'A' beneath it, and one glance to Máirín's neck and I found its matching pair. Of course, the letter could belong to a hundred names, but they both kept glancing at Arthur, so it was really easy to put two and two together."
"The necklaces represent Arthur and Clarice?" Vlad asks from Darius's other shoulder.
"No. The 'A' stood for Aldred."
"What was the other letter?"
"An 'O,' likely belonging to a sibling of Aldred and Máirín's that also passed."
"Lance called Máirín, Aunt Máirín before you even mentioned it, so why was he so surprised?" Alister asks, slowing his pace to join the conversation.
"He was likely oblivious to the truth of the title, instead of calling her aunt in the same way that I call the Ginerva my sisters, or you guys referring to each other as brothers."
"Huh."
"Any other questions?"
"I got one." I once again slow my walk, this time adjusting to the gait of the elder man. "Is Nilsa willing to spar?"
I smile knowingly. "Nilsa will never back down from a fight, though I do believe that her punches will be pulled if she faces you."
"What the fuck for?"
"You're old, Lovis," Mary calls to him. "How many times must we say that."
"Bagh. My bones may be betraying me but my heart isn't. Besides, I was thinking of throwing a few Jades in the ring with her, see what it is these immortals claim to bear."
"I would suggest having Siscilla on hand, as well as gathering a quite large force of your men and women. Nilsa is not forgiving in her tactics, especially within the ring."
"You call her your champion," the girl cousin speaks up. "Is it because she's the best or because the rest of you cannot fight?"
I bristle at the implication, but lift my chin when I know I could have her on her ass in seconds. "We're all trained, all just as good as Nilsa, but she's never lost a fight. Plus, her name literally means champion."
"Good. So then I hope to see you all in the ring. It's best that everyone prepares for the worst," Lovis declares.
"Well, I am honored to be considered worse."
We reach a small group of stairs that leads us down to the garden, and I catch up with the others to leave Lovis to be helped by his friends down to it.
The garden's packed with snow, and I'm suddenly glad that I put my own boots back on instead of the thinner ones I debated switching into. Sadly, they don't do much to ward off the freezing wind rolling through. I look up then, but not at the sky or the walls around us. I look to Darius. His fists are clenched, though he tries to hide it by folding his hands behind his back like a true noble would. He doesn't want to go into the Healer's Tower, and the wind isn't very gentle against our skin as we get closer to it.
I leap a few steps, coming up beside him and leaning close so that only he can hear me, even if his wind carries it. "There are many things to fear in this world, but a girl and a tower are not one of them. You don't have to go up. I'll call Tanith, Serephina, and Nilsa down to us. Just make it inside, and then once Serephina arrives, she'll mute your powers to let you breathe."
He doesn't look at me, but the wind slows enough to where we can see where we're going. As we reach the stairs, I let my outermost mental wall fall, letting my sisters back in. I feel them all instantly, finding them all playing some kind of game with Clarice. I can sense Branka too, but I push the sensation away, not ready just yet to confront her again after my soliloquy.
Tanith, Inna, Nilsa.
All three mist into the hall just as the mentors finish with the top step. They don't jump like the others, but their heads do snap directly to them and stay there, all going tense in preparation for a fight.
"Meet Tanith, Serephina, and Nilsa," I say to them. I don't bother to make their introductions, as they'll know their names and past soon enough.
Darius walks towards Serephina, his hand motioning for the Bhaltayr to relax. They only slightly do so, and I refrain from cracking a joke that would only make them tense right back up. We haven't known each other long, but you'd think they'd trust us a little bit more than they currently do. Inna takes one of Darius's hands, her other going to lay its palm against his forehead. She can temporarily mute his power without touching him, yes, but to completely snuff it out as he wants, she has to physically touch him to get to the core of his power. He's a strong entity, it takes a lot of concentration for her to take it.
He sags at the weight lifted, the howling wind outside stopping so quickly that it seems paranormal. Having your power smothered by Serephina is nothing of full relief. Your body has grown to have it close, it's embedded itself within the beat of your heart, so it's not surprising that Darius nearly crumbles to the ground when she's finished silencing it.
Inna catches his weight easily and guides him to the bench along the wall. I look to Tanith next, ignoring Nilsa's stare for the moment. "Just them."
She gives me a look that tells me she'd like to talk before I ask anything of her, but still, she looks to the mentors and silver shines in her eyes. A second later the mentors all get distant looks, and then they return to normal, each shaking or touching their heads.
"You all should either eat or rest, your head will clear given time," I advise them.
"No more than the day," Tanith informs.
Four of them look happy to do either option, but Mary is the one I watch as she stares at the distant entrance to the Healer's Tower with hungry eyes. "I want to see her."
I ignore the Bhaltayr's sudden tension as I say, "Given time, you will."
"You may have made promises to Dawn, but so did I, and I doubt you'll be the last people to tell me that I cannot uphold it."
Low blow for the count. I would've thought that some things Tanith would've smothered or skipped over entirely, but she's not necessarily in an entirely forgiving mood at the moment, so I swallow down the urge to glare in her direction.
"I need-"
"Insurance that she's alive and well, I know." But how to give it to her without giving the woman exactly what she wants...and idea forms in my head, and then I'm turning my head to the side and whisper. "Kit."
Everyone, including my sisters, look at me oddly. Branka named a third wolf, and I only know of it because Darius was talking about it during his one drunk episode while we were in his secret getaway in the Moonrise Tower. It was something that made me shift uncomfortably at the time, as I did when he brought up anything that had to do with her.
Nothing happens after I whisper the name, and for a second I question the ability that I and my sisters used to have of summoning one of the animals. The animals answer to and are controlled by the Mater, yes, but they've been known to answer any summoning of their name. All we had to was whisper it, and they'd pop up the next second.
I start to give up hope that the wolf would show and turn to look at Nilsa and instead find a pair of full silver eyes staring down at me. All but two wolves have the same shade of irises. I glance at his water first, making sure it's settled and not rushing. Noticing the sudden silence from the mentors, I reach up and run one hand along the top of his snout, the other against his jawline. His head dips down and he rubs the top of his head against my chest, a sign of friendliness and recognition. I can barely see over his massive form, but based on the way the Bhaltary shuffles towards the wall, I'd say Kit's tail is wagging.
"His name is Kit," I say to the mentors, all staring with disbelieving eyes carrying hints of fear. "So long as he's alive and in this form, your Clarice is alive and well. If he disappears along with several others about the castle grounds, then that is your time to worry. He'll watch over each of you and stay within sight, that way you know how she's fairing. The larger he grows, the healthier she is, and vice versa. Right now...he's at about half his full size, which is an improvement last I checked."
"Half...dear Gods," Mary's brother breathes.
"Keep them close," I refer to Kit. "There's two more with the Principe. Make sure they eat and rest, and uh..." I bend closer to his ear, whispering so that the mentors can't hear. "Keep them away from the court arriving tomorrow. The last thing we need is trouble."
He nods once, then turns to the mentors and awaits their requests for such things. None of them initially move beneath his gaze, and I'm not surprised when Mary speaks first. "I'm assuming he'll neither take us to see her nor Willdred."
The Bhaltayr and Darius all tense further, a few of them shifting on their feet, or glancing towards the Moonrise Tower, but I ignore them. "Willdred is surrounded by Kit's kin every minute of every day, so I highly doubt it. And the alpha lays with Clarice, so the decision is ultimately his should he think it okay for her to see you."
I state the fact loudly and clearly enough for all of them to understand. The Bhaltayr and Darius and Lance all choose to not see her, but no one ever said they weren't allowed to. That is unless Víđarr said no, but the wolves are unpredictable, so who knows?
"Now go, before your Jade King has my head because you all haven't eaten or rested." I wave them off, leaving them with Kit to walk over to my sisters, who both have unreadable faces. I know them better than that, know they're just as wearisome about my return and soon to be secondary reunion with Branka.
The mentors walk off, slowly and distantly following Kit towards the Throne Room where they'll still be food out. We don't have enough staff members yet to be bringing out the food and then cleaning it up three to four times a day, so it all just gets put out in the morning and left until a few hours after dusk.
"Go to the King's Chambers," Serephina says to The Bhaltayr. "I'll take him there and stay until he falls asleep."
Without another word, she and Darius mist, leaving the men no choice but to grumble and mutter their discontent before walking off to the King's Chambers.
None of us speak until they've rounded the corner at the end of the long hall, and we don't have to worry about listening ears, as we don't have the numbers quite yet to watch the outer wall, take posts along the castle walls, and then watch every crack and turn within it. Right now we're focusing our numbers on the former two, changing their shifts to shorter lengths so they don't freeze in the cold. Winter is harsh in its comings, and shivering men and women don't last long before their minds wander and muscles grow stiff.
"Let's walk shall we?" I ask them, though I wasn't necessarily saying it as a question. I step around them before they can argue, and I loosen a small breath when I feel them following. "Gods know I need it."