I am going to strangle someone.
That is what I said this morning when I woke up and found myself wandering about when I should've been having things to do and people to worry over. I woke up at dawn for no apparent reason, though I think it has something to do with the fact that I didn't have Lance's body heat to turn into this morning. Instead, I rolled over and found myself finding an empty bed.
Thomas and I shared a room, but he fell asleep on the couch before I could argue and then woke up before me. How in heathens that man still functions perfectly fine that early in the morning, is beyond me. I needed two cups of whatever strong drink the innkeeper's wife gave me. They were up already, cooking breakfast for all of us and the few other travelers who were passing through the town.
I tried to go to Darius and Clarice's room when the eighth bell rang, but Rohana said they were still sleeping and to come back later. I questioned her but her face remained neutral and she relayed no more information aside from the fact that they were both still asleep, and after having used up a good deal of their powers, they were unlikely to wake up for another hour or two. Of course, I was slightly pissed at the fact considering that would only leave us two to three hours before noon which is when Willa told us to leave the town before suspicions flew, and Gods know those two take an hour plus to get ready, not to mention eat.
Everyone else was awake not long after me, and they met in the courtyard to train. They left weapons out of this morning's session, which I suppose was smart considering the small crowd that gathered to watch. I'm sure they would've been alarmed if they saw the Bhaltayr and Ginerva clashing steel. I watched them for an hour until nine bells rang, and then I went back to mine and Thomas's room to get Clare's clothes for the day. Thomas was already there and had everything ready, which only made me squint my eyes at him. I didn't see him at breakfast nor walking about the balconies or courtyard, and he wasn't in the room earlier. I swear Thomas is a freaking ghost, or at least has the power to mist.
We got to Clarice and Darius's room and Rohana let us in this time, saying to work quietly and not go into the bathroom until their food was up. Thomas and I exchanged glances, and we did so again when we found the bed empty and the covers thrown in tangled directions. But we did what we were supposed to, changing the sheets Thomas got from the innkeeper and then setting out their clothes and cleaning the room a little before one of the servants came in with a few plates of food. I knew I had already eaten but at the smell of the eggs, bacon, sausage, buttered bread, powder-sugared toast, and maple pancakes...I was hungry all over again. We set the plates on the table between the couches and then tip-toed to the bathroom's large doorway.
Against the side wall, Darius sat with his back to the wall, and his arms held tightly to Clarice curled up into his chest. There was an odor that was clearly someone's dinner from last night, and my mind remembered the tiny little fact that Clarice is pregnant. I hoped Darius hadn't figured it out, but then I saw how calm his face was with his eyes closed and I realized that if he had, there'd be a raging fire out at the escort's camp burning one specific scar-faced man alive.
That's a lovely thought.
I took one step into the bathroom and Darius's eyes snapped open. It scared the shit out of me, and I had to take deep breaths to slow down my skittering heart. I will never get used to the fact that he can literally feel you enter a room. I gestured to the bedroom and then left them. A few minutes later they both walked in, yawning and rubbing their eyes. Clarice looked a little pale, but the food fixed that no problem. I didn't miss how she turned down the powder sugared toast and bacon and stuck to everything else. She also declined the milk, but she took the peppermint tea.
As expected, it took us an hour and a half to make them presentable. We didn't bother with crowns or grand outfits. They wore simple clothing. Clarice is in slick black trousers that hugged her legs, a royal blue loose tunic under a cream-colored and black fur-lined coat. I wove her hair into two long plaited braids down the sides of her head and left her face alone. No touch-ups today - not that she needs it.
She complained that the boots were too uncomfortable, so I had to have Vanya mist me back to the escort camp and grab the second pair of boots for her. I didn't allow myself to stay long enough to see Lance. I knew that my heart would clench if I did. She was largely more content with the smaller ankle-high boots, which I strongly argued against since it was cold as hell today, but she pulled the Queen card and I shut my mouth. After I yelled at her, of course.
Darius wore similar clothing, his tunic black, and coat royal blue. He didn't have any arguments with Thomas about his riding boots. I envied them, even going so far as to shove my middle finger in their faces after they laughed when I yelled at her. Then I yelled at both of them when we walked outside and they saw the Bhaltayr and Ginerva training and decided to join. I shoved them back inside their room and forced them to at least change out of their silk tunics and into the plain ones that I wouldn't have a fit over them getting dirty. Thomas laughed, I smacked the air since I can't reach the back of his head, and then I let them go and train for the last thirty minutes before they would head into the town.
They're training still, and I'm nibbling on a small bowl of fruit the innkeeper's wife brought out to me as I sit on a nearby bench to watch. People have filed in from the town streets, lining the walls. It's mostly kids, but there are adults who watch curiously, and some concerningly.
Thomas is Gods know where, but I've given up on keeping track of him.
The innkeeper's wife, Kainda, whose name I had trouble pronouncing at first, has been sitting on the bench with me. She asks questions, and I answer, though I make sure not to give too much away. She's noticed, of course. She's many things, kind, gentle, open-hearted, but stupid is not one of them.
"The women move faster than the men," she observes as they all pair off again and go through a series of what is apparently, "cool down sparring." How the fuck cool down sparring is a cool down, I have no idea, but I'm not going to question it. Not when the strawberries are to die for.
"They've trained longer," I answer in between the red berries.
"The townsfolk say that the women could appear and reappear in different places. Is that true?"
I shove another delicious strawberry in my mouth, taking the moment to debate what to tell her. "They...they're different."
"Well, that's not obvious at all." She gives me a knowing look.
"The Ginerva have been gifted with special abilities. Misting - them appearing and reappearing in different places - is one of those gifts."
"What other...gifts do they have?"
I chew on another strawberry, wishing they'd stop and call me over. No such luck. "They all have their own unique...abilities. They're sworn to protect and guard King Darius and Queen Clarice with their lives," I explain quickly, trying to change the subject. "And even though many won't understand who and what they are, they're not cruel. They'd never lay a hand on anyone innocent, and neither would the Bhaltayr. They'd all die trying to save the life of someone rather than be the one to take it."
"And the Bhaltayr, they have these gifts?"
"No, but they clearly don't need it." Just as I finish my sentence Mal wraps his legs around Alex's waist and...I don't know what happened. It was just a blur of bodies and then Alex was in a chokehold on the ground and tapping out when Mal's legs tighten.
"Indeed they don't," Kainda muses to herself. "But why were the women given gifts?"
"Well, because things like what happened yesterday...they're going to happen again, and even though the Bhaltayr are just as strong, there are some things that they cannot do that the Giinerva can."
"Like mist."
"Yes. The Ginerva are nothing to fear, Kainda," I reassure her, putting the now empty brown down on the bench between us. She turns to me as I speak, and I make sure to hold her gaze I do so. "Believe me when I say that they might look like stone-faced assholes, but their hearts are the biggest things in the world."
She nods and then glances over her shoulder to the group that has gathered behind us. Her eyes meet mine for a moment, and I realize that she never had any doubts about the Ginerva or Bhaltayr, she was asking questions for the people nearby. Nothing spreads quicker than wildfire like the gossip of a town that just had a frightening night with strange visitors that came in the night.
The training ends ten minutes later, and I bite my tongue to keep the argument of Clarice and Darius bathing the sweat and dirt off of them from coming out. This isn't necessarily the place for a servant to snap at a pair of royals.
Thomas shows up with the silk tunics and coats a minute later, and we have Clarice and Darius at least wash off their faces and I redo Clare's braids before we follow them back downstairs. The Ginerva are dressed in matching riding gear, the Bhaltayr in their own clothing. Let me tell you, lugging in sixteen outfits wasn't a task I enjoyed doing, nor do I want to do it again. It was a one-time thing only.
Word traveled fast, and soon people drifted to the inn in hopes to see the new King of Vandaria and Queen of Thralia - who was a far more popular topic of conversation since no one knew there was still a kingdom of Thralia to rule. They all left to walk the streets, and I stayed at the inn and enjoyed some sweet treats and the bar. Thomas has disappeared. Again. And I'm stuck talking to a rather large group of strangers who want details on the King and Queen, Thralia, the Ginerva, and the thing that the injured people keep talking about from yesterday. Typical.
"Are there really such things as water wolves?"
"Where's Thralia?"
"Are they really elementals?"
Yes. On an island somewhere off of the coast. That and more.
No, I don't know what that thing was from yesterday. Yes, I'm in the Queen's service. No, you can't visit Thralia. It was burned down. Yes, Darius is the King of both kingdoms. No, I don't know where the water wolves are. Yes, they are more than just kind rulers. No, the Ginerva are not going to harm anyone. Yes and no's and explanations leave my mouth for the next hour - half of which I got nervous about because we were supposed to leave by twelve bells. I saw Rohana walking to the courtyard and moved to follow her, but a man's question stopped me before I could do more than slide out of my seat. "Are you traveling to Cadorelin for the Winter's Ball?"
"Um..." I glanced out the windows, finding everyone else trailing Rohana. "Yes. We're headed for Cadorelin."
"I heard that every royal from every kingdom in Ker would be attending," another man yells out.
"It's true," says another. "My family and I are traveling to the capital. We're hoping to get a glimpse at a few of the other royals."
Dread takes root in my gut. "You're traveling to Cadorelin?"
"Perhaps we'll join you," a man with a woman on his lap purposed. "We've always wanted to see the capital." The woman grins widely, agreeing with her likely husband if the bands on their fingers mean anything.
"Oh, a trip to Cadorelin sounds fun," another woman agrees, and then there's a small group of people making plans to travel to Cadorelin.
My stomach starts to twist and turn, imagining each and every one of them there if things go wrong. All of them could end up dead, and I don't know if I should say anything. If I do say something, then it could bring them panic, and then word will spread, and...a kingdom in panic is an easily overtaken one. But if I don't tell them, then they'll all be walking into a ball that's more than likely to end up in an ugly fight. It always ends up in an ugly fight, and with Xaxias now pulling up creatures from the underworld, things are getting harder and harder to keep death away.
"Are you alright, Katarina?" I jump at the sound of Kainda's voice over my shoulder. "You've gone pale."
"I, uh...I'm fine. Thank you." She doesn't look like she's convinced one bit, but the room goes into a sudden hush and everyone has stood from their chairs. I turn, already knowing who would be the cause of such silence in a previously loud room.
Darius and Clarice stand in the doorway behind me and Kainda, The Ginerva, and Bhaltayr standing behind them. They could at least look less cold and warmer like Darius and Clarice. The other seventeen look like they're close to murdering people. Well, all except Ethan who's smiling like an idiot for no reason.
"King Darius, Queen Clarice," Kainda addresses, lowering into a curtsy. Darius's mouth opens to tell her that it's not necessary for her to bow, but then everyone else in the room is doing so and he doesn't say anything. I think it's funny how he's so determined to stop a tradition that's been going on for centuries.
I only lower my head, giving him a knowing look which he returns. "Everything alright, Kat?"
A small tendril of wind snakes around my wrist and through my fingers, telling me just how they got here in time to save my indecisive and concerned ass. I hate that his powers can sense such things and that he feels the need to keep a...breeze around me, but I can't say I'm never thankful for it.
"They were just telling me how they all are planning to attend the Winter's Ball," I answer slowly. His smile doesn't falter, but his eyes do that weird glazing over thing whenever he thinks about Clarice being in danger. Clarice, however, has a slightly harder time covering up her concern, glancing at Darius with worried eyes. He avoids her stare, likely knowing that he'd cave if he did.
"Really?" he asks, his voice even as he turns to the small crowd.
"Well, just the festivities in the city, Your Majesty," the first man explains, suddenly nervous and keeping his eyes downcast. "I highly doubt we'd be allowed within the castle walls."
Not that you'd want to be.
"Yes, well, I suppose that would be for your safety. So many rulers in one place...there's bound to be a fight or two. Best not risk good people such as yourselves getting caught in the middle of it."
"So it's true then," a woman asks. "All the rulers will be attending?"
"That is what the invitation entailed," Darius answers, his jaw slightly tightening the only sign of his opposition to them going to Cadorelin. "I do hope you all find some fun in the city. I'm told the people there throw quite the parties."
"Yeah, they do." I glare at Gabe. Of course, he'd know. Darius's own smile says that he's had first-hand experience with said parties too. I remember Thomas telling me that they did, and it was hard to keep it from Claritia when she'd ask if I knew where her son had gone during their visits to the beautiful castle.
Gods if I could, I'd live in those marble and alabaster walls of the Cadorelin castle. I hate to say it, but it sure does beat the sandstone walls of Fernweh. I love the castle, but it could do with a little less bleak exterior.
"I just wanted to thank you and your husband before we left," Darius says to Kainda. "You wouldn't happen to know where he is, would you?"
"Right here, Your Highness." Dikost, the giant of a man innkeeper walks out of the hall beside us. He gives a bow before stepping to his wife's side. "It's been our pleasure to house you and your guard. I hope everything was suitable."
"It was more than suitable. Thank you," Clarice replies. Everyone in the room seemed to lean forward at her words as if they were hanging on her every word and entranced by her voice.
"I have a gift to show our thanks, though it doesn't seem nearly enough for what you've done for us." Darius nods to Nilsa. She steps forward, pulling something out of her pocket as she walks to Dikhost and Kainda. "Should you ever be in any sort of danger and need help, all you have to do is break the glass."
Nilsa wraps something around Kainda's wrist, and when she moves onto Dikost's wrist, I find a similar bracelet that's on my wrist now guarding hers. It's the brown twine holding the small ball of glass with the little flame burning endlessly inside of it. I remember Blaise's voice telling me to do the same thing on the day she gave it to me when the Court of Vandaria had arrived at the castle. Funny how they, at the time, were considered as dangerous as the creatures of the Underworld.
"We've also taken the liberty of restocking your medical and food supplies," Clarice adds. "The Anevay and Sitaras made sure to stock you up on everything. In case anyone in the city was in need of more."
Yeah, that was heavy carrying in, believe it or not. It was one of the things Thomas and I did before going to Darius and Clarice's room last night. Willa just misted everything into one room and told us to find somewhere to put all of it. So we snooped around and found their medical closet. It wasn't too hard to put the items on the shelves. I think someone else had to do with the food restocking.
"That's more than enough in thanks, your Majesties. Thank you, truly." Dikost smiles at his wife's words, as her eyes find his. A part of my heart clenches at the love spoken in between their eyes and their eyes alone. Sometimes, I could feel the same thing passing between me and Lance, but in recent days his mind has been too distracted to take a break from such a thing. Not that I blame him, it's just hard to see him so troubled.
"It's our pleasure-" Darius bends at the waist just a bit to show his respect, which earns a great many surprised reactions to ripple about the room "-and safe travels to you all."
Everyone in the room snaps out of their trance and bows, missing Clarice's hesitation. She wants to tell them to not go too, but like me, she knows she can't. Not yet, at least. Darius sees it in her eyes as she stares longingly about the room, and he grabs her hand and pulls her away before they arise. I can't help it and look back at the people.
Nilsa waits by my side until I follow them out. I turn to her once we're out of earshot. "We can't just let them go to Cadorelin without warning them of what's really going on."
"Relax, Kitty Kat -"
"Don't call me that. Only certain people get to call me that."
"Dee knew they'd go," she says, ignoring my warning.
"What!" I whirl around to start arguing but she puts her hand on my arm and keeps me facing forward.
"Relax. We left bracelets for all of those who would go."
"How in heathens is a bracelet supposed to help when you'll all be too busy fighting demons and demon mutts?" She doesn't answer, just gives me an amused smile.
I roll my eyes and then chew on my bottom lip as we make it onto the street where horses, Víđarr, and our escort wait. Technically, it's Darius and Clarice's escort, but I'm calling it mine cause I can.
I search their ranks for Lance, finding him at the back again, his eyes watching the streets. He does that when he's trying to distract himself from his own thoughts. He'll go into his Sinister Fox mode and turn everything off. I rode with him yesterday, wanting to make sure he knew that I was there should he want to talk. He didn't, and after Darius and all of them misted away and told us to keep going south, I made sure he got an earful about how he'd regret not going with his sister to make sure she didn't get injured or anything. He told me that she was in perfectly capable hands, which made me gape and then go on a whole other yelling spree.
All the guards pushed their horses faster and we soon fell slightly behind them. I could tell that they thought it was a private matter - which it was - but that didn't mean I was going to stop yelling because they were uncomfortable with hearing us argue. We fought for the few hours that they were all gone, all up until The Ginerva showed up covered in black, sticky, rotting, goo and said we had a change of plans. I leaped out of the saddle I shared with Lance when they got there, practically jumping into Nilsa's arms when they said we needed to mist to Litchelle.
I'm still mad at him. He doesn't want to talk to me, fine, but he needs to talk to someone - anyone. I couldn't give a lesser shit about who it was. Heathens, I'd even be thankful if he talked to Will. It'd be so much better than him keeping it all inside and never saying a word.
He catches my eye as everyone starts to mount their horses. I can see the pleading in his own eyes past the balaclava and hood, and though my heart tugs towards it, I end up jumping in front of Nilsa on her horse. If he's not willing to talk, then neither am I. It's as simple as that.
It doesn't take us too long to make it out of the city. Everyone's got a conversation going, falling easily into banter and laughter. My mind's too worried about those people who will likely leave sometime tonight to head for Cadorelin. We'd never know if they died in four days' time. We won't know how many will be dead by the end of it, and we can't give one of these bracelets to everyone.
"Why don't you have water wolves?" I ask Darius. He looks at me with raised brows. I glance around, finding everyone having stopped their conversation to look at me. "What?"
"It's been two hours and you haven't said a word," Nilsa explains. "That's rather abnormal for you."
"Shut up." I can feel her smirking behind me. I turn back to Darius. "Why don't you have water wolves?"
"Probably because he can't control water," Mak points out. I shove a middle finger in her direction.
"I know that, asshole. I mean...Clarice can make wolves like a baker who bakes cookies by the dozen. Where's your fire...lions or tigers or otters or something?"
"Otters?" Darius gives me his 'really' look.
"Hey, I'm not one to judge."
"I see it more of as a fire...dragon," Ethan says, squinting up at the sky as if he's picturing it flying above us.
"A fire dragon would be pretty cool," Henry agrees.
"Do dragons exist?" Mal asks Vanya.
She laughs, then takes note of his serious expression. "Wait, you're serious? You really think I would know?"
"I don't know. You all just seem to know everything."
"I'm one-hundred and twenty-nine, not a hundred centuries old." She shifts in her saddle, shaking off the insult of her age. It's like calling a twenty-year-old a hundred and fifty. I think.
"Oh, my bad," he says sarcastically.
"The closest thing we've seen to a dragon was the Banevenin, and that was yesterday," Rohana interludes, cutting in before Vanya can leap off of her saddle and tackle Mal to the floor. I'm partially saddened that I won't get to see the fight.
"Honestly, Mal," Ozzie scolds, pulling his horse up beside them. "You're stupid to think that these immortal women who were born decades before us on nothing but a secluded island, ruled by magical beings, and plagued by an evil overlord who could summon mythical creatures from the underworld, such as the Banevenin and Raver, could have ever seen a mythical creature such as a plain dragon."
Several snorts rise out of The Bhaltayr's noses, and I am trying really hard not to succumb to my own laughter. They do have a point.
Dee pulls up alongside Ozzie and leans over. "Duck."
"What?" A second later Mak's arm hurls a decent-sized rock at his head. "Ow! I-"
"Don't look at me. You deserved that," Darius says when Ozzie looks to him for defense.
"He's right." Mak hurls another rock, but this one hits Mal in the head this time.
"That's for calling Vanya old."
"You're all old - young! You're all very, very young." This time I do laugh at Alister's close save before Mak threw a rock at him. Where is she getting those rocks anyways?
"So where's your wolf?" I ask Darius again, returning to the subject at hand before another one of these idiot boys gets a lump on their head.
He smirks at me for a moment before answering. "You still have that bracelet I gave you?" I hold up my wrist with the glass ball bracelet, the flame flickering inside. He unsheaths one of his small daggers, holding it out to me by the blade. "Break it."
I stare at the knife, a dozen dark thoughts flying through my head. I have a knife, but it's in that tricky sheath that I have yet to find a way to open. "What?"
"Break it."
Slowly, trusting that Nilsa will take the knife should I do something stupid, I grab the handle and take the dagger. I take even breaths as I untie the twine and then set the glass ball on top of the saddle horn. Gripping the handle, I point the tip of the blade upward. I keep my eyes glued to the small flame, not trusting myself with looking at the sharp edge. I glance at Darius one more time, unsure of why he's having me do this. Then I take the pommel and smash the glass with it. The flame inside bursts to life, stealing my breath as its heat sears my skin but never burns it. A bird-like cry calls out, and then the flame is rising above our heads.
I look upward, my jaw hitting the ground when it sees what the flame has become.
"What is it?" I hear Winston ask.
"It's a fire phoenix," Clarice answers.
One big fire phoenix. Just one of its wings is easily longer than the water wolf's body length. Its eyes burn so bright they're white, its tail fanning out into a hundred flaming feathers, and its talons look sharp enough to slice through flesh and bone.
It's...beautiful.
It's some eighty feet up in the air, but I can see every detail on its body. It cries out again, its voice just as harmonious and beautiful as its design. There'd be no doubt in anyone's mind that this creature is here to help when they hear its voice.
It flips and then swoops down, shrinking to the size of an eagle as it lands on Darius's outstretched arm. "Still prefer an otter?" Darius asks.
The phoenix's head turns to me, and unlike any other bird's head that would be making quick movements, hers just glides, as if she were a goddess and all too ethereal for such animalistic behavior. "No. This is fine."
A proud smile dances on his lips as he chuckles. I can't take my eyes off of the bird or that tail that looks fluffy despite it being made of flames. How is that possible? How is any of this possible?
I suppose I'm just waiting for myself to wake up back in my servant's quarters that held a dusty bed and single nightstand, and then realize that my reality is the fact that none of this happened, and I never had this grand adventure of friends and love, and my life is just plain pathetic. And when I wake up and try to go back to sleep to come back, nothing but darkness drifts into my brain. All I'll have are the snippets that I can remember because, despite everything, my brain will erase most of it. This could all be a dream, and wake every morning scared that it's all gone.
The phoenix flaps its wings, lifting easily off of his arm and hovering over us before swooping in front of Víđarr. The wolf yips up at it, his tail wagging. I'm pretty sure if Víđarr wasn't carrying Clarice on his back, he'd go and play with the phoenix. Clarice has a wide grin at both his reaction and the new mystic oddity soaring overhead, though, which makes me happy.
"You know," Nilsa whispers so low in my ear that I can barely hear her. "There are two types of people who hesitate to grab a blade. One who knows the damage it could do unto others, and one who knows the damage it can do unto one's self." My whole body tenses and I feel like I'm going to be sick.
"You need not worry, Katarina. There are too many people in this world who would stop that blade before it could so much as tickle your skin. If you do not believe that, then remember that Darius gave you that bracelet, and though you would have to break the glass to free the phoenix, it would've broken through if you tried to harm yourself. Remember that when you wear this."
She holds up another bracelet with a flame in the glass ball. Gently taking the dagger still in my hand and then cradling my wrist, she ties it around it and lets go, leaning back and leaving me with her words.
I already knew that there would be people around me who would stop me from doing the worst thanks to the many times people have repeatedly told me that. I already knew that I'd be protected from my own dark thoughts, but the thing is, I haven't had any recently. I mean there's the occasional freeze-up when there's a knife that isn't trickily sealed as I had just now, but nothing more. Nothing...nothing as bad as when I used to glance out of the windows of Claritia's rooms and stare at the floor, wondering what it'd feel like to fall. Would it hurt when I landed? Or would I feel better and rid of the loneliness and pain and the quiet around me but the roaring in my head?
Nightmares may take me there every now and then, but I wake up cradled in Lance's arms, and everything fades away. I talk to Clarice and everything fades away. I joke and play with the new friends I've made, from pirates to idiotic boys to powerful women, and it all fades away. Every time I notice it I notice how their company, their friendship, is the thing that makes everything go away. It's the loneliness that brings it all back.
I hate loneliness.
We stop an hour later, pulling out food and water for both us and the horses. I keep one eye on Clarice, waiting until she finally separates herself from Darius's hip to grab her hand and pull her towards a tree with a few rocks to sit on.
"Kat, what are you doing?"
"Come on. Sit." I tug her down onto one of the rocks and sit across from her. We're far enough away where no one can hear us so long as we don't yell. I hand her some cheese and jerky before leaning toward her. "Spill."
She glances between me and the food, her brows bent in confusion. "Spill what? The cheese?"
"What? No - spill the gossip."
"Uh...I don't..."
"Oh, for Saint's sake, must I spell it out? What's going on between you and Darius?"
Her eyes suddenly snap to the food in her hands and she fiddles with the snack uneasily. "What - nothing."
"Okay, first of all, you answered that way too quickly. Secondly, you've become a terrible liar. And third, you're avoiding eye contact with me which tells me that you're lying and there is something going on between you two."
"Nothing's going on between us," she mumbles.
"Oh, really? Then look me in the eyes and say it." Her eyes find mine and her mouth opens, but no words come out. My face breaks out into a wild grin. "You are totally falling for him."
"I am not," she snaps, casting a worried glance around us to check for listening ears. At this point, there is no distance that could stop certain heightened hearing wars from listening, and they all already suspect themselves, so no point in hiding it.
"Yes. You are. You like him." I poke her in the arm playfully. "You really-" poke "-like-" poke "-him." Poke.
"Of course I like him. He's my friend."
"Oh. I see." I force my smile to settle and calm, sitting back and away from her. She relaxes as I continue to hold my tongue, and I can't fight off the insistent grin that returns my cheeks to their lift. "But is he just a friend?" I ploy.
"Yes."
"Or is he something a little more?" She doesn't answer, but her jaw does seem to be really digging into that jerky. "Oh, he totally is. Look! Even your pets know it. They're practically fucking."
Okay, that's an exaggeration, but Víđarr and the phoenix have been playing like pup and chick ever since Clarice dismounted from his back. The phoenix will dive beneath his head and he'll lean into her tail feathers as if the fire isn't at all the complete opposite of water. Whereas I look at them with a chuckle, she stares with horror as if the phoenix landing on the wolf's head and his attempt to bite her is, in fact, sexual.
"They are not," she protests, loudly enough to make a few people glance over in question. She dips her head quickly, cheeks turning rosy.
I watch them for a little longer before turning back to her, determined to fry her until she admits it. The words die on my lips when I find her eyes glossy and a tear rolling down her cheek as she chews sadly on a piece of cheese.
"Clare..." Her bottom lip starts to tremble, and then a whole parade of tears is rolling down her cheeks. Now I'm the one staring in horror. "Clare, what's going on? What's wrong?"
She shakes her head. "Nothing, I just..."
"Does this have to do with last night and why you and Darius fell asleep next to a bucket of vomit?" She only cries harder until the quiet tears turn into choking sobs. I glance over to where everyone else is gathered, finding several of them looking over at us. "I...Okay, okay. Look, I'm sorry, okay? Just, please stop crying."
"I c-can't."
I look away from her again, finding Darius's eyes locked onto her. He takes a step and I shake my head. His eyes snap away from her to catch my movement and thank the Gods for it because if he came over here, I'm pretty sure she'd never talk. This clearly has something to do with him. Or it could be her hormones going every which way with the pregnancy and all. Willa told me to keep an eye on her last night, explaining how the signs of pregnancy in a mortal are different from an immortal.
He doesn't take her eyes off of her but he does stop walking towards us. Knowing him, he's likely using his air element to listen in on her words. Can't have that. I glance at Rohana, hoping she can do something about it. She doesn't look entirely okay with her Queen crying, but she turns to Darius, saying something before leading him away. A few moments later I hear swords clashing.
What's with everyone and their nonstop training? I'm tired from sitting in a saddle, and they still somehow have energy?
I turn back to Clarice, taking the cheese and jerky out of her hands before she drops the food to the floor. "Okay, okay. Deep breaths, Clare-"
"He almost died yesterday."
My whole body goes still. "What?"
"He - he was using the-the fire element t-to k-kill the Banevenin, but then it was swallowing him an-and-"
"Darius was swallowed?"
"No, I got him out b-but his stomach was ri-ripped- ripped open and there was so much blood..."
"That was his blood all over your dress?" She nods, her tears double-timing it.
I had thought the blood was that of dozens seeing as they had all been throughout Litchelle to help with the injured or the dying or those mourning the dead. I thought it was dried because she had been out there for hours, and I knew Darius was injured, but seeing as he had been walking I didn't think much of it. Thomas never said anything either, nor did the Bhaltayr or Ginerva. I don't go with them for one Gods damned day and they're all clearly losing their shit and composure.
"Okay. okay. Deep breaths, Clare," I tell her again, moving to sit next to her. "In through your nose and out through your mouth." She calms down, her breathing finally becoming even until the tears stop falling and all that's left is her stuffy nose. I take a few deep breaths of my own, trying not to freak out that Darius nearly died yesterday. He looks perfectly fine swinging a sword now. "Tell me about last night instead. Why were you and Darius on the ground?"
"I threw up," she answers plainly.
"Yeah, I know. I had to dump it out. What I meant was why did you throw up?" My eyes automatically snap down to her stomach, picturing the little form of life forming there. I wonder if it looks like an actual baby or a thing with horns and claws.
"I had a nightmare about being tortured, and then about Darius dying because I couldn't save him." Oh. "What if I didn't save him? What if Willa hadn't been there or if I didn't have these...powers? What would have happened?"
"Well, this whole thing kind of started when you got the powers, so I'd say none of this would be happening if you didn't control the elements - but it's not your fault that everything is happening because you do have them," I amended quickly. "The world is a crazy, unpredictable place. If it wasn't you and Darius, then it would've been someone else. I'm just glad it isn't. You two are by far the better choices out of all of us."
"I don't know. You seem pretty qualified for the job."
"Ha. That's because you don't remember who I was before all of this." The moment the words leave my lips, I want to take them back. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."
"It's okay. It's a fair point." She shrugs her shoulder as if it really didn't bother her.
I keep my mouth shut, afraid that I'll say another stupid and insensitive thing. She picks the cheese and jerky up from the rag I put on the smaller rock beside us and starts chewing on a piece of meat.
"You should talk to him."
"What?"
"My brother," she says in between bites. "He looks like he wants to talk to you. You should go talk to him."
I glance over, finding Lance talking to Alister who's too busy fiddling with a knife to notice that Lance's eyes are locked onto mine. I look away before I get trapped in his eyes, which always happens before I end up closing the distance between us and jumping into his arms.
This is not the place, nor the time.
"Your brother and I are not talking at the moment," I say quietly
"Why not?"
"There's just...he's got a lot on his mind with the Winter's Ball getting closer, you having to attend, you in general, and your family -"
"My family?" Crap. I wasn't supposed to say anything. "I thought Lance was my only family."
I try several times to come up with a sidestepping explanation, but nothing good forms. "Even if he was, you have all of us to call family. Anyways, he's just...his mind is running a million miles a second, and it's making him lost and distant, and every time I try to untangle a few things for him, he pushes me away. So I'm done trying to help. He'll come to me when he wants to."
She nods, chewing on her jerky while I try to resist the urge to look over at him again. I can feel his eyes on me, which only makes it harder.
"Lance is stubborn." I scoff in agreement. "But the only way to get through his stubbornness is to keep pushing. If you stop then he'll lose hope that he has someone who will always be there to get his head out of his ass, and then he'll distance himself for real. You can't let that happen, Kat, because if it does then the Lance you know will become the assassin you hear stories about."
I gape at her, my mind now running a million miles a minute. She looks at me, completely oblivious.
There. I swear I can see it in her eyes. A light gleam. A flash of color. A beam of hope. But that can't be right, because if this was...Clarice, then I'd know. She wouldn't have cried, she never craves cheese, she would've begged for tarts...I swear I saw it - saw her, but I can't let that hope bloom yet. Not when we're walking into a trap that could have her losing everything all over again.
"Here." Mak's voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I realize my mouth has been hanging open. I snap it shut and look up at the orange-haired wild woman. She offers Clarice a waterskin while watching me carefully. "You okay, Kat?"
I look between her and Clarice. "Fine. I just...fine."
"Okay," she says slowly. "Nilsa says you need to stretch and move your muscles before we leave again," she tells to Clarice.
Clare nods, standing while stuffing the last of the cheese in her mouth. "Talk to him," she points to me, and then they both walk off to where Darius and Rohana are already in a series of killing machine movements.
Sometimes I wish I was like them. Strong, dangerous, and handy with and without a blade. I'd totally do it if I had the motivation for fitness, but I don't. I'm sure a few more lessons aside from the defensive ones Lance has taught me wouldn't hurt, but I'm severely out of shape compared to all of them. Sure, I have a nice body, but that doesn't mean I'm able to run a mile or even half that without wheezing. I do have stamina, however, as years of having to go up and down staircases and constantly be in motion thanks to servitude helps with that. But that...Saints no. I wouldn't last.
"Quick question." I roll my eyes as Gabe and Ethan plop down on the same rock Clarice was earlier occupying. "Out of the two of us, who is hotter?"
I turn to them, slowly, wondering where in heathens my life went oh so wrong that I somehow became friends with these two imbeciles. "We're walking into a rather large trap where the chances of several kingdoms losing their rulers is exponentially high unless we somehow stop them, and you're worried about which one of you is hotter?"
"The ball isn't for another four days. This is now," Ethan defends. "So? Who's hotter?"
"Leave her alone," Amel says, walking up to lean up against the tree.
"It's a simple question, and we need a girl's point of view," Gabe says.
"And just like that, I'm twelve again," I mumble.
"Fine, then answer this question. Which one of us would your rather fuck?"
"What?"
"I am so sorry," Amel apologizes.
"Oh, come on. If good ol' Lance wasn't in the picture, which one of us would you fuck?"
"Are you asking between you and your boyfriend, or between everyone in the Bhaltayr?" Ethan smiles, knowing my question means I have an answer. I mean, really. Which girl hasn't thought about one of the Bhaltayr and getting into bed with them? It's a conversation in my mind that runs here and there, so, of course, I already know my answer to the question.
"That Bhaltayr," he answers, clearly intrigued. I bite the inside of my lip and pretend to look over every single one of them slowly.
"Well...if he wasn't already screwing Claritia's head servant, Laya, then I'd probably go with Benny."
"What?"
"What!"
I smile innocently up at the three men who clearly didn't know of Benny's secret love affair.
"Bernard Sander Achard!" Gabe yells. "Get your horny ass over here!"
Everyone looks at Benny with raised eyebrows, and for half a second I feel bad for him. He walks over slowly, brows bowed. "What do you perverts want now?"
"Laya?" Amel answers sourly, looking dumbfounded at his brother.
Benny stares at him for a second, then abruptly turns to me. "How did you know?" How did he know that I knew?
"So it's true?'
I ignore Ethan and shrug. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh, please. Men are idiots and never notice. Women, however, never miss a damn thing. Especially you. So how'd you know?"
"You two can't be in the same room together without having sexual tension, and no one notices because these two dickheads are rather loud with their own desires, and Rohana and Henry carry enough sexual tension to fill the entire castle and another," I explain.
"That's fair," Gabe agrees.
"How is that fair?" Ethan demands, turning his body to face said other dickhead.
"You do make a lot of dirty jokes."
"I make a lot of dirty jokes?"
"Yes!"
"How could you not tell me?" Amel asks his brother as Ethabe continues with their petty fight.
"It wasn't important," Benny defends, weakly.
"And now it is?"
"I don't have to tell you every damn detail of my life, Amel."
"This isn't just some small detail, Bernard."
The arguments take off, and I take out the stash of cheese cubes I had in my pocket and start munching on them while I watch the chaos unfold. It is all too easy to manipulate men. I see now why it's women who should rule the world and not the men. Us women - or at least half of us - won't stutter if a man pulls down his pants. A King, however, would bow and praise a woman should she walk into his bedroom naked. I take that back. Not every King slash man would. Darius wouldn't - unless it was Clarice.
Ew, dirty pictures in my head.
They bicker until it draws the attention of the rest of the Bhaltayr, and when they hear the news about Benny and Laya, the fight turns to nine against one. Ethan and Gabe still carry their own argument, and they tried pulling me back into it, but I got them turned on one another again and then snuck away once I ran out of snacks.
I'm walking over to grab an apple from one of the packs on a horse when I spot who's standing nearby.
Willdred Maron.
There's no way in all of Ker that I'll ever get used to seeing him. I've never actually met let alone spoken to the man, but I feel as if I've known him before and can't help the urge to claw out his eyes. It's probably from having heard what he did to Rose from Lance and the fact that he not only violated Clare's privacy not once but twice, that has anger rolling inside me. Then there's the part of me that wants to talk to him to figure out why in heathens Clare spared his life but killed Eleanor and Charles. He has yet to say much that hasn't had The Bhaltayr or The Ginerva shifting on their feet and twitching to launch at him and end his life.
Saints, I can't just stand here and keep staring at the ground like an idiot forever though. I'm hungry, and I'm really craving an apple, but all the apples are in one pack meant for the horses to eat and they won't miss one. But I can't look over at him and debate it because then Lance will know exactly what I'm thinking and then go over to the apples himself to get one for me. Of course, he and Will would somehow find a way to bicker and then fight, and then the water wolves will have to separate them because everyone else would gladly watch Lance murder Will. But if I go over there, he could very well turn a blade on me and end my life or use me as a bargaining chip or hostage or his next plaything. I glance over at Nilsa, Dee, and Mak who stand nearby keeping an eye on the small training session going on. They'd mist in and stop Will should he do anything stupid, and Darius would likely pull all the air out of his lungs before he could tell anyone to not take a step, or else he'll slit my throat.
A small heated pulse runs horizontally along my neck as if imagining a knife there. It happens every time I think about pain or ending my life. A warm pulse will warm the part of my body that I've imagined being impaled. The gut, the heart, the throat, my back snapped, wrists slit, my head cracked open because I jumped...
My thumb runs along the cold metal handle of the sheathed dagger in my waistband, and all the thoughts slowly fade away. It's always slow as if the touch of the knife isn't quite enough to make it all go away with the snap of someone's fingers, but just enough to remind me that there are better things in this world to stay living for.
Heathens. I've lived my life keeping my head down and not taking risks out of fear that if I did, I'd end up hanging at the end of a rope. And yes, sometimes that did make staying in line hard to do thanks to my morbid temptations, but then Clare and Lance came and showed us that there's more to life than manners and staring at the ground. I've lived in a protective bubble for years now. Let's make it interesting, shall we?
I know Lance is watching me, which is why I move quickly and try to walk at a semi-casual pace without trying to run, though I am a little anxious about all of this. I catch Nilsa's eye as I walk around one horse. I shake my head once, hoping it's enough to send the message that I'll be careful and I don't need her or anyone else to babysit me. Her jaw works as it always does when she hates an idea but knows she can handle the complications of it, but she gives a small dip of her chin and I want to smile broadly in victory. I feel her eyes bore into my back as I keep my whole front side facing him. I'm not going to let him sneak up behind me, though something tells me he still very well could.
Reaching into the pack to fish for an apple, I watch as he feeds some slices to the horse he's been riding. One hand holds the slices he feeds to it one by one, the other holding the small knife as he strokes its mahogany neck. I watch the hand with the knife closely, as well as trying to read his demeanor.
Saints, where are the fucking apples?
I keep digging, then move on to the next pack. The horse shifts on its feet as if annoyed that I'm trying to find some food. My eyes move to his face, as they always do when curiosity hits, and I can't help but inspect the scar across his face. At first, I was happy that he feels that pain, but then I realized that scars don't hurt, they're just reminders. I hope he remembers that he deserved that pain, and much, much more. But now I can't help but wonder what Lance means when he says he has to finish the scar. I mean it's just a jagged diagonal line across his face. What's there to finish? Defacing him?
A chill runs up my spine at the resulting image if he did do that.
Then there are his eyes. I don't know, they're just...odd. They look ancient - not in the same way that Willa's does. Willa's look full of wisdom and strength. His, however, look old and worn, as if he's lived his life and he's just waiting for death to claim him peacefully in his sleep. It's strange, seeing how when Clarice is near him they tend to look a little bit clearer. I remember yesterday after they all left, his whole body seemed to deflate. It's odd. The closer she is, the more alive he seems. If she's far, he suddenly loses his life without actually dying.
What's wrong with him? He's supposed to be hateful and murderous and a thing I can easily hate and not wonder if there's some resemblance of a kind human still inside him. I hate him. He killed Rose, he tortured Clarice, and he's a demon mutt. I hate him. I loath him. He's hurt me and the people I care for. He doesn't deserve the benefit of the doubt. Heathens, he deserves nothing. He's owed nothing.
So then why did Clarice spare him?
It always comes back to that question. Why did she do it? What does she know yet not seem to fully remember?
"You're staring." I blink, trying to figure out if he actually spoke, or if it's just the voice in my head. He glances at me, raising an eyebrow as if waiting for an answer. I'm going to go out on a limb and say he was actually talking to me.
I could answer, but my eyes snagged on how the scar scrunched when he raised his brow and I can't seem to help but wonder, again, if it hurts when he does that or if the skin just feels tight and pulls at the edges like another reminder of what's there and how he got it.
"And you're speechless. I must say, that's the first time in a long time that my mere presence has done that."
"And the last was when Clare and Arthur found you standing over Rose's bloody corpse," I snip harshly.
Something small falters in his expression, though the smirk stays in place and even tugs upward a bit. "Nope. They both had plenty to yell that day."
I've never heard him admit it - killing Rose. My eyes go back to his hand with the knife sitting easily between two fingers while he still strokes the mare's neck. She doesn't even flinch or is aware of how close he could be to ending her life.
He used that hand to carry a different blade that killed Rose and both her parents and hurt Lance in a way he didn't deserve. Jealousy led him to kill her. Jealousy about how she was fated with someone else when he loved her. I suppose you could relate if you thought about it that way, but then there's the fact that he slept with Clarice and killed Rose the next morning. That's not necessarily the way to tell a woman that you're still hung up on your ex. That's no way at all to do anything, really.
Fucking demented man.
"You look like her. Like Rose." My eyes snap up to his, both fists balling up. There's sadness in his eyes, but I don't give a fuck. He's the cause of his own pain and the seriously far more destroyed pain of others. What the fuck is he sad about? He did it.
"Shut up," I whisper. They seem to be the only words I can currently get out.
The corner of his mouth twitches up, scrunching the scar again. "I suppose Arthur has a type."
"Shut up." My words come up clearly and hard this time, and it catches his attention.
"Sorry." He looks back at the ground. "I'm still getting the hang of appropriate small talk."
"Clearly."
He stares at me for a moment, then his eyes roam to my arm which is partially disappeared within the saddlebag. My hand is too busy trying not to swing at his pretty face to keep searching for the apple, so it's just me standing slightly on my toes with half of my arm in a bag. Some badass I must look like.
"If you're looking for the apples, they're in the last bag." He nods to the third bag that I would've moved onto next, only now I'm not so sure that's a good idea. I glance at the bag, then over to him and down at his feet. It's a short distance between him and the bag. Too short. He follows my gaze to his feet, and mine snap back up to his face, keeping an eye on his shoulders for a tell that he'll move for me. I have little confidence that I'll be able to find it before he moves, but I'm still going to try.
A small laugh comes from him when he notices that I've taken note of his close and dangerous distance to the third pack. "I suppose I'd be a little disappointed if Arthur's new girl wasn't cautious of just how close she got to me."
I try not to let my anger completely lash out at the sound of his voice saying 'Arthur's new girl.'
"Don't flatter yourself. You'd be a corpse before you could so much as brush my skin." He looks over my shoulder where everyone else who isn't sparring has gone rather quiet. I don't have to look to know that they're all watching him and his every breath right now. They're all overprotective bastards, but they're my overprotective bastards.
"So it would seem." He moves, but it's slow. I flinch out of instinct, thinking he was going to make a move against me. Instead, he raises his right hand, palm exposed to me. His other hand with the knife goes to the horse's mouth. "Hold this for me, would you?"
I almost lose it when the mare takes the handle of the knife in her mouth and holds it there. Then she turns and walks off. Never in my entire life would I have believed you if you told me that I would one day see a horse casually walking about with a knife in its mouth. Let alone obey someone's askance of taking it from them.
A sudden movement has my head snapping back to Will, only he's backing away, not walking toward me. "I'm not going to hurt you."
"First off, don't talk to me like some scared stray dog. Secondly, I don't trust a single word in that sentence, and I'm smart enough to know that even with you that far away, you'd still get to me before I could turn and raise a finger to stop you from stabbing me in the heart like a cold-hearted asshole."
He opens his mouth, but then decides against it and closes it. For a moment he looks sad again, but then a tentative smile plays on his lips. Gods, it's hard trying to follow how quickly his emotions change back and forth.
"I see Clarice rubbed off on you. She always had that effect on people. She showed them how strong they really were, and then made sure they embraced it."
"She's not dead."
"No shit," he says flatly.
"Then stop using the past reference when talking about her. She's not gone."
"Even if you somehow got her memory back, she will never be the person she was. Parts of the old her may come back, but never the whole. What happened to her...what I did...that changes someone."
"I know that." He nods, and I fist whatever hard object is in the bag and imagine it's his throat. "Though I wouldn't have to know that if you had just died two years ago."
"Three."
"What?"
"It was three years ago," he corrects, expression turning distant. "Well...three years and four days, to be exact." My confusion must be written on my face. "It was three years and four days ago when Rose...when it happened. She died on Polvis of the third cycle in the month of Brumous. Four days ago."
Four...Gods and their Saints. That's why Lance has been distant.
"You didn't know?" I shake my head in answer to Will's question, not knowing what to say. I want to turn around and apologize to Lance and tell him that I'm here for him and that it was probably stupid of me to give him serious deja vu and walk anywhere near Will at this point in time. "Sorry. I...I thought he would've told you."
I have the urge to snap at him, but my guilt overrules it. "He didn't," I say with no bite in my words. "I mean, he said it was two years ago when we met, but I forgot..."
"Funny. I never forget." I look up at him then, finding his palms still held up and his eyes on mine. There's that sad look again, and I keep waiting for the small smile that follows, but it doesn't come.
I wonder if the part of him that loved Rose was different than the man he became to murder her. It's a stupid question, really, as someone who loves someone else could never murder the other, but what would drive him to do it? Jealousy is the obvious choice - heathens, I accused it of being minutes ago, but there has to be something else.
Jealousy aside, he 'supposedly' fell in love with Clare after Rose and Lance were fated, so what was with the whole stabby bad guy switch overnight? The man standing here, looking me in the eyes with pain as he thinks about that day three years and four days ago, doesn't look like someone who would've willingly killed a woman he loved. Call me crazy, but that's just what my guts say, even if my mind is telling me that he's an unhinged psychotic who could be easily playing with me and toying with emotions to get me to feel sympathy for him.
Saints I'm going to get another headache.
His whole body tenses in a second, his eyes drifting behind me. My own body locks up, ready for his attack and praying that Nilsa will mist in front of me and save my sorry ass.
"Duck," he says, still staring behind me.
"What?"
His eyes go wide. "Duck."
The urgency and panic in his voice have me moving on command, falling into a crouch, and throwing my hands over my head. Something whistles over me and the sound of dirt rustling has my eyes opening. I spot his shoes in front of me, and I launch upward, hoping my skull will break his nose before he can grab hold of me, only the top of my head doesn't connect with anything, and I end up coming face to face with Will's back.
What the-
"Hello, Visha." Will's deep voice rumbles through my chest, and my body goes still. I take a few deep breaths before I'm able to move even a finger out of its frozen fright state.
"Hello, traitor." Gods that voice will haunt my nightmares.
"Traitor? Me?" he jests.
"You've betrayed us. You've betrayed your family. For what? A group of wannabe heroes and a doppelgänger? It's sad, Will. Really."
"If anyone's betrayed their family, it's you."
I finally gain some control over my body and turn my head to find Nilsa and Mak behind us, Lance behind them, and everyone else surrounding us in a big circle. Even Víđarr stands beside Clarice and in front of Roseia, the phoenix sitting on Darius's shoulder.
"Move aside," Visha orders. I see her foot move, but Will moves with her and keeps his body between me and her. Lance would've reached behind his back and pushed me further behind him while keeping a handful of my shirt in his hand to make sure I was always there, but Will keeps his hands at his sides, empty and relaxed.
"No."
A feral growl comes from the demon woman. "You're blocking my dinner."
She jumps to the side, one of her arms snaking to try and grab me around him. I jump back, barely escaping the slice of her long nails. This time he does grab me from the other side, pulling me away from her at the same time that his other hand catches hers and he repositions himself to block her again. Her wrist looks so thin and small grasped in his larger ones. My heart hammers in my chest, and I look down to find his hand has already let go of me, but mine apparently latched onto the back of his coat. I drop it like it's a lump of hot coal, my cheeks heating in hopes that no one noticed but knowing that they likely did.
"I would've thought you'd already eaten considering the blood dripping from your lips."
"I didn't know you liked staring at my lips, Willdred." Her voice sounds closer. I glance down, finding her own feet near touching his.
They better not start making out, or I'll impale them both.
"I like them better when they're closed," he retorts evenly.
"Liar. You like the way my tongue moves."
Saints, I'm going to hurl. Darius looks like's going to as well.
"What do you want, Visha?" he demands again, sounding completely unbothered by her attempts to seduce him. Not to mention the images she just placed in everyone's heads.
"The same thing as you. Her. Dead." I go still again, knowing that she's talking about me.
"I don't want her dead. The only person here I would want dead is you."
"Liar," she whispers. "Everything you've done, you've wanted. You know that."
"Everything I've done, he's wanted - not me."
A low manic laugh comes from her, and I watch as her feet turn around and take a few steps away. "Is that what he's told all of you? That he never wanted to kill dear Rosalinda? That he was brainwashed to do so?" She laughs again, this one higher pitched. "Oh, please. You know as well as I, dear Willdred, that The Eternal cannot make you do something unless you've previously wished it so. You wanted her to feel pain - the very pain you felt when she was fated with someone else instead of you. He merely amplified that enough for you to act on it."
"I never wanted her dead." His voice is lower. Nearly the same tone as when Lance or Darius is close to tearing off a head.
"She broke your heart. What better way to make her feel your pain than to stab hers?"
"Have you just come to taunt me then? To tell me what I already knew? If so, then you can run home to your dear Eternal and tell him that has a useless mutt who can't seem to do what she's been told to do anymore because her bloodlust rules her like a deranged dog-"
There's a hiss, likely from her, and then Will's taking a step back into me as she once again gets in his face. I have to jump back to avoid getting stepped on by him, but she doesn't reach for me.
"You want to know what hurts worse than your dearly beloved leaving you?" she sings, staring directly up at him. "Finding out that the man she chose over you ended up falling in love with another woman, all the while you've done nothing but mourn her and dedicate your life to hers. It's knowing that the young girl you thought could save you from pain, gave you that scar and vowed to end your life instead of seeing past the red eyes and into the whirlwind of pain and anguish you were in. It's knowing that that same girl nearly died of panic when she saw you again, all the while she chose another man over you, just as the first did. It's knowing that people will always choose someone else over you. It's knowing that you'll forever be alone and you'll die alone with no friends, no love, not even a grave for people to look at the name and wonder what kind of life you lived. The very love and friendship you tried to ruin, still exists. The pain you tried to cause your brother-in-arms by killing a thing he loved, didn't work. The pain you tried to cause your second love by taking away a friendship she so badly desired for most of her life, she found it again. And you? You're left with nothing but pain and misery and no one to see or listen to it but we demented demons. The people you once called family abandoned you. They left you. They tortured you, and then they hunted you, and now they look at you with nothing but pure hate in their eyes where love had once been.
"You want so badly for them to see the pain you're in, but they will forever be clouded by the fact that your hand killed her, and ignore the truth that it was they who put the knife in your hand. They don't love you, and you don't need their love. But you sure as hell need to make them feel your pain that will forever be there. And you want that. Deep down, you want it. You...you want to kill her." Her voice almost turns melodic in that last sentence, as if trying to whisper a spell.
For a moment I fear she's done just that as Will doesn't answer and only stares right back down at her. I glance over at Lance who still stands behind Nilsa and Mak. I notice then that everyone's looking at Will with hate in their eyes. Visha's been whispering so no one but I have heard her words. Well, Darius clearly has heard them. He looks unsure of what to do, just as I do.
"Your little trick isn't working right, Visha," he says calmly.
She hisses again. "For now, but just wait a few days, and you'll do what you want most." She peeks over his shoulder, her red eyes locking onto mine and freezing me into place again. They drop slightly, and then I'm all too aware of just how quickly my heart pulses in my neck. "Your blood may be watered down, but it'd still be fine dining for me."
"Back off," Will growls. She looks up at him, her eyes locking onto his lips. She raises her towards him, and for a grossing moment I think he's going to allow her to kiss him, but a blade appearing at her throat and already drawing black blood stops her inches from his lips. "Back. Off."
She smiles, tilting her head to further expose her neck to the knife. "The Eternal has a message for you."
"I'm not his puppet anymore."
Her smile only grows. "He says to ensure that what he planted grows, or it's her life for the taking, and her blood for the drinking."
She disappears into thin air, and I almost fall to the ground with relief. Did she just threaten to kill me and then drain my body of all of its blood? Dear Gods I'm going to throw up.
"I believe this is yours." I look up and find Will offering the handle of the blade he had against Visha's neck. Lance swipes it from his hand before I can ask him what in heathens he means. Lance is reaching for my waist before I can do anything more, pulling the sheath from my waistband.
"What-" I stop when I realize that the sheath is empty, and the blade Will had was the one that belongs in it. Lance slides it in, his hands moving too fast for me to see how he fastened it closed and locked the dagger back into the leather. "How-"
"Tricky little thing. Took me fifteen months to figure out how to open it, and then two more to do it again," Will answers.
"Congratulations," Lance says sharply, and then he's turning to me and lifting up my arms and the hem of my shirt which I slap back down before it goes all too high for my public liking. "Are you hurt?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm fine."
"I didn't hurt her-"
Lance whirls so fast that I didn't even start to blink before he faced Will and wrapped an arm around me and pushed me behind him.
"You expect me to trust a single letter that comes out of your mouth?" Lance yells. Everyone's still around us, and I can tell that they're ready to jump in should they break out into a fight, but they all have that hesitant look in their eyes.
Will raises his hands again, taking a step back. "I'm not looking for a fight."
"Well, that's a first. What did she say to you?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing? Really?"Lance takes another step forward, Will taking one back to keep the distance between them.
"Nothing of importance," Will corrects.
"Any word exchanged between you and any of those mutts will always be important."
"I thought you couldn't trust a single letter that came from my mouth?" Lance's arm raises and I catch it on instinct, grunting against the effort to stop his full-on punch. I purposefully put my body between the two of them, my back to Will forcing Lance to slow down and keep his focus on me and my life. It works at first, but then he's spinning me back around behind him and keeping me there. He did this the first time we saw Will in the council room after we got Clarice back. He was hell-bent on murdering Will, I stepped between them, and he moved me to safety with minimal effort as if I were a rag doll. It warms everything in me to know that he cares so much for me to push me out of the way and put himself at risk, but I'm beginning to get annoyed with the little fact.
"What did she tell you?" Lance asks again. His fists ball up, but that's all they do and I don't think I'll be quick enough to stop the next swing. I give Will a warning glare and fist Lance's coat in my hand hoping it'll be enough to keep his feet where they are.
"She did what she always does. She threatened me and then threatened someone else and then tried to get me vulnerable enough for her to slit your girlfriend's throat and drink her blood-
"No don't!" It's too late. Lance's blow landed right in Will's jaw, sending him stumbling. Will regains his footing quickly, anger practically shooting from his eyes as he locks onto Lance. They both move at the same time, arms raised, legs shooting forward. One minute my heart's racing in anticipation of the fight to begin and no one to step in, the next a water wolf is chomping down on Will's arm and stopping it mid-swing, and a gust of wind takes out Lance's legs and he ends up on the ground.
"That's enough!" Darius yells. He now stands between the two men, though he's only facing Lance while the water wolf keeps Will's arm in its mouth. For a second I panic and think Will's arm will be injured, then the next second I find myself not caring and thinking he deserves the pain and blood, and then I feel slightly bummed and then relieved that there isn't blood and he doesn't seem to be in any pain. And now I'm confused because my emotions are clearly disabled.
Lance stands back up, taking a step toward Will who looks up to the challenge to fight with a wolf on his arm. Lance doesn't get to take his second step before another gust of wind has him stumbling backward. Darius didn't even lift an arm to control the wind.
"Dammit, Darius!" Another gust and Lance is back on the floor. I know better than to try and calm him down when he's like this. He has to work it out himself.
Clarice turns on her heel and walks to the tree we were sitting at earlier. The wolf holding Will starts dragging him after her until he finally takes his eyes off Lance and turns to follow. The Ginerva move to do so as well, but Clarice stops them with a wave of her hand.
"Calm down," Darius says to Lance.
"Don't tell me to calm down!" I barely see a glimpse of a blade in Lance's hand before it's flying straight for Will's head. The long, small blade stops midair before it can go past Darius. The blade falls into Darius's hand just as Lance steps right up into Darius's face.
I've never seen Lance like this - and it's not that this Lance scares me, I could never be afraid of him. It's just...unsettling. His anger, this kind of anger, is unsettling because I've never seen it before. The Bhaltayr say that the night Aldred Rheasydia died was the night they felt terror - real terror - of what Lance and Clarice were capable of. They go on and on about how quickly and deadly they both moved when they sparred in the tunnels under the castle. Sure they fought out of both grief and anger, and maybe the grief watered down the anger enough for them to control it and not show so much of it as it's showing through Lance now. Even now The Bhaltayr look uneasy with how Lance is acting, though they all, like me, know better than to get involved.
I suppose this just goes to show just how much he loved her.
"You know what he did," Lance says in a dead tone.
"Yes," Darius answers calmly. "I know what he did and what she said to him - it's nothing important. Not right now, at least."
"He-"
"I know"
"I thought-"
"I know. But he didn't," Darius continues, matching his thoughts the rest of us can't seem to follow.
"And that makes a difference?"
"Yes."
"He was one of them."
"I know."
"And he-"
"I know!"
"Then why in heathens have you not burned him yet?" Lance yells.
"Because she's the one who saved him!" Darius yells back. "After everything he did and all the pain he's caused, she saved him - for whatever reason she did it - and it's a damn good reason!"
None of us believe that, of course, but sometimes you have to scream things out loud just to try and see if you can trick yourself into believing that it's the truth.
I glance over at where Will and Clarice are having their own screaming contest. They're far enough away to muffle their talk, but she's clearly fed up and he keeps trying to dislodge his arm which is being tightly held in the wolf's mouth still.
"That's not a good enough reason!" She yells loudly. He doesn't seem to have a response to that.
"You need to calm down, Lance," Darius says, eyeing Lance's opening and closing fists and the way he bounces on his toes.
"I can't."
"Well, figure out a way to do so."
"I had a way, but that way is no longer an option since-" He stops suddenly, growling as he turns away and starts to pace in front of me and Darius.
"Then find another-"
"There is no other way! It's always been like that! Ever since I was ten and she was eight, it's always been that way and I can't...I can't even go punch the fucking tree because he's over there and if I go over there I'll just end up hitting him until his face caves into his skull."
I can't help it, but I flinch at the threat. Again, not scared, just unsettled. I don't know how to help him, but she would. Clarice would. She'd ball up her fists and let him take out his anger on her for hours. She'd meet him blow for blow until he worked it all out and the sun was setting. Heathens, she'd even fight him when it set and there was nothing but darkness around them. He can't do that, not when...not when she's not strong enough to do so.
We all stand there in silence, watching as he paces, and the only sounds coming from the muffled scoldings Clarice is laying out on Will. I glance around, finding our escort standing far away from all of us and looking awkward as they all stand around the horses they seemed to have moved as well. I completely forgot about all of them. As I keep watching Lance pace, I catch Darius's gaze. I see the question in his eyes and shake my head. I have no idea what to do. He sighs, and then he tosses up the blade in the air just as his phoenix swoops down and catches it. It flies off, which I question what the point of that was, but then he speaks.
"Nilsa. I think it's about time we see just how good a champion you are."
The immortal woman smirks at Darius, challenge glinting in her eyes. Lance didn't seem to hear Darius's words, he just keeps pacing. The Bhaltayr and Ginerva all slowly back away, and I join them when Darius motions his head to the side. I stay at his shoulder, nervously chewing on my fingernails and shifting on my feet as I stand beside him.
"Lance." Lance stops pacing and looks at Darius, though he sure isn't staying still. "Catch."
A second later the phoenix flies overhead and drops the blade. Lance catches it, then opens his mouth to say something but ends up ducking just before Nilsa's own gripped weapon cuts off his head. They easily slip into a sparring match, and fucking Gods, she is good. Five minutes in and he has only landed a good handful of blows where she has had several. But it's...I will never not be impressed by just how easily Lance could kill, nor just how experienced and strong the never before heard of immortal, powerful women are.
"Mak."
Mak's knee is bouncing as she stands on the other side of Darius and looks excitedly at the fight in front of us. "I have energy," she says.
"Good. Then you can take Will."
Her leg stops bouncing. "What?"
"He's got pent-up anger and I don't want him taking it out on Clarice, even if I highly doubt he will."
"But-"
"He's just as trained as Lance - and it'd be good to see what we'd be fighting if he just so happens to double-cross us," he adds when she goes to argue again.
She gives a frustrated growl that sounds a lot like one of Víđarr's, but heads for Will and Clarice who are still arguing by the tree. At least they're not yelling anymore.
"Go with her and make sure she doesn't kill him."
"What-"
"Now," he says to Rohana. She sighs, uncrossing her arms as she stomps off after her sister.
We watch Lance and Nilsa in silence, some of The Bhaltayr and Vanya and Dee walking off to start their own smaller and much calmer fights. I glance over at Darius after a while, finding his arms crossed and jaw tight.
"You okay?" I ask him.
"Not even the slightest."
Nilsa ducks beneath Darius's arm, swiping her leg out which he barely dodges with a jump, but she catches his ankle with her hand, and then they're rolling on the ground and fighting for the upper hand.
"Maybe you should find your own sparring partner then," I say to Darius.
He looks down at me, and I give him an award-winning innocent smile. His shoulders deflate a little bit as he looks back at the fight just as both Lance and Nilsa get back on their feet. "We can't camp out in the open."
"Then the Ginerva can mist us elsewhere later, but everyone's all wound up and I'd rather stay here and let you all work it out than us all get in our saddles and tension be withering everywhere and between everyone. And you all have to train again today anyways."
He considers it until his arms fall to his sides in defeat. "What would we do without you, Kat?"
"Kill each other, most likely." He huffs a laugh and smiles down at me. I smile back, and he gives me a kiss on the cheek before walking over to Vlad and facing him off. I can't pin it, but there's something different about Darius. Nothing bad, but something...he's just different, and I'm hoping to all the Gods and their Saints that it's a good difference.
I mean, he's never kissed me on the cheek before, but it wasn't weird. It felt like a brother's love - not that I know anything about having a brother. I suppose he could one day be my brother if all things go well, and that excites me. I'd be related to a King of two kingdoms, sister to an assassin Queen, and married to an assassin King and Crown Prince. It's a thought that has my toes tingling and stomach fluttering in excitement and yearning, but there's that quiet voice in my head, the one that likes to ruin things.
What would I do without all of them? Where would I be? Would I even be?
Gods and their Saints I can't let those thoughts form nor watch everyone try to kill each other, so I find my way to the horses and try to find a bag with some food in it. The escort ends up training as well, and I'm left laying on the ground on my back next to Thomas as we eat until my eyelids grow heavy from my lack of substantial rest, and I fall asleep to the sound of metal screeching against metal.