Nemia was training as usual when Irina came looking for her. The flicker of her deep blue dress in the corner of her vision made her stomach drop, but she forced herself to finish the set of exercises as though she hadn't noticed.
"Nemia," Irina called as she turned away to put down her staff. She must have been in a good mood; she leaned over the fencing in a more casual manner than Nemia had ever seen her in.
"Yes?" She had to come closer to get her water flask. She'd strung its strap over a fence pol at Irina's elbow, close enough that she could smell Irina's perfume, a sharp reminder that she probably smelled exactly how she felt-- very, very sweaty. She felt herself blushing, and then scowling. She had no reason to be embarrassed. It was Irina who kept inserting herself where she wasn't wanted. But perhaps she'd learned something about Morie's whereabouts. That would be welcome news, and the thought made her less irritated.
"There's someone I want you to meet."
That didn't sound like information. "Oh."
"I think you should take a break and come have lunch with us."
"I really shouldn't."
"You need to have lunch sometime," Irina said breezily, tugging the flask out of her hands and slinging it over her shoulder. "I'll carry this up so you can refill it. Grab whatever you need."
Nemia did have to eat sometime, but she usually did so on a patch of dusty grass a bit away from the sandy training rings, with Sam and Nick and Cara. And Morie.
Maybe this person Irina wanted her to meet was important to their search. She cast a nervous look around the yards-- surely no one cared exactly where she ate her lunch.
She grabbed her cloth sack from beneath the narrow shade of a shed and trotted after Irina up the castle hill, catching up easily. "Who is it?"
"An old friend. Savion Regenmace."
Immediately put out, Nemia slowed. Regenmaces were awful, the lot of them, a sworn enemy of their little group, even if the noble family wasn't quite aware of it. Savion had been a childhood tormenter of Sam and so a vowed nemesis of Morie, and Ezren Regenmace, the family's head, had a reputation to rival Lord Delmeneth, leader of the Inigrit. And Delmeneth was an actual attempted poisoner.
Irina looked over her shoulder. "Oh, he's not bad, don't be like that."
"I didn't say anything." But she slowed her pace even further as she followed Irina through the castle halls and up stairs to the Laycreek rooms.
"Savion," Irina said immediately as she opened the door. There was a sharp clang in response.
"I was just checking on the food!"
"Making sure there was enough left after all your snacking?"
"I wasn't snacking," the male voice answered, aggrieved, and Irina finally moved so Nemia could see in.
The door opened on a study in the Laycreek colors of blue and golden brown, or at least she assumed were the colors, from the tapestry stitched with the crest hanging over the fireplace. The crest, a looping river under two crossed swords, was mirrored on the opposite wall, carved into the stone above another closed door. A thick rug showing signs of wear covered the stone floor, a high desk with elaborately carved legs was pushed against the back wall, and several deep leather chairs strained and sagging with age were arranged near the fireplace around a table heaped with platters.
From one of these chairs a boy with pale hair in a long ponytail unfolded himself to stand and turn to face them, his lanky frame dwarfing the high-backed chair.
"Nemia," Irina said, moving with easy confidence around the cramped room, "this is Savion. Sav, this is Nemia."
"In front of company, really?" Savion sighed. "Rina?"
Irina chose not to acknowledge that. "I see you've already helped yourself to the soup."
"You took hours," Savion replied, which was Nemia's first introduction to his casual over exaggeration.
"It was ten minutes. Nemia, sit down."
Relieved to have a kind of invitation, Nemia finally stepped into the room and silently took a seat. Savion was watching her. Even with his unexpectedly open manner his eyes were guarded.
"Help yourself to the food," Irina said, sitting. "I'd say fill your bowl as well, but I'm not sure there's enough soup left."
"If you'd cared about the soup you would have gotten more," Savion retorted. Nemia silently agreed. Irina clearly planned for everything, a fact that set her on edge, even if they were supposed to be on the same side.
"Maybe I was hoping you learned some self-control at the border."
"Maybe I was hoping to be welcomed back from the border with open arms and as much soup as I wanted."
Nemia frowned to herself. Savion certainly seemed friendly enough, but their casual bantering was starting to feel not so casual after all. It felt more like Irina was just trying very, very hard to draw out Savion's childish side. Like it was very important for Nemia not to feel threatened by him, to let down her guard. Of course, that was probably overreacting, but she wasn't in the habit of forgetting these suspicions. She filed it neatly away for later and focused on the food.
It was Morie who was constantly teased for eating so much so quickly at ever meal, but long days of training made Nemia hungry too, and she nearly forgot about the nobles chatting beside her for a while as she ate.
Irina cleared her throat, perhaps sensing this. "Well, I suppose it's time to get to the point. I've enlisted Savion to help us with our search."
Nemia had suspected as much, but she didn't say anything.
"You don't talk much, do you?" Irina shot Savion a disapproving glare at his question but he went on. "Not to be rude. But I'm not sure if you're okay with me being here."
Maybe only because people commenting on her quietness had always annoyed her, Nemia snapped, "If I'm not okay you'll know."
"Fair enough. Do you want the rest of the soup?"
"Maybe I wanted it," Irina said.
"Don't be rude, Rina. If the guest wants it she should have it."
"I'm fine."
"Oh." He slid the bowl toward Irina, who smothered a smile.
"No, I don't want it."
Nemia shook her head and let them go on for another few minutes, still more interested in the food, but eventually she felt it was going on too long. "What's the point of this?" She asked, cutting off Savion's monologue about the lack of really good soup at the border.
Irina shrugged, and said "To get you acquainted," at the same time Savion said, "To highlight how awful border duty is."
"I have to go back to training soon."
"Alright. You're getting restless."
Nemia wasn't, and gladly would have stayed sunk into the comfortable seat surrounded by warm food for the rest of the week, but Irina finally seemed ready to get to the point, so she didn't interrupt.
"To be honest, Nemia, I think you need friends."
"I have friends," she said sharply. She wouldn't let that comment pass. Sam and Nick and Cara weren't nobody, even if they weren't Morie.
"Different friends," Irina said softly, perhaps sensing she'd nearly crashed into a sensitive topic. "Different types of friends. Now, sure, nobody knows why the Thief ran. But it's not hard to guess, is it? She'd gotten so close to the princess so quickly, everyone was talking about how she was the new Sage."
Nemia blinked. She hadn't heard anyone saying that, and she heard more than most people suspected.
"You know, the new right-hand Guardian. She was taking on this new responsibility so quickly, and now everyone had so many expectations..."
"It must have been exhausting," Savion put in, his voice sympathetic.
Nemia listed her head to one side. Morie had so much energy that exhausted didn't seem like it could fit her. But then again, Nemia hadn't been paying as much attention to Morie as she should have been in the past weeks. Maybe Morie had been as exhausted as she was.
"So?"
"She snapped," Irina said simply. "Maybe she couldn't take it."
"So," Nemia said again, less of a question this time. "Morane got overwhelmed, therefore I need new friends."
Savion blinked. "This made more sense when Irina explained it to me."
Irina groaned, exasperated. "Yes. In a way. It was time for Morane to take on more of her duties as a Guardian, but she didn't have the proper... support. Instruction. Friends."
Nemia's stomach dropped. Taking on more duties as Guardian-- as the Assassin-- she certainly had no intention of that. Unless they knew something she didn't. She suddenly wished she hadn't eaten so much.
"I don't--"
"Please. We're not trying to replace your friends. We just want to help you. If you need it." Irina slipped her hand over Nemia's where she clenched the arm of the chair.
"Right. So help me find Morie." Nemia stood up and left.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Irina finished stacking the platters and plates on top of each other, except for the bowl Savion was still scraping soup out of as he sat with his legs over the arm of the chair.
"She seemed suspicious."
"I think that's just how she is."
"Irina, are you planning anything she should be suspicious of?"
"Depends if you look at it from our point of view or hers. I've told you everything." She sat and watched him closely. "Do you think I'm doing wrong?"
"Making her more of a Guardian? Ultimately more powerful? It's hard for me to be objective about that. By making her our friend and then bringing all of us closer to the princess you make me more powerful too."
"So, no."
"I didn't say that."
"That's what you meant. She makes herself powerless on purpose. Not everyone wants to be helped, but it's still helping."
Savion tilted the bowl upside down, sighed, the passed it over. "I don't know if there's a right or wrong here. I suppose you're not hurting her."
"And it's good for us. The princess will certainly be missing her Thief. She'll be happy to accept the Assassin, and if Nemia relies on us enough the princess will have to accept us as well."
"Good news for the Inigrit," Savion mused. "Which we might need."
"Delmeneth really is out of favor?"
"The king's not hiding his anger. If the Inigrit lose persuasion over him we'll need to have it over the princess."
Irina nodded, her mind turning over plan after plan, finding the quickest way to tie Nemia to them and then all of them to the princess. "Don't worry. We'll have it."