They'd been asleep for what seemed like only a few minutes when one set of eyes opened again.
Amelia remembered her brother Keegan.
She took a deep, sore breath and attempt was made to test her surroundings before she carefully, and so quietly, lifted herself off Feren and out from under his loving arm without disturbing his sleep.
She sat on the edge of the bed for a moment. Her head throbbed as if she'd drank a whole bottle of wine the night before. Instinctively she lifted her hands to massage her temples; then she remembered one arm was trapped against her chest, tightly wrapped under layers of protection. This magic that he had attacked her with... it targeted her own. In the exact moment that she'd been hit she had been channeling her energy into her arms, preparing to shoot it into the wall to block him out. His flame must have leeched it – destroyed those pathways. Her mind was too fuzzy to piece it all together.
The sleep refused to leave her eyes even as she rose from the bed... padded across the room. It was late at night; she sensed it as one arm moved to cradle the other and a chill ran up her spine. She peered out into the hallway before leaving the room to make sure no one was there.
Amelia paused. Being so tired, it was difficult to separate the life energies from each other within the structure of Remalda. There were at least a dozen people around her; some sleeping, some moving around, and at least three spirits were around her. Normally she would have been able to sense them with as much ease as she could hear them walking around their rooms. Now, however, even when trying to focus on the one specific lifeform she wanted, the senses all blurred together. Her body hurt from being still for so long; she ached from the bottoms of her calves up through her shoulder and neck; her back, neck, arm all especially sore.... Her hand graced the wall to steady the unbidden swaying of her head.
After taking a moment of cool breaths, she started forward again. She was determined to walk at least, knowing that going back to sleep would only make her feel worse. But it couldn't have stopped her then. There was a suppressed sense that moved her feet forward; her hand on the wall helped as a guide. She let the feeling pull her forward until she came upon on open doorway. There was murmuring from inside. Amelia's mind was too lethargic to understand it all.... She thought herself lost for a second, hardly able to understand the language that floated into the hallway that she'd once been fluent in. She did, however, understand the message. Someone needed rest and recovery, before... interrogation, or welcome, or activity. "They", she and Feren, she assumed, needed a chance to feel safe again; comfortable. They did not deserve to be suffocated, said the voice. Amelia thought of Feren.
Something was mentioned about knowledge, or the lack of it. Of losing their family. Amelia sensed the gentle voice as Noni's. The essence of the spirits within the room were only vaguely familiar to her.
"You should rest, as well, Abett. Nertín will be back shortly. Silva worked very hard to save you a bed tonight."
There was a pause, and a slight shift in the room. "Alright. Thank you, Noni. I will check on Silva before bed.... Until tomorrow... Noni, Keegan."
Only one voice responded. "Until tomorrow."
A flutter in Amelia's chest started at the sound of her brother's name. As the exiting body approached her, she flattened her back against the wall. Abett stepped out of the room without noticing her.
Once his footsteps faded around the corner, Amelia placed her ear back on the doorframe to listen. She closed her eyes. Maybe she could see the forms of energy there without looking. One was very strong. The other was weak and unfamiliar.
She heard the same voice, coming softer this time. It whispered, "This would be a good time to show yourself, you know, Kiari. Your sister is back. She's here with us again, fairly unharmed.... It's been so long since you've seen her, hasn't it? I'm sure you are relieved."
There was no answer to be heard; her words hung in silence.
"If ever you were to wake, now would be the time, I think. If anything... for me to see you all together again, with your father's eyes mocking the colors of us average Voerr. You could look at me now, monu. Remind me. Would you look, even for Amelia?"
Amelia stepped forward from behind the doorframe. Keegan, or the form of him, lie still.
Noni jumped up from her seat beside the bed. "Amelia! You should be resting."
Her eyes did not waiver.
Keegan Kiari was lying in a bed of white fur, his thin body draped – but whether to keep him warm or protect him from view, she couldn't tell. His cheeks were pale and hollow, a hint of adolescence on his face. He wasn't a small boy anymore. His figure filled the length of the bed. She wondered how tall he would have been if he were awake.
Noni did not try to fight the girl, after their looks refused to meet. Amelia could only, in that room, see her brother. He was sleeping... wasn't he? He seemed so peaceful. Amelia would not have recognized him at first glance. He didn't look like Keegan; her Keegan. But that was what they'd called him. At least, that was what Amelia had heard before. She could not sense the aura around him that she should have found familiar as her family, as a Kiari, as her nest-mate. Who had he turned into, then?
"... Nertín will be here soon, Kiari. He will be here."
The voice meant nothing. The sight of her was even less important. Amelia's feet, and senses, were pointing only for the young Voerr lying still on his back. She sat herself in the second seat beside the bed, only vaguely aware of the standing woman still in front of the chair, looking around as if to find someone to help her. Amelia placed her hand on the sleeping boy's arm. He was still a child....
Eventually, the weight of her head pulled her down to touch the boy's chest with her brow. Her left arm curled around just to feel him. Amelia fell asleep, one fist clenched inside the sling where it tightly hugged her heart... the other hand holding his where they crossed against his belly.
She never woke when a pair of stronger arms carried her back to bed.
***
Her eyes opened the next day to the warm crackling of a fire on dry brush. The smell of the kindling smoke may have been what had woken her. It smelled of home.
Amelia blinked her eyes again just to feel her lashes beat against the skin of her cheeks, clearing her blurred vision so that she could clearly visualize the marble stone above her. She was home.
At least... she was in Constentine.
Her arm lie resting on the chest of another individual. It rose very softly with every intake of breath, and fell again in a soothing rhythm that could have lulled her to sleep again.... But she did wonder... hadn't she fallen asleep with Feren at her back, and not in front of her?
The tips of her fingers lifted gingerly off the body they rest upon, wiggling slightly. That was not how she had fallen asleep, was it? Hadn't she been holding something?
As the pain began to wake she became more alert, stifling groans. Memories of the night before began to reappear. She looked into the fire. Keegan.
Amelia took one more breath of the smell; the mix of the burning cedar, the smell of her skin and of the scent of lavender between her and Feren, before looking over, considering an attempt to rise again without waking her partner. There was an unfamiliar spirit sitting in the corner; she jumped slightly at the sight of it, her mind briefly lost as to why there would be a spirit in the room — and then, the longer she looked at it, the more familiar it became. It was a sort of fox. The color was of one of her brothers.
She lifted herself, with great effort, from her place beside Feren. He remained in that deep sleep that her movement couldn't stir him from.
The fox moved as she approached it, leaving a trail of grey-violet mist that resembled the composition of Amelia's spirits, only slightly lighter. She followed it forward into the hall she hardly recognized. They'd been to Remalda before... Amelia and her family. The maze of hallways and rooms was familiar, but it had a much different feel this time.
The memories that had been in her head from before her time in Firica seemed shrouded and empty, as if they'd only been dreams. But then again, she felt the same for her time in Firica.
The shapes of energy that bordered her senses were ever-present... especially after not having that sense in Firica for so long. And the magic around her – beneath her – ready to call into action at any moment. It felt like there was air under her wings again; there was something supporting her, holding her upright, ready to jump to her fingertips at a simple snap. Amelia smiled. There was something there. It wasn't as strong as before, but it was much, much stronger than it had ever seemed in Firica. She stepped outside.
The ground splayed before her was a ghostly white, tinted with shades of blue and purple in foot-sized divots by the light of a setting sun. She looked, for a moment, confused. Was the sun falling or rising? Had it not just set? Should it not have been morning?
She turned around. There stood Nertín.
They looked at each other for a long while.... Or at least, what felt like a long while. One smiled, and then the other. They had the same eyes; both the violet irises of their father and grandfather — the late kings. Sembran, their oldest brother, one of the three rulers on the throne before his leave-taking, before the assault, had glowing silver eyes like their mother. Keegan had something in between.
Amelia's smile faded as she looked at her elder sibling. Her eyes fell to the snow behind him. Her heart sank just as her feet had in the white powder beneath. Their world was quiet.
"We are the only ones left, aren't we?" Amelia asked, her voice low and directed almost to the ground beneath her. There were no other Kiaris dancing about, waiting to step into her view or welcome her home or take her into their arms. It was just them.
"We still have Keegan...."
"You know he's gone. You have to."
"There is still hope."
"Is there?" She looked back up. "Is that what you have to tell yourself? That there's still hope? I felt nothing. I feel nothing. He isn't with us."
"Not now. For now, his spirits are resting."
Amelia shook her head. Her long, loose hair tickled her arm with the thick fitted sleeve. She felt the pain and her heart lurched. "I thought you dead. All of you. Why did you never send me any assurance? Any sign that you were alright?"
"The same from you."
Amelia turned, her teeth clenching at the same time as her fists. "I tried! For so long, I tried. Jed assured me he was in contact. I—"
She brought herself to pause. It was not worth fighting over. Whether or not they'd had contact, she was there now. And so much had changed; she should've been focusing on that, and the future, rather than what had happened before. She looked up again to Nertín.
"... You have a son."
At that, her brother tried a smile. He reached his hand in her direction. "Let's go inside, a'shira. We have a lot to speak of, and we've been in the cold long enough."
***
They sat in the same room Amelia had been in before, where cushions lie on the ground around a lit fire. Mugs of spiced tea sat between their hands; it was late, Amelia was told. Nertín had just recently returned; he had slept through the day just as she had, and was wide awake to speak with her, though he did seem just as tired and worn. Amelia did not quite understand why he had been running the border to resupport it, but clearly it was a chore they had been laboring on for a long time.
Nertín sat across from her, blowing his tea. His hands were bandaged; dark circles underlined his eyes. His dark hair fell over his forehead and ears in a messy, pillow-toused way. She wanted to be closer to him. Make sure he was living, and not just a ghost as the rest of her family was. The thoughts made Amelia very sad again.
She hadn't accepted mourning before, only self-pity. She realized as she sat there that with everything that had gone on in Firica, she'd never thought of her family. Jed had led her to believe that they were gone. All of them. Because why else would there be no hope for repairing her home? Sending aid? Gathering connections?
"So you have met Silva," Nertín started, once warm enough to speak. He sipped at the tea in his hands. Amelia had been content with her nose over the rising steam, taking in the scent that she hadn't smelled in so long.
She nodded slightly in response.
"And Noni."
"You are still well?"
"Yes, I would say so...." Nertín readjusted himself to stretch out his legs. After the layers had come off, his bare arms were exposed. They were markless, and toned by hard work and physical effort. Amelia tried to remember exactly what her brother's marks were. She only remembered Sembran as having visible lines wrapping around his forearms and shoulders. "... It has been difficult here... preparing for winter. We have regrouped as best we can. In Remalda, we host close to two-thousand. In Tinoch, there are more... others in Vëran, Angel, and further east, Avion. That is where Asha has stayed since...." His voice died, leaving Amelia to fill in the rest. Since Sembran, her husband, had been killed. Since the first and greatest attacks. Since Amelia was taken to Firica.
"Have you seen her?"
"Yes. Many times. She leads the resistance there."
"Resistance? Against what?"
His response was interrupted by someone entering the room. Noni walked in with the little boy's hand in hers. She smiled apologetically, but tiredly.
"He wanted to be with you," she told them.
Nertín nodded, reaching for his son who came to fall sleepily into his father's arms. Amelia wasn't yet used to the idea of her brother having a son of his own. It felt strange; as if she'd jumped forward in time... the better part of a decade.
Little Sembran, Silva, pushed the hair from his father's face with half lidded eyes. Nertín pulled the boy into his lap so that his head was able to rest on a hip. He patted the child, looking to Amelia only to find a change in subject. Noni had left them to go to sleep.
"He likes to be around us at all times. He has trouble sleeping alone."
Amelia nodded, feeling she could relate to the boy. "I don't suppose there are many others his age."
"No... not many. He helps his mother with the healing and gardening. I have not been available much recently." Nertín stroked his hand along the boy's back to lull him to sleep. It was a gentle, loving motion. His thoughts seemed to extend further than the room.... After a minute of silence, he turned up his lavender-tinted irises. "Varkner has told me much of what you went through to get here. Your... friend. I spoke to him earlier. Feren. He is not from here, is he?"
She only managed to shake her head.
"He's strong. Or was, at one point.... Verdonal, was it?"
Amelia nodded. "Yes. They —" What use was it to try to tell her brother how cruel their captors had been? It no longer mattered. It was no use divulging details of his torture to her brother; he didn't need to feel guilt over what she, what Feren, had endured. "I don't know for how long they had been poisoning him."
"I never expected Firica to have caches of verdonal. Did they... did he ever —"
"I was never poisoned, no." I was weak enough without their attempts, she thought to herself, adjusting her grip around her warm mug. "I was not seen as a threat the same way Feren was."
Her brother nodded. He was staring down at the drink he'd had to place on the ground to take in his son. Would Nertín ever know what Amelia had gone through, both with and without Feren? Was it worth telling him?
After another quiet moment, her brother shook his head with a soft hmph sound, swaying the black hair that fell on the sides of his brow. "We've heard so many stories. I don't know what is true. Varkner was not there for your interactions with the King. Feren would not speak to me unless I asked him questions directly, but I know not what to ask."
"When did you see him?" Amelia voiced, confused, ignoring the sharp pain in her chest at the mention of "the King". Feren. He'd still been asleep when she left.
"He woke earlier in the day. I arrived close to noon and went to see you; your friend was awake when I stepped in. We didn't want to wake you.... I don't guess he returned to bed more than an hour before you woke. He was very tired."
"And Varkner and Teeknan? Where are they?"
"Likely in bed. I am not sure."
Again the silence stretched between them like a vast ocean. An entire world separated their lives. Amelia had nothing to say that she wished to share. Nertín kept his hands on the boy there for distraction. The boy's hair curled on his little cheeks like his mother's; it was as dark as Nertín's was. His pale little fingertips splayed over his father's leg; his lips were slightly parted in sleep, one cheek pushed up on his father's knee as he slept. Amelia smiled at the pursed expression. Nertín turned up suddenly.
"You had a child. Is that true?"
She felt the words like a stab in her heart. Her cup of tea was lowered. Of all the rumors that could have traveled here....
"... I had a child... yes. A boy. He didn't have a name to me; he was sickly.... Andrew and his followers took him as soon as he was born."
This obviously confused Nertín. His brow creased, and the hand on Silva's back slowed considerably. His look had every question clear in his eyes.
"I was wife to the king of Firica. My only purpose was to produce an heir."
"He died of a sickness?"
"I don't know." Her reply was... almost honest. "He and I were never connected as we should have been. He had never been healthy; many days I didn't think he truly was... living. The council seemed to believe his ultimate passing was unnatural... malicious. But it... he... was unable to support himself." He never should have lived, she thought for the thousandth time. "His soul was trapped away from his body, unable to ever fully enter. Whoever ended him... they did him a mercy." He doesn't need to know more. He wouldn't believe me, anyway. Not unless he had seen for himself.
It was clear that Nertín did not fully understand her implications, but surely he knew that Humans were never meant to be fully crossed with Voerr.
Instead of continuing his line of questions, he shifted away from the child. "... So you did act upon the Emities Pact?"
"Yes. The marriage documents confirmed it; once Andrew became king, Firica was to extend an offer of aid. A party was supposed to be dispatched to Maravi; Jed was in charge of the arrangement of it all, and would have come, himself. But they said... Firica was too weak; too decentralized to risk wasting their coin. And at my failure to give them an heir, the pact meant nothing. Our marriage never meant much without a child for Andrew, so the meaning of the Emities pact was up for interpretation, and the Council continued to stall. I heard rumors... of civil unrest in the western provinces, and further stories of the Council targeting... non-Firicans, specifically in the east. They... Andrew... never thought of Constentine with those issues occupying his time. It's a different world... there."
"How much of that are you aware of?"
She tried not to take offense at his wording and stuffed her bite back deeper inside. The truth was she didn't know much. The times that she was present for those meetings... her mind was adrift in a thick fog of disorientation. She took a deep breath before saying, "Very little. I was removed from the majority of those conversations. I only heard brief statements here and there. I saw when Andrew was most upset when he would... return." When he would take her in his bed, when his guards would beat her the worst. The times she would lie over the edge, body ruined, vaguely aware of Andrew's lead advisor detailing the successes of Firican control that week.
The images raced around in her head, previously forgotten, or ignored, or pushed deep into the recesses of her consciousness. The dreamworld state that she had been existing in had made it hard to separate nightmare from reality.
"I had no part in rule or decision-making. My presence was hardly even welcome within their halls; within view of anyone aside from the family and their..." – dogs, her mind spit – "Guards. And I didn't... I never really... tried."
Her voice had cracked upon speaking the last word. She set her tea on the floor. Her stomach had no room left for it.
She avoided her brother's look, trying to keep in tears until she spied his hand extending into her view. Her gaze flittered up at him.
"Come here, a'shira," he beckoned, his eyes as soft and sorry as hers might have been then. His hand was held out for hers.
Without taking it, Amelia scooted herself around and to his side. His free arm, not supporting the sleeping head on his legs, went around her. Her head fell on his chest; he turned to kiss her brow. Both had to clench their eyes shut and wrangle in their shuddering breaths.
"I am so sorry, Amelia. I'm sorry you had to go through it all. I'm sorry we didn't think to look sooner."
She succeeded in holding back her tears; she set her hand over his on the boy. "I am sorry, as well. I didn't fight hard enough. I gave in too easily. I believed them."
"Shh, a'shira. It wasn't your fault. It never was.... We couldn't have known."
Her family had been alright for so long. They had a son who was nearly four. Noni had to have been with child the better part of a year. Four years before this moment, Amelia was just arriving in the Capital, wed to that Firican puppet. What had they gone through in that same time that she was suffering in a human world?
"... Six years is a long time..." she decided, closing her eyes on her brother's shoulder. "It doesn't feel like I'm back yet." It was hard to convince her mind that this was real.
"... A lot has changed," her brother agreed.
Her eyes lifted again, barely open. She wondered.... "Has Keegan been gone this whole time, as well?"
Nertín's hand on the boy stopped its rhythmic motions. Amelia picked her head up off his shoulder. Slowly, he shook his head. "No. No, his spirits left... soon after Silva was born. It's been nearly three years. He's suffered the consequence of drought. We support him, but it's never seemed to be enough to get him to wake. He is on the threshold of his fifteenth year.... I didn't have the strength to let him go."
For Nertín, Keegan would have been the last of his relatives. Amelia could imagine life having lost everyone; she could not imagine living having lost everyone except for one, who could not wake from his own exhausted slumber.
"... I wish to return to Maravi."
Nertín's head moved slightly to the side. "There's nothing there, aria. Everyone is gone."
"I want to see it."
"... It is too dangerous. We don't know what's out there anymore. Abett would never allow it."
"I need his permission to return home?"
Nertín looked to argue, but his words fell short. He didn't seem to have much to say against her cause, other than, "It will not be the same, Amelia. Maravi is empty. But I will not stop you, if that is what you want."
"Then I will speak to Abett...." She wondered then, "Why does he lead you?"
"That is what Father wished."
"Why not you?"
Nertín looked back down to his son, allowing Amelia to scoot herself away from him, and reach back for her mug of tea. One of them sighed. "There has to be a point, Amelia, at which we focus on the lives we wish to pursue, rather than settling into the roles placed before us. Our father understood that. We may, in the future, re-establish the Kiari line, but our blood is not necessary. There are plenty of other strong lines of Voerr families before us. If Keegan lives — or if you, by chance, wish to take lead, Abett only stands in our place. He is a good leader. He knows what he is doing. He has allowed me to step away... be with my wife, my son, my brother; to be with those who would much rather have my support in these hard times than my rulings. I know my place. I can not find a word in this language, but I know my place. And Abett, or Kestrel, knows his."
"So now that there is no king, or grandking, you step away."
"I am the king, Amelia. I am the king... but I am not standing in front of these decisions. You are correct. I am not comfortable leading without the aid, direction, and mentorship of our father, or fathers before him. I am not comfortable without Sembran or Keegan beside me. And I was far, far from comfortable, when my only sister, the strongest link to my father's blood, was not to be found, whether dead, alive, or starved of the forbearance that named her very race. No, I was not strong enough. But I do not believe you would have been, either."
His words ended with the little boy in his arms stretching with a small hum, turning in his father's arms. Nertín returned his hand to rub the boy's back up and down. The hard edge to his eyes quenched at the sight of his boy. He shushed him softly. "Noma reverum, inutsin. Sena nu."
He sounded so much like their mother just then. Amelia felt so very homesick. Even though she was sitting right there.
From behind her came the presence of a spirit; it tipped its nose into and under Amelia's arm. Grey nudged into her side for attention.
Her hand ran through the wisps of thick fur on the back of its neck. If Grey was out, Feren should have been awake. She wanted him to appear then, if not just to join her in speaking with her brother. Act as a buffer between her and Nertín. At the thought of this, she looked up to him. He was eyeing the dark spirit thoughtfully.
"He was able to eat earlier. Are you hungry?" Nertín asked, seeming to avoid the true subject on his mind.
Her stomach twisted; she was very hungry, but couldn't imagine herself eating. She had hardly managed to keep anything down in Firica.
"I'll send for dinner's leftovers," he murmured, shooting a spirit from his fingertips to run out the room, past Amelia and Grey. Without missing another beat, he turned to her. "Does the King know of your relations with Feren?"
Amelia creased her brow, still holding onto Grey. "No. He doesn't." Or rather, he shouldn't.
"So it isn't odd at all that suddenly you, your lover, and the only other Voerr in the capital have disappeared...?"
The girl frowned. He tried to kill us, she thought. What would Andrew care that they were gone? Was that not what he'd wanted, anyway? Or at least, his councilmen. She thought of them and felt anger feed back into her arms. At the coursing of her magic, her right arm ached; she bit back the restraints on her magic so they would not seep into the damaged limb. Nertín was trying to read her expressions.
"Should we have any reason to expect a Firican assault, as well, is my question."
Feeling Feren nearby, Amelia remained unmoving. "I am not the best one to answer that question."
Nertín must have felt the new presence as well, because he shifted himself carefully, so as not to disturb the child there still. Amelia sipped at her cooling tea; Nertín reached across the space between them with the clay pot to fill her cup. The smell of bergamot filled her nose. She leaned into Grey's large form.
The spirit turned around to look at its summoner when he walked in, so quietly Amelia may not have known he was there had she not been able to sense his form and the shifting of the energy in the ground with his every footfall. She watched Nertín's eyes flicker up to him and down again.
"I'm going to put this one to bed.... I will return shortly."
Feren stayed clearly out of his way and beside Amelia as he rose with the little boy in his arms. Silva did not move a hair to fight his father. Once they were gone and out of sight, Feren lowered himself to be by the girl.
"How are you?" he asked softly.
She turned her cheek slightly in his direction, still staring at the spot past which her brother and his child had disappeared. Was there an answer to his question? She was some of everything; happy, and very sad, and excited and relieved, and hurt, and scared, and angry.... She whispered, "I'm... not sure, right now. But I'm alright. How are you?"
"Tired..." he decided with a husky groan. "Very tired."
Grey wrestled himself out from under her good arm to step away; he leapt through an adjacent wall without a sound. Amelia then turned her attention to the summoner. "Why do you not rest?" she asked, taking his hand so he would sit down, rather than remain half-kneeling. "You've needed it."
"So have you," he whispered in response.
It was strange, she thought, being there. The dynamic was what she'd expected; she felt infinitely less targeted and afraid, but it was just....
"It doesn't feel right, yet," she said in confidence. "I've missed too much. I don't know what I'm supposed to believe. What if the customs have been just as lost? I'd imagined returning to my Constentine — this isn't it. And my brother—"
She cut herself off before she could say something she would regret. It was too soon to come to any conclusions about Nertín. Surely it was just as ahead and conflicting for him as it was for her.
"It just doesn't seem like this is what we dreamed of."
He tried to shush her by lifting her hand to his lips. "It has only been a day, Aria. And you've been asleep for most of it."
"I know that. It just doesn't feel the same. The others — they're quiet. They aren't speaking; their spirits aren't out." She stopped herself, and asked, "Where are Varkner and Teeknan?"
"With Abett now. It seems we are all on the same schedule for sleep...."
She lifted her tea for the warming smell again and offered it to Feren. He looked skeptically for a moment, but eventually took the mug in his hand. When feeling that it was warm, he took it with the second hand. He made to ask what it was but she pointed with her look for him to try it first. A ginger sip was taken from the lip of the beverage. Feren blinked his dark lashes a couple times upon pulling the mug away.
"Will you leave with me?" Amelia asked, beginning to stand from her place by his side, wobbly as she only had one arm to balance with. She braced one hand on his shoulder to make up for the lack of balance, as her other arm was still strapped tightly to her chest. It seared as it pushed against the confines of the wrappings.
"Now?"
The question was answered with a silent nod. Feren got to his feet with notable discomfort. Amelia leaned over for the thick coats her brother had left behind, her damaged arm throbbing with every move. Nertín wouldn't notice their absence, she thought. Not for some time.
They walked out the way Amelia had been headed before Nertín had stepped in her path. There was no one to call her back that time. It was just the two of them, facing the outside where the city scape lay blanketed under fresh-fallen snow and the shaded light of a quarter-moon. Nothing stopped them there in the threshold but their desire to stay warm. They watched the night air for a moment, without sound. Small candle lights flickered in the distant windows of homes. The wind sweeping past the marble was the only sound. Amelia stared out into the wide courtyard, then up at the stars peaking between the clouds. The snow was enough to remind her that she wasn't in Firica anymore.... But what better sense could she have than to imagine that it was a dream? That they'd really been stuck, locked up in Firica. That Feren had been....
"... I never thought to ask you how you felt in all of this... with... leaving. I never would have done it if you hadn't been there, but this whole time... I haven't asked your thoughts. Turi...?"
His eyes and thoughts, as always, seemed so much deeper than he ever voiced. Amelia didn't like having to guess; surely her assumptions would be so much worse, wouldn't they? She turned around, not wanting to know if the truth was as bad as she imagined.
"We could run... as you said before. Go now... summon our spirits and make it all the way to the border before they noticed us missing. Except that... it's not a border we would have to reach anymore.... We could leave. Never turn back."
She interrupted herself. Her arm curled against the cool wind that blew in the passageway. She wasn't home. She couldn't feel it.
"... Amelia," his voice beckoned from behind. "Look at me." She felt him reach toward her, but turned slightly away.
"Aria..." he whispered. He succeeded in asking her to turn. She looked up but could not bear to look into his jeweled eyes longer than an instant without feeling... like....
He touched her hands; tried to search for something in her eyes. When there was nothing, Feren thought to hold her. "I will run with you..." he whispered, "To whatever corners of the world the wind decides to carry your soul. I am with you, always." His voice hardly came above a whisper; his hands held her elbows to keep her from turning away again, even if her eyes refused to meet his.
"But look around you, Amelia. To run now.... I don't think you can mean it. It may not be what you expected... but we never thought it would be perfect. This is far, far safer for us than any moment in Firica, I believe. Think of everything that is here," he tried. "Look at everything that has waited for you.... Your brother, and his family. Try to see it a bit longer. And if still you wish to run, I will carry you to the very edges of the earth and beyond, if that's what you wish. You know I would do that for you. Aria, look at me," he again whispered, moving one hand to hold her cheek. She couldn't tell if those were tears on her cheeks or if they were just cold from the coursing wind.
"Everything will work as it is meant to. And if it is difficult, then so be it. We have been through so much.... But look at where it has gotten us. You're here, Aria. You're with the people who have waited for and dreamed of and pursued you just to see you back home. You mean something to them..." he tried. A fingertip traced its way down her cheek. "And to me... you are everything."
Her arm hurt where he held it. Feren, upon realizing this, replaced the hand to her waist, still holding her cheek with the other.
"Let's go inside..." he started again. "We should rest. Tomorrow will have much more than today. More people and activities, I'm sure. So let us run away.... Let me change your bandages... and then you can have all of me that you wish."
He turned to hold his hand at her waist to walk forward. She was too silent to argue.
They passed Nertín on the way, only pausing to return his clothing and bid him goodnight. He seemed disappointed but didn't argue as they walked by. It was the middle of the night. All of them should have been in bed.
Amelia was fairly certain she would not sleep; she'd been asleep the entire day, it seemed. And after Feren had had his nap, he seemed to be fairly awake as well. They just needed their time together; Amelia, for one, needed to swallow her shock.
Amelia sat on the bed with her legs crossed before her, eyes blank as Feren knelt in front, attempting to rekindle the fire there before the room became too cool. How long did they have until morning? Or at least until the others began to walk about?
Her arm ached. It would take a long time to heal, she knew.... There was no chance of a quick or normal recovery, in her terms, without the use of a summoned healing wisp or even the direction of magic into the limb. Even with the thought of excess energy, a shearing feeling could be felt through her entire right side. Amelia thought of her spirits; her stomach twisted as it usually did with the desire to summon. The fire coursed through her blood, lifting chills across her back. Goosebumps rose on her left side.
Her arms wrapped around to cover her chest just as flames began to roll into gentle red tongues across the sides of the wood. Feren, successful, pulled across the metal weavings that separated flame, ash, and the stone of the room. He rose sorely to sit by her side, items in hand; a bundle of soft rags, strips of fresh fish skin, a sleeve the same as Amelia wore, a small bowl of creamy white salve like Noni had had before. When asked, he simply stated that he had requested these items before going to find her earlier. Feren set them between the bodies on the bed and looked up to meet eyes with Amelia. She didn't feel the need to speak. She didn't suppose he did, either.
Feren adjusted himself in that time to mirror the girl, gathering his items as Amelia tried to think of anything else, like the way silver strands of hair fell before his face without a tie back. It had been short once. Or... shorter than it was then. When things had not quite been so... desperate, or numb.
Her arm submitted to reaching forward... meeting his hands where they waited. His fingertips lifted to the top of the sleeve.... The material was carefully, slowly, peeled back.
The silver scales reflected the pale light of the fire in a way that intrigued Amelia. The thin strips peeled off of her much more smoothly than the cotton had earlier that morning. The salve underneath that Noni had added did succeed in numbing her skin some. The majority of the pain did not seem to come from the surface, however. The cream had also succeeded in keeping the wound moist and swollen, almost, to the touch, keeping the yellow and pink flesh from crusting over, sealing incorrectly, or sticking itself to the protective sleeve over it. The further Feren's delicate movements pulled the skins away, the more Amelia tried to avoid looking. She tried to slow her heart. If it beat quickly, that meant she was expending too much energy; she was speeding the very magic through her that she was trying to keep down.
Feren made not a sound. When the last of the sleeve was removed, the inside a gross mix of shades best left in the body, it was discarded. Feren reached for one of the rags and wet it. It was twisted to be rid of excess moisture, then lifted to the very top of Amelia's shoulder. At this anticipation, her muscles grew tight. She could not imagine how a Human could heal with such laborious effort — and that was without even the basic concept of medicinal supplements or cures. She thought of that to distract her. It worked for a moment.
After the cleansing, the tissue was dried, made raw again by the previous friction. It gave them both time to look.... Amelia saw it and thought of the people who had done it. Who very well had the ability to kill her with just the right number of hits, and somehow had missed. Feren saw it, and he saw only two things.... His pain after experiencing the same sort of injury, on a much smaller scale, when he was younger; and the hurt he felt, not physically, but in every other sense... for he knew that it was Amelia hurting then... and she was the most undeserving of them all.
Noni had told Feren to cover her arm immediately, but he knew that open exposure would've done just as much good as covering it, as long as Amelia did not move and he did not bump her. There was little risk of her running into something when they both lie on their backs, her arm propped up by a pillow along her right side. They stared up to the flat, even ceiling above them, voices as empty as the grey stone there.
They did not touch; they lie with more than a hands width between their ams flat at each side. Feren took a cool breath.
"What did you think..." Amelia said, "When you first arrived in the Capital with... Andrew... and the council?" Amelia asked softly with not much else in her mind.
Feren did not change his position to make her think he heard. He was still staring up, lying in the same position. His eyes hadn't even moved, or blinked....
"Before I saw you?" he asked in his own time.
"Or... after...."
Again he lie without response, eyes flickering only briefly to see if she had been looking at him. She hadn't been.
Amelia thought about her question. She'd known he was there in the city; she could feel him long before she ever ran into him in running away from the councilmen who had screamed, questioned her motives, questioned her existence. She'd felt his energy in the halls, but was too dazed to think that it could have actually been Feren. After all, they had had no connection in years. How could she have known that he even still lived, or hadn't fled the country long before? How could she know that by suggesting Andrew find a guard more knowledgeable than any of his humans, he would call exactly the beast she thought of? How could she know the king trusted him?
"I thought...."
She looked at him briefly, making sure it was his voice that had spoken.
"I thought... immediately of you. I thought that it would be worth a look... to see if you were happy or not. There had been no word of the king's affairs where I was. But I didn't expect you to be so...." His brow creased slightly, thinking of a word. "So... starved."
"I knew that I loved you," he said. "Or at least that I had once upon a time... before you were taken from me. I'd told myself that it was enough to know you'd been taken once.... I didn't think I needed to be reminded again of everything the King could take away without having to ask. I was almost scared to see you... to see you happy and think that they'd had so many opportunities to help you that I never would have had. Or worse, to see you suffering for their lack of care and know that I could have given you better, even with as little as I had."
The crease in his brow relieved, but only slightly. His eyes grew sad, as if he could feel the tearing of his soul all over again. He moved one arm up to prop his head on top of it for added cushion. He said, "I tried not to go for you, Aria... when Andrew called. I had even decided not to. But I went because... well... part of it was for you, I suppose, but I had halfway expected that you'd forgotten me. I let myself believe that I was just a distraction for you in Leera, nothing more. You had your duties, I had mine...." He tried to smile. "I ultimately went hoping I could find something on my family. My mother, my sister and cousin maybe. My trail had also grown cold in Leera, which gave more reason to leave. The main guard left, Rosa made no trace of herself; I cut off rings of thieves for fun, I hunted the lowest people who wandered through the province, I looked for anything that would give me a hint as to the extent of provincial prerogative, or the intentions of the government that did not include the king. I stalked messengers that left the capital; especially those who left in the dead of night, clearly expecting to not be followed....." His voice trailed off, deciding to return from that little tangent. A sigh escaped his chest. "I became stronger. And then...."
Amelia did not breathe.
"And then I found you, and you were unattainable. That was made clear early on. The things Andrew said... the way the guard treated you.... I took it out on too many criminals of little use or importance to the crown. I brought in runners and warrants that the King's men had given up on for weeks, seasons. Some were killed in the process. I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy taking the spirits that rose from the shells of their bodies. At first, I was able to work through the verdonal. That was Andrew's condition from the start. I thought... if you could last through everything he and the councilmen had put you through, I could live with drops of verdonal. I almost wondered if they had been poisoning you, too. That would easily explain the... deadened state you approached the world with. When I found the trail of Varkner and Teeknan, despite Jed's efforts at keeping all outsiders away... that was when I decided that you had to leave, whether I was with you or not. Rosa was never targeting you when she stole the King's son or poisoned his guards. Where you stood, you meant nothing to her. So I ignored the trails she was leaving. I actually spoke with her... I found the place she'd been hiding, and bargained with her to help us. She allowed us the opportunity to escape. Not directly, but she did."
"Rosa helped us?" she asked, bewildered.
"Or at least, she was supposed to. Things got... mixed up after the arrival of the King's guests. My suspicion is that the council was involved. Some of the guards who had been present... I didn't recognize them, and their scents were... from a different province. I believe they had intended to remove you. To introduce another suitor."
"Marybelle," she supplied.
"Aye. That's who Rosa was waiting for."
"Why would Rosa be waiting for Marybelle?"
Feren turned his head toward her with a look that said, Don't ask things you do not wish to know the answers to.
Amelia changed her question. "You knew they were planning something?"
"I suspected, but I did not know for sure until it was too late."
"The same night they almost had you killed? Feren, why didn't you say something? How could you have let them do that to you?"
He pulled himself quickly to his side to face her. "The night occurred in a series of unexpected events, but the Voerr had their plan. My presence was not necessary in completing it. It was Varkner and Teeknan who helped you escape, not I. If I served as a distraction to Jed and his peons, then it would be a distraction well served to help you escape with fellow voerr."
She thought to fight. Her tongue was ready to lash out against him with reproachful words, shaming him for allowing himself to be poisoned for any reason, yelling at him for pretending his death might have meant something for the Voerr to escape. But just then, in their destination, she had nothing to say.
"Amelia.... I have to tell you...."
She glanced over. He was propped up on his elbow, looking in her direction but down near her arm.
"In Leera... there were many spirits that came to look for you."
She turned up to him. It was her turn to have a creased brow.
"I was under strict order.... Most of it was before I met you, within that first year. They were unfamiliar to me; I did not know other spirits, and I had no familiarity with yours. They were only messengers and carriers; no Voerr or summoners to back them. I stole, fought, or redirected many summons in search of you. I did not think I would say anything; your uncle, at first, had said to Andrew that any unknown spirit may have had harmful intentions, and that there was to be nothing in, near, or around Leera that could may have been related to the apparitions. That was to include your own. Andrew thought he was helping you, and I... did not think twice about their orders."
When Amelia looked back down without a word, Feren turned slightly back to his original position. "Your brother approached me about it earlier today, that is why I say it now. They did look for you, Amelia. Many times... even after we'd met. But after a few months, I was no longer the one intercepting them. There was another force that kept the messengers away. I, for my lack in foresight, am sorry. I should have had more wit than to turn away your only connections to your country, and I should have said something. I am sorry."
The girl said nothing. As Feren had been before, she lie motionless, staring up at the ceiling, making no indication as to whether or not she'd heard, or been listening. She blinked once, and then again more tiredly.
She wanted to say, It's alright, Turi. You wouldn't have done it on your own. But she wanted to mean it, too.
Amelia closed her eyes.... She wouldn't have to look at him then. "You told me before that Jed was intercepting messages to me. How?"
Feren opened his mouth, then hesitated. His lips parted again but his teeth made a small clicking sound as the shut. He cleared his throat and rolled to his side to sit up. "You said Jed is not Voerr, correct?"
"... No. He's always had some ability, but he's not —"
"What is his ability?" he asked softly.
Amelia thought back to when she was younger and Jed was close to her family. He had always been there in some capacity; he tutored the boys in geography and advised her father in their meetings. But he had never been able to summon spirits. "He... senses them. He follows energy tracings. He's a..."
"A bloodhound," Feren supplied.
"I... yes, I suppose. I've never heard it termed as such, but —"
"You think he's human, but with an extra... sense."
"I guess you could call it that...."
"He's a mage," Feren told her, as if finally putting the answer in front of her. "What are mages able to harness?"
Amelia blinked in his direction, thinking back to all her lessons. She couldn't remember what her parents used to say about him. Her family had all loved him, though. He'd been an accepted member of their court. But she had to force into her mind, too, that he had plummeted them with some sort of projectile force — he had chased them down on a creature not of this earth, and harnessed a power that she'd never seen — one that burned like hellfire and sucked all veins of energy from the parts of her it came into contact with. That sort of magic —
When she didn't come to the conclusion fast enough, Feren started speaking again. "Jed... dissolves spirits. He is able to consume them, I believe much like we are able to. I'm not sure what he is able to do with that magic, but... I've seen it. He's taken one of my own before, likely mistaking it for one from the outside. It seemed as if he had tracked it and later intercepted it. Luckily I could recall Grey in time. I'm not sure what would have happened if he'd been able to get his hands entirely around the spirit, but he was able to deplete the energy enough to diminish his summons in my mind."
"So he... stole incoming spirits?" Like you did? she asked silently.
"Yes. I'm not sure how many, or how often, but sometimes they would pass through my field of control, and then they'd simply be... gone."
"Perhaps he had wards around Leera? Traps – pits that they might have fallen into."
"It's possible, I suppose.... Dark mages are able to create holes like that, but why, then, would our spirits never have fallen into one?"
"So then the night that you were captured...." Her voice trailed off into silence.
"He led them directly to me."
Jed had tracked him down via his spirits, much like he had been tracking Amelia every time she thought to summon. The realization should not have been surprising, yet still her heart skipped a beat at the thought. Had Jed been building this power for months? Years? Feeding off of spirits he had no business touching?
And Feren... he'd... he'd broken the most sacred laws of the voerr. He'd stolen spirits, too. And worse... he'd stolen the lives of innocents; drank their lives thirstily for his own gain.
The analgesic that Nertín had given her in her tea was beggining to wear away; she felt the dull ache of her right side like a hammer in her brain every time her heart beat. She quietly fingered a bottle inside her pocket. It was the leftover serum of noxim that Daedra had given her when Feren was ill. It wasn't for pain, but... hopefully it would induce a sleep that even the burns could not penetrate.
Amelia rose delicately from her place on the bed and reached for the water skin Feren had hung on the headboard. She pulled it into her lap with her left hand. She then pretended to drink from it, turning her body from Feren so that he couldn't see as she raised the small bottle to her lips instead.
A sip is all you need, Daedra's voice whispered. So Amelia took one drink.
She coughed a bit on the bitter liquid as it coursed down her throat, cold and pungent. She cleared her throat as she deftly capped the bottle and slid it back into her pocket. Then she laid back down.
She didn't care what type of sleep she got, or how long she'd stay asleep. All she needed was to rest, and to forget. To not think about all the wrongs Feren had done to be so right in her mind. She closed her eyes.
"... I think... I'm going to sleep now..." her tired voice whispered.
They didn't really need the sleep at this hour. They might as well have stayed awake until morning. But Feren didn't fight.... He sat back up in his spot, avoiding the sight of her, as well.
"Let me finish your arm so you are at least comfortable," he said with the items already in hand. Amelia opened her eyes tiredly. It hurt. Everything hurt; along her arm, down her back, across her chest and belly. The last thing she wanted was to have to sit up once more... wait as he touched her raw, eaten flesh all over again and remind her of the nightmare that had caused it. The one that she had been living with for years. Eventually she sat up as directed.
A strong hand helped her to rise to a sitting position. His hands were careful in finishing, trying to be both delicate and quick, while doing it correctly. He helped her slide the sleeve back on, and then they lay themselves back, still with space between them, and did not say a word the rest of the night.