By order of Abett, upon request of Nertín, the people of Remalda stayed far from the Kiari reunion. In fact, for the greater portion of that morning and into the afternoon there seemed to only exist Keegan and Amelia – who were inseparable. When the boy asked for his brother, he too joined. They seemed to be soaking in every moment of time with his eyes open, as if years of emptiness could be made up in only a few hours. As if the family knew, but was not willing to admit, that their time may not have been great to begin with.
There was laughter, and there were smiles. The smile that stretched across Amelia's face was something that Feren had not seen in a long time. It was an expression that, for the last several years, existed only in his favorite dreams. Despite the worry that curled deep within him, her smiles touched the corner of his mouth, attempting to lift his, too. Gods, he hoped it wouldn't be stripped away again.
The eldest brother and sister did not eat, but encouraged the youngest to though he claimed to not have the stomach for it. Spirits flew around them, none of them Keegan's, but all from the siblings. Some were even offered to the younger brother when he tired... when his legs no longer wished to move and his head began to bob in lethargy. Then they would sit and watch as their spirits moved, and speak of topics entirely unrelated to the obvious conflicts that were supposed to have been stressing the Kiaris... and all of Constentine.
The day passed slowly for Feren. Everyone edged closer for a glimpse of the boy; the one who rumor claimed had been lost forever already. Mubarak's implication never left Feren's mind after he'd turned. Feren could almost see the Kiari slipping away right before their very eyes, as if he had only come to make his peace and let his siblings gather theirs one last time.
Feren kept further away the later into the day Keegan stayed awake with his siblings. He didn't want to think about the possible outcomes. As night approached, he found himself sitting beside Rosa, who stared at an empty dining table bereft of even the smell of food. She grumbled.
"Did you know about this?"
"About?" His thoughts were clearly not inline with her line of focus.
"Their starving tendencies. It is the dead of winter. This is unreasonable."
Varkner and Teeknan appeared and offered some reprieve from Rosa's annoyance. They sat down on Feren's other side for a drink. When asked as to the contents, they replied with only warm water. They continued to speak in their first language, eyeing slightly the woman with Feren, and speaking with a somber tone... as if they worried for the same fate Feren did... but knew there was nothing that could be done to prevent it. They gave the family space... and that was all they could offer.
Amelia slept with her brother that night, curled around him at the top of his bed, stroking his cheek until he was well asleep, breathing, and warm. Nertín, when done with his work, went in to say goodnight before putting Silva to bed and falling asleep on the pallet with his son, telling him stories of his uncles when they were young, strong, lively.
Feren slept lightly, alone, though most of his time in the bed was spent thinking of anything but sleep. And then, morning came.
Amelia had slept very well, tucked warmly around her brother. The night was cold outside; the winds were stirring, and no one else in Remalda seemed to be moving. It was in the middle of that very night that Amelia turned in the dimly lit firelight, breathing in a very pleasant, homely feeling. In her sleep, and so in her dreams, her chest felt very full and happy, and vivid images of being whole again gave her a new sort of comfort that allowed for better peace and much needed rest. It was easily the best sleep she had ever had.
Then came the first hints of morning.
The fire that Nertín had tended to in the middle of the night was low but still active. Amelia felt the warmth on her cheeks first, and then the softness of the furs that she lie on top of keeping her brother warm below. Her hand closed slightly over the fabric of his shirt... and below her hand, she felt... emptiness.
Her head lifted from its place. Her hand on her brother's chested shifted.
"Keegan?" she asked, lightly trying to shake his chest, but her answer was clear. Still, she repeated, "Keegan."
Nertín, who'd been asleep in a chair beside them, began to lift his head ever so slightly... in time to see the ghostly spirits that had been surrounding them in the room all hurry away, scattering in different directions. He turned to the bed and immediately jumped to the siblings, his devastation clear.
"Keegan—!"
***
"Were you married to a king?" the dreamy voice asked, his face turned into his sister's chest to invite more of her hair-stroking. Amelia smiled softly.
"Yes, I was married to a king."
"Was he a good king?" he whispered... sleep finally beginning to take him. Amelia tried to dream with him, and not show that tears were leaking from her eyes. She wiped at them before they could fall into his hair.
"Yes," she sniffled in reply. Her cheek hugged against him. "Yes, he was a good king."
"I think... you would be a good queen..." his voice tried ever so softly, snuggling just a tad more into her as if to hide from the light. "The best queen."
When his voice trailed, Amelia clenched her eyes tight. She kissed his head again for what had to have been the hundredth time, and bid her brother goodnight.
***
Her procession from the room was... dizzy... slow. Her hand found the frame of the door to steady herself, as tears, heartbreak, shrouded her view. Keegan....
"Kiari...."
She heard the name, but as the voice drifted through some far-away mist, Amelia looked down into the palm of her left hand... and with a suddenly horrified look, she lifted the appendage. It had been resting right on top of his chest all night long. She was the last one to ever feel his heart beat.
Her heart dropped to her feet, through the floor, and felt absolutely destroyed.
"Amelia —"
"Don't touch me," she hissed, jerking away from her then-oldest brother. Their mother's spirit, their spirit, whipped between them in the form of a lion. Nertín stumbled back a step to avoid the lavender colored teeth.
Suddenly her world did not seem so bright anymore.
***
Her brother lie back with snow slipping between his fingers, eyes set on the expansive sky above. He closed his eyes.
"You're old now, aren't you?" he said, still childish in his tone. "Your summons look much larger than they did before."
"I suppose I am older, yes. But I have always been older than you."
"You might as well have a child now, too." Keegan stopped himself to look over. "Do you?"
"No, only you." She winked, which made the boy roll his eyes. He then paused for a moment as if the simple motion made him sick.
His face gathered a more panicked look. "What about the shadows? Where have they gone? Will they b—"
"Shh, Keegan. Do not think of such things. There is no worry here."
"But will they—"
"We are safe. You are safe. Be calm, now."
"But Maravi...."
"It still stands," Nertín reassured him, moving to sit beside the boy whose legs were too weak to walk on his own. He had lost nearly all voluntary movement of his body after longer than a few months of disuse....
"When can we return?"
"When you are well," Amelia replied. She and Nertín shared a brief glance. "Do you remember your rumentums?"
" Of course. Borvinera, retsinaria, clarivina, arvina...."
***
Her world was numb until a familiar presence made itself known behind her. She couldn't bare to show her face to any other... to let them see her shattered heart so clearly, though surely they all were feeling the same.
It was overwhelming; this emotion that wouldn't let her breathe.
Her stoic face broke once she turned and another chest was there to meet her, but she could not bring herself to cry. There were no tears that fought to the front of her stoicism... but her breaths, her inability to stand without shaking, meant the same.... Her grief was shattering. Dry sobs and sounds came out of her that she did not recognize. She hugged Feren when no one else was around. Hugged him as if the pressure of his body against hers could have suppressed the fracturing pain in her chest. And he let his heavy arms come around her, until the weight of it all was enough to shut her down completely.
***
Laughter. There had been laughter.
And bells and chimings, and the whispers of spirits as they ran past. There were games; trails pressed into the snow for the projections to weave through; sort of a tag game between the Kiari's colors.
Suddenly the laughter, even the thought of it, was gone.
Fire crackled beside her in the room... the orange light splaying across her bare belly until it was warm, but she was too unwilling to move. Her eyes did not sway from the view above her; the painted stars on a dark canvas of ceiling. Feren lie at her side.
He stared down at a place between them, head set on a propped arm because he couldn't make himself relax without knowing if she would continue to breathe.
She'd showered and her hair was wet, drying, around her. She wore only wraps around her raised chest, and a thin skirt that started low on her hips. That was all she'd managed before deciding dressing wasn't worth the effort, and her shoulders fell forward.
Keegan... her Keegan.... Their innocent, young, curious little brother. The brightest soul of the siblings. The only Kiari who had managed to smile through every twist and turn.... Departed.
Amelia was angry. She hated the earth that tried her; the winds that had taken her child brother to his knees. She hated every voerr who had kept him alive so long... and she hated... beyond anything else... she hated that his future had been stolen, when already she'd missed half his life.
Anger coursed between waves of defeat and sadness; between thoughts of her life being taken in place of his, the feeling that she could have done more to save him.
He'd been in her arms.... He'd been smiling....
The pain in her chest nearly dragged her to the floor in defeat. It was an anchor secured firmly around her middle, pulling with a thousand pounds of force straight to the ground. It was utterly immobilizing. They couldn't save him. They couldn't protect the last of their family. His innocence.
She couldn't cry. As much as her throat ached in its clench, as heavy as her body felt, she could not bring tears to form. Not on that day. Not into her night. When they took his body, when they offered his form to the Quiet Lands, then she maybe she would cry. But in those moments... with the memory of his favorite spirits in her head and in her palms, she could not cry for him. Her mother's and father's most trusted spirits curled around her own; Leyofor's presence in her mind held her close as Draco's wings stretched across the rest of the spirits in her reserves. She felt them as they all curled together, mourning the loss of Keegan's spirits just as much as she was.
Feren had nothing to say. Even if there had been any tangible thought in his mind that could have produced sound, he knew he could not offer comfort. He felt her broken dreams. He saw her smile, the very expression that had only just been shown again, vanish without visible hopes of return. By then, the end of the first day without him, Feren knew there was nothing to be said. Even though he had known that Keegan's consciousness would not last long, he was not prepared for this.
Amelia had said nothing, either, for hours, though her eyes never seemed empty. It was clear her mind was caught elsewhere. Sleep nearly would have been the perfect guise if it weren't for the fact that every time her eyes fell shut, she could nearly see her family behind them. With her eyes closed, she could pretend she were only dreaming. She could believe that when she opened them again, everything would be back to normal.
Feren's eyes traced the dark lines across her ribs that barely rose with every breath. He used to know every curve of them. He used to know exactly how they met his flesh when she was against him.
A different line drew his attention then; one he'd never seen before. His hand moved gently toward it.... His fingers traced the scar. It sat low on her belly... sunken in between the raised bones of her hips. The lip of her clothing was pushed slightly for Feren's fingers to test the edge. His brow furrowed; the scar beneath his touch was deep and folded in a dark, rough stroke of flesh that rose so slightly from her otherwise smooth, flawless belly. He stretched his palm for measure. It nearly curved the length of his hand. He asked, though he knew the answer would only pull him down further.
"How did you get this?" he whispered, worried to break the still silence that she'd made around herself. Her eyes barely wavered at the feel of his fingers.
Amelia took a moment to pull herself back into their present. Her eyes did not move. "It is from Andrew's child.... That is all I know."
Feren couldn't name his expression, but he looked for her broken mask. "... What did they do?"
Her eyes closed; a shaky breath escaped her. "I am not sure. I was not awake when they did it."
The words took some time to sink in. Feren's hand stopped.
... The silence stretched with the flame light flickering new silhouettes across her skin; neither had a word to add to the previous topic....
"I will go to Maravi tomorrow," she told him, her look dully facing upward again. When Feren's eyes traveled up, she gave a tired blink, and then a sort of submissive sigh. She waited for his hand to be moved off of her belly to say, "Do not tell the others."
"Is it safe?" was his first thought.
Her look asked for him to please not fight her. "I will go."
"Do you need another?"
"No."
Feren tried not to argue. She knew better than he did what was safe or not, or what she thought she could handle. He wanted to be there for her, but likely the best way he could was to give her the space she needed. When she tired of staring upwards, she gathered herself to turn onto her left side facing the flames. The sight of her damaged arm did not offer Feren any relief from his emotion. Then he saw her back. The magnificence that sat there... the dark dragon clawing, crying upwards, taking the whole of her back where it was not covered, reminded him of the first time he'd seen it... and reminded him that in a thousand years, he never would have to face the trials his aria had in a decade.
Feren sat up to offer her peace. Her hands were gathered to her chest, tucked as if she could protect her heart from any more assault in a single day. Her eyes closed as he rolled to his side behind her and kissed her lightly on the temple. His arms wrapped around to pull her into his form. Maybe he couldn't have helped her before... but there, in his arms, no harm would ever come to her. So he held her tight, taking in the soft scent of her skin as she began to relax into him, and tried his hardest not to wake her as he later went out for another breath of fresh air.
In the morning Amelia did much the same. She rose slowly from the bed before the ashes of the fire.... She dressed warmly in multiple layers, and knew she was leaving well before daylight. Feren was asleep when she was preparing to leave.... He did wake, though, when her hand brushed against his cheek. She knelt beside him. "I'll be back by tonight," she promised, and left before he could in good conscience fall asleep again. But he would not try to stop her.
Amelia was well off on her own when Feren sat up to prepare himself for morning. She didn't want them to know she was gone... but she didn't want anyone with her, either. Feren didn't feel good about the decision in his gut, but he tried to tell himself that he did trust her... and he did know that she would not knowingly put herself in danger. Maravi? Feren hardly even knew in what direction her birthplace was.
He collected his thoughts before walking out, carefully donning a neutral face so that no one would be able to read the secret he was keeping.
The halls, of course, were quiet; the flames kept low.... The providence was still in mourning. There was no food to be found, and nothing he would have eaten even if offered. Feren felt ill. His gnawing worry for her did not settle that.
As he passed Keegan's room as Teeknan and Varkner were walking out. They looked solemnly to their silver-haired friend.
"You're up early," one mentioned, looking down the path from which Feren had just come. Feren did not answer. When he looked back, Nertín's son Sembran was curled in the empty bed of the Kiari's younger brother. His mother sat beside him. The bed looked empty with the larger form replaced now by the small boy; he was sunken into the dipped center of the mattress, where the weight of the body had settled the cushion over these last few months.
Mubarak was sitting with a woman Feren did not recognize when he followed his friends into the room they'd first entered in Remalda. A fire was burning; a stiff form of Nertín stood cross-armed before it. Two large spirits of different forms lie on the ground between him and the hearth. Feren remembered his own summons and called for a shape behind him, hoping the release would ease some of his built-up tension. Immediately the spirit leaned north in the direction Feren knew his chest was being pulled.
He thought to be outside; he needed to train, or at least move. Now that Varkner and Teeknan were back practices would be much smoother. Their swordplay had been neglected the last two days since dealing with Keegan's appearance. After Duke Nather's letter, Abett had agreed to use Feren and his fighting experience to their advantage. Though he had already been participating in their spars, it gave him purpose again. And his muscles ached to fight as he had before, lest he lose whatever progress he had made physically. The verdonal he'd been injected with had greatly diminished his strengths in every sense. The feeling of lingering weakness made him uneasy.
Abett soon walked into the same room with parchment to hand to Mubarak. Words were passed in their original language; one more angered until Nertín's voice hissed in a way that ended their exchange. Abett then left, nearly shouldering Feren aside in his march, and Mubarak growled to the others. "The threat of war means nothing when your people can not stand at all."
Nertín then left as well, lethal, lumbering spirits following on his heels.
No one moved for many hours. Feren sat against the wall with his eyes closed, focusing on the forms of his spirits running around the town's outskirts to feel as if he was building his energy in some sense. There were always loose wisps of energy where there was fresh snowfall. While Grey collected provision enough to support his form, a different spirit tracked Rosa. A third wandered through the open streets, where people walked very slowly... sadly. There would be some sort of farewell for Keegan that night.... A ceremony for all to get their chance to say goodbye the way one deserved. They had gone one full day without his presence.... If Feren had ventured out, he would have noticed the collective heartbreak in memory of their beloved Kiari, brother, and friend. The latest victim of the country's lasting blight.
Nertín returned near midday to discuss action with the newest arrivals. Varkner and Teeknan stood, of course, among them, as did the pair that had last gone into Firica with them. Many of the men Feren had known from their days sparring were present as well. They waited for others, and as they waited, Nertín turned to Feren with a questioning furrow in his brow. "Where is Amelia?" he asked.
Feren, aching from having sat on the ground most of the morning, easily told him, "In bed."
As if the answer were perfectly understandable, her brother turned again to look down. He must've known the same sort of mourning. If Feren was to be completely honest with himself, that was where he would have expected Amelia to be still... sunken into her own depressive state that he'd known her to fall into. He was surprised, even, that Nertín seemed to be holding himself together so well.
When the other voerr arrived that they had been waiting on, excluding Abett, Nertín began to speak. After brief introductions, he began as if he were dealing with Constentine's issues on any other day.
"Conflict with the Kynolevans has been settled until further notice. Asha's men just returning seem to have adjusted boundaries to meet their demands on trade. That does not mean, however, that the issues will not be reintroduced in years to come. Our northern territories, as always, do not have negotiable borders, according to Mikovlin's Treaty. Because of this I will be keeping all of you in the south, against Abett's requests. I realize that two of you have families further north.... If the Kynolevans choose to show face in this season I will allow you leave, but in response to Abett's... conditions... the Firican's have become of greater concern."
"It is war, then?"
Nertín gave them a shallow nod. "The recovery of Firica's voerr has been seen as threatening toward the Firican government. The supposed death, even, of the late queen and my youngest sister has now been accredited to Constentine." His eyes briefly met those of Teeknan. "This is in no way a fault of yours, Teeknan, Varkner. Our country owes you great gratitude for what you have accomplished in these last seasons."
He leaned back against Mubarak's seat with a small, tired exhale. "The truth is that what has developed with Firica has been coming for some time, from the first disregards of our Emities Pact. Since even the time of Caleb's death. Their lines were never open for those of us attempting to escape Constentine in the first raids. We all here know of the gorge between our beliefs now and theirs. Nothing we could have done would have stopped it."
"There are no bounds for Human superstition."
"Or ignorance," someone else grumbled.
"These humans have always been highly prey-minded... as if never in their history have they been without need for defense," Nertín tried, the furrow in his brow only deepening. How he could even manage his attempt at diplomacy was surprising to Feren. Judging by the look he received, Varkner felt the same way. "Fear seems to be rooted in their belief systems. Or rather, the desperate need for preservation." Feren, at the side, scoffed lowly. He received more than one speculative look until Nertín spoke again to regather his attention. "It is time that either we sever ties with our once-Firican allies, or take on the government that fights us. Because Constentine has no intention, however, or the resources to break our many treaties for fear of later retaliation, I believe that our best tactic is that of defense until word may return that Constentine is not available for their taking. These Firicans are not as strong as the voices that precede them."
"So what is our defense, if not to provoke conflict? We attempt to scare them into their superstitions?"
"They must know of our suffering resources after our many attempts to call for aid. Surely fear will only make them gather in number."
"We can not afford these past allies to turn against us in this time...."
"I agree," Nertín said to those around him. "But from what I have gathered...." He looked to Feren as if for confirmation, or citation. "It is not necessarily the role of the monarch to demand this war."
"Was it not the Firican crown beating the blood of our own people? How are we supposed to disregard and downplay monarchial responsibility?"
Feren wondered if they were referring to him or Amelia.
"No matter the face beneath the crown, Firica's government has reached levels of disrespect that our country has never before received. They deserve no pity on our part."
"Pity does not drive this withdrawal in our response, Varkner. I can not in sound mind ask that our recovering numbers take themselves to further conflict in my name."
"Then in the name of our country."
Nertín gave a reserved smile. "I'm sure we can agree that our greatest efforts are worth more here, with our own kind, than in a line against Firican opposition."
"There is no questioning our motivation to fight, Kiari, if fighting is what we are forced into."
At that, every aura in the room turned somber. Feren nodded sadly, as did Amelia's brother before him. The other voerr there agreed. Nertín, despite the statement, kept his position on the subject. "We will continue to do our best to see that that is not soon our reality. We will try to see that any outbreak on Constentinian land is quickly contained, and we will make sure that we are available to take in any of our fellow countrymen who still reside within Firica. That is where I depend on you."
Every voerr of pure blood ducked their heads with fist to collar in response. After that point, Feren returned his thoughts to the whereabouts of his extensions. Those in the room continued to speak. Feren had never submitted himself to Nertín's guidance the way these men had. He had never sworn himself to Constentine, nor would he. He would, without question, fight if the call arose... but his answer would not be in response to the country's order. He'd spent plenty of his life in service to a title larger than himself.
He stood half-listening to the group as more figures appeared outside for Grey to weave around. There were clouds in the sky but little hint of snow fall. Some of the voerr men left the meeting, called to one destination or another. The majority still stood. Nertín seemed to be preparing to leave, himself, when suddenly a spirit bolted through the door to the group. It was no surprise to Feren, but what it brought certainly was.
One of the voerr seemed to recognize it. He leaned to grab the parchment from the animal's mouth.
The few words were quickly read and passed to Nertín. Soon he too became immediately worried. Three spirits flew from his grasp before he turned away. "We may not have long to wait, after all," the voerr said tiredly. Then he turned to place his orders as the first eyes to read it made to walk away. "Do not raise alarm, Jin."
"What do we do?"
Feren was handed the parchment next. The Firican banner was marching toward one of the northern passes. They were only fifteen leagues from Maravi. Nertín lifted his hand to order calm before everyone whipped away. "Let them pass."
"Let them?"
"The ground to Maravi is impassible on foot. Leave them... there will be a freeze tonight. If still they survive come morning... Abett and I will move, ourselves."
"There are none of our own in Maravi's providence?"
Feren's muscles tensed.
"No, none to be spoken of. They must not be aware that Remalda is more populated. Varkner, call for Abett. We must draw as little attention to our holding as possible. If their force was large, we would have felt the change here."
Feren was already rushing out the door when his sentence was ending. Amelia — Maravi. She could have been in danger.
Grey met him with provisions before he could think of where to go. Wasn't there a map somewhere?
Nertín's group passed him without any question, but his heart was beating against his ribs nonetheless. He shouldn't have let her be on her own — shouldn't have trusted that it would be safe in the dead of winter, without any way for him to reach her easily. Grey immediately sprinted off to find a map for directions. Feren had just made it to the foyer when a hand grabbed his shoulder.
He turned against the assailant, forearms connecting midair in equal parts defense and offense. He stared hard into Nertín's narrowed glare.
Both were breathing hard, but Feren quickly settled himself. Nertín did not.
"Where is she really?" he growled, staring straight through Feren's facade. The silver-haired turned ever so slightly away.
He replied again too easily, "In bed."
Feren turned before the brother could grab him again, and left before his story could be verified.