They suffered for it, and we rejoice. It may seem strange, an act of sadism and bloodlust, but one must remember that anything that inflicts suffering upon the Eight is most likely a boon for us. We make allies of necessity, holding ourselves to our principles, and we celebrate. Every moment of gaiety and joy we can steal from them is ours.
***
Laidu gritted his teeth as one of Indra's friends yanked a comb through the black tangles of his hair. Every painful sensation seemed magnified. The water in the bath was scalding, a very unfamiliar sensation, and his skin had already been rubbed raw. The scholar, one of Indra's colleagues, had glanced a few times at Laidu's body, but had approached the job with a workmanlike resolve. "What did you say?" he asked Indra.
She sat next to him. "We're three days out, and it's my job to make you convincing as a nobleman. You have no idea about the common imports and exports of the province your family hails from."
"We're going to a ball. If I'm going to socialize with the men and women there, I doubt I'm going to bore them with politics or economics."
"Half the time these balls are merely excuses to discuss politics over wine and fine food," Indra said. "But, seeing as you're playing an outsider in this mess, I guess it might be wise not to know that." She closed her book. "What would you think you —you being your alter ego— would be talking about?"
"What's there to hunt?" Laidu asked.
"Boar. Bear, if you're mad, or trying to prove yourself. Which, with how Agyar men can be, is usually the same thing," she said.
"Any other customs I should know?" Laidu asked. "Hey! Watch your hairbrush. I want to keep this hair."
"It's all oily," the other student complained. "I'm just working the soap into it, and with you, it takes a while." She kept scrubbing.
"Well, you're going to want to make a meal for the ball. Something you either hunted or prepared.
"Alright. When you get the chance, have Karik'ar go out in the countryside. There's got to be a snow boar or two somewhere," Laidu said. "And have Thaen go to the market. I'll need some supplies."
"You're going to cook a boar?" Indra asked.
"Yes."
"I've only seen you make stew," Indra said. "Gourmet cooking is different from a stew."
"Look. When I was a kid, my father trained me how to fight, following Ten-Zuani tradition. My mother taught me to cook because she got fed up with me being so hungry and asking her to make something. I eat like mad, and I cook most of what I eat."
"I'll take your word for it."
"You don't look like a glutton," the student said as she undid a tangle in his hair.
"I live a very active lifestyle," he said, giving Indra a glance. They both didn't mention the fact that his normal body was taller and scalier. He paused. "Anything else I should worry about?" he asked Indra.
"An escape route?"
"Already planned." Indra raised an eyebrow. "When I did some security reviews. I wanted to make sure Kyra was safe, and I made sure her manor was secure. The ballroom, with big windows and all that, was going to be a likely entry point. While there is a balcony or four there, there is also some shrubs. Should things go wrong, I run for the balcony, jump into the bushes, and it's a few feet from a spot where I can leap the wall."
Indra sighed. "You're a madman, you know that?"
"Hey." Laidu gave her a look, kind of laughing. "Former madman, and the madness wasn't my fault." He thought of Rhaedra. It was his fault.
It was induced on me, as I remind you, Rhaedra said. Focus on being a nobleman.
"What's next?"
Indra smiled. "I get to teach you about the Caeldari court. As a noble, you should know how their politics functions. Once you get dressed, I can teach you the bows to the Solstael family."
"You mean Lord Solstael and Kyra?" The other student seemed slightly put-off by Laidu's use of the Lady Solstael's name.
"Lord Solstael, his brothers and sisters, his aunts and uncles, his cousins. And that's not even getting to the seven different bows to invite a lady to dance."
Laidu sighed. It was going to be a long and painful lesson
***
Kyra watched the servants at work, staring at them in a kind of numb ambivalence. Normally, she would have been excited at the prospects of a ball, at the chance to dress up and dance with other heirs and lords, catch up on gossip... but now those seemed like trivial things, little distractions. They were like the bells and toys left in the cages of songbirds, meant to distract and divert the bird's attention from the fact that it was a captive.
"Milady." She nearly jumped out of her skin as Marcel walked up to her. "You seem in a melancholic mood. Would you like me to brew you a tea? There are some nice brews that could cheer you a bit."
"No thank you Marcel, but it is appreciated," she said, smiling.
"Well, in that case, I wish I didn't have to, but there is a matter we need your assistance on." Marcel looked genuinely uncomfortable, and his powdered hair had a few strands loose. "Your... guest is giving us trouble."
"Skaria? Why am I not surprised?" Kyra grumbled. "I'll try to calm her down." Marcel nodded, and led her through the halls to the dressing room. And as they approached, Kyra heard foul curses echo through the hallway. That was Skaria alright.
She stepped into the room. Skaria stood, seemingly under assault from half a dozen of Kyra's servants. "Skaria!" She turned, staring in shock at Kyra. "What's going on?"
"I have no idea! Why are they coming after me with needles? I'm not some bloody pincushion."
Kyra sighed. "They're trying to adjust the garment to fit you precisely," she said.
"And a general, close-enough fit isn't bloody enough?" Skaria asked.
"No, not for the Caeldari court," Kyra said with a sigh.
Skaria sighed, and tugged on the sleeve of her dress. "What's with all the padding at my shoulders?" There were some thicker ruffles of fabric fanning off of Skaria's shoulders, almost resembling wings. "It's bloody uncomfortable."
"May I explain?" Marcel asked.
"Sure. Go ahead." Skaria said.
"You are not gifted with a court woman's physique," Marcel said. "There's no tactful way to say this... compared to most of the men, your arms are going to be bigger. You look like you're capable of snapping them like a twig without the padding."
"Then your men are weak and insipid," Skaria snapped. She looked at Kyra. "I get why you'd put up with the scales. Better than a limp-wristed twig of a man."
Kyra grimaced. She didn't like being reminded of Laidu, especially since she couldn't see him. She wanted to embrace him, hold him in his arms, tell him how wonderful he was, how proud and amazed she was of him. The love of her life, a legend. A slayer of immortals. "Yeah, well, just don't tell my father."
"Don't tell me what?" Kyra whirled around to face her father. She didn't know what to say.
But never fear, Skaria knew. She half-stumbled, half-marched her way over to him. "Not tell you that these clothes are bloody torture devices!"
"Ah." Her father didn't seem to perturbed by that. "Kyra, may I speak with you?" She nodded and followed her father out of the room. "Kyra, we need to talk about something."
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"The servants have reported that you're acting melancholic." She glared and turned away. "You must be getting over this."
"Getting over this?" she asked. "I'm sorry. The man who saved my life many times over, the man I love, you're explicitly preventing me from seeing. Forgive me if that makes me a bit melancholic." She didn't mean for the words to have such bitterness and venom, but they did.
"He... he's not what you'll want," Lord Solstael said. "Please, trust me. It's an infatuation, one that will pass."
"Really?" Kyra asked. "Is it? Or is it one you hope passes." She sighed, and walked away. "Fine." She strode back into the room, a stormy expression on her face.
Melancholia was over. Rage had begun.
***
The boar was cooking.
He turned the spit slowly, making sure that the heat cooked the entire carcass evenly. He had been at this for several hours, and the going was slow. Karik'ar had slain the thing with a well-placed spear throw, and nearly killed himself in dragging it back.
"How long is this going to take?" Indra asked. Goodwife Rennaliel stared at her yard, transformed into a makeshift kitchen. She hadn't asked when he dragged a blood-soaked package into her house, all the way from the butcher. Granted, she might not have asked because she wasn't able to see.
The butcher had charged a hefty price, and the tailor had as well, and the resulting amount of coin had went into a dozen different details. "This seems to be taking a while," Indra said.
"Well, it's going to," Laidu said. "It should be done in time, however."
"The ball is tonight," Indra said. "It better be."
Laidu glared at her. "Then go and get ready. Leave the cooking to me. It's what I do best."
Indra chuckled. "Very well." She paused, and they both heard a muffled bunch of cusses from inside. "Thaen? Let me guess, you rifled through my bag, didn't you?"
I'm getting hungry, Rhaedra said. It'll be nice to be able to eat something cooked again.
Dragons cook their food?
We're not animals, you know. We have our own civilization. Laidu could feel the indignation in his other side's thoughts. That's a nice little fact about being Dragonblessed. Communication where thought, not speech or writing, is the medium is going to be much less confusing.
I can imagine, Laidu said. He remembered, then. Armor, forged of stone and steel, temples made of hollow mountains. All of this fashioned by dragon magic, dragon blood.
So you must not like humans that much. Dragon-slaying, and all that.
I find humans perfectly agreeable, and most of the dragons that you humans slay are deserving of that fate. Though I can almost guarantee that I've slain more dragons than any professional dragon slayers.
Laidu shrugged and focused on the boar. It cooked, slowly, but it did. Indra dashed into the house, and a few minutes later, she was out. "Laidu, you should shift over and change... however you do, into a human," she said. "I just had to peel a dozen lodestones off of Thaen's arms. Mirsari's helping with his hair."
"Ah," Laidu said. "Well, once this boar is done, I'll get ready." He returned to the task at hand, basking in the heat of the fire. This was part of the disguise, he knew. Part of the ticket that would get him into the ball. And while he enjoyed cooking and preparing food, this task took on a special meaning. It was how he would gain entrance into the ball.
He watched the flames, and smiled. He was almost ready to impersonate a noble.
Ironically, they were stripped of their nobility, from what Indra told me, Rhaedra said.
"When did she talk to you?" Laidu asked.
You were asleep. She said they named themselves dragons and that was a minor form of blasphemy. Similar to libel. They either needed to have every dragon approve, or the monarch of dragons approve of the name, for them to use it.
"Well, good thing I'm talking to the monarch of dragons," Laidu said.
Bear the name with pride.
***
They sat her before the mirror, her servants, and laid out all the fine jewels.
Kyra studied herself in the mirror. Her hair shined, that rich umber glow that she accentuated with a special ointment that kept her hair sleek and shiny. Her servants had wanted to darken it, but Kyra had been adamantly set against it.
She was arrayed in a garment of luxurious samite, the deep blue of the ocean, with threads of gold embroidered around the collar and hem. Her one servant tightened the corset slightly, adjusting her form, but not overly restricting her breathing. That was one of the blessings of being naturally thin.
Silks, ranging from deep sapphire to light blue, spilled out from beneath the gown, cascades of petticoats and fabrics to accentuate the bell-shape. And over the gown lay what seemed like a covering of feathers, each design a different shade of purple, outlined in cloth-of-gold and cloth-of-silver. It was an obscenely costly garment, but a beautiful one.
Her jewelry was more blue. There were sapphires mounted in electrum, and lapis lazuli in gold. She chose an arm bracelet, fastening it over the seam where her gloves, which stretched past her elbows, ended.
But there was something she wished to do. "Get me the other necklace," she said. "The one with the ruby."
The servant at her jewelry box frowned. "Your father requested you wear the sapphires, did he not?"
"Yes, he did. It is a request I have considered," she said, "and have decided not to fulfill." The servant nodded, and brought the necklace she wanted over.
They did up her hair, and as she watched the transformation in the mirror, she felt strangely numb.
She was being all prettied-up for a bunch of nobles who didn't care for her beauty, but the one who did care, he wasn't allowed to attend. It angered her.
They reached for the powder, but she held out her hand. "We won't need that."
One of the servants was taken aback. The other smiled. "You appear to be a bit of a rebel, then, milady."
Kyra chuckled. "My rebellion is merely a fashion statement. I will not wear makeup that gives me another face. I'm done transforming myself for those who don't care about me. If they wish to see me, they will see me, and not what they want to see in my place."
The servant nodded, before fastening the gold necklace, with the blood red ruby, around her neck. They applied kohl to her eyes, and painted her lips a few shades redder, before stepping away.
"I guess it is time," she said. Kyra rose.
It was her last night in Saefel Caeld, and since she couldn't spend it with Laidu, she would try to spend it with her other friends.
***
Indra had made an odd comment to him, about him standing out in a good way, and now Laidu saw why.
As he sat in the carriage, he stared out at the men entering the Solstael's manor. Most of them wore longer coats made up in garish colors, but those garments hung off their slim frames. They were all clean-shaven, but the lack of beards betrayed soft and very feminine faces.
So the second Laidu stepped out, he cut a stark contrast with them. His human form didn't have the imposing size, but he was still powerfully built and broad-shouldered, and he had a bit of a beard.
Karik'ar stepped out behind him, and Thaen followed. The Vesperati wore some strange sort of robe-like garment, with puffy trousers tucked into boots that seemed to turn into straps of leather wound around the upper half of his calves. But the garment over his chest (Which left the sides of his torso open, prompting him to shiver) was made of a strangely lustrous material, which Thaen said was glass. Whatever it was, it looked fascinating. Karik'ar, however, was more traditionally dressed, with a cravat that seemed to be the size of a large scarf around his bullish neck.
"What... are they wearing?" Thaen asked.
"Tights?" Laidu guessed. He noticed others were around and quickly threw on his thick accent. He had spent two days practicing, and it had always been difficult. Now, it slid onto his voice like nothing.
You're welcome, Rhaedra said. Go enjoy the night. I will make sure you don't have to worry about this aspect of your disguise.
Thank you, Laidu said. "I think they're tights."
"Well, glad I didn't wear them." Thaen sighed, itching his braids. "So, what are we waiting on?"
"Indra? Mirsari? The pig?" Karik'ar asked. "You forget them?"
Thaen was about to say something, but stopped and sniffed. "Here they are," he said.
A second carriage rolled into the light cast by the dozens of lanterns strung up around the manor. And out of it stepped Mirsari and Indra.
Mirsari looked nice for a Vesperati, but Indra looked stunning. For one, she wore black and deep sapphire, which stood out against her pale skin. Her hair was done up in an elaborate coiffure, and it looked like curls of jet in the lanternlight.
And behind her came the scents, tumbling out of the carriage as students, conscripted by Indra no doubt, carried what appeared to be a wide coffin. "Gentlemen, you look dashing," she said. "I had the liberty of throwing the food in an ever-heating box I 'borrowed' from the University. Thaumaturgy needs gold, so they're rather expensive," she said. "Anyway, shall we enter?"
Laidu nodded. "Yes." There was the faintest of pauses between him willing to speak and the words going past his tongue. Rhaedra's finishing touch —adding the accent— must have left a delay.
Lord Solstael had spared no expense preparing his manor for the ball. The front of his home was illuminated with dozens of lanterns, and shone like something out of a fairy tale. "Gentlemen," Laidu said to the students carrying the food, "take it in that way." Some servants stepped forward to take the food, before one of them directed the five of them through a hallway.
As they moved through the hall, Laidu heard music, soft at first, but growing in intensity. Indra moved to his side and grabbed his arm. "We were allowed to bring one other," she explained in a whisper. "Thaen brought Mirsari, so I'm bringing Prince Aldrakul."
"Ah. Not many women get to bring a prince to a ball. Even if he's a from a disgraced family."
Indra laughed. "That may be true. But we all know I'm not the lucky one."
Laidu was about to say something, but a servant, dressed in a rather garish costume, stopped them. "And who are you?" he asked.
"This is my accompaniment," Indra said. "He's coming in with my invitation." She went to reach for something in the folds of her dress, but the man stopped her.
"It wasn't to question him being here. I'm to announce you, and I need his name, as well as yours."
"Ah." The funny thing, his name. Before he had Changed, Laidu had been named Dymmhis, which literally meant stupid. It was a common practice, that once a child reached thirteen, he chose his own name, and defined his own future. Laidu had selected a few names, and had to choose between bravery, steadfastness, or battle fury.
Yet, in the end, he chose them all. It's a good name, Rhaedra said.
That's just because it means the same thing as yours, Laidu thought. "I am Prince Tanazhar Aldrakul, with the lady Indra Selaine. I am from the Agyar princedoms."
"Thank you sir." With that, the herald turned.
***
"Presenting Lady Indra Selaine, champion for Lady Kyra Solstael, and her accompaniment, Prince Tanazhar Aldrakul of the Agyar Lands!"
Kyra turned and stared at the entrance. The music faltered for merely a second, but the dancers, in their elegant ball gowns, froze. It was not every day that royalty visited.
Indra looked lovely, her hair done up well, and dressed in black and a deep blue. Her pale shoulders shone in the well-lit ballroom. And next to her...
He was broad-shouldered, dressed in black and silver. Of course, unlike the rest of the men, even those who were broad-shouldered, his suit was nicely filled out, and he wore normal trousers and not those horrendous tights. But his face struck her the most. He had a partial beard coming in, with a thin mustache under an aquiline nose. Heavy-lidded eyes, of piercing blue, stared at the crowd. A mane of jet black hair, unbound, draped down to his shoulders. He cut an imposing presence.
And as he walked his way up to the front, she noticed something. He looked kind of like Laidu. That shouldn't have surprised her; after all, Laidu was also supposed to be Agyar. The man —Tanazhar— strode up to the raised table where she sat next to her father. "I thank you for accepting my presence here. I came on behalf of another, one who was unable to make it here," he said, bowing.
"I assume you're talking about the cur who trashed a good portion of the city?" Lord Solstael asked. A flame of anger rose up in her. He talked about the man like Laidu was a common criminal.
"I see you've met him." The man laughed. "Forgive him for his clumsiness." He smiled. "Anyway, I brought a gift for you to this fine party." He looked back at the tables laden with sumptuous —and costly— food. "Unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be a place to put it. Ah, your servants are most ingenious, and seem to have solved that problem."
Kyra stared as the servants he mentioned busily set up a table, laying a cloth over it. Why did they need a new table? That was quickly revealed as more servants burst out of the kitchen. Men and women backed out of their way as the servants, carrying a gigantic platter, on which rested a smoking, succulent boar.
"It took a while to track, but your... gheazacporic, your snow boar, is a most worthy prey." Kyra stared at the saber-like tusks in stunned awe. He had tracked and slain that?
"Thank you, Prince... Aldrakul. Please, enjoy yourself," Lord Solstael said, gesturing to a seat at the table, next to a very irate-looking Skaria. The prince nodded and sat down next to Skaria.
Kyra stared over the ball, silently brooding over everything. She wanted one person to be here with her, and she had to settle with this man. He wasn't bad-looking, that much she could see. Actually, he was quite the opposite, very manly and strong-looking. And that fact made her feel guilty. Felt like she was betraying Laidu.
She was lost in thought when he approached her. "Forgive me if I am too forward, for I don't know much of the courtesies of your court," the prince said, "but may I ask you for a dance?"
Kyra paused. She should be happy, should be enjoying the party thrown in her favor. Yet the lack of one man cast everything in a moldering gloominess. She wanted Laidu to be here, but he wasn't, and despair and glumness was no fun company. Maybe a dance would cheer her?
Yet part of her felt like that would be an act of betrayal. She loved another, and dancing with a different man made her uncomfortable. It may just be a dance. But it could be something more.
But she decided. "Sure." Courtesy demanded that she humor him once. Afterwards, she could go back and stay shrouded in her misery, but for now, it was something she had to do.
The prince led her down to the ballroom floor, and the music struck up a waltz. "You don't dance much, do you?" Kyra asked. He wasn't a bad dancer, but he didn't move with the fluid grace of others.
"Am I that noticeable?" he asked.
"You're surrounded by professional useless nobles," Kyra said. "This is one of the few things they practice. I'm assuming back home, you're better at hunting or swordplay."
"Yes, that may be the case." He had a strange accent, that gave every word a sort of gravitas. "You're skilled in this," he said. "Though the others don't appear nearly as lovely as you."
He was flirting with her. Part of her liked it. Part of her hated herself for liking it. "Nonsense," Kyra said. "Look at them. They're giving me dirty looks because I don't powder myself up. You wouldn't believe the lengths that they go to for beauty."
"They look like statues. And while marble can be a wonderful medium," Tanazhar Aldrakul said, "it is lifeless and pale. They paint their faces up to look as dead and stonelike as possible. Yet you are full of life." He smiled. "Your vibrancy shines brighter than anything you could put on your face to cover it." It made her heart leap twice.
Once, because it was a beautiful thing to say. Those who now danced around her had been the cruel standard Kyra had held herself up to, and to hear someone say that they were wanting instead of her was something she had needed to hear.
Twice, because the first time her heart leaped, it was because of what he said. That emotional response made her feel horrible, made her hate herself for liking him.
The dance ended, and Kyra stepped away from him. "Forgive me, I need some fresh air." With that, she calmly stepped away across the ballroom towards one of the balconies.
It was blessedly deserted, and Kyra breathed in some of the invigorating cold air. It felt nice to escape the rush and frenzy of the ball, not to mention the emotional turmoils within. She needed time to sort things out.
"Ah, I see you are seeking some respite from the party." She turned around to see the prince, the light of the ballroom making the edges of his black mane seem to glow, advancing. He held two glasses of wine. "I hope you don't mind if I join you. I brought wine." He offered her one of the glass goblets.
She took it and watched him warily. "You're following me," she said.
"Of course. I am... how would you say it? I am enchanted. Under your spell."
"I've seen enough real enchantments in the last few months for them to be at all romantic," Kyra said.
"Ah, forgive me," he said, leaning on the stone railing of the balcony. "To be honest, it is nice that I am not suffering under their glares. Most of the men there watch me, worried I'd make advances to their women. Bah!" he said. "I'll leave them to their lifeless statues."
Kyra sighed. "Look, Prince... Aldrakul."
"Please, Tanazhar would be perfectly fine."
"Look, Tanazhar, there's another man in my life. If you're trying to win over my affections, someone else has them," she said.
"Ah." He paused. "Just out of curiosity, who is it?" He inclined his head back to the ball. "You obviously are a woman of discriminating taste. I cannot imagine what they had that I did not possess."
"He isn't here. Though by all rights he should be."
"Ah, you speak of our mutual destructive friend, correct? One with scales like gold, horns like ivory?"
Kyra nodded. "Yes."
Tanazhar laughed. "I see. Though dance with me. Be mine for the night. I am sure he won't mind."
Kyra rolled her eyes and turned away. "Then you obviously don't know him." She looked back at him. His heavy lidded eyes were closed, but she swore she saw... what looked like a reflection play across them. A glint of moonlight, perhaps?
Then he opened his eyes again and fixed his piercing gaze on Kyra. "I'm sure he won't mind." She gasped.
His eyes before had been a striking blue. Now, they shone reflective gold, like polished jewelry. And she only knew one person with those colored eyes.
"Laidu?" she breathed.
Tanazhar —Laidu— smiled, and his accent vanished. "I'm a Ranger. There's no way a nobleman can stop me from getting in," he said.
Her heart pounded, her breathing was short and hurried, as she stared at him in shock. "No... way." Darkness overtook her.
***
He had expected that to happen.
Kyra turned pale, as pale as the moon, and crumpled into Laidu's arms. He had shocked Thaen and Karik'ar with it, but they hadn't fainted. Kyra had.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the vial Indra had given him. Smelling salts. Perfect. He uncorked it, frowned at the stench, and wafted it underneath Kyra's nose.
Her face wrinkled, and she stared up at him looking as if she had awoken from a bad dream. "Why are you holding me?"
"You fainted on me," he said.
"Because... you're actually Laidu?"
"Yes." He smiled, and leaned down. "Want to reconsider my offer?"
She fixed a glare at him. "You had to pretend to be someone else? Why would you?"
"Partially to keep up my disguise," Laidu admitted. "But mostly just to surprise you. You should have seen the look on your face!" he said with a laugh.
"Great," she said. "I'm in love with an idiotic juvenile of a man." She glared, but eventually a smile broke through her disapproval.
"No, just joyful. Though don't worry, I'll be riling up people tonight too." He leaned over and kissed her. "But have you reconsidered my offer?"
"Yes. I might agree." She paused. "So... the voices. Are they gone?"
"Yes. No. Kind of." He paused. "I've got one voice in my head. Rhaedrashah. Or Rhaedra. The dragon half."
"And he's watching everything?" she asked.
No, I sleep a lot. I don't see anything then. To slumber is a separate state for our soul. I can talk and see with your body while you lie asleep, as you are with mine. That was an odd, yet true, thought. This was Rhaedra's body too.
"No, he isn't," he assured her. "It's just the two of us."
Kyra smiled, and then frowned as she listened closer to the ballroom inside. "And our moment seems to be interrupted. Looks like Father is making one of his speeches. How he loves to do that." She sighed, then nodded towards the light. "I don't look too bad, do I? After all, I just was overcome with emotion."
"You look fine. Like you didn't just faint into my arms," Laidu said.
Kyra chuckled. "That sounds like a sappy romance novel." She sighed. "And why do I have the feeling that something is about to go wrong?"
Laidu shrugged. He didn't say what his plans were, that he was plotting to cause scandal and shock. He didn't mention him getting back at Lord Solstael. But he kept quiet.
He followed her into the ballroom, smiling.