The days passed awkward and slow, with few notable events. Astra spent the days avoiding the ragtag revolutionary group, as she had dubbed them, and memorizing the guard shifts. They were regular and constant, changing six times a day with three different groups, each composed of thirty soldiers. So unless the guards had other tasks that she was unaware of, they all only spent eight hours a day on duty.
Eight hours! She had to refrain from tossing up her hands in disbelief lest she drop the laundry basket between her hands. Back in Varaly, she'd been on call from six o'clock in the morning to midnight. Eighteen hours, well over twice the amount the guards here were pampered with. And that was assuming she didn't actually have an assignment.
Although, back then, at least there were maids and servants to wash her clothes for her. Now, in Auxerre, she had to trade off laundry chores with the rest of her roommates, and since she was the newest, she got the wonderful honor of doing the laundry for the week. Astra hefted the woven basket and exited from the concrete and bare hallway to enter into an identical concrete and bare room, where there were barrels and barrels of water the guards had... kindly... hauled down from above for clothes-washing purposes.
Several other wraiths were already in the room, scrubbing and wringing with haste. Of particular note was Aaro in a corner, seemingly attacking and murdering his clothes with a feverish passion, a rough-looking brush in his right hand.
Astra crossed to an empty area across the room from him where she crouched near a barrel of water and glared down at the pile of incriminating gray clothes in the basket between her hands. Another reason to get out of this place quicker. On her own, at least she wouldn't need to wash anyone else's clothes.
In tiny dishes nearby, white bars of soap had been set out for her. Astra grabbed the bar and began scrubbing as she went over the information she'd compiled over the past few days.
One. She had not found the entrance that led above-ground despite her suspicions that there were more than one pathway. Certainly, the guards hauling the water wouldn't be bringing it down through the same way guards were coming and going for their shifts, and there had to be a specialized route for supplies such as food. Two. Only favored wraiths, the ones high on the ranking boards, would ever go above ground. Three. She was dead last place on the rankings. Though to be fair, she hadn't even been trying to get out of that spot.
The three concise points she'd made in her head had been reviewed by her so many times that the exact words were practically ingrained within her mind. The problem was that unless she got extremely lucky, or some dumbass soldier was extremely stupid, to solve issue one, she had to solve issue two. And to solve issue two, she had to solve issue three: getting out of last place.
Freezing water sloshed onto her, soaking her legs, and jolted her back to reality. Astra started and raised her bar of soap like a weapon.
"You're so easily triggered," someone trilled. Standing above her, Riviera held a basket of laundry against her hip, the water that had been in it now on Astra instead. She smirked down. "Care for some company?" Astra sneered as she rinsed her hands of the soap bubbles in a nearby barrel of water. Her pants were entirely soaked wet. The cold nature of the water had tingled the ice within her, almost begging for her to summon an ice pick and stick it through Riviera's lightly tanned throat, but... Near the wall of the laundry chamber, a guard had caught sight of their small scuffle and now watched like a hawk. Seam forbid. If she sent a ice shard flying at the wind wraith now, no doubt it would be even harder to get out of the last place spot on the ranking boards. Not to mention, most of the wraiths in the army had little, if any, magic in their veins, and there was no way she was going to prove herself any different to the guards that had not fought her in the alleyway. Not if she wanted to keep that bit of advantage.
She forced herself to calm down and to harden that anger and power into a hard, icy ball. For next time. "I feel bad for your friends" was Astra's only comment to Riviera. Like she'd anticipated, the wind wraith ignored her comment. Instead, Riviera crouched down and plucked the bar of soap out of her hand.
"Thanks."
Astra let out an exasperated sigh as she turned back to her own pile of clothes.
"Tell me about yourself," Riviera said when the sole sound of squelching wet clothes had gone on for several minutes too long. Astra continued staring down at the mass lump of soaked fabric in front of her.
"What is there to say? I was in Auxerre. I got captured." She wrung out a pair of pants—by the Seam, they were tiny—and tossed it into a separate, empty basket.
"Why were you in Auxerre?" Astra glanced over at wind wraith. The fully shaved, left side of her head was visible to her. Beneath the growing hair fuzz, there was a swirling black, cursive text. Justice. And right under the 'e' rested a black tattoo of a flower in bloom, three petals stretching outwards.
She glanced over suspiciously. "Why do you ask?" The wind wraith shrugged. She was having a much easier time wringing out her pile of clothes, and Astra wondered if she was stronger than she was, or if she was possibly summoning her wind magic to assist her in the task.
"I was an orphan," Riviera said after several moments of silence. The past tense caught her attention, and her hands faltered for half a second before they reached to grab another garment. "Do you know how many orphaned wraiths there are on this continent?" Astra didn't answer her. She didn't know the answer. "I was one of the lucky ones. Solano himself found me and then found a family for me."
"You know him then." Astra tossed another pair of wrung out pants into the basket. "Solano."
"Not well." She didn't elaborate. "You know what is happening in Iveia, in her countries, in her cities. You have the power and skills to help." Astra pursed her lips. "But I don't understand why you do nothing to help."
"I don't need to explain myself to you."
"Perhaps not. But there will come a day that you will be explaining it to someone, whether you like it or not. And it might not be on your terms."
•
"She's an ass," Riviera declared the moment Aaro walked in the door. The male raised a single eyebrow at her. The wind wraith stood in the center of the room, looking every bit a dominating force with her left hand on her hip.
"Who, that new girl? Calayne? And you realize anyone could have just walked in here," he said. "You should have checked to make sure who I was before you said anything." Riviera rolled her eyes and rotated her finger. A silent breeze clicked the door shut and pushed Aaro toward the center of the room before one of the chairs from the sides of the room slid itself under him.
"I am a wraith of wind. Do have some faith in my abilities." Aaro scowled. The female sent another breeze to bring the second chair to her. She sat down across from him, their knees nearly touching. A few seconds of silence before Riviera snorted in amusement. "She's trying so hard to fade into the background." Aaro frowned in answer.
"A male of few words." She sighed and pushed back her loose bangs. Inside his head, Inari laughed and agreed.
"What am I here for." He had originally planned to check out a few of the wraiths that had complained about a cough until the female had pulled him aside during dinner to request meeting with him. She smirked.
"Aaro Hallas." Riviera's eyes sparkled with mischief. "You seem so average, I'm sure you're aware." Inari laughed at that comment, hard enough that a small headache was already beginning to press in at his temples. "Average height, average magic disposal. So imagine my surprise when I found out you weren't just any Aaro Hallas. You're the second-born of Chief Hallas of the Hallas Clan, the second largest ice wraith clan in Iveia." His mind was silent for once, and then he let loose a slew of silent curses. How had she found out? Aaro gripped the sides of his chair. He was speechless; what would Inari say? He waited, but the voice inside his head didn't answer.
"How the fuck did you find that out." The "fuck" had slipped out, and he had to avoid slapping a hand over his mouth. Old habits die hard, and he was relatively certain that was not what Inari would've said. And to think he thought he was succeeding at remaining low profile. Father would no doubt be disappointed if he ever found out. This time, Inari chimed in again with a laugh, the sound reverberating in his skull.
Across from him, Riviera flashed another one of her smiles that had the guards dropping their money and pants left and right. "Just because I have a pretty face doesn't mean I don't have a pretty mind. I'd remember that if I were you." Inari would have thrown that statement back in her face. And true to form, mere seconds later, Inari hissed, You'd look prettier dead, before laughing. Aaro wouldn't dare say it, even if the female before him wasn't Inari. He stayed silent.
The wind wraith leaned forward so that Aaro could feel her breath uncomfortably warming his colder body temperature. She whispered, "This is what I want. I want your oath. I want your alliance. Once we're all out of here... I want the Hallas clan to back me in taking back Aeris." Aaro recoiled.
"Aeris?" Disbelief forced his voice out of monotony. "The same Aeris ruled by House Fiorenci? Why?" A faint smile played on her lips.
"Unfinished business calls for a finality." Riviera leaned back in her chair and folded her arms.
"That isn't an answer."
"I am seeking vengeance and justice. To right the wrongs and set to balance the mistakes I have made in the past." Her dark eyes glared accusingly at him. "I owe you nothing more." What a bitch, Inari commented, cackling. Aaro ignored the urge to tell her that she was just the same.
He said, "But you can't be serious. The strength of Aeris is unsurmountable, not to mention they—"
"Or else," Riviera cut him off, "I will reveal your heritage to the Captain. I'm sure he would find that information very, very interesting."
"You wouldn't." If the Captain of the Wraith Guard learned about his true heritage... the implications were terrifying. He was not strong like his father. He was not cruel like his sister.
"I would. Why shouldn't I?" Riviera laughed, the sound more like a sensual lover than that of a blackmailer. "You think you are safe just because we are in the same group and working toward the same goal of freeing everyone here." Her voice was a rough and crackly as she said, "You are wrong. No one is safe. Not in these days. Least of all people like you and me. And I care nothing for you. "
The disembodied voice of Inari's lilting voice mocked him. Little brother, you better not cry.
"Why you? Why me? What makes us special. Why are we targeted?"
"Aside from the fact that we're wraiths?" Riviera gave him a pitying smile. "You'll learn in time. Regardless, my threat stands. I need your answer. Now."
"I am not the chief, nor am I the heir," he reminded her. "I have no power." Riviera smiled wickedly at him.
"Then is it not a good thing we have not escaped yet?" Her eyes flicked down to look at his hands, which were now coated in hoarfrost. Mirth danced in her eyes as she looked him in his eyes. "I hope you're not seriously considering attacking me right now. Because I will warn you now—you will fail.
"And when you do fail," she continued, "I will send my agents to your clan. And I will have your beloved sister... Inari, was it? I will have her kidnapped and tortured. And trust me when I say she will be kept alive and tortured until you agree to this... alliance and make true to what I am holding you to." Aaro swallowed tightly.
Aw. Your beloved sister. Little brother, you care too much. The threat evidently did not faze Inari at all as she laughed, the sound harsh and cruel, and Aaro crushed the ice in his hand, the sharp edges digging into his palm, trying to ignore her.
"Who are you? Who are you really? Who are you to conquer Aeris?"
"I said, I need your answer, now."
"How do you have so much power? How are you even contacting—" Riviera narrowed her eyes. A second later, a sharp wisp of a breeze snapped him across the face, sending spit flying out of his mouth and tears streaming down from his eyes. The sting hurt worse than a real slap. Inari howled with glee, sending his vision flickering from the headache.
"I want your answer," she said coldly. "Now."
"I agree," he gasped, even as the sound of Inari's laughter continued in his mind. "Once we've escaped, I will do my best to ensure that the Hallas Clan backs your claim on Aeris."
"You'll do better than your best," Riviera insisted. "Or else it's your precious sister Inari on the line."
Foolish little brother.