Thanks to her shift change, Reyla was up early to take the Princess to visit twin nobles Lierin and Tierin.
It was already warm as she made her way through the quiet palace to the princess' room. Nasir gave her a wry smile, hoping she harboured no resentment for making her take his shift, receiving only a nod in return as Reyla passed through the door.
She wouldn't say anything, but Reyla was furious her shift had been changed at the last minute, yet again. It was an all too regular occurrence. She was often given the social roles as she was the only woman on the Princess guard. In fact, she was the only female soldier in the whole of the Freya Army, the other women (there were seven in total) having become medics.
Being the only woman in the Freya Army was never as much of an issue for Reyla as it was for others. She was sixteen when she decided on her dream of becoming a knight and now she had been given the chance she was not going to let anything stop her. Save perhaps being arrested for sneaking around with the Princess, but she had long since made her peace with that.
Arafrey was already dressed and sitting with a finished breakfast plate, waiting for her. She looked to Reyla as Ceal cleaned away her crockery, her emerald eyes shining the greeting they so longed to give each other.
"Ready?"
"Suppose," grumbled the Princess, her glimmer quickly fading.
It was only a short distance to the twins' house so they walked, cutting through the market on their way toward the noble district.
Although the previous night had left a substantial longing deep within her, Reyla was the height of professionalism. She walked a few feet behind Arafrey, far enough to guard efficiently but still close enough to smell her lavender fragrance.
Arafrey always smelled of lavender. Reyla made the perfume herself using her artes upon wild-flowers. She had quite a talent for this yet lacked the skills others had with healing artes.
Reyla scanned the market, eyeballing the patrons as they passed by. Daring them to test her.
While the Frey were known for their sagely robes and flowing attire, these were often expensive and wildly impractical for traversing the forests. As such only those of noble birth tended to wear them and many of the Frey around them wore tighter-fitting leaf-leather garbs. A sure sign of their working-class status.
The aroma of fresh herbs and flowers breezed through the market carrying with it the distant sounds of a flute coming from the Cross Road Pavilion. This was soon overpowered by earthy undertones from mountains of succulent fruits and vegetables piled onto the wooden stalls.
The markets were always busy this time of the morning. The merchants called out to the passers-by in hopes of a sale, an ever-present droning that swallowed most other sounds. Reyla noticed Night-Shift Guards from the palace, trying to stay awake long enough to do their shopping before dragging themselves to the barracks. Others looked like the staff of noble houses collecting the groceries of their employers or nattering housewives who had nothing better to do than gossip and ignore their children all day.
Arafrey turned over her shoulder as they passed by the flower stall. She half smiled to Reyla, the smell of fresh lavender joining them in a secret moment of intimacy, then carried on.
It pained Reyla to have to walk in silence through the busy market, the distance between the secret lovers serving as a strong reminder of what could never be. She longed for the day she would be able to take Arafrey's hand in hers and walk along the street. A day where they didn't have to hide their feelings. A day where she didn't have to lie. But she knew that day would never come.
Even now she chastised herself for stealing the occasional glance of Arafrey's rear in her fitted cream robes – but it was quite alluring...
They turned onto Avenall road going East, passing by the boutiques with the overpriced clothes and ornaments favoured by the noble Frey, heading towards the residential area. The boutiques were grown from trees, formed with artes to incorporate them into the structure of the building. Many of them had imported glass for grand display windows, where exquisite and ridiculously expensive robes were proudly displayed.
The noble district was closer to the city temple, a magnificent building grown from the roots of the Life Tree. The Life Tree's thick body stretched far beyond the canopy above them, the glow of the Manastream flowing through it causing a soft luminescence at all times.
They arrived at the home of Lierin and Tierin, a lavish building grown from oak with flowerbeds of bluebells framing a stepping stone path. Arafrey rang the doorbell, looking to Reyla, each hoping no one would answer.
A young woman in a white apron answered the door. She guided them through the wooden halls and out into the rear garden were the twins awaited them.
Reyla ducked away to begin her sweep, leaving Arafrey exchanging pleasantries.
Arafrey didn't like the twins all that much, but their father was a prominent politician and they had grown up in the same social circles. The pair peacock'ed their noble status often draped in luxurious fabrics and doused in overpowering perfumes, their flat noses held high with permanent entitlement. They always wore matching dresses with many layers, this time in a soft blue. Their drab hair was woven into intricate braids that raised above their heads making them seem taller than they were. Few Frey wore make-up of any kind, but they had an unnatural paleness to their face and a rouge about their cheeks suggesting they did.
Reyla thought perhaps their flashy clothes and hair were there to distract from the plainness of the twin's features and foul personalities. It didn't.
The three women began gossiping while Reyla finished her sweep of the manicured garden, setting herself with her back to the wall and a clear view of the table. She half-listened into the conversation, but it was like an arrow to the heart when the topic inevitably turned onto the subject of men.
"What about you Arafrey? Who're you taking to the festival? Tierin still hasn't been asked by anyone" Lierin spoke at speed, often forgetting to pause for breath. Although both twins were well-spoken Tierin was generally quiet and let her sister speak for her, not that she had much choice in the matter.
"I hadn't thought about it" Arafrey spoke quietly, attempting to change the subject in vain.
Of course, she had thought about it. Arafrey thought about it a lot, but the Princess would rather go alone than have to spend the night pretending to like some noble hoping to win her affection. She tried to play along with her parents and do what was expected of her, but Arafrey always felt guilty about leading her suitors on.
"Well you can't go alone, that would be horrible. And you can't go with just anyone."
Arafrey ignored her. She took a spoon off the table and stirred her green tea before lifting it to her lips.
"I heard Bodair is taking some commoner friend of his," Lierin continued without prompting. "Can you even imagine?"
Arafrey rolled her eyes loudly. "It's really not that big of a deal. She's a childhood friend."
"What kind of a noble, high born would want to marry him after he's been dating a pig?"
Although it made Reyla's blood boil, 'pig' was a frequently used slang name the upper class used to describe those less fortunate than themselves.
"Don't be so dramatic," Arafrey huffed, fighting her frustration. She hated the way her friends spoke about her people as if they were garbage because they were not noble-born. The class divide in Freya was so minuscule that the Princess thought it asinine to place so much value in it. Just being noble-born didn't make them a good Frey – the twins were proof of that.
"I don't know, my Dad said I was to avoid him now."
"Social suicide," Tierin finally whispered.
"Whatever, why would I want a husband who was so shallow and superficial they cared who my ex was?" Arafrey tired of the conversation, the strain showing in her voice.
"And where do you intend to find a high-born who isn't like that?" joked Lierin. The three Frey all laughed together, quickly breaking Arafrey's frustration, and carried on with their conversation.
Reyla meanwhile remained quietly at her post, trying hard not to listen in, but she had not done well.
Reyla had always known there would be trouble if their relationship were ever exposed, she realised at that moment she had sorely miscalculated the potential fallout.
Before, Reyla told herself their actions were victimless, that it was just an outdated belief. She consoled herself with the knowledge that she would bear the brunt of the blame, but as she stood listening to the twins spouting off their elitist drivel, she realised that was not the case. Reyla knew her perfect Princess would never be so crass as to judge a person by their blood or past relations, but at that moment, she was brutally reminded it was not the same with all Frey.
Reyla cursed herself down, for until that very moment she had never once considered Arafrey's reputation or how it would affect who would inevitably become King of Freya. Why would she? What reputation did she have to consider?
It was as if someone shook her awake and she felt selfish and repugnant as she realised the full extent of their actions.
Reyla had always thought herself a loyal, model citizen, but now she wasn't so sure. Had she been so concerned with betraying Frey beliefs that she hadn't considered the possibility she was betraying her country? Or did she just choose not to think about it?
Panic came over her like a wave. She felt as if she was being pulled down by some unseen force. Her knees weak, her whole body trembled as she tried desperately to hold her nerves still. Adrenaline racing as her senses screamed at her to run.
Reyla swallowed hard, taking in a long breath, her hand tightening around her shield, as she tried to maintain the illusion of composure.
She focused her attention, staring at a purple and white lily. She watched as a bumblebee landed on the lily, teetering around the petals a while before floating off. How she wished she could follow it.
Reyla drew another deep breath. Her hand shook, but she was doing okay. Standing there would be the easy part. It's what she had to do next which would be hardest of all.
She just had to make it through the rest of her shift.
* * *
Elsafrey filled a small bowl with water from the manapool. She crossed the temple courtyard to an elderly man who sat uneasily among the wooden pews. He grasped at his chest in pain.
She soaked a cloth in the bowl and dabbed the man's forehead. The poor old Frey had black marks on his skin across his face and arms. Although the marks seemed to appear on their own, they dug into the skin making it blister and crease at the edges – almost like burns.
As the high priestess of Freya, it was Elsafrey's job to tend to the well-being of her people. She tended their physical health with healing artes and medicine and tended their spiritual needs through prayer and by passing on the many teachings of Auldafrey, the first of their kind.
Elsafrey smiled at the old Frey reassuringly, stroking his hair gently before excusing herself and catching the attention of a medic.
"Sister Alma. He's the fourth to come in with these symptoms this morning," she whispered, looking around to make sure no-one was listening in. "I'm worried we have a sickness on our hands. Could you check those waiting and separate those with these symptoms from those without who need treatment? It may be contagious ."
"Yes, Ma'am. It's just..." the worried medic trailed off, looking to the Queen with wide eyes. "I already have your Grace, they're all affected..."
Elsafrey scanned the temple, counting the number of Frey sitting in the pews, her stomach churning as she realised it was much higher than normal. Her eyes darted between the patients, scanning them desperately for one who was not showing the symptoms.
"Quarantine the temple," Elsafrey instructed urgently.
"I must speak with the King."
* * *