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lilyharvord · 5 years

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Song of the Phoenix Part 4

Find Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3

@evangelineartemiasamos, @mareshmallow, @scarletguardsource, @war-storm

Rori had taken Dane’s old office, but any markings of the old owner had been removed. Now the room was decorated more sparsely, with fewer personal touches. I had almost grown used to it too, the brightly colored trinkets that Dane had collected during his travels and put all over the room had always been my favorites. Now, they have been replaced with many heavy books on law. If there was one thing Rori liked to show off, it was her knowledge of Monfort’s laws and history.

We had been shown into her office at sunset, and had been left with two cups of coffee for me and Cal, and a small cup of tea for his mother. She hadn’t touched it though, and it had gone cold a while ago. She had instead been staring out of the window behind that desk, watching the sun slowly set and light the room on fire. Cal had gotten tired of looking at me and telling me to sit down while I wandered around the room. The last time I had been in here, Rori had tried to get me to join up in her government, assuring me that I would be doing a great service to everyone. I had told her that it was probably best if I stayed away from governments for a while, and that I preferred what I was doing.

I wondered if she would try something similar this time.

As if my musing summons her, the sliding double doors into the room open and Rori steps in. An older woman, probably a few years younger than my mother, she was stiff and honestly reminded me of Anabel at times. She preferred to dress in a staunch uniform, that was neither military, nor political. She did not belong to either class of people, but instead saw herself as something in the middle.

She clears her throat to announce her presence, and Cal rises from his chair, to meet her eye. Waving his gesture of respect away, she slides behind her desk in a graceful swoop, her expression cool as she says, “Welcome back to Ascendant you two. And welcome back to the world of the living Miss Jacos.”

Coriane shifted uncomfortably in her chair, reaching out for her cup of tea. She nods softly at the greeting, and Rori eyes her carefully before saying, “My name is Rori Journ, I am the Premier of Montfort.”

“I know who you are, my son explained if very clearly,” Coriane replies, her voice sharpening slightly, but the words drop at the end, and I can see how her hands shake slightly in the small slosh of the tea in the cup. Cal seems to notice too, because he reaches out to set his hand on her knee. In response, she sets her hand on his. “You run a government that I have never heard of or seen, but this place… it is perhaps the most magical thing I have ever seen.”

“And you are perhaps the most magical thing we have seen.” Rori speaks without any of the genuine warmth that Cal’s mother managed to infuse in her voice. Slowly leaning forward and resting her forearms on the table, Rori continues, “Do you have any recollection of what happened? Perhaps you remember death?”

Coriane’s grip on the tea cup turns her knuckles black, and she swallows before saying, “I remember little to nothing, just blackness, and then waking up in the middle of a storm.”

“Amuse me if you will, what is the last thing you remember before the blackness?” Rori asks as she slowly pulls a group of files from the top shelf of her desk.

“That hardly seems like a question-“ Cal begins, but Rori silences him with a look, as Coriane delicately sets her cup of tea back on the edge of the desk. Swallowing, she inhales deeply and closing her eyes whispers, “It’s all very fuzzy, a lot of what happened that night was not my own… thinking.”

“How so?” Rori interrupts, as she opens one of the folders and uncaps her pen. Coriane watches it for a moment before saying, “A whisperer at the court had been in my head for years, at least that’s what I believe.”

Rori nods, her eyes never coming up from the paper as she writes that down. She looks up then, her brow raised. Seeing that this is an invitation to continue, Cal’s mother sits up a little straighter in her chair, clears her throat and says, “The only things I really remember are handing Cal to the nurse and then writing in my,” she trails off and then laughing softly to herself, continues with, “It must sound so silly, a grown woman writing in a diary. But I wrote one more entry, and then went into the bathroom. I remember the water, and the wall with the mirror, and the wedding crown. I threw it on the floor before getting into the tub.”

She looks down at her hand, and running her hand along the hem of her sleeve, she looks away. I narrow my eyes slightly, but watch as she slowly seems to transform. Her eyes harden, and her spine straightens further. For a moment, I could picture her like a queen, dressed in gold and black, the colors of her house mixed with Cal’s. She would have been beautiful; I could see how his father had loved her.

Meeting Rori’s eyes across the desk she said, “Is there a point to these questions?”

Rori looked up from her file, her eyes searching us across the desk. Eventually, she folds her fingers together and asks, “Do you know what happens when dead people come back Miss Jacos?”

Coriane raised her brow, the first true sign that I had seen of her being shocked by the use of that title. Her lips pursed before she said, “No, but I do know that I was married before death, and that there is a proper title because of that.”

“Til death do you part is the vow, I believe. As you both passed away, I believe that the title is no longer fitting. You were not a widow were you? Your husband was a widower for perhaps half a year before he married again. You two are no longer married by law. I believe it was customary in court to keep your family’s name as well?”

Whatever wind had been in Coriane’s sail was lost with that comment, and she seemed to try and sink into the chair. Something in me ached at that, and I said carefully, “Cal is living proof of their union.”

“But he is not a marriage certificate. Children are born out of wedlock quiet often, are they not?” She narrowed her eyes on me, and I quickly dropped my eyes. When none of us seemed willingly to provide any more evidence against her, Rori reached up to fix her hair, although nothing was out of place. She collected herself for another second before saying, “When dead people come back, people get scared. Why didn’t my loved one come back, why did my enemy come back?”

Cal seems to shift for a moment in the chair, as if he is already thinking of the long, long list of people that we both put in the ground who would not be happy to see us. Rori does not miss the movement, and I feel oddly like a student again, sitting in front of the teacher after I had been caught with Kilorn for a prank that we had pulled.

Steepling her fingers, Rori points them at Coriane and says with a cool smile, “You are not alone though. We have reports flowing in from all over the country of strange storms, and people who were long thought dead returning. We have no explanation for such events., although our electricons have begun to develop a method for detecting the storms before they occur.”

“Electricons?” Coriane whispers in confusion, and Rori simply gestures in my direction. I tense, realize that she had never seen my ability in action. Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I held my hand out. Summoning the sparks feels glorious and they dance across my fingertips, before catching and stretching between my fingers like webbing. The bright purple light races up my arm before I force it back down to my hand where it dies slowly.

“Fabulous Miss Barrow,” Rori says as she watches my hand. “We’ll need you working with the others to help us detect these storms. Did you happen to detect the storm that brought Miss Jacos to us?”

“Yes,” I whisper softly, making Coriane turn to me in shock. She had been staring at my hand the entire time, mesmerized by the sight of lightning in my hand. It normally took people some time to get used to the idea that I could just conjure electricity from thin air. There was no need for it to already be present, although we had determined that when I harnessed a storm without creating it, I was impossibly deadly. Ignoring the look she gives me, I continue, “I had no idea what it was though. I thought I just had a headache from the power of the storm.”

“Interesting, Rafe complained of something similar hours before one hit, but the others have observed a sort of diminishing in their abilities when the storms are directly above them, did you notice such a thing?”Rori asks, turning all her attention on me. She reminds me of a damn bird of prey sometimes, or something that wants to pick my bones clean and then use them to clean its teeth. Raising my chin though, I say, “I’m not in the practice of going out and training in storms anymore.”

“Pity,” Rori observes, her eyes dancing to my hand again, this time the one missing my engagement ring. I slowly shift it to my side so that it is out of her view, and she barely reacts. Whatever was going through her mind, it must have been interesting. She does not give me her attention for long though, and eventually turns back to Coriane saying, “We need to determine if there is a pattern to the people returning. Or even better, if we can determine how you are returning, we can perhaps put a stop to it or learn to control it somehow.”

“Control it?” Cal asks with a snort before saying, “You want to be able to bring certain people back?”

“If there is a murder Mr. Calore, who do you think would know the killer better, the victim or the witness?” Rori eerily asks, as she rises from her desk.

“Depends on if the killer stood in the front or the back.” Cal replies sharply, his eyes devoid of all the warmth I loved so much. Rori turns back to him from the small table where she is pouring herself some coffee. She smiles at Cal, setting the tea pot down before saying, “Of course. Another hypothetical situation then? Someone knows very important information, but they were killed before they could deliver it. Imagine the power one could have if they could control whether or not that information actually got to its destination.”

“It sounds like you want to play a game of god,” I say coolly. She frowns at me before turning back around to pour tea into her cup. When she turns around Rori says, “Miss Barrow when I was a little girl, before Montfort became even more balanced, and the Silvers ruled over us, do you know what my parents called them?”

I swallowed my retort, waiting for her to speak. She tilts her head to the side with a curious smile and says, “gods, we thought they had actually come down from the heavens to rule over us. I’m sure you experienced a similar situation growing up, until you discovered you could do things they never dreamed of?”

I looked away, avoid both Cal’s and Rori’s eyes. She did not stop talking though, her voice cool as she said, “Do you know what they called Ardents when they first began appearing? Young gods, Miss Barrow, sent to battle the Silvers who had abused their power. I’m sure plenty of the little red children in Norta who saw you called you a god.”

“They mostly wanted me to not show up at their houses.” I said harshly. Regardless of the argument she was trying to make, something was not right about determining who came back and who stayed dead. What if it turned out it wasn’t something that could be controlled? It would be fun to watch Rori stumble over that roadblock, but I had a feeling she would not be this confident unless she knew something and wasn’t telling anyone.

Sitting back down at her desk, she sips at her tea for a moment before saying, “For the time being, I want you to stay in Ascendant Miss Jacos. As for you two, Miss Barrow and Mister Calore, I’m afraid you’ll have to stay as well. If the dead are returning, and we have no control over it, then anyone could return at any moment. It would be best if you both were not alone when that happens.”

Cal rises from the chair quickly then, offering his mother his hand. She takes it, and he pulls her to her feet before saying, “Thank you for the coffee and tea, Premier.”

“Of course, if you remember anything else Miss Jacos, do not hesitate to contact my office and ask to speak to me.” Rori smiles at us, and I grab my coat in a huff before pulling it on and following Cal out the door.

We pass through the multiple marble hallways that take us out into the main building center. There are representatives everywhere, walking to and from their offices, carrying folders of paperwork or just their early dinner if they are staying late. I walk next to Cal as he keeps a tight grip on his mother’s arm. I can practically see the steam rising from him, and his mother tries futilely to pull her arm from his grip.

“Cal,” I spit eventually, and he stops, spinning around to say, “She is insufferable.”

“Let go of your mother’s arm,” I continue as if he never spoke, and he looks down at his hand which is gripping her arm in a vice. He releases it softly, and then whispers an apology. She smiles softly and rubs at the spot before saying, “She does not make friends easily I take it?”

“The representatives voted her in because she was conservative compared to Dane. She didn’t want to go to war anymore, and really only wanted to deal with things back here. She campaigned on the platform that we should get rid of the Raiders before we went around pushing our beliefs on everyone else. Fat lot it’s done us,” Cal says as he starts walking again. His long strides mean that his mother and I almost have to run to keep up with him. He doesn’t slow down either, and I have to roll my eyes as we step out of the building and onto the long line of stairs to the bottom.

Coriane seems to take them two at a time next to me and huffs, “Is he normally like this after a meeting with her?”

“I call it the soldier mode,” I grumble as I try to keep up, “he’ll rant for a few minutes and then be over it.”

Sure enough, Cal rants all the way back to my parent’s town house. At least he slows down at times though when he sees us falling behind. Eventually, I give up trying to keep up, and so does his mother, which means he often has to sit on corners and wait for us. His mother has more than enough questions though, about the shops we pass, and the people. She eyes a young silver couple walking with their friends who are red, and then asks me, “Is this place really true? It can’t be possible, all of this.”

“I used to think there had to be a catch, that there was something that was being kept from me, but I worked with Dane for years. It’s all true, all of it.” I reply with a smile, as I watch the group enter a small coffee shop, chattering about a play they were seeing tonight. We pass by the shop, and the smell of fresh bread hits my nose, making my mouth water. I swallow, and then gesture up a street and say, “My sister works at a shop up that way, and my brother Tramy works near her too. He’s going to take over the little garden shop once it’s owner dies. He’s been working under him for years.”

“We should go see both of them!” His mother says suddenly, and then slips behind me to make her way up the street. I freeze in surprise and say, “Wait!”

Cal turns the corner toward my parent’s home ahead of me, and I end up stuck between them. It’s an easy choice though. Cal knows the city, his mother… does not. So I hurry after her, sprinting up the hill to catch her. She is paused outside of a jewelry window, looking over some of the necklaces in the window when I finally reach her. She turns to smile at me and then says, “Lead the way.”

Catching my breath, I try not to growl in annoyance, and instead force calm before gesturing up the street. She follows at a happy pace, looking around at all of the shops. There are very few people on the street right now for such a lovely day in early spring. No doubt everyone was at home preparing for some sort of late winter snow, or maybe even a rain storm. I pick up the pace a little at the thought. I do not want to get caught out in either. Snow seems unlikely though, especially with how warm it is.

I lead us around another corner and the shop Gisa works in comes in focus. The window is filled with beautiful fabrics on display, as well as a few dresses. I open the door, causing the little bell above it to ring.

I hear movement in the back as we step in, and then my sister’s head pokes out from the doorway behind the counter. She grins brightly at us and then says, “Mare! I wasn’t expecting you.”

“We’re on our way back from the meeting with Rori, thought we’d stop by and say hello.” I say as I look over a bolt of fabric that she has pulled from the rack. It’s stunning lace, and I finger it for a moment before Gisa appears on my shoulder and whispers in my ear, “Do you want to see the sketch I have for your dress?”

I glare at her and then reply in an equally soft whisper, “I told you I was just going to do something from a store. I don’t want you wasting your pay and your time on-“

“What kind of sister would I be if I didn’t make my sister’s wedding dress?” Gisa admits, and I can’t ignore the little whine of pain her voice. Sighing, I shake my head and say, “It’s sweet, but Gisa I don’t want you to spend that much on me.”

“I want to though, not only will you look stunning, but everyone will want to buy my dresses then because Mare Barrow wore one for her wedding.” Gisa teases as she squeezes my arm. I have to laugh with her as I take my hand off the fabric. She looks at it with me for a moment before saying, “I don’t know how good you would look in satin, so I was thinking lace, maybe even a lace veil, something super long so that you have to have people carry it behind you.”

“Do I look like I want to wear a train that long?” I ask with a smile before glancing at Cal’s mother over my shoulder. She is fingering a particularly beautiful blouse that Gisa’s master had made. I nudge her and then say, “You have a customer.”

She frowns at Coriane and then whispers, “it’s so odd, she looks like she’s the same age as you, but she’s Cal’s mother. She could be his sister.” I frown and then turn back to look at the lace again. Reaching for another pattern, I say, “She’s going through a lot. She died when he was only two. He’s grown now, and she has no idea who he is as a person.”

Gisa looks at me for a moment and then whispers, “Or any idea about the two of you.”

“What makes you think that?” I grumble, and she nods to my bare left hand. Her words a careful as she says, “Mama almost had a fit when she didn’t see it. She thought you two had broken off the engagement and just hadn’t told anyone.”

Shaking my head, I glance over my shoulder again quickly, but she’s moved further away from us. Leaning my head toward my sister I say, “It’s my fault. I took the ring off. Cal wanted to tell her, but I… I don’t trust her yet.”

“Does she know that you two were… together, at all?” Gisa whispers in surprise, and I shake my head again quickly. Her eyes widen and she hisses, sounding oddly like our mother, “Mare! She’s going to probably have a heart attack if she finds out the two of you lied about the whole thing.”

“We’ll tell her when I’m comfortable with her.” I assured, but I don’t sound very certain. Gisa shakes her head at me and then whispers, “You’re asking for trouble.”

With that she crosses the little shop to Coriane, and smiling, asks if she likes anything. Mostly she just has questions, some about Gisa, which pieces are hers, and where she learned to sew so beautifully. My sister is more than happy to talk about her sewing, and eventually her painting.

I ignore them both for the most part, wandering around the store and looking at all the bolts of fabric. I hear my name come up in the conversation though, and glance over my shoulder and tune back into the conversation.

Coriane gestures to me and then says, “You seem very close with your sister.”

Gisa glances at me for a moment before saying, “It wasn’t always that way.”

“You were always a stuck up pain,” I say with a shrug and she sticks her tongue out before saying, “Mare was jealous, the only thing she was good at was pick pocketing, until she got the wrong person and ended up with her hand in a prince’s purse.”

I flip around on her, and she smiles, only for it to fall quickly when she realizes how far she went. Coriane looks between the two of us and hesitantly says, “Oh?”

Gisa’s eyes scream an apology, and I have no choice but to look back at the pattern I was eyeing before and say, “Yes. I tried to steal something from Cal. That’s how we met.”

Coriane laughs at that, and I look at her with narrowed eyes, trying to understand where the joke is. She smiles at me and then says, “What in heaven’s name was he doing out in the Stilts?”

“He liked to frequent the bars there when the court was staying at Summerton, he wanted to know the truth about what was going on with us. He didn’t just want the information from his advisors. My friend was in trouble, and I needed money. So, I reached into his pocket and he caught me.”

“Much to Mare’s surprise, she was the best thief in the Stilts.” Gisa says as she hurries by me to hide behind the counter and go back to work. I glare at her, wanting to punch her in the teeth. She was certainly painting a lovely picture of me. Thief turned princess, turned murderer, I was certainly a colorful portrait now.

“I’m surprised Tibe let him do such a thing,” Coriane murmurs as her brow furrows. She shakes her head with a sigh and then says, “Unless he did it in secret and didn’t tell him.”

“That was probably the case,” I agreed, and Gisa looked between the two of us. She clears her throat eventually and then says, “Speaking of Cal, where is he?”

Coriane straightens up in surprise and then looks around as if she just realized her son was missing. I shrug and reply, “Probably almost back to the town house, that, or on his way back here trying to find us.”

“Should we go find him?” Coriane asks in worry, and I smirk before shaking my head. She looks out at the sky which is getting much darker, as night approaches, her face pinched in worry. Gisa looks up from her work on the counter and says, “He probably assumed you went to see me. He’ll be at the town house when we get back. I’m closing in a few minutes. We can walk back together.”

Coriane does not seem at all calmed by that statement, but nods nonetheless. Her unease makes her for an uncomfortable companion while we wait for Gisa to clean up the shop and lock the door behind us. Even as we make our way down the streets to the town house, she seems to want to sprint ahead of us, or push us faster. I wonder if this is what my mother had looked like when I used to run off and play in the mud by the river. She’d had three boys before me though, so I doubted she was all that worried about me.

As we rounded the corner to the townhouse, the streets become a little busier, even though a light drizzle has started to fall. I can see the light on in the living room of the house, and I can almost imagine how warm it is inside. Through the open curtains, I can see my father in his chair by the fire place, smiling as he watches something in front of him. Bree passes by the widow to collapse in a chair out of sight, and Tramy follows, probably bickering with his brother.

We start up the steps, and Gisa opens the door before announcing us to everyone. My mother pokes her head out of the living room and says, “Thank goodness! We were beginning to worry that you all had gotten lost.”

Clara pokes her head out near my mother’s legs and then says, “Aunt Mare, hurry up and come help me with my puzzle. Cal is not helping.”

I smile as I shrug my coat off and slip out of my boots before entering the room. Sure enough there are pieces all over the floor, and Cal is laying on his side next to them, propped up by his elbow. Clara grabs my hand and pulls me toward them before sitting down cross legged on the floor. She pouts and then says, “Cal says we have to do the edge first, but I want to do the picture first.”

“He’s right. It’s easier to do the outsides first and then middle.” I say as I sit down next to her. She narrows her eyes at me and then says, “You never agree with Cal.”

“Do to,” I argue with a teasing smile, “But only when he’s right, which is not often.”

Cal grunts at that, and then smiles at me. At least he was in a better mood. His mother slips into the doorway then, as Gisa squeezes by her to force her way between Bree and Tramy on the couch to watch everyone. My mother watches Coriane for a few moments before saying, “I can bring you a chair from the kitchen-“

“I think I’m just going to go to bed. Thank you though.” She smiles softly at all of us, and then says, “Excuse me.”

With that she vanishes like a phantom. The stairs creak slightly, and in the silence that follows her departure, we can all hear her moving down the hallway upstairs, and closing the door quietly.

“Odd sort isn’t she?” My dad grunts, and I throw a piece of the puzzle at him, before hissing at him to mind his manners. He smirks at me and then dipping his head to Cal says, “Must run in the family.”

Cal laughs at that and then sits up a little straighter to say, “I’ll check on her in a little bit.”

Gisa gets up then to tell our mother the truth about our engagement and she nods gravely. Eventually my sister relays the information to everyone. My brothers are not happy with the whole thing, but agree to play along. My dad is the most displeased. He watches the two of us for a moment before saying, “You two have been pulled apart by everything, including each other. And you want to let something like this do it again?”

“It’s not like we’re not together Dad,” I assure him as I help Clara put a few pieces together. She hadn’t understood what me and Cal being engaged meant, when we had first come to my family with the news. As far as she was concerned, we had already been married because she saw us kissing, and only married people kissed according to her. It was nothing special for her to not see me wearing my ring, but it was an added bonus that she had never really liked calling Cal anything other than Cal; although Farley had tried for a while to get “stupid” to be his new name. Clara had liked it, for a time, and then had gotten bored of it. So at least we didn’t have to worry about her slipping up and calling him uncle or something like that.

“I just think it’s ridiculous,” My dad argues as he rises from his chair. He ruffles Cal’s hair in an oddly paternal way as he passes and says, “I would think you would protest the most. You were the one who spent months planning that proposal and asking each of us for permission.”

Cal’s face pales with a blush at the accusation and then says softly, “If Mare is uncomfortable, then I won’t put her in a position that makes it worse.”

“Just be careful,” my mother whispers, “I know I would be furious if I found out that my sons had been hiding their engagements from me because they thought I would be upset with who they chose.” Bree snorts at that, and gets a glare from my mother in response.

“All of that thinking is in the past,” my dad agrees, and I sigh as I whisper, “That’s the problem, she’s from the past. She doesn’t understand anything that is going on, let alone how much everything has changed.”

“Then you two can be her introduction to it.” My dad argues, and I purse my lips before saying stiffly, “We already made the decision. We’re sticking with it.”

Cal looks at me carefully, and I sigh, forcing the tension out of my shoulders with the exhale. Reaching for another piece of Clara’s puzzle that she’s searching for, I offer it to her and say, “I need time, I need to know who she is.”

No one argues with me about that, not even Cal, who simply reaches across the space to set his hand on my knee. His touch is warm and reassuring as he caresses his thumb up and down the inside of my leg. I fear how much I will miss it in the coming months, when these touches will be forbidden once more.

#red queen #glass sword #kings cage #war storm #broken throne #post broken throne #song of the phoenix #SotP #mare and cal are being stupid #but I love them #also clara? They one hundred percent babysit her #see babysitting fics that have already been written by other people

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ren-c-leyn · 5 years

Text

Past, Present, Well Past Returning

Let’s try this again, without my keyboard slipping and posting it for me -_-

Time for... another fusion story! This time, I’m using these 1,2,3, amazing prompts from @thependragonwritersguild and these 1,2,3 incredible prompts by @givethispromptatry.

Warnings (mostly for people unfamiliar with my work): Just like many of my other shorts on here, this one contains fight scenes, character deaths, wounds, swearing, and is a generally angsty piece. Please tread with caution.

I could spend days staring out into the castle grounds, watching every move around. In fact I have. The last three days to be exact. Today was the last day, I decided. I knew the patterns well enough, I had seen and accounted for everything. It would work, it had to work. Tonight was the night I’d been waiting for since the last time I had been here.

I ran through a list of assurances, of my mentor’s mottos, of everything I could do. Not a single negative thought stayed in my mind for long. I had survived too much, gotten too strong, to fail. Everything was ready, waiting for me to reclaim what was mine. I just had to take it.

Sleep and rest made up the entire late afternoon til dusk. I prepared everything at dusk, watching the last wisps of sunlight fade from the sky like my innocence had all those years ago. A bitter smile pulled painfully onto my lips as I pulled the cloth mask over it.

My mentor once told me that assassins have no trade secrets. Their trade is the easiest to replicate. I found it funny coming from an assassin of their caliber. All of those years studying the way they moved so I could do it too. All of that time listening the way their voice flitted from male to female and leaped from accent to accent just to throw me off, just to ingrain them all in my own speaking. All of that time trying to learn their trade secrets, only to be told they never had any. If the situation wasn’t so dire, I might had laughed. But now was not the time.

I crept around the walls, all the way to the hidden escape passage, the same one I had left all those years ago. After making sure it still wasn’t watched, I preyed the ancient stones apart before slipping inside. The familiar scents of moss and old stone filtered through the dark cloth. Old memories spilled through my mind... but now wasn’t the time for them, either.

At the end of the passage, I stopped. I stopped thinking, stopped breathing, stopped everything and just listened. My ears waited for what felt like forever, searching for a telling sign of watchers. A scuff of a boot, a click of shifting armor, a cough or a sigh of a bored guard. When none came, I slowly pushed the door open to reveal an empty throne room. My heart twisted at the sight, but I forced myself to stay focused. The past had no place here right now.

I stepped into the room, and knew there was no turning back. Retracing familiar paths, I made my way to the study, where I knew he’d be. The stairways were silent, the doors all still, and everything perfect on my way there. Too perfect....

I paused outside of the grand double doors, something in my gut staying it was time to walk away. My heart burned, though, screaming that we had to. We had to open the doors and face him, or we never would. My mind understood both arguments presented to me. Now was the best time, when everyone was busy with the preparations for his wedding. It was possibly the only chance I’d ever get at this. On the other hand, it shouldn’t be this quiet, this silent. There should have been at least one servant, one guard, one witness.

I stood in a stalemate with myself, until the past seeped back in. The smell of blood, the stains slowly seeping through mother’s dress as she forced me through the hidden passage, the death cries of father echoing behind us. The rage bubbled up again, growling and snarling. The fear and anger of child me was what made the choice.

Before I could catch up with myself, one hand drawing cold steel while the other slammed down the door handle and threw it open. I didn’t fully comprehend what happened, not until the crossbow bolt had embedded itself into my shoulder and knocked me to the ground. The condescending laugh from my nightmares echoed around the halls and chambers, ringing in my echoes so loudly I wished for nothing more than to cut my fucking ears off.

“It’s been a long time, little one.”

“Screw you, brother,” I hissed as I drug myself up into a sitting position, glaring at him, ignoring the two guards.

Of course that pathetic coward would be the one with the crossbow. His men wore swords and held spear and shield, like the damn fine warriors I was sure they were.

“That’s no way to speak to your elder sibling.”

“I think it’s a fine way to address the fucking monster that murdered their own family for power.”

I slowly forced myself onto my feet, gritting my teeth and willing the throbbing, burning pain in my shoulder. Bastard probably poisoned the bolt. It would be his style.

“Oh really?” he replied in that smooth, oily voice, the one that made me want to rip his tongue out. “And I think this is a good way to deal with assassins and traitors.”

He snapped his fingers and the guards obediently raised their weapons and began their advance. I snarled my favorite curses and fled, sliding down railings and running as quickly as I could. More guards poured out of random rooms, forcing me to change directions so many times that I eventually started running blind.

I had had several escape routes planned beforehand, but I was far from them all now. I bolted through the kitchen, destroying platters of perfectly good food and knocking over one of the maids. From there they turned me down another hallway, where guards came rushing from the one that joined it. I had two seconds to decide, window or spears. Window it was. I leaped through it, feeling the unforgiving shards of ancient glass tear into me and snag the shaft of the bolt.

I screamed in agony as I slide down the one of the buttresses, barely able to get my battered body to cooperate with me long enough to land on my feet when I hit the shingles. Unfortunately, I had been going too fast and they slid out from under me, sending my flying onto the stable roof. Winded, exhausted, bleeding, and probably broken, there was nothing I wanted more than to just lay there. Unfortunately, the bowman had other ideas.

I rolled over to the side as a second arrow plunked onto the roof. I caught the edge and swung myself onto a pile of crates. They were more fragile than they looked, crumbling under me and nearly trapping me. It took precious moments to free myself, and by then I had no time to steal a horse. Footmen were racing up to me, and I had no choice but to flee.

I was herded up the stairs of the walls and chased like a rabid animal halfway around it before I found myself stuck between two groups of swordsmen, panting, bleeding, finished.... The river bubbled and murmured its condolences as one of them stepped up. I tried to parry, but my blade moved too slow. His sword slipped past without resistance and ran me through the gut. I saw more coming and my body reacted on instincts built from months of training.

I had ripped myself free of his blade and tumbled over the stones, off of the wall, and down into the river. I sunk into the water, blood drifting from the stab wound in my burning stomach. As my vision tunneled I saw something flash by. I found myself hoping that whatever it is ate me quickly. Or at least killed me first....

My body was ripped free from the water, limp. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see whatever monster my brother had unleashed to track me down. Instead of the tearing of teeth or slicing of claws, all I felt was a gentle prodding at my wounds. I reopened my eyes, barely able to make out a blurred silhouette. A man’s voice hovered just above me. He hissed like the autumn wind, murmured something about blood loss, and then, there was silent blackness.

When I woke up, everything hurt. I couldn’t feel anything but pain. My throat and nose burned, my stomach was swearing at me, my shoulder felt like someone had tried burning it off, and my muscles... I didn’t even want to remember they were attached.

“Alive? Awake? Good, I was afraid you’d starve if you stayed out any longer.”

I blinked and rolled my head over. Immediately, I wished I was fucking dead. He swished his tails around, the cat-like eyes watching me from beneath ragged black hair.

“From one monster to the next.... Which limb do you want?”

“I think if I was out to eat you, I would have done so already.”

“I’m not making deals.”

“Good, because neither am I.”

“... Then what do you want?”

He laughed so hard his leather wings opened slightly.

“It never fails, does it? If humans can’t kill it, manipulate it, or decimate it emotionally, they can’t seem to trust it. Even if it did pull you out of a river, patch up your wounds, and give you the antidote for the poison. Or, maybe, you’re ungrateful brat attitude is less to do with human and more to do with royal?”

I groaned.

“You sound like my mentor.”

“Because your mentor is my cousin.”

I tried to shoot up out of bed but found myself groaned and flopping back down.

“Fuck, what?”

“Yeah, my cousin. I’m half human.”

“Oh. I thought the voice changing and running up walls and other weird stuff was maybe... but I guess not.”

He snorted.

“I hear ya. I have no clue how anyone can do that shit and not break something, but that’s my cousin.”

“So, my mentor asked you to save me?”

“They mentioned you were up to something interesting.”

“So, you came to help?”

He laughed again.

“Nope.”

“Then... what the fuck were you doing there?”

He grinned.

“My goal.”

I stared at him, feeling even more dizzy than I had before.

“What?”

“My goal is to keep you alive for no other reason than because it seems pretty damn difficult. Just started and look at you. One stab wound, one bolt to the shoulder, tons of cuts, and don’t even get me started on how long it took to dig all of the glass out of your thin skin. This is going to be the best challenge I’ve had yet.”

He continued babbling about it, but I had retreated to the relative safety of my own mind, trying to figure out just what my mentor had gotten me into....

#My writing #short story #fiction #fantasy #angst #a story by Ren

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