Disclaimer: Characters owned by Tamora Pierce
Aly/Taybur
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No one can pinpoint exactly when their friendship fell apart; some say the coronation, some say her wedding, and still more say it was the birth of her triplets. Not even they can say for certain, but long before the first rumors had flown wildly from mouths to ears, the dynamic between them had started to change.
No longer do they exchange the playful bantering of words, no longer do they enjoy twisting the meanings of each and every sentence spoken, no longer do they play the give-and-take games of outwitting and being outwitted in turn.
The bench under the willow tree is once again a spot used only by lovers, and all traces of espionage take place behind the scenes now.
Gossip is a realm's lifeblood, and it boils in people's veins.
They both know these lessons well.
He casually mentions to the queen that it may be a good security measure to start examining her letters to Tortall. She hastens to assure Dove that he's just intoxicated by the power he held while filling in as spymaster for the last three months of her pregnancy.
Dove looks from one to the other in bewilderment, wondering how two friends, so alike, could suddenly hate each other this much.
She's wrong. There's no hate in the eyes that meet by surprise one afternoon across the pavilion, but rather quiet desperation, and heavy regrets. Her glance flickers to the parchment held in his hand, a love letter from his current? – she can't help but wonder. He finds himself drawn to the sparkle coming from her right hand, the jewel reflecting the sunlight better than any diamond ever could, straight into his pain-filled eyes.
They would've been perfect together, but the three squirming bundles in her arms show more than anything else how choices and circumstances had intertwined to create permanent obstacles, too high to cross.
They avert their gazes at the exact same time, each seeing the dark challenge in their hearts mirrored in the souls they had managed to read so thoroughly in that short little while.
They turn, and walk away on opposite paths, each knowing, accepting – dreading, the events that were to unfold.
There was no other way.
One must fall.
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A bit too short? Review.