Yeva Aeducan's knuckles whitened as her hands balled into tight, unyielding fists the instant she saw a man – a mostly naked warrior swaying uncontrollably from side to side, a half-emptied tankard of ale slipping from his hand and clattering to the ground – shuffle his way into the arena, blindly gesturing at the crowd and loudly asking why another wore his armour.
She looked down quickly, letting loose a heavy sigh as she pinched the bridge of her nose; unable to bring herself to watch the unfolding disaster. Even then, she could do nothing to block out the rising outrage of the crowd, and the Proving Master frantically shouting beside her that the apparent imposter remove his helmet. There was nothing to help shield herself from the part of her that was down there, breathing hard from both exertion and a rising panic, trying frantically to find some way – find any way – to get out of the situation unscathed.
There was no way out. She knew that. Part of Joachim seemed to know it too, because after a brief, tense moment, he stopped fighting. And all Yeva could do was watch on helplessly as he removed his helm with shaking hands and the entire arena burst into a furious uproar the instant his branded face was revealed.
She slumped in her seat then, silent and motionless as the situation deteriorated; as outraged shouts filled the air and the crowd began to rumble with what seemed like the beginnings of a riot, even as Joachim was seized by guards and dragged out of the arena. She did not react as the doors leading out onto the viewing platform were sealed, presumably to protect her from being caught up in any subsequent violence. She closed her eyes and tried to focus simply on breathing as Gorim hovered protectively over her, his hand never leaving the hilt of his sheathed sword.
She had just wanted this day to go well, for the Proving to continue smoothly. She needed it to go well. She had so much riding on this, both personally and politically. She should have known such things were too much to hope for. She should have farewelled that dream the moment she noticed Joachim's presence in the Proving Grounds. She should have known. She should have stopped it. But she didn't, and now she was going to pay for this mistake in every way imaginable.
Already, she could feel the dull pain of a headache coming on.
For so long, she didn't move, content to remain there forever in the vain hope that all of her vast multitude of problems would miraculously solve themselves. She didn't want to consider anything else; not what this meant, or what she planned to do about it.
She couldn't let Joachim die, that much was obvious. But she couldn't simply pardon such an egregious crime, either. The Assembly would fight her every step of the way, and she'd end up alienating every ally she had just for attempting to do such a thing. Years of careful political manoeuvring, of building up goodwill, as establishing herself as a viable member of her house, and Joachim had thrown it all away with one act of idiotic greed.
He would owe her for this. He would owe her forever.
"Gorim," she called her second's name quietly.
Immediately, he stood to attention, ready to receive her command. Ready to act on those commands, without question. Sometimes, Yeva found herself wondering what inspired such fanatical loyalty. She wondered if she had done anything to truly deserve it, on her own merits, rather than her father's.
"The casteless was not working alone," she said as she rose from her seat, acting as if this was a new revelation to her, like she hadn't been there with Joachim the entire time. "Someone helped him infiltrate the grounds. Someone with pull and influence and so much to be gained that the risk was deemed acceptable."
Gorim nodded. "You suspect the Carta, my lady?"
"I see few other explanations," she replied, her expression quickly hardening. "This outrage cannot be tolerated. The Carta must learn that they have overstepped their bounds. I want proof of their involvement. And when you have it, I want them all eliminated, you understand?"
Gorim winced slightly. "The Carta make up at least half of Dust Town. It will be no simple task."
Of course it wouldn't. But she didn't have any other options.
"Neither will this, I expect," she sighed, brushing a couple of stray strands of hair that had fallen from her braid out of her face. "The imposter casteless, I want him brought to me."
Gorim's expression shifted from pained to outright shocked in just a fraction of a second; his eyes going wide and his lips parting ever so slightly as he struggled to wrap his mind around what he'd just been told.
"This matter takes precedence over all others, Gorim," she insisted when he said nothing. "I want him found and brought to me. Alive."
"Your Highness," Gorim finally choked out, "the entire city is calling for his head. That may not be possible."
"Is it not my right?" she demanded. "This Proving was thrown in my honour. His slight was against me, Gorim, and me alone. So I will be the one to dispense justice."
"The Assembly may not agree."
"The Assembly will know that they cannot fight me on this," she retorted. "A public execution will allow him more notoriety, and that will not stand. No one will learn his name. He will remain unknown, like all casteless. The Ancestors forgot him, and so should we."
She would figure out the rest later.
"I will deal with this insult, Gorim," she said, reinforcing her point with a glare. "No one else."
She could see the man wilt slightly under her gaze before he dipped his head in a curt nod and eventually turned back towards the doors, disappearing through them when the guards relented. They would for him, seeing as he was obeying a direct order from her. She had the feeling she wouldn't find it so easy.
Yeva's jaw clenched at the thought, but she said nothing. Someone, somewhere, long ago, once told her – or perhaps one of the others, she couldn't quite remember – that it was important to pick her battles. This wasn't something worth arguing. Not right now, anyway. She would wait and see how long it took before her patience ran out completely.
Instead, she sank back down, focusing on the things around her, the things she could feel, things that would help ground her in her own reality for a little while. The unyielding stone of the seat. The weight of her armour, carefully distributed evenly across her body. The feeling of her hair in its tight braid, pulling at her scalp. Just little things. Little, vitally important things that were all that stood between her and completely losing her grip on her own sanity.
So she sat, and waited for as long as she could stand, staring aimlessly ahead in steely silence for the guards to regain control, for the crowd to calm and eventually disperse, for the lockdown to run its course. She didn't move in what felt like the several hours it took for that to happen, ignoring the entourage that had escorted her here in the first place, all of which had leapt to take their place at her side the instant she'd sent her trusted second away. She must have always have a guard at her side, after all. Given the anxiety that seemed to roll off all of them in waves, her father must have stressed that to them. Repeatedly.
It was normal. Expected. But that didn't make it any less irritating.
At this point, Yeva was in such a sour mood that she truly wasn't sure anything would fail to irritate her.
Idiot, she found herself silently growling to no one in particular. Of course this was going to happen. What were you thinking?
Word must have reached the palace by now. Her father must know, and had the feast delayed.
Heat rose to her cheeks as she realised that she should've listened to Trian, and remained at the king's side. Instead, she'd run off with her entourage to the Proving, believing that a public appearance would foster goodwill with the people. And maybe it would've, if Joachim hadn't turned it into a disaster. Now, she was stuck with a political mire she'd be cleaning up for weeks, and the bitter knowledge that her older brother would hold this over her as proof of her incompetence for as long as they both lived.
She should've competed. She should've been out there in the grounds, where she could've better controlled the situation. She should've had Joachim immediately arrested and exiled, for his own safety. She shouldn't have tried to go along with any of this insanity.
Bad consequences of her own bad judgement, and soon, everyone would know.
Yeva's lip curled at the thought. It was starting to seem like she would be dealing with the political fallout from this forever.
Finally, she found she could no longer stand it. In an instant, she was up on her feet and striding towards the door with her head held high – a show of false confidence she had been practising her entire life.
"I'm leaving," she barked out aggressively, barely taking any note of the terrified expressions on each and every one of her own guards; all of them suddenly torn between obeying her orders and keeping her safe.
The instant the words were out of her mouth, the Proving Master was practically falling over himself in some desperate attempt to stop her.
"But Your- Your Highness!" he spluttered uselessly. "The crowd – the possibility of a riot, it- it's not safe."
It took all her self-control not to roll her eyes at that.
Honestly. What use were the city guards if they couldn't keep something as simple as this under control? The Proving Grounds had seen a thousand riots before this day, and would see a thousand more afterward. So why had everyone chosen today to be utterly incompetent, in just about every way that mattered?
"A situation I trust you have handled," Yeva bit back, her voice low and her tone icy. "I've indulged your paranoia long enough. I will wait no longer."
"Your Highness, with all respect, I cannot allow you to leave while your life may be in danger!"
Her expression hardened. "Allow me?"
The Proving Master recoiled from her almost the exact moment he realised his mistake. She leaned in towards him, invading his personal space, carefully making sure to make her unspoken message as clear as possible.
"There are far more important things to occupy you other than my supposed safety, Proving Master," she snarled, letting the sheer hostility roll off her in waves. "Pray that I forget this."
There was a tense silence as she slowly pulled back, fighting a smile as she watched the man cower in fear before her. Sometimes, she forgot what having power actually felt like. It was nice to have that reminder. Nice to know that in some situations, she was far from helpless. That sometimes, she had control. She wasn't always doomed to be the victim in such plays.
"I'm taking my leave," she barked out as she approached her guards, who were already readying themselves to escort her back to the Diamond Quarter.
A couple of curt nods were made in response, and the doors were immediately opened to her. As expected. They couldn't possibly keep her anywhere against her will, and they knew it.
The guards all fell into step around her, of course, all of them tense, all of them with their hands hovering over their weapons, ready to draw at any moment. Yeva paid little attention to them, if she paid any at all, still too wrapped up in her own thoughts and plans and how on earth she was going to handle this.
Joachim would go to the surface. There wasn't anywhere else he could go. The problem was getting him there.
Eugene would know. He would have ideas. He'd know how to help her wrangle the system to obey her commands. It was exactly the kind of thing the human was supposedly an expert in.
She gritted her teeth at the thought of turning to the others – any of them – for help.
She didn't need them.
She never needed them.
She was fine on her own, perfectly able to deal with whatever came her way. There was nothing they could give her that she either didn't need or didn't already have. She wouldn't rely on them. She couldn't rely on them, for anything. They all seemed to act like they were special, that they all helped each other, that they were all an invaluable presence in each other's lives purely because of something none of them understood. Yeva wouldn't be fooled. She knew who she was, and she didn't need six strangers to help her live her own life; regardless of any connection they shared.
After today? She'd make sure Joachim was out of Orzammar and out of her hair. Then she would never have to deal with him – with any of them – ever again.
And then, finally, she'd be alone.
Briefly, she wondered what that really felt like.
Her guards did not relax; not in the Commons, not even in the clean, bright, wide streets of the Diamond Quarter where people rushed to clear the way for her, out of simple respect. Yeva kept her head high and her eyes firmly on what lay ahead, positive that anything less would only be seen as weakness. She could not afford weakness in her position, not even the appearance of it.
So she kept walking, through the warmly lit streets of the Diamond Quarter, straight past the various amassed merchants vying for her attention, past the criers who shouted news of the disastrous Proving, only to immediately lower their voices in shame and fear as they spotted her.
Oh yes. Her father had definitely heard. She tried her best to ignore the cold sense of dread that filled her as she entered the Royal Palace, quickly breaking with her guards and veering left towards the living quarters.
"My lady!" she heard one of them call after her confusedly. "Should you not proceed to the feast?"
She absently waved the man off, not even bothering to look back at him, or even reply as she disappeared through the door to the palace's west wing. She was already terribly late, surely her father could wait a few minutes more. There were far more pressing matters to deal with, regardless.
It was all she could do, really, to make her way to Bhelen's quarters in the hope he was still there.
She paused for a moment at the door, quickly and warily glancing each way, carefully cataloguing the position of every guard and servant still in the hall. When she was confident she wasn't being watched or followed, she pushed open Bhelen's bedroom door and marched inside with all the authority she had as an older sibling.
He wouldn't appreciate it, she knew that. But Yeva was beyond the point of caring.
"Bhelen!" she barked out, almost running headlong into someone else – someone who was decidedly not her brother. "Bhelen, I-"
She cut off then, only just managing to stop short of knocking the other person over.
"M-my lady Aeducan!" the woman – a shapely young thing with a shock of auburn hair Yeva immediately recognised as Rica Brosca – all but screamed, leaping back a few feet, her expression twisting to one of absolute terror. "I- I am so sorry my lady, I was- …please forgive me."
For so long, Yeva simply stared at her, lips parted slightly as she found herself completely at a loss of what to say. Part of her – some wretched little corner of her mind that was more someone else than part of her – was overjoyed at seeing Rica there, safe and so far out of harm's way, even as it was shocked to find her here in Bhelen's chambers.
She brushed that part of her aside. She had known about Bhelen's entanglements with the casteless girl for weeks. It was why she came here in the first place. It was not her fault Joachim hadn't been partial to that information.
And still, Rica's presence here shocked her.
"You are not my brother," Yeva observed slowly.
That much was so painfully obvious, and yet, it was all she could say.
Rica all but cowered before her, careful to keep her head and eyes down.
"When you came in I thought- …I'm sorry, it was presumptuous of me to think he might…" she trailed off briefly into silence, shifting from side to side and swallowing nervously. "I am so sorry. With your leave, Your Highness, I will go."
"No."
Rica blinked several times, completely taken aback by Yeva's unexpected words, though she did her best to hide it.
Part of Yeva couldn't help but admire her in some way, given just how well she managed to conceal her feelings and maintain her composure in spite of the fear and stress coursing through her.
"No," she repeated bluntly, deciding then and there not to think any more of it. "You do not have my permission to leave."
It was evidently not the expected response, as Rica clasped her hands together tightly in an effort to conceal the growing stress of the situation; desperate to leave and now unable to. Yeva noticed her glancing almost longingly to the door and quickly manoeuvred herself so she was blocking it.
"Listen to me very carefully," she said, framing those final words in order to ensure she was not misunderstood. "Your brother was caught infiltrating a Proving. The authorities will leave you and your mother alone, but the Carta will not. You cannot return to your home. You must seek out Bhelen's protection, immediately."
That was met with shocked silence as the two young women stared absently at each other, neither knowing what to make of the other.
"I will save Joachim," Yeva hissed as she anxiously glanced around the room, searching for someone, anyone, who could be listening in – as Rica's eyes widened in shock. "I promise you. But the entire city is in an uproar, calling for his head. There is a good chance you will never see him again."
With any luck, she would never have to see him again, either.
"Stay here," she ordered finally, as Rica once again failed to respond in any meaningful way. "The palace is likely the only place in Orzammar where you will be safe. I will try to find Bhelen and inform him of what has happened, but if he comes here before I do, you must explain the situation. You can tell him of my involvement, if you wish, but only him. Do not trust anyone else."
She turned back to the door then, in an effort to make as swift an exit as possible. She did not want to linger here any longer than absolutely necessary, and she had done what she'd set out to do. Rica was successfully warned and she just had to-
"W-wait!" Rica called out abruptly, causing Yeva to stop dead in her tracks, her fingers hovering over the door handle. "How- how do you know my brother? Why are you helping him?"
Yeva turned her head, just enough to see the other woman in her peripheral vision. Just about every fibre in her being screamed at her to lie, to deny knowing him at all, to make up some other reason why she was doing any of it.
Why was she doing this?
Political reasons.
She didn't want to deal with Bhelen's inevitable tantrum should his favourite plaything end up harmed or dead.
Boredom.
Anything, really.
"We were friends once," she answered quietly, somewhat surprised at her own honesty in that moment. "Perhaps that still means something to me."
It all seemed so long ago, now.
After an uncomfortably long pause, Yeva let out a quiet sigh and pushed the door open, quickly disappearing through it, stepping back out into the hallway; suddenly overcome with a strange feeling of emptiness.
She hated that. Hated that feeling, the sense that she was missing some deep and fundamental part of her being. Why must she be punished for the crime of trying to live her own life, free of influence from outside parties? Why must she suffer for trying to avoid something she'd never wanted?
Except, she had wanted it, once upon a time. It had helped her cope, once upon a time.
So much had changed since then. She'd grown up, for one thing. They all had. Everyone had started pulling away to some degree, but all that fighting to get away and be their own people had only brought them closer. They were all so involved, so entangled in each other's lives, it was impossible to know where one ended and another began. For the first time in something like fifteen years, the reality of what they were had finally begun to dawn on them. Most of them had accepted it. Yeva had not. She would not. Could not. Because if she was being honest with herself, it terrified her. More than anything.
What seemed so perfect for seven lonely children had warped into a nightmare for the adults they were becoming.
"Yeva!"
She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose then, letting out a long, exhausted sigh at the call of her name, and the heavy footsteps that followed it. For a moment, she remained like that, silently praying to the ancestors that she was hearing things, begging no one that she wouldn't have to deal with this today.
When she finally straightened and opened her eyes, she found that she was afforded no such luck.
"Trian," she greeted stiffly as she immediately cast her eyes to the floor rather than meet his gaze, her posture quickly becoming rigid.
Her elder brother stood tall then, his lips curved into a small, amused smile. And immediately, Yeva knew she had made a terrible mistake. Trian smelled blood; she could tell. Her fear had already betrayed her.
Behind him, Bhelen shifted uncomfortably, casting a worried and apologetic look at Yeva from over Trian's shoulder.
"Yeva," he called, moving forwards until he was standing at their brother's side. "I wasn't expecting to see you here so soon. Father had the feast delayed, when we heard about-"
"Dear sister, only you would allow a casteless to dishonour you so," Trian cut in harshly, all but pushing Bhelen aside.
Yeva exhaled softly and squared her shoulders, fighting desperately to keep any semblance of composure, still unable to look up from the floor.
"It's being handled," she said stiffly, her posture rigid and her tone screaming of a forced calm.
Always, it was the same thing. Always, Trian would seek her out, find whatever mistakes she had made no matter how small or trivial, and tear her apart over it. She had to be poised. She had to be composed. She had to be unflappable and steadfast and strong. She had to be perfect, under any and all circumstances. Her brother wouldn't accept anything less. And after so long of having his expectations drilled into her, she wouldn't accept anything less.
Joachim had done more than cheat the Proving – a crime for which much of Orzammar was calling for his head. He'd shown Trian beyond any reasonable doubt that Yeva could not be trusted to handle any kind of responsibility.
She was stupid. She was an idiot. She was a disgrace. She was an oblivious fool who could not complete the simplest of tasks and did not deserve any of what she had. And now her father would know just how misplaced his trust in her was, the day he was to have her assume the role of Commander.
She found herself chewing her bottom lip anxiously as those thoughts swirled around her mind, confirming everything she'd been told her entire life.
"Clearly," Trian drawled. "You've shown all of Orzammar the true depths of your ineptitude. And because of that, at least, the day wasn't an entire waste."
"The Carta managed to infiltrate the arena and were using the casteless fighter to influence the outcome of certain bouts," she insisted feebly, in some vain attempt to explain herself. "I'm looking into it."
"The Carta infiltrated the Proving because you allowed them to," he corrected her, before shaking his head. "I don't know why I'm surprised. I've come to expect this level of sheer incompetence from you."
He moved forwards then, his hand reaching up until his fingers brushed against Yeva's jawline. She shivered as he gripped her chin, the cold metal of his gauntlets biting into her skin, forcing her head up until she had no choice but to look him in the eye.
It took all her self-control not to whimper then, like a small child.
"No hiding it now," he mused, mostly to himself, as Yeva winced in his grasp. "All of Orzammar knows you to be nothing but useless breeding flesh, unfit for command."
"Trian," Bhelen called out sharply, his hand gripping their brother's forearm and pulling him back, away from Yeva, freeing her. "That's enough!"
"You'll keep your hands off your king, Bhelen!" Trian all but screamed in his face, wrenching himself away as Yeva staggered back, clutching her cheek.
Bhelen didn't so much as flinch. "You're not king yet, dear brother."
The echoing of Trian's prior words and his scathing tone were not an accident, Yeva could tell that immediately. Bhelen's jab was sharp and precise, timed perfectly and aimed at the weakest point of Trian's ego. Her little brother always had a certain way with words. She was sure that he and Eugene would get along swimmingly, in the unlikely scenario that they ever actually met.
But despite Bhelen coming to her rescue, Yeva couldn't help but feel her cheeks burning with shame as she realised that Trian was right – that she had allowed the Carta to infiltrate the Proving Arena. She'd known exactly what Joachim was doing, had ample opportunity to call the guards and have him immediately arrested, and… didn't. She'd embarrassed herself and sullied her family's name, all for… what? The sake of some Carta brand from the deepest pits of Dust Town? To save a life that should mean nothing to her?
What kind of princess was she, when she placed the life of a criminal so far above the honour of her people and her city?
"I'm not sure I appreciate your tone, Bhelen," Trian growled, doing nothing to hide the sheer aggression in his voice, bringing Yeva sharply back into reality.
Immediately, Bhelen pulled back, holding his hands up in a show of innocence. "My tone? Whatever do you mean? I thought I was simply stating fact."
"You are insolent, aren't you? When I am king, I will help you get over that."
Rather than shrink back like Yeva half-expected him to, Bhelen simply folded his arms and raised his eyebrows, looking on incredulously.
"I look forward to it," he said simply, always keeping the slightest sarcastic edge in his voice. "Long may you reign, Trian."
For a moment, Yeva leaned back, terrified of how Trian might react. Bhelen stood his ground, his expression hard, apparently hoping that sheer confidence would allow either of them to escape the situation unscathed. Yeva didn't dare to have such hopes, and was already bracing herself.
A moment passed.
Then two.
And then, finally;
"Best be careful, the both of you," Trian growled out after what seemed like an eternity, moving around the two of them and heading off down the hall, towards the throne room. "Father will not live forever."
There was nothing but silence as he stalked off, not even reacting as Bhelen, despite being his second, chose to remain behind with Yeva. Such a wilful abandonment of his post would've earned him harsh punishments had he been just about anyone else; but Bhelen was still a prince of Orzammar. He'd long ago realised that he could get away with what others could not.
Yeva found herself desperately wishing that she possessed even half her younger brother's confidence.
"Orzammar is doomed if he ever gets his arrogant, entitled ass on the throne," Bhelen muttered, still staring idly off in the direction Trian had disappeared.
Yeva didn't answer, too busy studying the wall in an effort to ignore the intense heat that had risen to her cheeks. She felt… she didn't know how she felt. Vulnerable and pathetic and utterly humiliated. There was a deep weight in her stomach and her breath stuck in her throat and all she could think about was how Trian was right, how she was useless and weak and a disgrace to her house and all of Orzammar.
"Are you okay?"
Her head snapped up at Bhelen's question, her eyes flicking up to meet her little brother's. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and for a moment, the corners of her lips twitched with a grateful smile before she pulled away.
"Don't involve yourself," she said, anxious to forget about it all and return to her usual posture. "It's none of your concern."
"Of course it is," he argued. "Yeva, you can't pretend it's fine. We've all seen how he treats you."
"Did I ask for your opinion?" she snapped back, defensive and hostile.
"I can't help but worry for you."
Yeva's jaw clenched at that.
"Bhelen," she hissed his name with more aggression than she'd thought herself capable in that moment, "if you hold any value in your life, you will keep out of mine."
For a moment, neither of them spoke as Yeva glared and Bhelen simply stood there, his expression going from concerned to resigned in a matter of seconds.
Well, this conversation was going spectacularly.
"Nevermind," she murmured with a tired sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose and trying her best to relax despite not really knowing how. "Bhelen, I need to talk to you."
"And I you, sister," he replied, a little more coldly than before. "Though I'd wager my news is a little more pressing."
"I very much doubt that."
"It may be a matter of life and death."
"The casteless who infiltrated the Proving did so on behalf of the Carta," she said bluntly, unwilling to continue the back and forth any longer than necessary. "He's also Rica's brother. She's in danger."
Bhelen didn't even blink. "And so are you."
There it was; the words she knew had been inevitable. The famously brutal politics of Orzammar were about to involve something terrible, and she had been caught hopelessly in the middle.
She sighed. "Speak then, if it's so important."
"There's been talk," he began, a little dramatically, "amongst the deshyrs."
Yeva's eyes narrowed. "You say that as if there isn't always talk amongst the deshyrs."
He nodded. "That's true, but this particular talk happens to directly concern you."
"Bhelen, is there a point to this?"
"Trian is losing support," he told her, apparently then deciding to get to the point. "The Assembly is beginning to see him for what he is, and many are looking elsewhere for a successor to the throne."
"And their first thought is to turn to the second-born," Yeva summed up quietly, part of her having already anticipated this. Beraht had told Joachim that much earlier that morning.
Trian's got all the tact of a rampaging blind bronto, I'd wager at least half the Assembly sees that.
He hadn't been wrong.
But oh, she so did not want to deal with this right now. She didn't have the energy, and there were other things that she needed to focus on. Other things that would have far worse, far more direct consequences for her if not dealt with quickly and quietly.
Briefly, she wondered where Gorim was, and when she could expect him back for a report on his progress.
One way or another, the Carta had to die. All of them, even if she had to storm Dust Town herself. She would accept nothing less.
"Trian will move against you," Bhelen said, drawing her back to the conversation. "He'll try to kill you."
"Obviously."
"I can't tell you any more than that," Bhelen murmured, leaning in now. "But promise me you'll be careful. I wouldn't want to lose the one sibling I actually like."
Yeva opened her mouth to reply, but found herself cut off from a shout before she could get a single word out.
"My lady!"
Immediately, both siblings turned, just in time to Gorim practically charging towards them.
"We can speak more at the feast," Bhelen said with perfect composure, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder as he moved away. "Take care, sister."
"You as well, Bhelen," she replied softly, squaring her shoulders in an effort not to give any onlookers an idea of what their discussion had been about, before turning to Gorim, who was stooped in a deep bow before her. "You have something to report?"
He straightened, and Yeva's heart sank as she realised how stressed and frantic he looked.
This couldn't mean anything good.
"It seems your hunch was correct," he told her, speaking at a mildly faster pace than normal. "The casteless imposter has seemingly disappeared from official custody. When I pressed for answers, I was stonewalled. It appears the Carta infiltrated the city guard and moved him elsewhere."
"Did you find any leads on where they might have taken him?"
"Only false trails, my lady," Gorim replied apologetically.
There was a moment as Yeva took this news in without so much as batting an eyelash. She simply stared blankly, Gorim's words echoing around her mind as she struggled to take them in.
And then, without any real warning, she let out a harsh growl and whirled around, her fist slamming into the wall with a surprising and somewhat intimidating show of force.
"Dammit," she snarled to no one in particular, not reacting as a jarring pain shot up her arm from the sheer force of the blow.
Automatically, she found herself frantically reaching out with her mind, trying to get some sense of Joachim, of his possible whereabouts. Instead, her efforts were rewarded with nothing; no response, no feeling, no feedback of any kind. All that told her was that he was unconscious, and therefore far beyond her reach.
Not dead, at least. She would have felt it if he had been injured, much less killed. They all would've.
Casteless idiot, she thought viciously in his direction, despite knowing that he could not hear her. Where are you?
She should call the others. As long as Joachim was in direct mortal peril, this affected all of them, and she wasn't sure she was able to handle it alone. The sensible thing to do would be to swallow her pride and ask for help.
She hated that.
She hated this.
She hated all of it.
Finally, she pulled back, away from the wall, turning back to Gorim who was looking on with shock and horror at her outburst. Yeva simply rolled her shoulders back and tried to focus on breathing above all else.
"To the feast, then," she sighed, quickly collecting herself as she set off towards the throne room. "Come, Gorim. There are matters I must discuss with you before tomorrow's expedition."
With a silent nod, her second quickly fell into step beside her as she was still entirely focused on calming herself. It had been so long since she'd tried to contact everyone simultaneously, but she didn't think it would be this hard to get an answer. From anyone.
Was she just bad at this, or were they not responding to her? Where were they all? Why was it that she could spend her entire life trying to push them away and it was only when she needed them did they actually leave her alone?
"To the Void with it," she hissed angrily to herself when the silence in her mind continued.
"My lady?" Gorim asked quietly from his place beside her, clearly worried. More so than usual.
"It's nothing, Gorim," she waved him off carelessly. "Nothing at all."