silverchain.
chapter nine: pain felt in the heart is as piercing as a blade
The next day was not much better for the occupants of the house in Kalay. Karis had transitioned from mostly angry to mostly sorrowful over the night, and the slightest thing would cause a tear to drip from her eye. Amiti was quite on the edge of a precipice of despair, and more than once he approached her only for her to ignore him.
The young king breathed deeply. He felt very much at home by the small oasis of a pond on the outer limits of the city, and he considered going on a ramble throughout the country. Kalay and Ayuthay had secured their treaties, after all, and while he would be outside of the city itself, the country around it was still under the jurisdiction of Hammet and Layana. He dipped his fingers in the cool water, considering. A shadow came over the pool.
"Amiti." The Adept didn't look up, recognizing the voice as Matthew's. The other young man settled beside him on the dewy grass, and sighed.
After a minute, Amiti turned to his friend. "How is she?" he asked, voice a little scratchy. It hadn't been in heavy use as of late, since he hardly wanted to start Karis up on a path of either anger or tears.
Matthew sighed again, and nodded. "Still upset."
"And we do not know when Ivan will be back," Amiti said with some annoyance. "Or whence he travels, for that matter."
The Venus Adept scratched his spikes with a gloved hand. "I heard my dad say that Ivan had gone to find Alex, actually," Matthew confessed, in what sounded like a casual tone, although Amiti realized that even so slight an immoral behavior as eavesdropping felt dishonorable to the pure young man. Still, the Mercury Adept couldn't help but feel his heart speed up.
"Why would he do that?" he asked, feeling a curious pressure in his heart and head, as if they knew something that could not be betrayed to him. Something he wouldn't let himself know. He tried to shake the feeling, but still it remained.
"I don't know," said Matthew, balancing his head upon his knee and shredding grass into the pond. "I wish I did, Amiti."
Feeling guilty on sight of the depressed expression of the young man next to him, Amiti tried to smile. "It will come to light eventually, I am positive," he replied in what he hoped was a pleasant tone. "Until then, what were your plans for the day?"
"Well, I was planning on sleeping," Matthew grumbled, in a tone quite like his mother, "but that's already been ruined."
"What were you planning to do after waking?" Amiti amended.
The Adept looked thoughtful. "You mean I needed to plan something else?" he said, laughing. "That was as far as my schemes went, honestly. Gotta conserve my strength, because it's going to drain right out of me when I try to propose."
The king laughed. "When are you planning to do that...and how, for that matter?"
"Eoleo's supposed to pick me up," Matthew explained, blowing on a blade of grass before giving up and letting it fall to the ground. "Sometime in the next few days, I'm not actually clear on when. Hopefully after Tyrell's back, because otherwise I'm going to get fried when I come back. I haven't...actually...told him yet."
"Oh, that shady group?"
Ivan nodded, with some elation. "Yes, you've seen them?" he asked eagerly.
"Sure have!" the man replied, puffing away at a pipe. "Say, you a warrior?" The shop owner seemed to be eyeing Ivan's expensive, well-polished armor and the light blade tucked away at his waist.
The Jupiter Adept sighed. Things were so much easier, he reflected, back when he could just use Mind Read for every little thing. He was severely tempted to do so on the stubborn man in front of him, but he controlled his breathing, and answered with a curt nod.
Raising his eyebrows, the shop owner inquired gruffly, "Whereabouts you coming from, young man?"
After a lifetime of appearing youthful, Ivan was not fond of still being referred to as such. He restrained a sarcastic reply and said, "I come from Kalay. Now, if you would please tell me where I might find that group—"
"If you're not a customer, son, I don't have time to be sittin' around shootin' the breeze with you," the man interrupted. Eyes flashing dangerously, Ivan gave in and felt the energy flow outside of him. The sensation was so nostalgic and familiar, it brought into sharp relief the realization that he had missed the power.
Diving into the thoughts of the surly tradesman, the skilled psychic retrieved the information he desired and surfaced. Breathing heavily at the sudden strain of skills long unused, he smiled, wished the man a good day, and left the shop.
A bird chirped outside the window, and Jenna twisted her head, smiling. Extracting the tiny package of a tightly rolled letter in exchange for a few seeds, she sent the happy creature on its way again as she unfolded the small scroll.
After opening the door to enjoy the breezy, pleasant weather, she settled herself on a chair to peruse her correspondence. She was a moderately fast reader, and quickly pulled out pen and paper upon finishing the letter. Frowning slightly, she tapped the pen on her chin for a moment before dipping it in ink and beginning her reply.
She felt a presence, and knew that it was Isaac. Not looking up from her work, she greeted him with a, "Hey, honey." He brushed his lips against the top of her hair, and sat down on the next chair; she tried to fix the blob of ink that he'd caused to splatter on the page.
"Answering Mia?" he guessed, with what she imagined was his warm, slightly distant smile. She nodded, remaining focused, and tilted her head toward the direction of the scroll, which had returned to its neat position. He retrieved it and began looking over it.
After a couple of minutes, he heaved a light sigh and set the letter down again. Isaac leaned forward—
"Love, you're blocking my light," Jenna said firmly, and after an apology he returned to his previous position, massaging his beard in thought. The woman next to him bit her lip, and, finally giving in, glanced at her husband. "Well?"
"Well what?" he asked, looking bewildered. She rolled her eyes, somewhat indulgently.
"What did you think of the letter?"
His blue eyes remained astoundingly clear. "I think," he said, after a moment's pause, "that Mia is quite right about Rief, that she should trust Piers on the issue of Nowell, that she should definitely not wear a red dress to any social function whatsoever, and that yes, she is jealous of my cooking abilities."
Jenna laughed at him, rather delighted that he was finding humor in this situation. She teased back, "Well, you know what I think? I think she would look ravishing in red, and that it's you that's jealous."
Isaac feigned hurt. "Me? Jealous of Mia? All she can make is soup, and not very good soup at that!"
"I'm sure she's extended her culinary repertoire since we traveled with her," his wife reminded him, giggling like a schoolgirl. "At least, for the sake of her children, I'd hope she has!"
"And," continued the man with a smile, "I can certainly pull off red better than she can."
"What about me?" challenged Jenna, and the dangerous glint in her eye, however joking, did cause Isaac to shrink slightly.
He replied, "Oh, darling, you look good in any color," and they both laughed.
"Suck-up," she taunted, and he raised his hands in defeat.
"And proud of it," he declared, "it's how I've lived this long."
Chuckling, the husband and wife settled into an old routine that, while long abandoned, felt just as comfortable as slipping on an old pair of shoes, and they quite enjoyed their afternoon. Jenna did not finish her reply to Mia until that night, and nobody really minded.