Chapter 26: First Meeting
Runa looked exhausted. Of course, Rodrian thought, and kneeled down beside her bedside. He gently pulled his hand over her shoulder. "How are you?" he asked her gingerly. She smiled a little, grasped his hand, holding it tight.
"I'm okay," she answered, sitting up a little. "She's over there, I'm just so tired I'm afraid I might drop her..."
There was a basket, on the other side of the bed, Rodrian saw then. He had been too focused on Runa. "She?" he said, "It's a girl?"
Runa nodded, and he walked over to the basket. "Ylva," he mumbled and gently picked the infant up. The infant was smaller than he'd expected, and it was sleeping already. The face was red, wrinkly. He'd heard that newborns were horrifically ugly, but couldn't see it.
Rodrian sat down by Runa, holding the child as firmly as he thought it could handle. She sat up behind him, pressed her cheek to his shoulder. "I love her," Runa whispered. "My girl..."
"Me too," he said.
Phileus Porter looked at the girl closely. Was she an imposter? Or was she, possibly, the daughter of Cashmére Tanner? She had that nose which was a little pointed, with wide nostrils and then those large, valiant eyes that made it look as if she was highly suspiscious at all times... which she probably was, at that time at least. It didn't make it better than she had that well known Overstrand-frown, which her grandfather on her father's side had been known for... and that her aunt was also known for, back in the Castle.
He crossed his legs, looking the girl in the eyes, which were green, instead of blue, like her mother's had been. "What would you like to be refered to as, miss?" he asked her gently. She narrowed her eyes at him.
"Odale," she said, "Odale Overstrand."
The girl glanced out the window, and for a short moment her grumpy appeareance slipped, her shoulders went up and she tilted her head to see more of the outside. Phileus looked to. Outside, the strongroses were blooming, all in shades of red and pink, like little specks of life in the sea of white out there. The roses were well known, even outside the Snowplains, for being able to live even through the harshest of weather. "It's pretty, si?" he said. "Have you ever been to the Eastern Snowplains before?"
"No," she said, "I've never been here before."
"Is that why you don't speak latin?" Phileus asked. Of course, he thought, she could have spoken monmanian, too, but it was Cashmére's daughter. Latin had been her native tongue, after all, and Joseph was dead...
Odale pressed her lips together. "No one ever spoke latin to me," she mumbled.
Phileus stared at her in shock. "No one spoke latin to you?" he asked, a little in awe. He knew that the younger Overstrand children, Marcia and Joseph, had adopted the Castelian culture... in many ways, but that Joseph's daughter only would learn Castelian seemed... almost unreal to Phileus. "Not even your mother?"
"My mother didn't raise me," she told him. "I wasn't raised by family, really."
This was a surprise to Phileus. Assuming Odale was Cashmére daughter, he'd thought that Cashmére would have raised her, since she was alive. He was sure of this, since he knew that once, many, many years ago Cashmére had came back to visit her father, to tell him something. Despite Tantibus and Phileus being close, Tantibus had never told Phileus, or anyone that Phileus knew of for that matter, about what he and his daughter had said to eachother.
"Who raised you, then?" Phileus was sincerely curious.
"Necromancer," their eyes met for a short few seconds. "Mother left me in the snow when I was little. He found me. Took me in. Was there until I turned ten. Then, my aunt found me. Took care of me."
Phileus reached out to hold her hand, trying to comfort the girl. She barely reacted. "But you think I'm lying, don't you?" she said coolly, pulling her hand away suddenly.
"I don't want to believe that you are," he told her, "But when you appear with a rebel, wearing rebel's clothes then that is highly suspiscious. On the other hand, I have heard of a niece to madam Marcia, living with her, which would be you..."
"Has she looked for me?" the girl's eyes lit up. "Did she send you a letter?"
"On the contrary," Phileus said, "When we sent her one she did not reply. And looking for you? Why would she be looking for you? Have you run away?"
"No no," she replied, but with much less enthusiasm, "I was taken here, by a rebel boy..."
He nodded. "Of course," he said. "Are you hungry?"
"A little," Odale mumbled. Once again, she was looking out the window. From underneath a seat in the carriage, he pulled out a box. His daughter had handed it to him once he left their family home to travel east. It was only dried fruits and nuts, be he supposed it could still a young girl's hunger, at least for a little while.
"Here you go," he told her, putting the box on her lap.
Cashmére's hands trembled. The ink dripped on the paper, and she had to put the pencil down. Maybe she shouldn't have promised anything to Marcia, she thought, drumming her fingers on her dinner table.
She hadn't spoken to her father for fourteen years, and then they had both only screamed at eachother. Tantibus, her father, had told her to get out of his sight. Or he would exile her. The reason of the conflict was Odale. She'd said she'd left her in the snow, which maybe she shouldn't. Maybe, Cashmére thought, she should have just said she lost her... maybe...
It was a selfish thought, and she knew that she should pay more attention to the task at hand. The letter. Her largest issue was to begin the letter. How would she refer to him? Not papa or dad, she thought, as it didn't seen... right to her anymore, given their relationship. Father, too, seemed strange to her. Your majesty was formal, and lord Tantibus...
She quickly scribbled it down.
Lord Tantibus, she thought it sounded a little strange, but it would still work. My daughter...
"Such a lovely bracelet," Phileus said, pointing to her hand. She smiled, he'd finally noticed it. Odale twisted it, like she usually would. "Where did you get it?"
"Mother said my father made it for me," Odale replied, "She gave it to me when I was eleven."
There was no reason to tell him the circumstances. Phileus nodded. "Your father made one like that for your sister, too," he said, "But then she... well, you know."
Odale nodded. Dead. They all thought her sister was dead. She pressed her lips together. Should she say something? No, she thought. It could make her seem like a fraud, and she was not. Phileus was nice to her, he made her feel like he didn't think she was a fraud. The boy he was travelling with, on the other hand... She decided not to think of him.
"Your grandfather," Phileus added, "Assuming you are who you claim to be, is going to be so happy when he sees you."
She looked down. Who was her grandfather, even? Would he even care about her? "I hope so," she mumbled, pulling a hand over her arm. "How far away is it?"
"Only a few miles," Phileus told her, "We will have to take a few breaks for the horses. It will take about half a day to get there, I think."
"Oh," Odale said.
Davilius saw Phileus help the girl out of the carriage, and he hopped off Astro, landing softly on the ground. "Davilius!" Phileus called, but Davilius was already at his side.
"Yes, sir?" he said. The words stung a little in his mouth, as it always did. Davilius had been raised with the Porter children, the Porters were his family. In private, he was just like one of them, trated the same and he treated them the same. But in public, because of Phileus position, and Davilius own, he had to adress him much more differently.
Phileus begun speaking in latin. "Please come with us after this pause," Phileus said, "I really think she is who she says."
Davilius glanced on the girl. Maybe, he thought. He wrinkled his nose a little, but quickly looked away so that the girl wouldn't notice. In case she really was...
The girl were dressed in rebel's clothes, but they were a little bit too large for her. The orange edges of her tunic made Davilius almost ill, and he also wanted rip edges off. The girl had to be completely history-less to dress like that. Even if they had been her only option, Davilius would rather have seen her going without. "Of course," he mumbled through gritted teeth. "If that is what you want, sir."
"Are you cold?" he asked the girl, who'd crossed her arms over her chest. He could offer her his cloak, as a friendy gesture, and maybe his cloak would cover that horrid rebel's uniform. And if she was cold, he thought, maybe she wasn't a snowplainian. Maybe...
"I'm good, thank you very much," the girl responded. So, not cold. She was snowplainian. Actually.
"I insist, miss," Davilius said, taking his own cloak off. A green, thick one lined with fur. It wasn't about her anyomore. He just wouldn't be able to stand seeing the rebels clothes for an entire journey. "Please, you look like you'll be cold."
The girl finally nodded, and he wrapped it around her shoulders. "Thank you," the girl mumbled, but looked off into the distance. They were by the sea, Davilius noted, but didn't think much of it. The girl, however, stared.
The sky was clear blue, competing with the blue sea. No clouds, but very much wind, Davilius noted, and looked to the girl again. She'd snapped out of it. If she was the Emperor's granddaughter, why did she have to be so messy? He straightened the velvet cloak, softly smoothing out a wrinkle in the delicate fabric. The girl shrugged back at his touch, and he grunted a short sorry.
"Get to know her," Phileus whispered in his ear, in latin. "If she is who she sais, the Emperor would appreciate it if she had one friend..."
Davilius pressed his lips together. It was true, he thought, that lord Tantibus would appreciate it... He finally sighed. "Fine," he mumbled. "Miss, would you like to sit back down in the carriage? I think the break is almost over."
She nodded. What was her name again?
Runa heard Rodrian swear. She opened her eyes to see him holding a letter in his hands. He walked back and forth, back and forth and it was stressing Runa, too. "Whatever is it?" she asked and sat up a little. "They know, they know," he said, "They know who Odale is..."
She frowned. "What?" she asked.
"We have to get out," he said, "Now. As soon as possible."
"What, why?" Runa wondered, holding Ylva tight in her arms. "Rodrian?"
"Because they know that I lied!" Rodrian almost shouted. "Runa, we really have to go."
"I can barely walk!" she snapped back, "Where do you suppose we'd go?"
"Runa..." he knelt down by her bedside, "You don't suppose... you could go back to the Land of Long Nights?"
Runa sighed. "This is serious?" she looked out the small, small window. "Really serious?"
He nodded. "Fine, then," she mumbled. "Fine."
(A/N So the internet is down and I'm doing this on the library... hope y'all enjoy anyways!)