Chapter 28: Little Children


In another life, would she have viewed this as 'home'? Odale thought about this, as she was helped onto land, just by the Palace gates. The Palace was tall, a svereal stores high, with many towers. The towers didn't look as if it had been planned where they were built up, more like they had just grown up out of the ground.

Davilius, once again, to her great annoyance, fixed with the cloak, making sure it covered her clothes. He looked annoyed with her, but it wasn't something new. Meanwhile, the great palace door opened. The palace hall shone like a beacon, as it was all darke outside. Two armed guards stepped outside, a woman and a man. The woman took her helmet off, revealing red hair put up into a bun. With her helmet in her arms, she bowed a little to Porter and they spoke a little, once again in latin. The other one, a young man, almost a boy, waved a little at Davilius and both of them smiled. Perhaps, Odale thought, this was the first time she'd seen him smile.

After a short few moments of speaking to the woman, Phileus approached her and Davilius. "Miss," he said, "I have other things to attend you. But Xeder here will make sure that you find your room, and Davilius will help you get settled."

Davilius's lips were pursed, but he didn't protest. Instead, he grasped her arm. "Come on," he told her, pulling her with him.


Lorea hugged him back. Her uncle was both crying and shaking, she couldn't think of another time that he had behaved like that. Of course she was still mad, maybe a part of her always would be, but how could she not hug him when he was like that? Lorea knew that her mother was watching them, disapprovingly, and she let Rodrian go. "Rodrian," she said calmly, "What on earth is it?"

"They know who she is," Rodrian managed to whisper, "Odale... They... I can't-"

"Did they hurt her?" Cashmére asked, moving closer to Rodrian. "How's my girl?"

Rodrian shook his head. "I don't know," he said, "I don't think so, not yet..."

Cashmére went quiet. "What do you think they'll do to her?" Lorea asked anxiously, in her mother's place. "Do you think they will hurt her?"

"They never told me their intent," Rodrian answered. He pressed his lips together, and put his hand on Lorea's shoulder. "I'm sorry for coming to you like this, I know- I know that you don't want to see me here, Lorea, but I don't know where to go. It's just for a night, if you and Cashmére will have us."

"Us?" Lorea finally saw Runa, with the child in her arms. "Oh."

"Come," Rodrian said, backing to Runa, who momentarily smiled. "Say hello to your cousin."

"Is that yours?" Lorea asked, "Oh, I never realized..."

Runa handed Ylva to Rodrian. "We call her Ylva," he told her, holding Ylva down so that Lorea really could see her. The redness had went down, but only a little, and the dull, grey eyes had learnt to look... but only at things close enough to her face. Lorea went up beside him, their shoulders touching.

"Very pretty name," Lorea said, "Of course, she is pretty, too."

"Thank you," Runa said.


The palace was remarkably large, and the halls were beautifully decorated with statues and paintings on the walls. Davilius and Xeder led Odale to a way less decorated hallway, and then a room. The walls were off wood, which Odale thought was a little strange since she hadn't seen many forests outside. A fire was burning at the end of the room, a possible fire risk, she noted, and barely necessary. "How come they knew we would come?" she asked Davilius.

Xeder chuckled at her. "Messenger birds, haven't you heard of those ever before?" he asked in return. He then turned to Davilius, whispered something in his ear, and then with a slight, but graceful bow he left.

She was left alone with Davilius. He didn't look much happier than what she did. They sat down by the small, round table by the fireplace. Bowls, empty bowls, and a pot stod on the table. Davilius had pulled the chair out for her, and he served her soup from the pot. It smelled salty and sweet, and the look of it reminded Odale off what her mother used to make as dinner for the two of them. The soup was stuffed with clams, sea spinach, different kinds of fish and meat, and small, fruitlike things that Odale didn't know what they were. Odale took a piece of bread from the basket, and begun to eat. Davilius watched her, with a wry grin. "You were hungry," he remarked.

"Yes," Odale mumbled.

"You eat like a dog," Davilius snarked. "If you now are the Emperor's granddaughter, maybe you should act like you were."

Odale pressed her lips together, used the napkin to wipe stray food from her mouth. "Maybe you should treat me like a princess, instead," she snapped. Davilius turned quiet, but only for a few seconds. Of course, Odale thought. He was very talkative.

"What I mean, I suppose," Davilius said, "Maybe you should learn how to act like a royal, if you are supposed to be one."

Odale didn't reply, perhaps because he was right... to a certain extent, and that pained her to admit. Then there was a knock on the door, and Davilius rose to his feet.


"I don't like him being so close to you, that's all," Dextus murmured to Lorea, pulling away from her for a few seconds. He caressed her cheek. "We both know what he is, don't we?"

"He's still my uncle," Lorea replied, "Dextus, don't be silly. Besides, he said it himself: it won't be for long."

Lorea looked away, but he grasped her chin in his hands. His skin was so pale, compared to her brown skin. Dextus made her look at them. "You've seen them at least once, haven't you?" he said, "You know what they do. They're monsters. Even if he doesn't... do anything, he might lead them to you. Just throw him out, Lorea, he's nothing to have."

"I can't, Dex," Lorea mumbled. "And I can't throw out my cousin, either. Dextus, please stop-"

"I don't care if he's your mother!" Dextus snarled. "Lorea, for your own safety. That's all I care about. Throw him out."

"No!" she hissed back at him. He turned quiet. She'd never looked at him that way, as if he was... bad. This was their first big fight, as far as any of them recalled. Lorea didnt like conflict, but Dextus was driving her to it. "Now quit it."

"I'm sorry..." he leant to kiss her, but she pushed him away.

"Stop," she said, and walked past him. She was already wearing her nightgown, a thin and long, red thing that her mother had bought for her. Lorea laid down on the bed, which Cashmére had originally bought for her sister. Dextus pushed the other bed close to Lorea's, the bedsides touching.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, crawling closer to her. "You know I am. I only care-"

"It's not for you to decide," Lorea said, "It's for me and my mother decide."

"I know," Dextus mumbled, coming up beside Lorea, pulling her close. "I just don't want you to be hurt."

"What did the rebels ever do to you?" Lorea asked, turning around so that they laid face to face. He brushed her blonde her out of her face, smiling slightly. "Something must have happened."

"Let's not talk about that now," Dextus answered. "I don't want to think about it, I'll be too mad."

"Hmm," she snuggled into his neck. "Fine. Whatever."


"Your Highness," Davilius stood up hastily, almost pushing his seat over and then stumbled on his cloak. Odale stifled a giggle, but she too stood up. Davilius gave a deep bow, and not sure whether she should curtsy or bow, she too bowed, but heard Davilius let out a slight groan of dislike. She didn't understand what she'd done wrong.

The Emperor looked at her. "Stand up straight," he said. Odale straightened her back, tried to smile a little. He, however, smiled back to her surprise.

Emperor Augustus was old, in his eighties. He wore red robes, embroidered with gold and animals in different colours and shapes. Though he didn't have a crown on his head, which Odale had expected. Instead, he was turning bald slowly. "So," Emperor Tantibus stepped further into the room, and Davilius came to his aid, since the Emperor had a hard time walking. "You are Cashmére's daughter?"

"Yes, sir," Odale answered, "I am."

"You do look the part," the Emperor sat down on a chair, and Davilius stood beside him. "Come closer."

Odale obliged, standing in front of him. He eyed her up and down, grasped her hand gingerly. "I know you are," he said, "I got your mother's letter. Don't worry, I don't doubt anything."

She took a deep breath out of relief. "Was she looking for me?" Odale asked. She'd almost believed that no one had cared, at all.

"I received it only a day ago," Tantibus told her, "I don't know for certain. For how long have you been gone?"

Odale wasn't sure, so she shrugged. "Two weeks, maybe," she said, "I didn't really keep track."

"Of course not," the old man smiled. "Of course not. Now, let's find another room for you, dear. This one won't do."


In the middle of the night, Cashmére found Rodrian in her kitchen. He was leaning onto the table, clutching a cup of water in his hand. For a short few seconds, this startled her. Then, she remembered why he was there. In all honesty, she didn't care much for him. If the rebels wanted him, they could have him. He didn't matter to her. But when she'd seen the child, the infant, she had known that she had to do something. So, she'd offered her bedroom to Rodrian and Runa. Cashmére herself, and Little, slept on her couch. Or 'slept'. She hadn't had a good night's sleep for almost twenty years, ever since Lorea had been kidnapped. "Are you still up?" she asked him, and Rodrian jumped, spilling some of his water on his shirt.

"Hm," he mumbled, putting his cup down. "Did I wake you?"

She chuckled. "No," she said, looked at him. He was very alike his brother, she thought, much more alike than what Marcia was. Perhaps, Cashmére thought, Joseph would have looked like that. In case he'd been allowed to get that old. "How's the child?"

"She's fine," Rodrian replied. "Sleeping. At last."

Cashmére smiled a little, remembering how Lorea had been when she was little. "Don't expect her to do that when you want her to," she said, still smiling. "And do go back to bed. The three of you are safe here."

"I don't want to believe that," Rodrian murmured, to himself.

"What?" Cashmére asked, and Rodrian tried to smile a little.

"Nothing," he said. "I suspect that a child crying isn't something that you are especially used to."

His intent hadn't been to hurt her, at some level Cashmére realized this, but she still narrowed her eyes. "And who's fault is that?" she snarled, "When I had her, I didn't let her leave my side, not for a moment... but then you-"

"I'm sorry, Cashmére, that wasn't my int-"

"Intent and intent!" she snapped, "Ah, I shouldn't have come talking to you at all!"

She turned her back at him, ready to march off, but he grabbed her wrist. "Cashmére-"

"Let go, you vandal," she said, pushing him away from her. "You... you rebels, you're all kidnappers and-"

Cashmére cut herself off, realizing that she'd almost shouted. She didn't want to wake anyone up, so she just pulled away from him in silence and went back to the couch, where Little was snoring lightly.


Zamir woke up to late. Someone was knocking on his door. He dragged himself up from the bed, and dressed himself in the same clothes that he'd worn the day before. "Yes?" he said, once he finally opened the door. It was his tutor. She didn't look very happy with him, he thought, and he looked down.

"You've overselpt," she said. Not angrily, but sternly.

"I'm sorry," Zamir said. Lexica rolled her eyes at him.

"What's the matter with you?" she asked. "You've been this way for a couple of weeks now, Zamir. You cannot continue this way if you want to be anything."

He knew this. However, he'd spent his last few weeks worrying about Odale at night, trying to communicate with her. Lexica had to know something about this, he thought, but not all. "I'm very sorry," he repeated.

"No, but you don't understand," Lexica said, tapping her feet on the ground. "You don't understand why I'm angry."

"I overslept," Zamir replied. Lexica gave him a push, into his rooms.

"That's not it," she said, "Have a seat."

Zamir did as his tutor said. She was a short woman, but when he was sitting down she could look down on him. Her short, curly hair was in a mess. "I'm angry at you because I know that you can do better," she said. "You know this. So why are you throwing this away?"

"I've had a hard time sleeping," he mumbled.

"Then you should have told me so, and we could fix it," Lexica said, upset. "Look, I'll let it pass this time. But do better, Zamir, I beg you."

She patted him on the shoulder. "Now off you go," she said, "For whatever reason, madam Marcia wanted to speak with you. Again. Next time you can tell her to keep you for herself, instead."

Like an angry, short flash, she was off again and Zamir groaned to himself. What did Marcia want now?


"This was your mother's bedroom," the Emperor informed her, "Well, before she married your father."

It was a large, round room, with marble floors. On the marble floors large carpets were strewn, and on the other of the room there was a large bed.

Davilius helped the Emperor sit down in an armchair around a small, round table and the Emperor signed for Odale to sit down in front of him. The Emperor said something to Davilius in latin, and Odale saw the boy open his mouth to protest, but with a gesture the Emperor silenced him. Davilius simply bowed his head, and headed for the door. "How is your mother?" the Emperor finally asked, after a few moments of silence.

"She was fine when I left," Odale answered.

"Of course she must be worried for you," Tantibus said. This stung a little. Odale realized that she had spent a lot of time thinking about how she herself felt, but not a lot about her mother. Her mother, who'd already lost one daughter. She nodded. "But let's not talk about her, for now," the Emperor said, "Instead, let's talk about you. How old are you, again?"

"I'm fourteen," Odale said, trying to sit up a little bit straighter.

"For how long did you say you had been apprenticed to madam Marcia?" Tantibus asked, now frowning a little.

"Since I was ten," Odale answered.

"This is strange," Tantibus said, "I've sent your aunt many letters asking if you were indeed my granddaughter, and still I've had no reply."

"I never knew anyone asked for me," Odale replied, "I'm so sorry-"

"Of course you had nothing to do with that, I know," Tantibus said, "Still, I wonder-"

He stopped himself. "It's very late," he told her, instead, "Perhaps, you should go to bed."