Chapter 18 - Fiyr

Queen Bluelianna is troubled but not surprised by what I tell her.

"I thought that might be the case." She sighs heavily and I wonder if she regrets telling me to be honest about the children. "I believe you will be proven right. He suffered a great loss and with the wound so raw… he may act rashly."

I say nothing but inwardly, remembering King Crukkedaro's eyes, I think, He didn't seem volatile. Just… hopeless. And in so much pain. But I don't doubt that he'll end up in the same place however he's feeling. He needs those children. But so does Graie. And we're all going to be caught in the bloodshed if we can't reach an agreement.

"One more thing, Sir Harte," the queen says, catching me before I stand to leave her chambers. "I know that Clowd is young, and I would never suggest this if it weren't for his… unique… situation, but I think that he should be made a squire."

I blink. "Your Majesty?"

She waves her head. "I know, he's only ten, but… surely you've noticed. He's taller than Thorrin, stronger than Sewif, and he doesn't behave at the same level as Faern. I would never break the knight's code, but…" There's no delicate way to put it, and she knows. "He isn't ever going to be a twelve year old boy."

I cringe but nod. "You're right."

"And I want you to mentor him."

"What?"

The queen arches an eyebrow and I cut myself off, flushing red at my outburst.

"Pardon me, Your Majesty," I say, "but it's… mentors aren't supposed to be close relatives of squires. It's not appropriate."

"I'm well aware, Sir Harte." Her lips have a wry twist and I blush deeper. Of course she knows. "But there is not a member at this court who can show Clowd the same compassion and guidance that I believe you can. And… quite frankly, you know what it is to be an outsider. I know that the court murmurs about him, and I will change it when I can, but it isn't entirely within my control. They murmured about you that way, but they respect you now."

There's a certain light in her eyes that makes me wonder if what she's saying holds a second meaning that she's keeping to herself. "My queen, I…"

"I want you to teach Clowd the same strength," she continues. "I believe you're the man for the job and I hope you have the same faith in yourself."

At her implicit praise, I can't find the words to argue. Clowd's difficult… but who else is there? Darriek? Liang? Sir Cawle? Over my dead body. "Yes, Your Majesty. I'll mentor him."

She gives me a rare genuine smile. "I'm glad to hear it."

Flustered and taken aback, I bow deeply and hurry out of her chambers. I didn't expect to get another squire so soon. I mean, it's been years since Cindra's accident… but I was sure she'd choose someone else for Clowd since I'm his uncle. At the earliest, I thought I might get Faern, but… I'm about to go find Samn to tell her the news when I'm stopped in my tracks by the queen's voice.

"Let all of the court that have demonstrated their life-force gather for a court meeting!"

Oh, so we're doing it now, I think, wincing. Not even gonna give me time to adjust to the idea, eh? Just jumping right in.

As the court floods into the room, I spot Graie stumbling down the stairs of the knight's wing. He's changed out of the sleep-clothes that he wore at breakfast, which I think is a good sign, though his skin is just as pale and the spots under his eyes just as dark. It's familiar, but it takes me a moment before I remember where I last saw it. King Crukkedaro.

I catch sight of Cindra through the crowd as well; she hardly looks better than Graie. Her face is carved from stone, unmoving and somber. She meets my gaze and I try to gauge how she's doing. She doesn't seem on the verge of a meltdown, which I have to guess is a good sign, but there's a certain darkness to her eyes that makes me think I should check up on her soon.

I turn back toward the dais as the queen begins to speak.

"By now, I am certain you are all aware of what transpired three days ago. For those unaware, Sir Sterrip and Lady Strime of Rivier were carrying on an affair that produced two children. Their birth resulted in her death." It's not a surprise to anybody, but it's hard not to notice how every gaze in the court swivels to Graie. He doesn't flinch, nor does he meet their eyes. "The children are being kept in our nursery. Lady Flourer is due within the month and can nurse them."

I glance over at the mentioned woman. Someone brought out a chair for her to sit in and listen to the ceremony; nine months pregnant with twins can't be easy on her legs. Without even mentioning that they're Sir Cawle's, I think. I wonder what kind of father he'll be to those poor children. The Starlaxi willing, we'll drive him out before they have a chance to know him. They're innocent and I don't want to give him one second of a chance to influence them.

"Sir Sterrip will not be punished for breaking the knight's code," the queen continues, her gaze roving over the crowd as if she's waiting for dissent. "He has lost enough. I have no doubt that he recognizes the mistake."

No one does speak up, and I'm grateful for it. The last thing Graie needs is someone in his own court trying to punish him when he's already at his lowest point.

"I also have a ceremony to perform."

That causes a river of whispers to flood the room. No one expected it. I didn't either, I think. This isn't going to go over easy with the court.

"Clowd has reached the maturity required to become a squire of Thundria," the queen begins, and as I guessed, it lights the court on fire with confusion and murmurs. "He is not twelve years old, but he is a special case. I call upon the Starlaxi to recognize this boy. He wishes to learn the way of the knight and one day join your noble rank. Clowd, you will train under Sir Fiyr Harte until you reach your full potential and take on the name of a full knight."

I try to force back the red flush that creeps up my neck as I step forward to accept my new responsibility. I catch a few stares as I move through the court. Clowd stands defiantly on the dais next to the queen, looking like he's daring someone to speak up. As I come up to stand next to him, I note that his hair is combed into downy white waves and his fingernails are clean. Lady Faise must have already known. At least the queen told someone in advance.

"Sir Harte, you were trained well by Sir Cawle and you will pass on all you've learned to this young squire."

Sir Cawle is playing the perfect proud mentor, a restrained smile on his face. I stare him down, stomach turning as I recall his threats to Graie after the battle against Rivier and Shodawa.

"I call upon the Lunar Crystal to give this boy his life-force ring!"

The whole court seems to hold its breath as the queen knocks her sceptre against the ground. Will the Starlaxi accept him? I don't know how sentient the white mist is, or how much agency the Starlaxi has in choosing who gets a life-force ring and who doesn't—I've never heard of someone being rejected by it, but Clowd's nothing if not the exception to every rule.

But after a moment that hangs in the air like a dropped mirror, a tendril of mist emerges from where the sceptre touched the ground. Then it's joined by another, and another, until a small cloud of white rises to engulf Clowd's hand. I'm relieved by how Clowd bounces with excitement, staring into the pearly mist with great intensity. See? He's just like every other squire. Super excited to get his life-force ring, eager to go patrolling and to learn to fight… everything's normal. He's just a bit different... inside.

Except when I look back out into the crowd, I see discontent spread over many familiar faces. Liang and Darriek look disgusted, which doesn't surprise me, but more than that… Sir Eyre and Lady Fuor are frowning, Lady Fyrra's arms are crossed, and even Sir Wynnd looks uneasy. It puts me on edge. Are they going to say something? But I glance back at Clowd, and for a moment, I feel as though I'm seeing him as they see him. He's tall; really tall, past my shoulder already and he hasn't hit his growth. His eyes are a blue paler than the sky, which I think makes him look like he's daydreaming but could be seen as unnerving.

More than that, he doesn't look Thundrian. His skin is too fair, like mine, his nose curves up at the end, making a little snub rather than the straight point of the rest of the court, and his face is softer and rounder where they have angles. But that's from Prin. Most of that applies to me too. It's not because he's half-god. He has the unnatural hair of a courtborn, and so did Prin. His strangest traits are from my sister, he's not weird because of his father. Whoever that was.

I look at the queen for assurance and she gives me a nod, a glint of steely resolve in her eyes. As long as she holds the power at court, Clowd will be safe.

"We'll forge his sword tonight," she murmurs to me. "Why don't you show him the territory?"

Which I'm guessing is code for 'get him out of the castle before a riot starts', I think, and bow. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Lady Faise summoned a horse for him last night. The last stable on the squire's side," the queen informs me, then turns and steps down from the dais, making a beeline toward Graie.

I watch her go, wondering what she's going to talk to him about, but decide to ask him about it later and instead turn to Clowd. "Go get your new uniform and then we'll head out."

He nods, hurrying back into the nursery. I suspect Lady Faise added it to their wash yesterday and he's been admiring it all night. A few minutes later, he reappears in a crisp, pale green tunic.

"Well, are you ready to learn how to ride?"

"I know how to ride," he answers, a note of exasperation in his voice. I start off toward the doors of the castle, giving the members of the court who are still hanging around the throne room a wide berth as we leave. "Lady Faise taught Faern and me ages ago."

Right. Is that something ladies of the court usually teach their children? I try to think back to Cindra's year as my squire. She knew how to ride, didn't she? "Well then, we can get straight to exploring the territory."

"It's not exploring if everyone's already been on it," Clowd corrects me. "There's nothing left to explore."

I close my eyes as I push the doors to the castle open, rallying my patience. Blessed Starlaxi, give me the strength to deal with my smartass nephew. "That's true. But you'll be seeing it for the first time."

"No, remember when Faern and I went out and I caught the deer?" he reminds me, his chest puffing up a little at the memory. "And when we came along for the battle but then Brakken dragged us back to the castle. And when we visit Mom."

I cringe. Wow. He has been terribly behaved. And it's pretty much my fault. "Yeah, well, now you're actually allowed to go outside. And I'll teach you to hunt with a bow and fight with a sword and…" I trail off and he realizes why I cut myself off instantly.

"And hide my 'life-force.'" Bitterness colours his tone and I'm swamped with sympathy and guilt. Clowd stops in his tracks and crosses his arms.

"No, you just…" I shake my head. "We'll figure it out as we go along. You're going to do great things for the court, I know you will."

He scowls and l move to continue toward the squire's stables, but he lifts his chin stubbornly and I pause.

"What's the point of this?" He points at the ring on his finger; a white granite band with a tiny, round piece of uncoloured glass set into it. "I can use my corruption whether or not I'm a full knight, or if I have a knight's life-force ring, or if I demonstrated."

I shake my head. "Clowd… every squire's life-force ring is for show. It has nothing to do with you in particular. And yeah, your life-force is different. But you're not a god. And I'm going to teach you how to use it properly."

"How?" he demands. "You don't know any more about it than I do!"

"But we can learn." I glance back at where the stables wait for us. "There's more to being a Thundrian than having the look and summoning a bird or a thunderstorm or something. You know that."

"Easy for you to say," Clowd snorts. He starts to walk past me toward the stables and I stop him.

"No. It's not." All of the most embarrassing memories of my first years as a squire come rushing up to me. "When I got to court, I didn't know how to mount a horse. I wasn't strong enough to draw a bow, I couldn't speak a word of Old Thundrian,"—And more or less, still can't, I think—"and I knew nothing about court customs. The first patrol I was on, I asked Sir Cawle why the kingdoms aren't all united and he nearly threw me into the Rivien sea. I didn't win a spar until I was fifteen because Sir Cawle told me I couldn't use my life-force, that I had to learn to fight with my sword and also, heinsisted on matching me with Samn who's been holding a sword since she learned to walk."

Clowd is silent in the face of my tirade.

"I hardly knew how to write, I didn't know anything of our history and culture, and by the Starlaxi, there were a few people who didn't want me to ever forget that I was an outsider," I finish, then take a deep breath, trying to banish the tremble from my voice. "What I'm trying to say is that you have to remember you don't have nothing. You grew up in Thundria. You're more a Thundrian than I in many respects."

He looks doubtful, but I continue.

"I don't know exactly what it's like to be you. I don't think anyone ever will. But we have shared experiences. And if I'm a Thundrian, then so are you." I search his face, trying to see if I've had any effect on him whatsoever. He just blinks. "Alright. Let's go get your horse and we'll go tour some of our territory."

He doesn't protest anymore and I watch him swing open the wooden half-door, its hinges creaking from disuse. The wood is unmarked; I suppose I'll use the Blessing imbued in the stables to change it to his mark tonight at the same time as I forge his sword. My heart swells with love and fear for him. How is he going to manage? The court doesn't know about his corruption-control and they hate him even now. I understand the queen's logic in making me his mentor, but it hammers home a feeling that I'm his only real tie to Thundria. That without me, she would be forced to throw him out, and it's only because I can deal with him, that he's allowed to stay.

I press the thoughts back as Clowd leads a snow-white mare out of the stall. I wonder if Lady Faise summoned a white horse specifically for him… Can summoners control what an animal looks like? I didn't pay much attention to Sir Cawle's explanations of them given that he hardly seemed interested in it himself. An alchemist and an elementalist. I guess that leaves an obvious gap in my education.

As Clowd disappears into the stall to retrieve his new horse's equipment, I give him one last look, then hurry around the other side of the castle to fetch Blitz. The autumn air is crisp on my cheeks and I stuff my hands into my pockets, absentmindedly running my thumb over the smooth glass of the heart I carry with me. I think back to the conversation with Samn from this morning. It must be difficult for her in times like these. I catch myself and snort at how Samn is the one I have sympathy for in this situation. I can't imagine what it's like to be Graie right now. And I guess that's the problem; nobody knows what it is to be him and nobody knows how to help him. Except the queen.

She lost her husband and children, in a way. A death is a tragedy but… I think of the queen again at the Gathering with Crukkedaro, her brother-by-Union. A decade ago when she learned of Oeak's death. The way she snapped when I pressed her about Meistya and Stowen. She lost her family and she was expected to carry on because no one knew. That had to be its own kind of tragedy. I lead Blitz out of her stall, eyeing her over.

She must be getting old. A pang of sorrow pierces my heart. I guess nothing's permanent. She's been a good horse. I run my fingers through her rust-red mane, remembering again my first day as a squire, barely out of the manor, completely out of my depth. I look up at the gray sky and feel the strangest wave of nostalgia. That feels like it was worlds away. And now I've got a nephew that I'm supposed to teach about the court. And figure out how to control his powers before the court revolts. And my best friend's wife is dead and my practically-little sister blames herself... I return to the squire's stables and find Clowd already on top of his horse.

"Alright, you ready?" He nods and I mount Blitz in a heartbeat, thinking of Samn laughing at me that midwinter day. "Then let's get going."

"Can we go to the outer trace-line?" he asks as I take the lead, starting at an easy pace and guiding Blitz toward the gap in the leaves.

"Why do you want to go there?" I answer, then nudge Blitz into the open air. We reappear on the forest floor and I pull her out of the way to give Clowd space to materialize as well.

"I want to see the manors and the Creeping Corruption." He juts his chin out like he's daring me to say that it's a bad idea, but I don't.

Maybe we can find out if he really can remove the corruption… I think, then nod. "Yeah, alright. And if it doesn't take too long, we can go visit Mom, too."

A smile lights up his face and for a moment I think this whole mentorship thing might work out. "I'd like that."

I'm sure she'll be proud, I think, but there's still a tightness between my shoulders. It's been a while since she saw him… But I brush it off. Either way, he's her son and she'll be happy to see him made a squire. And I don't have to tell her about the nasty things they call him or the whispers that follow him.

Clowd observes on everything as we go and my chest aches at the memory of Cindra, contrasted with her face at the ceremony. I hope Clowd never faces that kind of hardship. Trying to shake off the thoughts that plague me, I point out landmarks.

"If we took that path, we'd end up by a lake," I remark.

"Do we ever fish, like Riviens?" Clowd asks. "Not like… with big nets in the sea, I know, but somehow?"

"You mean like villagers?" I think of their fishing rods and remember Warner, the odd villager man that Graie and I borrowed a boat from to rescue Sir Clah and Lady Feot's children. "No. We have everything we need in the forest."

"I want to learn to hunt!"

"We'll get there," I laugh. "Actually, look over there!"

He peers through the trees and as we continue, the oaks thin, revealing a vast field with a wooden structure in the distance. Two figures are atop it. Liang must be doing archery practice with Sewif.

"That's the archery range. We'll go there tomorrow, I think," I decide aloud. "I'll show you how to shoot and then maybe we can try hunting in the forest over there."

We continue toward the border and little by little, I start to calm down. As I help Clowd bring his horse around a fallen tree that lies across the path, I check the Trace again. Every trace that I've felt a thousand times rolls off me as easily as the smell of my own clothes, but one hits an odd chord in my mind. That's weird. I pull on Blitz's reins, slowly her, and call to Clowd, "Just stop for a second? I…"

I trail off, immersing myself in the fifth dimension. The gray sky turns murky green and the air seems to shimmer around me, strands of the season, the hare that ran across the path about half an hour ago, the badger warren nearby, the elm and alder trees that frame the path, and… the strange people who used this path hours ago, all winding through the world on my tongue and up my back.

"What's going on?" Clowd asks. "Can we go?"
What is with the trace of those people? It's familiar, I just… can't quite place it. I never was much good at tracking. But as luck would have it, the trace seems to be strengthening in the direction we're going. I glance at Clowd, apprehension tugging at my stomach, but force it back. It might just be an outlander or two from a strange place. "Yeah, just… stay alert, alright? I think some people passed through here recently."

"Villagers?" Clowd asks.

"No, not villagers. Probably outlanders." Or mercs. I hope the latter's not the case, but if things start to get dicey, I'll send Clowd back and distract them until I can get away too. Then the queen will send a patrol. I feel a little reassured now that I have something of a plan, but I can't banish a feeling of foreboding that thickens every time I return to the Trace to feel the strange people's mark. There's something that's wrong about this. Are they mercs?

"I think we're almost at the border!" Clowd exclaims.

"Shh, keep your voice down," I chide, anxiously checking the Trace again. "But you're right, we're going to…" I trail off as another trace adds itself to the ones I've been feeling all this way. My heart drops.

"Fiyr?" Clowd says.

Sharp, pointed, like hard liquor or garlic, covered in a sickly sweet smell of vanilla.

Sir Cawle was here.

"Why don't we go find your mom first and we'll come along the border on our way back?" I suggest, fighting to keep my voice level so that Clowd doesn't see how uneasy I am. By then, Sir Cawle and whoever left these traces should be long gone.

Clowd blinks. "Alright."

"C'mon, let's go this way," I suggest, wheeling Blitz around and moving back the way we came until I find the path that splits off the one we're on that I take to visit Prin. "It's quicker."

He follows me, bemused by my sudden change, and I hurry us down the path, relieved as the other path fades out of sight. I check the Trace and let out a breath when nothing out of the ordinary presents itself.

We make the rest of the trip to Prin's manor without incident and I gradually relax. I'll just report it to the queen and Clowd will be safe. When the wall comes into view, I hop off Blitz and motion to Clowd to stay on his horse for a moment. With a running start, I jump, bracing my foot against the wall and throwing an arm over the top, then haul myself over. To my relief, Prin is sitting in the garden reading. Last time, I had to try to catch the attention of another god-toy so he could go find her and I almost got caught by one of the guards. A bad situation all around.

"Prin!" I call in a soft voice, hoping it doesn't carry.

She looks up and spots me, then drops her book on the bench beside her and stands. I'm a little concerned that she's not wearing much except her performance garb given the chilly air, but as she moves closer, I see sweat glistening on her brow. Probably just finished a routine and came out to cool off.

"Hey, Rossy!" she answers. "Is Clowd with you?"

"Yeah, come up and talk to him." I pat the rough stone next to me and without hesitating, she scans the garden for witnesses then runs at the wall and grabs the top before pulling herself up and swinging her legs over to the other side.

"Mom!" Clowd shouts when he sees her. I cringe a little at his volume but Prin is unbothered and pushes herself off the wall, landing lightly on the grass and running over to him. He dismounts his horse easily and she gives him a big hug. He's almost as tall as her, I notice, which makes me a little worried because I'm only a little taller than my sister and I was kind of banking on having the advantage of height over Clowd for at least another couple years.

He's going to be six feet tall by the time he's twelve, I worry. I just hope he doesn't grow much after that. I picture King Crukkedaro. He must be at least six and half feet tall and no one's raised suspicions about him being part-god, though. Surely Clowd will be fine. Unless someone says something.

"You're a squire?" she asks, holding him at arms-length and admiring his new uniform.

"Yeah, I just had my ceremony," he tells her, showing off his life-force ring and horse.

Well, he's certainly singing a different tune than he was a few hours ago, I think sardonically. But I'm glad that he's coming around to the idea of being a normal squire. Or maybe he's just pretending for Prin's sake.

As they chat, I walk over to the wall and peer along it, through the trees. I can't see the end of the wall. So where did Sir Cawle and those strange people go? I check the Trace, but if they've been here, it was so long ago that the trace is so diminished that I can't detect it. I look back at Prin and Clowd and a thought strikes me. Maybe Prin or someone else that works at the manor saw something.

"Prin, can I talk to you for a sec?" I ask, trying for a nonchalant tone.

"Sure, what's on your mind?" Once she comes over, out of earshot of Clowd, I tell her what I found on the way here.

"There was a trace of some strange people passing through the forest near here." I motion in the direction of the path. "And… Sir Cawle."

Her eyes darken at his name. "Yes. I… I haven't seen anyone wearing a Thundrian uniform like yours, but there's been this group of men hanging around the manor…"

But was it mercs or outlanders…? "Do you remember anything about them?"

She hesitates. "There was… a small, skinny man with a broken nose and a tall man with gray hair. There were two more men that gave me a weird feeling… one was short, but much bulkier than the other two." She motions his shoulder width on her own body. "And he was wearing these shiny black gloves."

Blayke Fouhte.

"And the other?" I press.

"He had broad shoulders too, but he was taller than the man with the gloves. Short brown hair and… I remember his eyes, even though I only ever saw them in the distance. I don't know how, but..." She shakes her head a little at the memory. "They were so dark."

"You said you didn't see anyone with a uniform? What were they wearing?" I pursue. That last man fits Sir Cawle's description exactly… Sudden fear climbs up my throat at the realization of how close a brush she had with him. He wouldn't recognize her, would he? And she could run back into the god's manor. He wouldn't follow her. I can't shake the paralyzing terror for a few moments, though. What would I do if I lost her? What would Clowd do?

"No, I didn't see any uniforms," she confirms. "Most of them wore travelling clothes, hunting boots like yours and furs and cloaks."

"And the dark-eyed man?"

"He was wearing a long brown cloak. Different from the others. It covered him almost entirely," Prin answers.

Travelling cloak. I remember my visit as a squire to the Lunar Crystal. "That was Sir Cawle, I think," I admit.

Her eyes widen.

"He's very dangerous, but I'm sure he has no reason to target you, so just… don't get close to them," I urge her. "But if you do see them… could you write down the dates, maybe? And their descriptions too if you catch any other details."

Prin nods. "Why? Do you think they're going to do something…?"

I pause. I think Sir Cawle might be recruiting them to attack the castle. But I don't want her to worry. I glance over at Clowd who has busied himself with his horse. "I don't know. Can't be too safe when it comes to Sir Cawle."

She gives me a nod but by the gleam in her eye I think she knows there's more to the story. "Feels like I'm in one of my books," she tries to joke, and I snort, grateful for the attempt at levity.

She'll be fine. She's smart and I've told her enough about Sir Cawle that she knows to stay out of his way, I tell myself.

"We should head back," I call to Clowd.

"Aw, already?" he asks.

"I want to get back before it starts getting dark. We can come visit again soon," I promise both of them. "Let's go; I'll show you the trace-line."

Clowd and I ride back along the wall until the gods' manors branch further out into the unexplored territory and we stick by the border path. I keep checking the Trace, certain every time that I'm going to sense Sir Cawle nearby and he's going to jump out and attack us, but nothing produces itself. Now that I know to look for it, I think I can feel Blayke Fouhte's trace as well, sweet and pungent, only just distinct from a villager's. What happened to him? Why did he fight for Braukkin?

I've heard enough of Yllowei's rants to know that Shodawa had at least a modicum of honour and pride before Braukkin took over. And Sir Fouhte was pure Shodawes, courtborn and trained. Why would he follow a monster? Cowardice? Or evil? I think of Sir Cawle and my arguments with Samn from back when we were both squires. Would I have followed Sir Cawle into the darkness if she hadn't forced me to come to my senses? People are drawn to strength, I know that much. But how afraid of being weak would you have to be to follow someone so monstrous?

…

When Clowd and I return, the sun has begun to set. My first clue that my mission to tell the queen about Sir Cawle and the strange traces is going to be delayed is that there are three horses grazing outside on our pavilion. What in the name of the Starlaxi?

I check the Trace, baffled as to why these unfamiliar horses are meandering around on top of trees. But what I find in the fifth dimension only makes me more confused. Salt floods my mouth. Riviens? What is going on?! There's no sign of conflict, though, so I don't burst through the doors of the castle with Fireheart drawn.Inspecting the horses in the Trace more carefully reveals that they're from a village. Did Riviens ride here on villagers' horses?

"Come on, let's take our horses back," I tell Clowd, trying not to let on that there's something amiss.

We return both of them to their stables and I meet him back in front of the castle. He's eyeing the horses with a faint curiosity that lets me know that he realizes something's going on, but doesn't ask. In the time it took me to return Blitz to her stable and come back, I've jumped to a hundred conclusions as to why Riviens are here.

To attack Graie for killing Sila.

To attack Cindra for killing Sila.

To demand that the queen yield territory as recompense for her death.

But no matter what my brain makes up, I already know the real reason. My fears are confirmed when I arrive in the throne room to find Lady Leaparra Fore arguing fiercely with the queen. The captain is flanked by Meistya Feot and Stowen Feur, neither of whom are getting as aggressive as she but looking equally stone-faced. Why did it have to be them?

"His children are half Rivien! They belong in their mother's court," Leaparra hisses.

As I glance around, I see that business is carrying on as normal, mostly, but much of the court seems to be loitering in doorways, trying to catch the conversation. The queen, for her part, is every inch the unyielding monarch, dressed in full Thundrian colours, a heavy maroon robe lined with embroidered lightning bolts hanging on her shoulders, with her crown set firmly atop her silver hair and planted on the throne, forcing the Riviens to look up at her on the dais.

"Half Rivien, as they are half Thundrian," the queen replies, her tone measured. "Those children have one parent, and he is Thundrian. To tear them from him now would be nothing short of callous, on both sides."

"They are the kin of the king of Rivier!" Leaparra retorts. "We have ladies to care for them and every possible comfort they could need to grow up perfectly healthy."

"But not their father," Queen Bluelianna replies and I catch sight of Samn standing in the doorway of the stairs up to the knight's wing, a wry smirk twisting her lips.

"What's going on?" Clowd asks me and it's then that I realize we're just standing by the main doors of the castle. A couple gazes flit our way and I shuffle Clowd off to the side, embarrassed.

"It's the queen's business," I answer quickly. "Why don't you go and move your stuff from the nursery to your new nook in the squire's wing? Faern'll help, I'm sure."

Clowd is unimpressed by my attempt to get rid of him, but nonetheless walks off to the nursery, ignoring the ladies of the court clustered by its entrance who are all eavesdropping on the queen's conversation.

"The king expects an answer," Lady Fore warns.

The queen doesn't flinch. "Doubtlessly. But this issue will not come to an easy answer that will suit everyone. There are hearts and lives on the line."

Leaparra is unaffected by this appeal, merely angling her head and waiting.

"He can expect my answer at the next Gathering; two months, the winter solstice," Queen Bluelianna tells her.

She seems unsatisfied, but the captain of the guard bows anyway and then turns on her heel, motioning for Lady Feot and Sir Feur to follow. I can't help staring at the queen, trying to detect a hint of longing, pain, anything on her face as she watches her children leave. But her face, etched with a lifetime of lines and coloured a paler brown from the autumn sun, doesn't shift. Somehow, that only pierces my heart deeper. She's spent decades learning to cover her hurt.

As soon as the oak doors have swung shut behind the Riviens and before the trace has had a chance to weaken, the court swarms the throne room, everyone ready to offer their opinion. As I watch each face as they begin debates, arguments soft and loud, and try to catch the queen's attention, I wonder if Riviens are the same way. Do they shout at the king? Are they doing it now? Or are they letting him grieve…? The grieving that the queen would never have been allowed, not truly.

I watch the queen's face as just about every person in the court lines up to tell her what they think. I'm not even trying to listen in, but even from here I know what they're saying. They don't want a war. With Shodawa and Wynnd teaming up to try to kill Braukkin and anyone who gets in their way, we can't afford to lose Rivier as an ally. But what is that going to do to Graie?

As I think that, I spot him. He's standing where Samn was only minutes ago, his head only just visible on the stairs over the crowd. And as I hear more and more members of the court advocate for sending away his son and daughter to protect Thundria, his face is swamped with more panic and fear, his mouth pressing closed and his brows drawing together. His eyes darken with grief and I see his mouth open for one gasping breath, until finally, he turns and flees.

~Akila