Chapter 23 - Graie

Here we go again, is my first thought when I hear Fiyr calling my name.

"Mhmm?" I turn, praying that he's not coming after me because of how I pulled Sila aside at the end of the Gathering, there. We had to talk! They found my trace!

"What are you playing at?! They found your trace!" he hisses, storming right up to me, heedless of the court around us that could be listening. Well, shit.

I turn away from him and look straight ahead. "Quiet down."

"I'm not going to quiet down while you're still putting our entire damn court in jeopardy!" he snaps, but lowers his voice all the same.

"I'm not putting anyone in jeopardy except myself, and I'm happy to be there," I mutter, still avoiding his furious gaze.

"How can you say that after what happened tonight?" he retorts, a shout simmering under his tightly controlled tone. "There are rifts between our kingdoms and the worst thing to do now is to exacerbate it! You have to stop meeting her."

We make it to the trees and I pull loose the knot on Quicksilver's lead. I mount and spur her after the rest of the court, but Fiyr is undeterred. Blitz falls into step with my gray mare.

"Promise me you'll stop." Something in his voice makes the sharp reply die in my throat. I risk a glance at him. There's desperation in his eyes, and it mirrors a thought I've been trying to quash for months. I miss you.

"I can't." It's laced with the same desperation, but he doesn't seem to hear it.

"Graie!" I thought his lecturing was bad but the genuinely distraught lines of his face are worse. My stomach turns.

"Fiyr, I love her." The admission is too soft to be heard by anyone, the sound trampled under the horses' hooves, but Fiyr shakes his head, pale.

"Don't say that. Please, don't say that. I miss you, Graie, I want things to go back to normal, but that can't happen if you're still running around, breaking the code!" he whispers, pleading now.

I swallow hard. I can't even say that we haven't broken the code yet. I've crossed too many lines to give up what I sacrificed everything for in the first place. Remembering Sila, I steel myself. "No, Fiyr."
"Why?! I don't understand, Graie!" he exclaims, helplessness all over his features.

My knuckles tighten on Quicksilver's reins. "No. You don't. And that's the problem. I know it was hard to come as a god-toy into the court, but you're favoured by all the knights that matter, our healer owes you her life, the queen trusts you, and you've got a happily ever after with Samn just waiting for you to ride into. It's not like that for me. Can't you see? This is my chance to be happy, and I can't risk losing it. Not for Thundria."

Not for you. The silent echo is as soft as a feather but as solidly within me as a stone.

"Between me and that Rivien, you're really choosing her?" He's disbelieving.

"Well—come on. We haven't spoken properly for a long time," I defend.

"You're choosing her?" he repeats.

"I'm—I'm not choosing anyone," I retort.

"What are you going to do, Graie?" Fiyr asks, shaking his head. "Even if you don't care about your own safety, you have to see that this is hurting the court. You heard King Crukkedaro. He's not going to let it slide, especially not after what Queen Bluelianna brought up."

I shake my head, mute. No matter what. I'm not giving her up. I can't.

"At least stop meeting her on kingdom land!" Fiyr urges.

I purse my lips. "Alright. Only at the solstice pavilion."

He's only more outraged at the agreement, which makes me blink. It's what he wanted! What's his problem now?! "So you're willing to make changes not to get caught, but not to actually give up your code-breaking behaviour?!"

I'd be giving up more than my behaviour. But I don't say that. I just scowl at him.

"This has gone on long enough," Fiyr growls. I can't tell if he's going to punch me or start crying and I tighten my grip on Quicksilver's reins, waiting. "Pick one. The Rivien or the kingdom. Her or—or me."

"I'm not going to do that," I answer, gritting my teeth. He's so childish.

"I won't talk to you. Ever again." He's serious, but the threat resembles one of a little kid. I resist the urge to reprimand him. "Choose."

This is it.

It's like standing on the edge of a cliff with the strange awareness that you could just end your life by stepping forward. Like being on the brink of a chasm and feeling that awful, hollow sense of… this is it.

"You wouldn't like my answer." The words hang between us and I turn to look at him. If we're doing this, then we're doing it.

What I see in his face makes one thing painfully obvious; he didn't expect this answer. His mouth, set in angry lines, goes slack and the green fire in his eyes dies. Was he bluffing? My cold resolve that set in just moments before evaporates in a blaze of disbelief. He thought he could threaten me and I'd cave, throw myself at his feet begging forgiveness for telling him that he—The contemptuous comment about his past life sends hot guilt through me, sucking away the righteous feeling and leaving shame behind. I was wrong for that. But I'm choosing this now.

"Then it's really over…" Fiyr mutters.

"Fiyr." But it's useless; he pulls Blitz's reins to one side in a jerky movement and is enveloped in the rest of the Thundrian court in moments. My thoughts are left to echo his statement. It's really over.

Certainly, I'd known how it was for a long time, but I couldn't help feeling like we weren't really done, not yet. Like there was something brewing between us, waiting to bubble to the surface in a fight, or an insult, or a shouting match. And now that's all gone, turned to dust and blown away by the wind.

Now what? Are we just two members of the court? Enemies? Will we be stiffly polite to each other, or friendly? Or is he going to really make good on his promise to just never talk to me again?

Then who am I left with? The thought knocks around inside me, testing out the new hollowness in my chest. Sila. This is all for her anyway. But as much as I love her, it's hard to picture a life with her as my only companion. Especially since she's a kingdom away.

Picturing the future makes my heart ache. Dark days alone with only a moment stolen here and there with Sila to brighten them. If Fiyr thought putting a proper end to our relationship was the way to get me to rely less on Sila, his fire must have fried his brain.

Surrounded by my court, the ride back to the castle still feels lonely. But I guess I'd better get used to it.

…

Instead of dismissing the court to their chambers like she often does after a Gathering, Queen Bluelianna calls a court meeting instead.

The words reverberate off the stone walls and knights and ladies that seemed like they were just about to get into bed filter out of the doors of the nursery or the stairs, rubbing eyes and some already half into their sleepclothes.

"The Gathering brought bad news for our kingdom," the queen announces heavily. "The Starlaxi was forced to send clouds to cover the moon. It appears that Shodawa and Rivier have united against us and we stand with Wynnd in opposition to them."

Worry ripples through the court at the solemn declaration. Please, don't let things get worse between us and Rivier, I pray silently. No battles. I couldn't live with that.

"Sir Cawle will increase the number of patrols along the Rivien border to compensate," the queen announces. "We will pray that a battle will be avoided, but we cannot expect Shodawa and Rivier to rest on their laurels and if they look to challenge us, we will respond in kind."

My stomach turns and I keep my eyes pinned on the queen. I have a feeling Fiyr is giving me a meaningful look. Or maybe he isn't. Maybe things really are over and he's just going to ignore me and…

A thought strikes me like lightning and I break into a sudden sweat. If we're not friends, then what reason does he have to keep my code-breaking to himself? Is he going to rat me out to the queen? Sudden panic grips me and I fight the urge to run over to him now and beg that he keep it a secret. That would certainly make a scene. Although I have no doubt that our severing will be on everyone's tongues tomorrow. The gossiping of the court seems less amusing and harmless in this moment.

"For now, sleep soundly and we will take further action once we know the extent of the situation," the queen finishes and raps her sceptre against the ground. "Dismissed."

I crane my neck, looking for the flash of ginger hair in the crowd, but he must have gotten away in the few seconds since the queen finished the meeting. Damn it! I bound up the stairs, ignoring the frowns I garner from more tired knights that have to duck out of my way.

Skidding into our hallway, I suddenly realize I have no idea what I'll say to him. I refuse to beg, but… what do I do? If he wants to tell the queen, I'm not going to be able to say much to stop him at this point! Stubborn bastard.

I'm left standing in his doorway without any arguments to arm myself. Fiyr is just hanging up his sword when he notices me. He turns and I'm rendered silent by the flat lack of recognition in his eyes. His face is blank, polite, neutral.

"Sir Sterrip? What do you need?" he asks, turning to strip off his gloves and lay them on the dresser. He's looking into my eyes, but… not quite. The usual piercing green gaze of his has dulled and skitters off me like I'm part of the wall, like I'm nothing to focus on.

That's what we're doing, then? I swallow, fighting back tears. Nevermind, I try to tell him, but the words get caught in my throat. I just back away and pull his door closed and walk softly to my own in a half-dazed state. Does his face change? I can't tell. If he's going to tell Queen Bluelianna, there's nothing I can do. I'm not facing him again like that. Let him tell her. My life's over anyway.

I splash some water on my face from the basin set on my dresser and look in my mirror. Blessed Starlaxi. Tears well up in my eyes as I stare into the hollow gaze of the man in the mirror. My skin is ashen, the colour leached out and replaced with an almost gray cast. My hair hangs limply on my forehead, smeared in sweat and dirt from the ride to the Gathering and my eyes are dull, bloodshot, and lined with dark, bruise-coloured bags and redness.

I look like I haven't slept in a week. I look like I've been dead for a week. Fighting a cry, I wipe off my forehead with a cloth and turn away from the mirror, trying to banish the image. Just go to bed. Things will look better in the morning. My mother's stern advice seems useless now. What was it she said about mourning? Light as a feather, quick as a storm. Don't let the grieving burrow deep inside you, and don't let it stretch out to encompass the rest of your life.

But the leaden sorrow of a friendship ended doesn't feel like it's going to pass without more days of dark clouds. I pull the covers over my head and let tears streak my cheeks again.

…

When I see Fiyr—or Sir Harte, as I suppose I should be calling him now—heading for the queen's chambers when he gets back from an early morning patrol, I have a mini-heart attack. My fears are assuaged when his course shifts slightly and he heads for the nursery instead.

I'm sitting on the other side of the dais, watching patrols come and go. I could barely sleep last night, only a couple fitful hours at a time, interspersed with staring at the wall of my room and questioning all my life choices. Instead of coming to any useful conclusions, though, I'm sharpening my sword. Again.

And watching Sir Harte surreptitiously as he goes about his business.

He leaves the nursery again with Clowd and Faern in tow and Samn meets him at the doors to the castle. She's evidently just come back from the patrol to the Wynnd border with Lady Fyrra and Sir Wynnd and he greets her with a smile. Something burns inside me. It feels suspiciously like jealousy.

Samn heads into the kitchen and Fiyr herds Clowd and Faern into the dining hall. Oh, look at them, playing family. It burns hotter. I'm jealous again, aren't I? I sigh and drive the whetstone against the blade harder. Just ignore them, Graie.

Faern's shriek of laughter cuts through the room and the stone skids on the blade. "Shit!" I curse and hold my thumb for inspection. A little nick. I stick it in my mouth and suck the blood off. Maybe I can go to Yllowei and get out of this stupid room. Although I think bringing a nicked thumb to Yllowei would result in more laughter than care.

I stand and head into the kitchen, sheathing Graystripe at my side and tucking the whetstone into my pocket for the time being. Lady Faise is standing by the stovetop with a fat pot in front of her.

"What's lunch?" I ask, rooting through the cupboards for one of our chipped bowls and a spoon.

"Corn chowder," replies Brindellia, ladling some into my bowl. "The corn's fresh. The potatoes are… in the chowder because they're not. Fresh, that is."

I shrug. "Alright. Thanks."

"Everything alright, Graie?" My head jerks up and I stare at her, trying to evaluate her motives for the question, but all I see is concern and warmth in her brown eyes. I swallow hard, feeling swelling in my chest. Longing for pale blue crashes over me and I turn my head sharply.

"Yup. I'm fine. See you later." I hurry out of the kitchen, irritated with myself at how fast she pushed me to the edge of tears. Well, I'm evidently very stable after last night. I was hoping that my brain might shut off all feeling for a while. Apparently not.

When I return to the throne room with my chowder cupped in my hands, Fiyr is heading out the doors of the castle with Sir Cawle and Sir Teyl. Looks like I won't have to suffer in a corner of the dining hall alone listening to them after all. I breathe a sigh of relief and head into the dining hall.

Samn, Faern, and Clowd have claimed my usual spot. Damn it. I turn toward the other side of the hall when Faern's voice calls out to me.

"Graie! Come sit!" she orders.

I freeze and turn to stare at her.

"Come on! There's space." Her pudgy little face is resolute and I let out a slow breath, glancing at Samn and trying to gauge her reaction.

The ex-boy crosses her arms but her expression stays blank.

"I was just going to eat quickly anyway," I offer, then get annoyed at myself for even bothering to justify myself when I was explicitly offered. By a little kid, sure, but still. I don't need to make excuses for sitting in the dining hall of my court. Besides, that's usually my spot! I should be the one inviting them to—I'm overthinking this. I sit down.

Samn's eyes follow my movements. She hasn't touched her soup.

Faern seems satisfied that I've sat and turns back to Clowd to chatter excitedly to him. He seems slightly more focused on devouring his soup, but nonetheless nods along as she tells him about a song Briatte taught her.

"So." I break the silence. Samn blinks like an owl.

"So."

"Did you…" I swallow awkwardly and swirl my spoon through my soup. "Did he tell you what happened?"

"Did who tell me what happened?" Samn replies idly, but she's still staring at me in a way that makes me suspect she knows exactly what I'm talking about. Why she's drawing it out like this, I can't imagine.

"Did… Fiyr," I mumble, not wanting to invite contribution from Fiyr's nephew.

She sighs. "Graie, what's the problem between you two?"

I leave my spoon in my bowl and press the heels of my hands into my eyes. "I—I can't really explain. But I want him back."

"Well, good luck then," she answers dismissively after a moment of searching my face and seeming to draw the conclusion that I'm not going to elaborate.

It's not the reply I expected. "Aren't you going to help me?"

"Help you with what?" she challenges, though she seems to be more interested in her soup than our conversation.

I open and close my mouth, fumbling for the phrasing, before answering, "With Fiyr! You two are—are close, can't you—"

"Solve your problems for you?" Samn raises an eyebrow. "You're a big boy, you can talk to him yourself. Have an adult conversation or let the friendship die, no skin off my nose."

I frown and slurp a mouthful of soup off my spoon. What? She can't just—but—she's the one who's close to Fiyr! "Isn't he upset?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself?"

I resist the urge to bang my spoon on the table like a child. "Because we're not talking!"

"Then live in mystery." She uncrosses her arms with a sigh and fiddles with her sleeve idly. "As I said."

No skin off her nose. "Don't you want to see him happy?" I plead.

Samn releases her sleeve carefully and levels a pale green stare at me. "Fiyr knows what's best for himself. And if he doesn't, he'll figure it out. I'm not in the business of managing his relationships and I'm not going to start just because everyone knows I'm of the female variety now."

I frown. "But still—"

"Drop it, Graie." There's a warning in her tone. "These are hard times and we're all under pressure, but if that's causing a rift between you two, I won't be acting as a mediator. Solve your own problems."

"Big brother!" Faern grabs Samn's arm, nearly causing her to knock over her soup. "Guess what?"

She giggles and the irritation on Samn's face provoked by my pleas melts into a warmth I haven't often seen from her, growing up. Although I'm a bit tripped up by the whole 'brother' thing from Faern.

"What?" Samn ignores my questioning look.

"Chowder!" she exclaims and dissolves into a fit of giggles.

"That doesn't even make sense!" Clowd argues. "Shouldn't you say Clowder?"

"No, no, Chowder!" She lets out another peal of laughter as Samn and I glance between her and her foster brother in utter confusion.

"Because it sounds like my name," Clowd mutters, frowning down at his soup.

"Chowder!" Faern exclaims again, sounding entirely too happy.

Samn lets out a bemused laugh and I'm briefly thrown for a loop at how her laugh sounds. Despite my persistent problem with Fiyr, I can't help a smile at how pleased Faern is with herself and how displeased the newly-christened Chowder is.

"How can that be my name if I don't like it?" Clowd counters. "You like fairies, at least."

"Not to eat!" Faern giggles.

I don't even like cheesecake! Fiyr's exclamation from years ago rings in my ears and I flinch.

"I have to go, have a good day," I mutter quickly, pushing myself back from the table and grabbing my soup.

Samn's eyes flick down to the still-full bowl of soup in my hands then back up to my face and she nods, wordless. Clowd and Faern don't even notice my escape as I rush out of the dining hall. I look down at the chowder and consider bringing it up to my room, but my stomach turns at the idea of eating anything.

Maybe I'll go out to one of the villages for lunch.

I dart out of the kitchen before Lady Faise can catch me with tears in my eyes. Again.

Thank you for reading chapter 23! Please follow and favourite this story and leave me a review with what you think!

~Akila