Aaaaa hello. This one was tough to get out apparently (read: I forgot to publish yesterday). Thank you so much to Sunny for the review! your words mean a lot!

Chapter 10 - Samn Schorme

We carry on. Like I said; there's not much we can do other than stay out of Lady Tiall's way as she silently grieves and keep someone ready to help if their sons start crying. I make a habit of visiting Cindra every morning, and she eventually starts joining Fiyr and I for breakfast. On the rare occasion that Clowd does too, I thank the Starlaxi for Cindra. She seems to understand Clowd in a way neither Fiyr nor I do, even as he grows more distant.

That morning, after a Clowdless breakfast, I seek out Duss to assign him to the head of the dawn patrol. I know it's suspect to give your friends special treatment like heading the dawn patrol, but Duss and I haven't been very close lately. And anyway, if I'm senior enough to be captain, then he's senior enough to lead the dawn patrol instead of Sir Strommer or Sir Wynnd. Or Lady Peilte, or Lady Fyrra, I remind myself. Whatever. I don't have to justify myself.

It's not an official thing anyway, I decide as I find the dining hall and kitchens absent of Duss. And how big of an honour is it to be bundled out the doors into a brisk Thundrian spring anyway? Half the castle is going to be going right back to their rooms for another few minutes of sleep the second the patrols are sorted—who would want to be put at the head of the dawn patrol? And even if I don't have to justify myself, I have a lot of good justifications.

"You want me to lead it?" Duss looks a little groggy when I inform him of his appointment. Based on the fact that his tunic is on backwards and his undershirt's ties are hanging in front, I'm assuming he hastily dressed when I knocked.

I shrug. "Yeah, why not?"

Duss looks down like he's just realizing his state of messy dress. "Right. Sure. Sure." Then he retreats farther into his room, almost closing the door on me.

What in the Blacklands…? I stare at the door. Okay, then. As I'm walking back to the stairs, it occurs to me that Lady Tiall was something of a mother to Duss. Rabinna, his and Ravne's mom, died when we were only around four, and Lady Tiall was always around, so even though she was really strict and sharp with us sometimes… I look over my shoulder as I reach the stairs. I should try to do something for him. Like… uh… hm. Make him a non-burned meat pie.

Or try to be a better friend, my mind echoes. In the years after Graie left, it just felt like Fiyr and the court needed me so much more, and Duss was getting more friendly with Brakken and Sir Wynnd, and… I sigh. No excuses. I dropped our friendship, and Duss isn't the sort to communicate if that hurt him. Things are getting back on track in Thundria, though, aren't they? And Fiyr's still sad but we're all moving on. Maybe I'll go on that dawn patrol with him.

My plans are first frustrated when I remember what time of year it's getting to be. Damn it. Flowerstar's Day must be fast approaching. A patrol might find the first bloom today, even. I'll talk to the queen about arrangements after the patrols are sorted.

The second hiccup in Operation Reconnect with Duss is Fiyr. He approaches me just as I'm finishing with the dawn patrol and waving to Duss as he leaves.

"Samn, would you assign me to the Rivien border…?" he asks softly.

Rivien border? "Er, sure…?"

He lowers his gaze. "I just… I thought I might check to see if Graie's on one of their patrols, or something."

The admission from the truth-telling resurfaces in my mind and I touch his arm. "I understand. I'll come with you once I've spoken with the queen about Flowerstar's Day."

"Thank you," he rasps, withdrawing again. I watch his ginger head disappear into the crowd and feel an ache in my heart. I wonder if something today particularly reminded him of Graie.

I turn back to the court, a little warmth rising in my cheeks. I hope no one thinks that was special treatment. Well, I'll just give everyone special treatment equally and then it won't be special. I sort the rest of the patrols, putting Lady Fuor at the head of one to Shodawa, Sir Strommer to the manors and the outer border, and ask Liang, Brakken, and Mauzian to take their squires on a full day hunting expedition. Liang mutters something about the history lesson he'd planned, but I'm guessing from his meagre protest that he didn't really want to do it either.

Finally, the activity of the throne room dissipates, and as I guessed, most people who aren't assigned to a patrol going out in the hour drift back up into the knight's wing to catch another hour of sleep. I wish I had time to do the same, but holiday preparation calls.

I knock twice, and the queen calls, "Enter!" from within her private chambers. It occurs to me, not for the first time, as I enter that the room has a sort of… extratemporal atmosphere. The lack of windows is at fault, I think. Still, when the door clunks shut behind me, the idea of 'early morning' feels very suddenly distant. I wonder if it affects the queen's sleep. She seems listless today.

"Good morning, Your Majesty." I bow. The queen stands from her desk, and a quill falls from her hands. It rolls off the desk, but she doesn't seem to hear its clatter.

"Is it?" She blinks, then looks at the dying flames of the brazier next to her desk. "Hm. Are the patrols sent out?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Good, thank you, thank you. Yes, I was…" She trails off, then shakes her head. "No matter. What do you need?"

"I was only thinking… as the snow melts, it must be getting close to Flowerstar's Day," I begin, suddenly regretting this. I shouldn't be burdening her with this, I can handle it alone. "And I just… is there anything you want me to arrange for it?"

"The holiday?" She squints at nothing. "Do as you like. It's hardly the most important to the court right now, wouldn't you agree?"

"It's a good chance for new beginnings," I offer half-heartedly. Shut up, Samn, just walk away.

The queen smiles, but there's no warmth in it. "You and I both know it's too late for a new beginning."

I'm frozen for a moment. "I… yes, Your Majesty."

"For me," she adds. "I apologize. You'll be a fresh start for Thundria. I'll write to the governor of Centella about providing blossoms for the ceremony, and perhaps Lady Flourer will want to do something as well. Particularly since her son appears to have taken after her in life-force. Dismissed."

I'm not sure if casually apocalyptic pronouncements or absentminded rambling is worse, but I know that I don't like either. Still, she said she'd make an effort for Flowerstar's, and I've heard most of her 'you're going to be the next queen, so buckle up' declarations before, so I merely bow and exit in a hurry.

Fiyr's waiting by the door, and I realize today's going to be one of those 'one-thing-after-another' days. But I'm going to work on my relationship with Duss, the queen is going to participate in a holiday, and I'm supporting Fiyr. That's as much as I can do. Isn't it? Should I be doing more?

"Ready to go?" Fiyr's forehead crinkles when he sees my face. "You okay?"

How does he do that? "Uh, no, but I'll be fine in a minute." Just want to go back to bed. That's hardly something I should bother him with, though, when he's thinking of Graie. "Let's go."

His concerned look doesn't fade though, even when we've set Blitz and Dune's hooves on the road to the village of the Sun Rocks.

"You sure you don't wanna talk about it?"

"Yup." I take a deep breath of the cool spring air. It's head-clearing to be out like this; the biting winter wind has softened into spring gusts that snake through the trees, rustling the first leaves that have peeked back out of branches. "Why were you thinking of Graie?"

Fiyr shakes his head, smiling in a heartbreakingly sad way. "Well, you know… It's just… everything, sometimes. You know?"

I nod, though I don't. My friendship with Duss fell off because of my own laziness, not because he was torn away from me in an inter-court scandal. "Yeah. What are…" I chew my lip, not sure if I should even ask. "What are you gonna do if you see him?"

"I honestly don't know," he says quietly, his gaze turning misty as he looks at the horizon through the trees. "I… I don't know. I just want to see him."

Sympathy wells in me. "Yeah."

In silences like these, I used to wonder if I'd said something wrong or if I was forgetting to do something in particular. I think that's my favourite thing about Fiyr and loving him; being able to be silent and not be worried. I mean, I'm worried… kind of all the time, these days. About the queen, about the court, about Faern, about Clowd, about Fiyr, about Cindra—but looking at Fiyr, catching his gaze as he looks back at me and smiles… I'm not worried about us. I trust him, and it's become indescribably valuable to me these days. I just need about a dozen people that I'm absolutely certain I can rely on in all circumstances in my life, and then I'll stop worrying forever. And right now I have… Sir Strommer, Mom, and Fiyr. So three out of twelve.

"What are you thinking about?"

"You." I smile.

He giggles like a squire, some of the tension brought on by the looming uncertainty of Graie's presence easing from his shoulders. "Really? I was thinking about that meat pie."

"Hungry?"

"Yeah."

"We can stop and get some training rations."

"But we're not training!"

"Oh, who cares?" I shake my head, and grin. "Didn't stop you when you stole for Yllowei."

He squawks. "That was like, a decade ago! I've given up my bad boy ways."

"What, and gave them to me? Was that your Union Gift?"

"What in the Blacklands is a Union Gift?"

I laugh too, a sort of helpless, carefree sound that I haven't made in a long time. "Ah, well, y'see, people in the olden days hated each other so much that they gave each other a bunch of presents to bribe them into Uniting with them."

"What? Well, I'm sorry I didn't get you anything."

"I wanted to Unite with you, idiot."

He laughs again. "Fine. Then I'm not sorry, and you should be grateful."

"I am." I know it comes out like a joke, but the sentiment's real. I don't really know what I did to find someone like him. "Now, c'mon, let me pay you back with some training rations."

Fiyr sighs but doesn't protest as I guide our path over to the edge of a smaller archery range that we don't usually use. I've dragged Briatte there before when I knew Liang was with Sewif on the main one, but I think other than that, it collects dust. We bind our horses to a fence, and I duck into the small adjoining shed by the range to find some hard cheese, jerky, and slightly-bruised apples.

When I return, I see that he's removed his cloak and laid it on the dampish grass. I plunk down the waterskin and pack of apples and dried venison, then sit next to him. "Why'd you bring a cloak? Can't heat yourself up, fire-elementalist?"

"In case you got cold." He says it so simply that I'm almost annoyed at his thoughtfulness.

"Here." More gruffly than I meant to, I thrust an apple into his hand. As he takes it, I notice that the skin between his palm and fingers is more rough and callused than I've seen on just about… anyone else, I think. Huh. We make a small picnic of the pilfered rations and pass a half hour in easy company until I eventually look at the sky, considering that the court will wonder where I am if we're out too long. "Alright. Should we keep going?"

"Yeah." Fiyr still looks determined, though I'm relieved to see a bit of the death-like pallor has been replaced with a flush of life in his cheeks. He was probably just hungry, I decide as we set off again.

Ultimately, we don't find Graie.

The Rivien sea is awash in blue, reflecting the spring-sky, and we stand silently at the cliff's edge for a few minutes, watching the sails of the Rivien galleon billow in the distance. Fiyr takes my hand, and I pull his close as we wait. There's no sign of a patrol, with Graie or without.

"It was a long shot," Fiyr says softly as it becomes clear we'll be here for the rest of the day if we wait for a patrol.

"Yeah."

"I just wanted to see him."

"I know."

And we wait another few minutes, the cool wind reddening our cheeks and raking through our hair. Fiyr offers me the damp cloak we used as a picnic blanket, then sighs.

"Let's go. Sorry I dragged you out here."

"Don't be," I say, giving his hand a squeeze. "Someone's gotta patrol the Rivien shore."

"Well, I think it's safe to say they're not planning an invasion." He motions to the near-deserted waves that lay in front of us.

"Better check the Trace anyway." It's a half-joke, but when I do, instead of the sweet villager trace from the village of the Sun Rocks, the residue of Rivien trace-markings, and Fiyr's own warm, cinnamony feeling, I catch something unexpected. "Do you… feel that?"

Fiyr raises an eyebrow, then his head tilts ever so slightly. He doesn't even have to close his eyes to shift, but I can tell that he's in the fifth dimension when a certain otherworldly calm locks his body in place. Then he emerges and his eyes flare wide. "Uh, Shodawes trace…?"

"Shit, you feel it too?" Alarm begins to prickle at the edge of my stomach. Thought Naitienne was too sick to get out of bed, much less mount an invasion.

"But it's so weak." He frowns. "Can't be more than one or two people."

"Better find out who." We hurry back to the horses. I let Fiyr take the lead as we ride down the edge of the cliff, and he spurs Blitz on with his head raised like a hunting dog's pricked ears, following the trace. We approach the gates of the village of the Sun Rocks, and Fiyr nods.

"It's coming from in here."

It's harder to catch now, despite us being closer to the source, since the villagers are drowning it out, but I put my faith in Fiyr's skill. "Right. Well, let's find out what they're doing in here."

King Naitienne's plenty audacious, but throwing his hat into the ring of the war for Sun Rocks would be pretty fucking stupid, even for him. Fiyr takes the lead again, in a brisk canter down to the gates of the city. The guards let us through with a flash of our Thundrian emblems, and we ride straight down the main road. After a minute of avoiding trampling villagers and guiding Dune through sharp turns, Fiyr pauses, then doubles back. We've reached a less respectable side of Sun Rocks, and I figure if Shodawa would get their hooks in anywhere, it'd be here.

"This is the place," he announces. "It's coming from in here. I think."

"I trust you." I hop off Dune and study the building we've arrived at. It's made of some cheap white material instead of the more expensive interlocking stones of more… reputable establishments. "A motel? What, are things so bad in Shodawa that they're running off to be Thundrian villagers?"

I meant it as a joke, but Fiyr shrugs. "Maybe. They looked… bad at that last Gathering."

Well, let's pray to the Starlaxi that I'm wrong. I check the Trace, but the overwhelming Thundrian villager trace is drowning out any hint of Shodawa. I shoot Fiyr an impressed look and he shrugs.

"Shall we?"

"After you."

I shake my head at him and then throw open the door. It's a small lobby, a desk on one end of the room, a few chairs beneath windows at another, and a cramped staircase across from it. The walls are an unappealing shade of yellow and veins of water damage run across the ceiling. The whole place feels unkempt and slightly grimey. A short, heavyset man is behind the desk, scribbling something in a leather binder. Okay, he doesn't exactly look like a knight of Shodawa hiding in plain sight.

"Greetings," I begin and ignore the face Fiyr makes. "I'm Samn Schorme, captain of Thundria's court. This is my husband, Sir Harte. We'd like to ask you a few questions about some lodgers?"

The villager snaps his binder shut and looks up, common-brown eyes wide. His chin wobbles, then he asks, "You're from Thundria's court?"

I look down at my tunic, then up at him. "We are."

"Oh! I… I see…" He nods, then leans across the counter. "Your friends are upstairs."

I exchange a look with Fiyr. If this is a trap… "Room number?"

"Fourteen."

I search his gaze for any sign of conspiracy. Did Shodawes knights put him up to this? It's hard to gather much except that his lunch had fish involved, based on his breath. "Hm. Thank you."

I draw back from the desk, and grab Fiyr's arm as he starts to move toward the staircase.

"Hang on!" I whisper.

"What? Let's find out what's behind door number fourteen," he says, eyes sliding back to the staircase. "I've got Fireheart."

"I'd rather not start a brawl in some seedy motel," I sigh.

Fiyr shrugs. "Well, use your little knock-out move."

"I don't want to concuss them either."

He grins, then tugs free and heads for the stairs. Well, here we go. I'm still on high-alert—Why would he think the Shodawes are our friends?—but it's better than trying to sneak around the side of the building. If they were bluffing to try to get a room, then they'll be thrilled to see their friends. My left hand caresses Sandstorm's hilt briefly as I hurry up the creaky stairs after Fiyr.

The halls are much narrower than the knight's wing and we find ourselves squeezing down them in single-file until Fiyr halts. "Room fourteen. Well, let's see."

I check the Trace for a last time, trying to see if now I'll be able to catch the Shodawes trace, and—Wait a minute.

Fiyr throws open the door.

That's…

"Cindra?!"

Thundria's younger healer bolts upright, staring at us like a deer spotting a hunter. Cindra is standing over two men that I recognize as the knights that were caught on our territory last month, both laying on beds that are jammed next to each other. They blink at us with the same wide-eyed confusion as Cindra.

"Oh! Uh, hey!" Cindra smiles, guilt leaking from each edge of her mouth. "What a coinci—er, nice to… heyyy."

Neither Fiyr nor I move for a good minute. Then Fiyr asks, very gently, "What the fuck?"

It spills out of Cindra. "They were sick! They were going to die, and—and Lady Fennen said that they wouldn't get better, but I—I started treating them, and they're getting better, I swear they are! They just needed to be away from their court, because the sickness is all over—I just wanted to save them!"

The two Shodawes knights whose names escape me just watch mutely. A slipshod pile of medical supplies is scattered over the tables next to them.

"Cindra," Fiyr says, holding up his hands. "Relax. Can you just… explain what's going on?"

I fold my arms. Cindra gulps.

"Well, the queen sent Lailtle and Weith away and Lady Fennen was scared the sickness would spread to Thundria, and she said that there was nothing we could do anyway…" Cindra shoots them a desperate look. "But I didn't believe it. And they—they were dying, but now they're getting much better!"

"It's true," the man on the left rasps. He's not much more than a boy, actually; his face is sallow and puffy like a man far beyond his years, but his wide blue eyes make my stomach twist. "Things are bad in Shodawa."

Are they? My interest is piqued.

"And maybe only Shodawes can get it anyway," Cindra says, a defensive jut to her chin. "Because I haven't gotten sick. And I've been really careful! I clean everything and I don't touch them and I wash my hands—"

I hold up my hand. Cindra falls silent. "You said your names were… Lail-tull and… Weight?" Shodawes names are tongue-twisters at the best of times. I was calling Yllowei 'yelloh-ay' for a while. When they nod, I go on, "Your court is so ill that you'd seek treatment in Thundria? What can she do that Med Naos can't? No offense, Cindra."

"He's running out of supplies and the villagers are turning on us," Weith rasps, shaking his head. "We don't have the strength to save them from threats and they're noticing. And since we can't hold up our end of the agreement…"

My own fear of accidentally razing the Thundria-villages trade agreements surges up at the implications. "He has no medicine?"

Weith shakes his head.

"What about King Naitienne? Sir Faer?" Fiyr asks. "Why aren't they asking Wynnd or us for help?"

You know why, I think, but I don't need to say it because Lailtle's already shaking his head. A lock of limp, greasy brown hair drops in his face, making him look even younger.

"Sir Faer's dead." His tone is so bleak it makes my heart drop. "And the king's not far behind him. He hasn't appointed a captain."

What?! That's a little more serious than friction with villagers over trade. "Then who will lead you?"

"We don't know!" Lailtle looks on the verge of tears. "We need help, but King Naitienne won't ask for it, and I think… Med Naos just… I don't know. He keeps talking about some new beginning for Shodawa, about rising from the ashes, but I think it's a bit too late for that."

Flowerstar's Day. I shake my head. Why is their healer blabbering about a holiday when the court is dying?

"But I'm going to keep them alive," Cindra cuts in, her expression fierce. "They're already so much better, and I think soon enough they'll be strong enough to go back to their court."

But what if she catches whatever it is, and brings it back to Thundria? Lady Fennen's probably too old to fight off an illness like that.

"How have you been paying for the room?" Fiyr interrupts.

Cindra folds her arms. "I've been hunting."

I blink. Fiyr stares. Cindra frowns at both of us.

"What? I have. Perry and I have an arrangement. He uses the hares to make stews."

The naked admiration on Weith's face immediately puts me on guard. Someone's a little smitten with the woman who saved his life. "You're selling Thundrian game on the side to villagers in order to pay for food and board for two Shodawes knights…?"

Cindra practically bares her teeth. "I'm saving lives."

And it falls into place. Speikall's daughter, Silaverre… paired with Cindra's unfaltering conviction, I feel stupid for not recognizing it faster. She just doesn't want anyone else to die, does she? Even if it risks her getting sick, or being punished, or sneaking out of the castle to take care of enemy knights… Her compassion puts me to shame.

"I see." I swallow. It doesn't feel like enough of an acknowledgement for all that she's doing and risking. "You're… it's very brave of you."

Cindra squints as if she's expecting me to add a 'but.'

"We'll hunt for you," Fiyr bursts out. I give him a sharp look, but he continues, "Or we'll make a deal with the villagers. You shouldn't have to hunt and help Thundria and help them all at once."

Okay, well, hunting on their behalf is… That would cross from turning-a-blind-eye-to-rulebreaking into actively participating. Cindra turns her pleading look to me, and something breaks apart in my chest. Well, don't I think it's worth it? Guess it's time to prove I'm willing to stand up for the right cause. "Right. Yes. We will do that." The look of gratitude that Cindra shoots me makes my heart prick. "But… on the condition that as soon as they're in good health, they'll return to their court."

Weith and Lailtle have both sagged with relief against the pillows that I'm assuming Cindra stuffed under their heads to give them some support. The gesture exposes their purplish necks and revulsion worms in my stomach. They need help, I remind myself, but can't help glancing at Cindra's neck to see if there's an abnormal tint to her brown skin. She's been careful. Trust her. And I hope I can. Then we'll have four out of twelve.

"Alright, sure," Cindra agrees. "That was the plan anyway."

I stare at the men on the beds. I can't believe Sir Faer is dead. He wasn't at the Gathering, was he? But still… if King Naitienne really doesn't have long, like Weith says, then Shodawa will be thrown into upheaval. What about his Blessings, though?

"Right," I say at last. "Then… carry on, I guess."

Cindra gives me a tight-lipped smile. I stare at her for a moment longer. Please let me trust you. I'm not going to tell the queen, as uneasy as it makes me. She's got enough to deal with. And she was pretty clear that she was concerned about the sickness spreading to us. But if Cindra's being careful…?

"Samn? Are we going?"

I nod, still half lost in thought as we leave the grimey motel and mount Dune and Blitz again. The queen doesn't need to know. I can handle this alone. My mouth feels very dry. Don't lie to yourself. I'm going behind her back. Don't sugarcoat it either; I'm disobeying her direct order. Well, if she wants me to learn to lead the court, ignoring her and taking things into my own hands is a start. Maybe once I'm queen I'll feel less disturbed by doing it.

"What are you thinking about now?" Fiyr's tone is teasing, but there's a genuine glitter of concern in his gaze.

"Oh, nothing." As long as I've got him.

I really hope you enjoyed! Please let me know what you thought. Reviews are the best motivation!

~Akila