Howdy! We switch over to Samn. Enjoy!
Chapter 11 - Samn
Maybe I shouldn't have gone back for the doe.
Maybe I should've let Fiyr get it himself.
Maybe I shouldn't have stuck around when I heard the voices.
But I did.
And I heard it all. I heard Fiyr chatting with some god-toy like he'd only come from their mansions last week, as friendly as can be, not exactly chasing off an intruder. Greeting her like an old friend.
I hurry through the forest, my footsteps made clumsy and loud by the doe's weight. Just go, just go, don't let him see you…
My mind's in turmoil as I run.
Do I report him? Should I tell the queen? It's not even against the knight's code, but… well, reject the soft life of a god-toy—so sort of—but does that count? What'll happen to him if it does count?
"Samn." The sharp voice of Tigre stops me in my tracks.
I can't be more than fifty metres from where I saw Fiyr and that god-toy, and if Tigre Cawle's here too, that means…
"What was Fiyr doing, talking to that god-toy?" His tone is even and devoid of inflection.
"I—I don't really know, sir," I mumble, scrambling to reach a decision about whether or not I should rat him out. I'll just give Sir Cawle vague answers until I decide. "I wasn't close enough to hear."
"You weren't?" A single eyebrow raises itself.
Damn it. "Uh, I think he was challenging the god-toy that wandered onto our territory. As any squire or knight loyal to the court would do."
His expression is carved in stone, unmoving and betraying nothing, but his arms fold over the lightning bolt emblem. "I see. Perhaps you'd like to relate the full series of events to Queen Bluelianna Star?"
The way he drawls the offer, it sounds like a threat, but I ignore the crawling feeling on my back and nod gratefully. The queen will know what to do. It isn't my place to decide whether Fiyr should be punished. Or… exiled. The queen will know.
"We're going to go back to the training spot and I will blow the horn. You are not to speak to Fiyr about what you heard until the queen has reached a decision," the knight orders, and I nod fervently. That was the plan regardless.
We walk in charged silence back to the clearing where we started, and I can only draw a resemblance to the feeling of being marched back to the enemy base as a prisoner. Sir Cawle is just being loyal... in a very creepy way, I reassure myself.
But I can't shake the feeling that Sir Cawle is rather interested in seeing Fiyr punished. Why else would he have sent us to hunt by the mansions? Is he trying to get his own squire in trouble? Or maybe test him?
My brain turns over the information and theories, pulling it all apart and putting it back together over and over again. But without knowing what Sir Cawle's end goal is, I really don't know what he's trying to pull here, I reflect, worry writhing in my stomach. Maybe he was just trying to force Fiyr to prove that he's a loyal member of the court by getting him to indirectly confront his past. Though Tigre couldn't have known that a god-toy would be there at that very moment.
Unless the conspiracy went deeper… and Tigre had bribed the god-toy to—
I shut off my brain, resisting a face-palm. This is getting out of hand, get it together, Samn. Nobody's conspiring against anybody—it was just bad luck that Fiyr and I were sent to the very place that Fiyr carries the most burdens from.
Probably.
…
Five uncomfortable minutes after Tigre blows the hunting horn, the sound of hoofbeats approaches and Duss and Graie arrive back in the clearing atop their horses, Graie with a boar and Duss with a pheasant in each bloody hand, both looking terribly smug. I'm honestly surprised they haven't murdered each other; my patience for Graie's manner is low at the best of times but I know Duss has even more distaste for him than I do. Probably because of his father.
"Well done," Tigre Cawle praises them with a rare smile.
He's in good spirits… but he seemed rather sour this morning. Because his plot worked? a little part of me wonders.
Or maaaybe, he's just not a morning person and now that he's feeling more awake, he's also not as grouchy! the sensible part of me snaps back. Blessed Starlaxi above, would you stop with the conspiracy theorist act for like five minutes?!
"Well, look at you," I comment teasingly to Duss instead. "Keep this up and by the time you're forty you might be as good as I am now."
"Swan dive off a tree," he replies sweetly, sticking his tongue out at me.
"Now I know your hunting strategies are unorthodox, but that's a little stupid, even for you," I counter with a smirk.
His one retort expended, he makes a rude gesture instead, and I cackle.
The hoofbeats of another person returning from hunting immediately shut me up. It's a quick reminder of the precarious situation I've found myself in and it sobers me.
"No luck, god-toy?" Duss jeers immediately as Fiyr rides in, apparently empty-handed.
"Oh no, see, he knifed a chipmunk," I say mockingly as he pulls a pathetically small quail out of his saddlebags. "Well done, really saved the kingdom from starvation there."
"Is Ravne not back yet?" Fiyr asks Graie, pointedly ignoring us as we continue to rib on his sparrow-sized catch. "He probably got turned to stone by a cockatrice! Why is nobody doing anything?"
"If he did, it's his own carelessness," Sir Cawle says. It's sarcasm. Probably.
We wait for another tense ten minutes, not even Duss bothering to break it with more uncreative jabs at Fiyr's poor hunting skill.
"Ravne!" Graie exclaims as a figure finally pushes through the underbrush. "Hooooooooly shit, is that a—"
He silences himself as his mouth gapes in sight of Ravne's limping form, carrying two bird-snakes in each hand with a boar strung over his back.
I stare as well as Ravne throws the four cockatrices to the forest floor in front of Tigre Cawle. The black-haired squire rasps a laugh. "Turns out ravens' crowing kills 'em just as easy as a rooster's does."
Nobody has anything to say to that, but Sir Cawle claps him on the back with enough force to make Ravne wince and we collect our catches, Fiyr taking the responsibility of Ravne's boar, while the other squire limply mounts his horse and dumps the creatures' corpses into his saddlebags.
For such a skittish guy, when it comes to non-humans he might actually be the bravest person I know, I think, still amazed at his casual presentation of four corpses of some of the most deadly creatures in the four kingdoms. Thundria's lucky.
When we've put the horses in the stables and pushed the doors to the castle open, a little group of kids greet us.
"Wow, Ravne! You caught those!?" one of them squeals, staring at the cockatrices.
"A-a-and the boar," he mumbles, flushing under the admiration of the children.
Not good at accepting praise it would seem, I think, amused. Kind of cute, actually.
"You're so strong! I hope my life-force is summoning!" another one exclaims, running off with her arms spread like she's a bird.
The others chase after her, laughing, and-
Wait, whoa whoa whoa, did I just…? I catch myself on my last thought and blink.
Ravne runs a hand through his hair self-consciously, still laughing. I watch him closely. Okay, whatever, I can objectively think it's weirdly adorable that he's crazy good at killing freaky beasts and also turns pink when he gets praised for it.
It's the truth! Mostly.
Before I dig my own grave any deeper, I hurry to bring my catches to the kitchens.
"Don't forget to see Queen Bluelianna Star afterwards," Sir Cawle reminds me in a low tone that goes unnoticed by the other squires. I feel a little colder and glance at the other squires. Duss is already halfway to the kitchens and Fiyr and Graie are now ribbing Ravne about his cockatrices, some jokes in better taste than others, and I hurry off.
"Think we can eat it?" Graie wonders.
"Smells pretty foul, I don't want to risk it," Ravne replies, poking at it.
"Yeah, no one wants Ravne's cockatrice in their mouth," Fiyr joins in with a wicked gleam in his eyes, elbowing Graie, who promptly loses it and turns heads from across the throne room with his peals of laughter.
I don't get the privilege of seeing Ravne's reaction to that as I duck into the kitchens, though I'm sure he turns a most interesting shade of red.
Gathering's in a few days, I remind myself to distract from the other thoughts. I wonder if I'll be invited. I mean, I've gone to a lot of the other ones, but maybe…
I drop the meat unceremoniously in the part of the kitchen I'm well acquainted with, having spent many afternoons gutting animals for dinner. Most of the other squires are too squeamish, but the way I figure, either we cut them up now or they rot and then there was no point in them giving up their lives for us in the first place.
Fortunately, I'm not on kitchen-duty today, so with a little salute to a displeased Goldanna Flourer, I duck back out of the kitchen and beeline for the queen's office.
I've been there a few times, mostly as a small child while Brindellia Faise and Queen Bluelianna Star discussed over my head and I tried not to squirm too much.
I knock, and the sound of the queen's voice calling "Enter!" from within causes me to open the door. She's sitting at her desk, organizing files and labelling things.
"Your Majesty," I greet her, bowing deeply.
"Have a seat, Samn," she invites softly, leaning back in her chair with her hands folded businesslike on her desk.
Uncomfortably, I pull back the chair and take my seat. Did Tigre—
"Sir Cawle has informed me of what transpired during the hunting assessment today," she says primly, but her eyes are narrowed thoughtfully. "Fiyr found a god-toy on the territory and rather than chasing her off, began to… er, chat."
I nod uncertainly.
"Sir Cawle was quick to assure me that while he did not hear their conversation, you were close enough?" she asks, lifting her eyebrows expectantly.
"Yeah," I confess, not sure that this will be enough to condemn Fiyr. Not that I want it to be. But—well, I wouldn't mind seeing him punished. Still, though—
"How long did they speak for?" she asks, her head tilting slightly.
"Five minutes, tops, maybe," I answer quickly, relieved that it's a simple fact to relay.
"And what about?"
"Um… The god-toy said he hadn't visited her. And he said the court doesn't like god-toys, and then she asked if was happy and stuff." I trail off, trying to remember what exactly they'd said to each other. "He asked her to 'come back' with him, but she said she couldn't..."
The queen nods slowly, satisfied with my rambling answer and glances above my head at the wall behind me, focusing at nothing in particular, lost in thought. What feels like an eternity stretches on before she speaks again.
"Thank you for telling me what happened," the queen murmurs, glancing back down at her papers. "I appreciate your candour. Tell me, Samn, what do you think of Thundria's newest squire?"
The question catches me off guard and I stammer for a suitable response. I don't… hate him, he's just… "I think he's… loyal."
A dry smile traces the lines of the queen's face. "I suppose, at the end of the day that is all I can ask of my court."
"He's honest, and a good friend to Graie and Ravne. I think…" I mumble, suddenly realizing that I don't know a whole lot about him. We don't exactly… talk. "Um. He's a bit hot-headed but he defends what he believes in fiercely."
What am I talking about? I fight a blush. I mean, this is… it's just the truth, right?
The queen nods slowly again, her blue eyes locked on mine intensely. It's intimidating, and I have the sudden feeling that the question was intended to learn more than just what I thought of Fiyr.
"Most would agree," she says thoughtfully. "Even Yllowei Fennen, the fiercest, thorniest creature the kingdoms have ever seen seems to have grown to appreciate him in some ways. I rather like the crabby old woman."
The queen laughs like we're sharing a joke, but the humour leaves her face quickly and she cocks her head thoughtfully. "Do you think Fiyr will leave the court?"
I flinch at the thought. I've been telling myself that's what I want since he's come to court, but now, with the opportunity to nudge the queen towards sending him right back to where he came from… I'm hesitating.
"I… don't think he will choose to leave," I say carefully. "Whether he has earned his place…"
"Will be evaluated in due time," the queen says dismissively. "But you truly believe he intends to stay in Thundria's court."
"I do," I confirm quietly, cracking my knuckles nervously in my lap. "He believes that this is where he belongs."
"And you do not," the queen finishes perceptively.
"Until he's earned his place—" I defend, but the queen cuts me off.
"How do you believe he will do that? Erase his past? What has been done cannot be undone." Her eyes light with memories. "We must simply carry on and prove that we are the wiser from our foolish youths."
She's talking about more than Fiyr, more than me, but I don't know what.
"Yes, Your Highness," I agree quietly. "I only meant…"
The tension relaxes from her face and she gives me a warm smile. "Don't let it worry you Samn. You'll know when he's proven himself loyal, and it will be nothing but your own fault if you still won't accept him."
Though the words seem harsh, she is reassuring. She believes that my pride, or whatever it is, won't stop me from welcoming Fiyr into the court once he's supposedly proven himself.
"I'm sorry," I murmur.
"You've nothing to apologize for yet. I only hope that Fiyr proves my hopes correct. Perhaps it is foolish. What do you think, Samn? Has my judgement been clouded by our need for knights?" the queen wonders, sounding as weak and doubtful as I've heard her.
"No, Your Highness," I exclaim. I search for better reassurance, but all I can manage is a desperate refusal of the idea that our infallible monarch is weakening. "No."
She absorbs this and then sighs. "With the threat of Shodawa, I can only hope that when it matters most, he will choose honour and loyalty over the quicker, easier path."
"Fiyr?" I ask questioningly.
The queen is lost in thought, so I stand and bow again.
Just as I'm about to leave, she calls me back.
"One more thing. Tell Fiyr that he is to return to regular training starting tomorrow. The ladies of the court will be taking care of Yllowei Fennen," the queen decrees, then blinks. "And also, you, Fiyr, and Ravne will be attending the Gathering in four days."
"Thank you!" I exclaim, then cough and bow more formally and hurry out of her office.
Fiyr's sitting alone on the dais, a few feet in front of me as I exit the office. Graie and Ravne are nowhere to be seen.
I'm about to inform him of his training situation when, without turning, he speaks to me. "You heard me?"
He's talking about the god-toy, I presume… "Yes."
He doesn't look away from where he's sharpening his knife with a rock, so I walk forwards to stand at his shoulder, also pointedly not looking at him.
"You told the queen about it?"
"Yes."
"She's not throwing me out of the kingdom."
"No."
"But you did your best."
"What?"
Fiyr glances up at me with a cocked eyebrow, his freckled face defiant. "You tried to tell her that I was disloyal? Tried to get me kicked out?"
"Huh?" I frown. "I—no, I didn't."
I was going to ask why he thinks I would do that, but the answer comes as quickly as the question. His eyebrows raise, a hint of disbelieving in his expression.
"Oh, is that so?"
"Yeah, it is so," I snap back, irritation bubbling inside me. I just spent like ten minutes defending him and he's so ungrateful. The sensible part of me takes issue with this idea, but I ignore it.
"Thought you wanted me gone so things could go back to how they were," he challenges.
The accusation steals my voice for a moment. Is that why I… but…
My voice gets very quiet, but I try to hang onto the steel that silences his irritating comments.
"You leaving won't bring him back."
And before my nose stings, and before salt is pooling in my eyes again, I turn and briskly head for the squire's wing, where I nearly crash into Ravne.
"Um, oh yeah," I mutter. "You and Fiyr are going to the Gathering."
His eyebrows raise, then raise further, when I wring my hands in my tunic and hurry past him awkwardly, feeling like there's cotton in my mouth. The exchange with Fiyr's left me off-balance and confused, and I just want to curl up on my bed and forget this stupid day ever happened.
Right before I pull the curtain of my nook shut, I see, through the doorway of the squire's wing, in the throne room, Fiyr, Ravne, and Graie goofing off as they throw around a cockatrice, poking it with their simple-steel every time it hits them.
As I drift off to sleep, I wonder how things could've been different.
Thanks for reading chapter 11! Please follow and favourite this story and leave me a review with what you think!
~Akila
