Sorry, this one's a day late! Enjoy anyway!

Chapter 18 - Fiyr

When the vigil is finally over, my knees are stiff from being locked in the same place for so long and it takes me a minute to yank myself to my feet.

Graie looks like absolute shit. I'm sure I don't look much better, but he's a clear example of why holding vigil for a whole night is the stupidest thing I've ever heard of. Heavy dark bags are swollen under his cloudy hazel gaze and the bandages on his arm have slackened and have faint dark streaks from where his blood has leaked through. He looks like he's going to keel over dead.

"You should probably go to see Spottalia—" I start, but he shakes his head. It looks more like he's given up and he's just letting it loll back and forth.

"No. They're going to go bury him… I have to go with them," he croaks.

"Graie, you look like—"

"I have to."

My protest catches in my throat. Graie's breathing is ragged and his eyes are glittering with a fresh wave of tears. I'm surprised he hasn't dehydrated himself yet. My cheeks feel like there's a stiff layer on the surface from the dried salty tears.

"Alright."

"What a terrible waste." It's Sir Cawle, standing from where he was kneeling by Liyon Hartef, looking down at the body with a pained expression. "A terrible, terrible waste."

I wipe my nose with the back of my sleep, my throat raw as I say, "I wish you were there to save him."

The knight glances at me as Graie trails away towards where the elders have gathered, preparing to take Liyon to his final resting place. Sir Cawle's eyes are surprisingly soft as he regards me. "I save as many as I can, and I know it will never feel like enough."

He glances back at Sir Hartef's body, seeming to gather himself.

Ravne stands beside me, having lost none of his pallor over the course of the night. Sir Cawle glances at him as he stands, a strange look in his eye as he stares him down.

"Let's get some sleep," I mutter, grabbing Ravne's arm, not trusting him to make it back to the squires' wing without tripping and passing out.

Ravne flinches as I take him by the elbow and steer him towards our beds. Well, obviously something's gotten into him. I have the strangest foreboding feeling deep in my stomach. And I don't think it's good.

I glance at him again out of the corner of my eye at the same moment as his gaze flicks to mine, then he immediately looks away. Not before I catch the flash of pure terror in his gaze. What in the Blacklands…?

What could he be so spooked about? I mean, I suppose any reasonable person would be terrified if it became apparent that Shodawa of all kingdoms knew exactly where their castle was.

Wait.

How did Shodawa know where our castle is? It's supposed to be a secret… I mean, I'm sure they have inklings from past battles, but that kind of on-castle siege is not common. Did they just use some kind of life-force tracking?

Or…

Surely not.

No Thundrian knight would betray their kingdom like that, right?

But as I guide Ravne back to the squires' wing, my thrice-damned overactive imagination has put him right in the forefront of my fears. He's not a traitor, certainly, but he's a jumpy guy.

It's not hard to imagine Sir Fouhte cornering him, separating him from a patrol or something, pointing his sword at Ravne's throat, using whatever undoubtedly terrifying life-force he has to torture the squire…

Tell me where the Thundrian castle is!

This time I'm the one to flinch.

I glance at Ravne again, who's staring off at nothing, lost in thought with his brows drawn tightly together anxiously. He couldn't betray us… could he? What would any of us do under that kind of pressure?

My stomach feels like it's doing somersaults again, and I have no doubt that it is completely unrelated to any Shodawes knight's life-force.

Could he?

"Up an' at 'em, girlies."

It's Duss's nasal tone, of course, that breaks me out of my slumber.

Wasn't nearly long enough.

Maybe eight more years and I'll be alright.

If anything, I feel worse. My sheets are tangled in my limbs like snakes and I don't know what I was dreaming about, but nothing good if the sheen of sweat is anything to go by. My mouth is sand and my throat is raw meat. I'm not getting up. Absolutely not.

"The queen's calling another court meeting," Duss tells us, unceremoniously yanking my curtain aside to reveal my mess of a self, still in my travelling cloak because if there was one thing I didn't feel like doing after a life or death siege on the castle by the most fearsome kingdom in the land, it was folding and putting away my damn clothes. "Well you're a right mess, aren't you!"

I groan, wishing I could summon enough energy to bash the hilt of my sword into Duss's stupid mouth. "Get stuffed," I croak.

"Your Shadowes lover is involved in all this," he informs me.

Shadowes… what? "Yllowei?! She's eighty," I retort, rolling onto my back and letting out another long, pained groan.

Duss deigns not to reply and instead retreats from the squires' wing. A moment later, the queen's amplified voice blares through the wing, informing us of exactly the same thing he just told us.

As I sit up, I see Ravne pull back his curtain and my suspicions from—yesterday? Last night? A century ago?—return to me in a flash. "Alright, Ravne?"

He yawns in reply, looking marginally less like a corpse than before.

"Let's get to the throne room," I mumble, hauling myself out of the wing.

The whole court is assembled, sombre-faced and sporting various bandages and stitches. Mauzian has a cane like Graie's.

"First, a message from our new captain of the guard," the queen tells us hollowly. Despite no visible injury, her blue eyes are hooded and she looks like she hasn't slept since the Lunar Temple.

"In light of the queen expending one of her Blessings," Sir Cawle says, his steady tone seeming to help calm at least some of the court, "I will be appointing Sirs Darriek Styrp and Liang Teyl to guard her. Understand that this is in the spirit of keeping all those present safe and healthy. No one is to approach her without one of them present."

Despite my own hostility towards those two in particular, I can't deny that it will be a comfort to know that there will be trained knights with Queen Bluelianna at all times. No assassinations to worry about. And they might be able to look after her a bit. She's in pretty bad shape by the looks of it.

Regardless of my assessment, she steps forwards, sceptre in hand, and addresses the whole court. "Thundria honours your loyalty, Sir Tigre, but the safety of the kingdom will always come before my own life and I want to make it known that my door will always be open, guarded as it may be, and any knight, squire, elder, lady, or otherwise is always free to come to me. Thundria will always remain open to new ideas and newcomers."

Many nod their approval. I feel a surge of warmth knowing that the queen can be strong even at this moment.

"In light of that, I would like to extend a formal offer to Lady Yllowei Fennen, previously of the court of Shodawa, to join the court of Thundria."
Shocked whispers break out among the knights, but I'm already grinning and I see Frostialla whistle her support loudly.

The old woman hobbles forwards, somehow managing to retain authority and gravitas in front of the monarch and mumbles, "I will, yes."

"After the tragic passing of Sir Liyon Hartef, one of the most—most noble knights Thundria has ever known, I must ask Lady Mauzian Fyrra to continue the training of young Graie," Queen Bluelianna declares, banging her sceptre on the ground once for effect.

The wiry woman gives Graie and little smile and wave.

The queen cracks a smile. "We will rebuild the damage done to the castle, we will patrol vigilantly, and we will train tirelessly. Shodawa will not catch us unaware again, and this is far from over!"

Despite the grim reality of her words, cheers break out and fists are raised.

"Shodawa chose their moment well," Tigre breaks in, his intense gaze roving through the crowd. "Remain on your guard. They may have eyes within our walls; if anyone finds any reason to suspect something, please inform me. The safety of our kingdom may be at stake."

I can't help a glance at Ravne, who has the distinct look of a trapped rabbit, but before I can question him, he dashes out of the throne room, drawing curious looks. The queen raps her sceptre onto the stone, dismissing the court.

Yllowei starts hobbling towards the healer's wing and I glance between where Ravne has just disappeared and her, before quickly hurrying over to help her.

"I'm an elder, not a log," she grunts.

"Everyone needs help sometimes," I say pointedly. She sure preaches a lot for someone so proud. "How are you doing?"

She glances at me with sharp hazel eyes, but doesn't seem to find anything to argue with and snorts. "Fine. Other than my leg trying to fall off, peachy."

And she still fought. I can't help but marvel at her. "How'd you fight off Blayke Fouhte?"

She looks at me, a glimmer of mirth in her eyes. "He's dumber than a bowl of beans. Seemed like he was just running through every different fighting move he'd used. You were a tougher match when you were fourteen."

I swell at the compliment.

"Alright, alright," she grunts.

I help her to an unoccupied bed and she swings her leg up with a wince. "Blessed Starlaxi, damn thing."

"Not surprised Queen Bluelianna asked you to join," I say, sitting on the bed, then lowering my tone, add, "Seems like you're more loyal than some of the court."

She looks at me sharply.

"Shodawa raised me. I'm a damn traitor, is what I am," she snorts. "A truly loyal knight would've fought with the ones that raised her. I'm a turncoat."

This declaration sets my teeth on edge, and I can't quite place the reaction for a moment, then it comes to me.

"And I'm a traitor, too, I suppose? After all, I left my gods," I say. "By your logic, I should still eat from their hand, drop to the floor when they kick me, and spend my life working to fill their empty hours."
She cackles. "Alright, don't get your knickers in a twist. Consider the point conceded. You have a way with words, huh?"

I shrug, ruffling my hair. "Something like that. It's just the truth. Do you... miss Shodawa?"

I wonder what it's like, really like, to be part of that kingdom. Could you even sleep or would you be too worried about your fellow knights slitting your throat and leaving you to bleed in the middle of the knight?

"I miss the old Shodawa," she grunts, looking out the window. "The real Shodawa. The Shodawa from before—before that bastard took over. Imagine what his parents must've done to incur the wrath of the Starlaxi enough to give them that thing for a child." Yllowei's eyes are flinty as she looks away from the window, then sighs. "He was… charismatic though. If he walked into a room, you'd damn well know it. Knew what to say to make 'em do whatever for him. Maybe that's why we were all so damn blind. And the healers are supposed to be the ones who see it all clearly…"

I recall the Gathering. "Med Rannin Naos is the new healer."

Yllowei lets out a disbelieving snort. "That child? He can't cure his own sniffles, and they put him in charge of a kingdom? Blessed Starlaxi."

We sit in silence for a moment. I wonder if Yllowei knew him before she left. Or she was driven out. Whatever happened. I decide not to ask, instead unconsciously fiddling with the cut in my side.

"Heard about your little tangle with the vampires," Yllowei mutters. "Wild garlic counteracts it, you know. Even if it wasn't a bite, their claws have got some venom too. Not enough to turn you, but plenty to get you right and sick for a few terrible days."

I pass Spottalia on my way out of the wing and she looks up quickly. "Lady Tiall, can you—oh, sorry, Fiyr."

"What do you need?" I'm eager to help—standing around and watching other injured people languish is driving me insane.

"Could you grab the dried flowers on the third shelf, there?" She points and when I nod, gratitude flashes in her eyes. She looks tired and I feel a pang of sympathy. At least Yllowei will be able to help her.

When I place the flowers held together by twine on the table beside her, Spottalia turns back to me and gives me a thankful smile. I can't help smiling back—It's nice to have my efforts appreciated. I glance at Yllowei as the thought crosses my mind, then leave the healer's wing.

Heading for the castle doors, I'm stopped by Sir Slime himself.

"You have to help with repairs," Darriek oozes.

I wrinkle my nose, mutter a fine, and head over to where Graie's salvaging bricks from the rubble of part of the wall. He pauses to scratch a purplish scratch stretching over the exposed skin of his calf and I wince just from the sight of it.

"Yllowei recommends wild garlic," I tell him, bending over and grabbing a big brick with both hands, clearing the dust off it.

"Stings like a bitch."

I glance at the entrance again where Darriek is standing and then back at Graie. "I'm going to sneak out and grab some."

A spark of his old life lights in his eyes and he claps me on the back. "Careful, eh?"

"I'll be back before you know it."

Waiting for Sir Styrp to turn back to Sir Cawle to be his usual suck-up self, I dart out of the hole in the wall that we're clearing the rubble from, then look back to Graie for a moment. "See you in a minute."

Graie gives me a little salute and a grin. "Be quick."

I bolt across the pavilion. Reaching the entrance of the ladder, I quickly lower myself out of sight from the entrance of the castle where Liang is posted and descend the ladder.

I touch down on the forest floor and quickly shift into the Trace. Luckily, the stench of wild garlic is thick, coming from the south and probably not far. I hurry after the trace until I come upon the glossy green leaves and tiny white flowers. Sending a quick thanks to the Starlaxi, I grab a couple handfuls of them and uproot them, then hurry back through the forest with the plants balled up in my fists.

I'm back up the ladder in a flash.

"Fiyr."

This time, Sir Cawle's perfectly level tone doesn't set me at ease. Quite the opposite.

I flinch, scratching my head with one hand that's still clenched around the smelly leaves. The leaves tickle my scalp. Ah, shit. "Um, I was—I was… uh."

He raises an eyebrow, then to my complete and utter shock, laughs and claps me on the shoulder. "Can't have a squire of mine pulling these stunts. Better pull your act together."

I bob into a bow quickly, thanking the Starlaxi that he's not more upset. "Absolutely, sir. Sorry, sir."

His chuckle dies in his throat and he turns to face me head-on, amber eyes warm but intense. "You're quite—perceptive, right?"

I swallow hard. "Um, I do my best, sir."

"Then tell me. Have you seen anything strange concerning Ravne?"

It's all the worst things I've been imagining, coming together right in front of me. "Actually, sir, I was starting to get worried…"

He nods, pulling away with a cold look in his eye, looking out toward the horizon. "I thought as much. We were by the Shodawes border not too long ago. I sent him to mark the border further along but when he returned, Blayke Fouhte's trace was on him, and too recent to be just a residual marking."

A little gasp escapes me. "You don't think he…"

"There are rumours. Rumours about Blayke's life-force," Sir Cawle grunts. "Bad, bad things. Drowning on land, hyperventilation, fainting… If the stories are all true, we have reasonable grounds to suspect that he's some kind of breath elementalist."

I shiver. There are too many horrible applications in the wrong hands for that not to be terrifying. Drowning on land? I swallow hard.

Sir Cawle is staring out onto the horizon now, his brow furrowing. "When we were at the Lunar Temple, he… he left our camp for a moment. He said he had to relieve himself, but he was gone long enough to… well, I just wonder sometimes, if…"

"I have to go back to the castle!" I yelp, too horrified by what he's implying.

"You're a smart squire, Fiyr. Keep your eyes open," Sir Cawle says as I hurry away.

Ravne… why?

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~Akila