"Always…"
V. In Love and the Brink of War
I wasn't with my mother the day she died. I had been allowed the previous morning to see her. Marlene came with me, her hand bundled with mine sweaty and tight as she told Mother what good girls we were at the blessing ceremony for our new baby sister. Father stood by her bed, a sentinel of stone. I matched his posture because I couldn't see Mother way up high on her bed and under all those blankets and Marlene was squeezing so hard that the tips of my fingers had gone red and numb. I didn't understand why Mother hadn't gotten out of that bed and gone to the ceremony herself. She could have seen the lace on Millerna's little gown and the spring flowers embroidered in gold thread. I didn't question her though. I was six, painfully quiet and wholly unaware of the significance of the visit.
Later, I would begrudge Father for denying me a chance to give her a proper goodbye. He should have explained to me what was happening, what would happen. I shouldn't have spent my last moments with her wishing my sister would let go of my hand.
I held on to a piece of that resentment until the instant when the doctor pulled back the curtain on Father's bed and I finally comprehended how beneficent those protective measures were. I did not say goodbye to my mother, but I never had the burden of seeing the pale wraith her sickness made her into.
He lies limp, his body arranged in the bed by his physicians in an unnatural pose that is meant to evoke resting but calls to mind instead a more eternal kind of sleep. His eyes are partially open; the lids flutter slightly to reveal unfocused pupils looking at, but not seeing, the canopy above. Ashen flesh on left side of his face slants downward. His cheek molds into his chin, pulling open the corner of his mouth and causing a thick trail of saliva to escape.
I wipe it away with a handkerchief lying on his nightstand. Idiots. Don't they know how undignified this is for a king?
"It's not a bad as it looks," the doctor says. He's trying to be kind with his cliché but it strikes me as disrespectful. This is my father. This is the most powerful man in the richest country in the entire world. His well being is not to be trivialized. He is not a lump of flesh to be shoveled into a bed and left to drool by doctors who don't possess the sense to honor his regality.
Gods, it hurts to see him like this.
"We think he had a stroke. We won't be able to tell how severe it was until we've had more time to observe him."
"In other words, you don't know a thing."
"I…" the man stammers. He's caught between professionalism and wounded pride. "I'm sorry, your majesty." To make it look as if he's doing something, he examines my father.
"Pulse… weak, but steady."
"Breathing… shallow, but steady."
It's all the same -- absolutely horrific, but steady.
***
Opening your eyes and finding Meiden Fassa and a pack of doctors hovering around you will jolt you awake faster than a dousing of cold water. One of the doctors states he knew I was just sleeping and his fellows quickly lose interest and return to my father's bedside. Meiden doesn't move.
"Keeping a vigil, your highness?" he asks.
"Not a particularly vigilant one," I answer. My neck is sore from sleeping upright in a chair. My back doesn't feel any better. I still twist to see what the doctors are doing. "Has he made any improvement?"
He pointedly avoids saying 'yes' or 'no'. "The doctors are looking after him. We'll let you how he's doing. In the meantime, why don't you return to your chambers?"
"I want to stay here."
"And I understand that sentiment. But…" He takes a look over his shoulder at the gathered doctors. "But," he resumes, "it is in our interest that you appear at your best. I don't think catching naps in a rickety, old chair serves that interest."
The interest he speaks of is not my own personal interest or even his. He speaks of Asturia and its need to have a strong, presentable ruler. I may no longer hold power on the council but I am a figurehead, one more recognizable than any politician. The people were already shaken by Zaibach's presence. Despite an intensive effort to contain them, rumors of Millerna's disappearance spread instantly and have become old news along with the fall of Freid. It's inevitable that Father's illness will be grist for a new round of dire speculation. The last member of the royal family sequestering herself in the palace to mind that illness would only spur darker talk on.
A dutiful daughter or a dutiful princess? I cannot be both. It's a sudden insight into the pressure Father must have felt trying to rule a country and take care of three girls without a wife to aid him. I know what he would do in my situation because I know what he did.
"I understand, Meiden. I'll take my breakfast in the main dining hall. I need to change dresses and send word to my guards, but I'll be there within the hour. Is there anything else you wish to discuss?"
Pleased, Meiden shakes his head. "Not at present. Though I do have something my son's assistant gave to me to give to you. He hadn't unpacked it yet last night when you talked to him."
From his robe, he pulls out an envelope. The paper is coarse and heavy, nothing like the bright linen stationary Asturian nobles use. Marlene used to send me letters in similar envelopes from Freid after she ran out of the supply she took with her. My breath catches at the thought that this might be correspondence from my other sister. Eager to open it, I instruct Meiden to keep me aware of any changes in Father's status, no matter how minor, the second they occur and I take my leave.
I don't look back because to do so once would make it impossible to look forward again.
***
I hate it when someone reads over my shoulder. Revius is reminded of this when my foot intersects with his shin. "Sit. Eat. Drink. Be merry," I command. "But do not read."
He makes a show of limping over to his seat. "I thought you said this was good news."
"It is… basically. It is also a private letter." I don't really need to shoo him away. I've already told both him and Alucier what the gist of the letter is and who it is from. Since it contained just a few scrawled out sentences, it didn't take long. When Revius interrupted me, I was on my sixth time through.
Alucier is as curious as Revius, but he approaches with more tact. "So she said something more than she's okay and that she's going to Atlantis?"
That's the summary I gave them; he's fishing for details beyond that. It's the same as what I'm doing with my repeated readings.
Eries,
Please don't worry about me. I know you and Father must have heard by now what happened in Freid, but I was never near any combat. I was torn between leaving and staying with Chid but he's such a brave little boy and in better hands than mine. We need to talk when I return, about Chid and Marlene. Father will be pleased to know I've met Dryden. He's going to guide us to Atlantis. I'm not sure what we will find or when we will be back, but I feel as if I must go. It could be dangerous and there might be a need for my medical skills again. Tell Father I love him and know that I love you as well.
She signed it with the same signature she's had since a child -- the double 'l' forming wide loops and the tail of the 'a' curving over the last syllable -- but it didn't seem like the same Millerna was writing to me. I could find her in the assumption that the worse thing that Father and I have endured is excessive worrying. In the rest of the letter though…
There is humility and a bit of insight into a world larger than her own interests. I've become well acquainted with the juvenile ways my sister handles situations that don't suit her and at the time of her departure, nothing suited her less than her engagement to Dryden. Simply writing his name and acknowledging Father's wishes are good signs that she's taking it seriously.
Her comments about Chid strike me. I can only guess that the part about him and Marlene indicates that she's now aware of the boy's paternity. As Father said, with Chid's strong resemblance to Allen, it's fairly obvious to the person who's willing to make the connection, but Millerna's idolatrous crush precludes such a hard conclusion. What could have happened in Freid to force her to realize the truth, if in fact, she has? I'll have to wait to know. I will know, though. She wants to talk to me about it. That's more surprising to me than her discovery about Chid. We so rarely exchanged sisterly confidences as children. We would complain about our attendants and make jokes about some of the nobles, but nothing more serious than that. As adults, the only thing traded between us has been hostilities.
Those seem to have come to a close with this letter. Tell Father I love him and know that I love you as well. Signing your name with love is almost a reflex in familial communications. Truly meaning what you've written is rather different. I can't quantify it. It's not in the strict definition of the words or the way she's ordered them, but that emotion is there, mixed into the ink and parchment.
Notable in its absence, is any mention of Allen. I wonder how much this conspicuous omission relates to everything else. I was there for the start of Marlene and Allen's relationship. I gave approval of it by default when I kept my objections to myself. And though I understood it, though I was a loyal sister and friend to the both of them, it took a great deal of time until I was able to accept the actions that led to Chid's birth. The same revelation to a wholly unsuspecting Millerna might have been a blow strong enough to disenchant her of her romantic notions of a future with Allen.
Or perhaps she only left out Allen because she knew it would upset me otherwise. Frankly, most of my interpretations could be a case of reading what I want to read. I don't know what happened to her after she left. I can't truly tell what my sister is thinking. I'm fairly sure of my speculations, but not certain.
There is one thing I refuse to doubt. Millerna found something in Freid, something that has changed her, presumably matured her. I must pray that whatever it was, it will help her find her way back home.
***
The industry of hearsay continues to churn in Palas. The high drama of recent events has created an endless supply of conversation. According to Meiden Fassa, the council is focusing on the impact Zaibach's activities have had on trade. That's the only context in which they speak openly of that country. Since their destruction in Freid, they've been quiet. Zaibach got what they wanted and seem to be content not to take anything more. With no real evidence that they went after Millerna, our treaties remain intact and Asturia will not be making any challenges to them. There is still a heightened military presence in the capital and our outposts are on alert, but we will not be the ones that move first. It may be cowardly, but it is also cautious and prudent.
According to Alucier and Revius, the talk in the taverns is less concerned with Zaibach than with my family. My father has suffered through everything from a mild cold to an assassination attempt. A few conspiracy theorists insist that he's already dead and the council is running some kind of shadow government. Millerna disappeared because she refused to go along with it and had to be silenced. I know that the two of them tell me these things because they think they'll amuse me, but Father's condition is such that it might be only a matter of time before the theorists have a few of their predictions come true.
I visit him three times a day -- first thing in the morning, mid-day and the last thing at night. Each visit has become a routine. I ask the doctor on duty if there has been any improvement, he tells me no and then I pull a chair up to Father's bed and talk at him for an hour or so. It's never much longer than an hour. I have a public presence to maintain, parties to not enjoy and people to pretend I'm happy to see. I feel guilty for having to leave his side, but also a twinge of relief that I don't have endure that awful silence punctuated with thin, wet breaths for any longer. That, of course, makes the guilt even stronger.
It's not made easier by my behavior being the main topic of conversation around the palace. Everyone has a comment to make on the Ice Princess' sudden sociability over the past few weeks. Some are good. Some are bad. Annoyingly, and quite stupidly, a lot of them are spoken within my proximity.
Oh, look! Her majesty comes down from her pedestal!
Well, someone from the royal family has to keep appearances up and there's no one else to do it.
If my father were sick, I wouldn't dress up and go to a fancy dinner.
Your father isn't the king. You wouldn't have to.
The least she could do is show a little concern.
I can't imagine what they feel free to say when I am nowhere around at all. Even though I am doing this for the people's benefit, I've grown catty enough to take note of which ones support me and which ones don't. I don't bother to adjust my performance to accommodate any of them. It's been difficult as it is putting aside my natural introversion; I'll not dance to the tune of public opinion. No matter what I do anyway, there will be someone who finds fault with it. As the adage goes, you can't please everyone all the time. And you can't hurl sharp objects at the naysayers. That would be most unprincesslike behavior.
The guard of a princess might be able to get away with it. Revius carries around a set of throwing knives on him at all times. Jichia only knows where he keeps them, but the next time I overhear some noble condemn me for putting the good of my country above my own interests, it would relieve a good deal of stress to find out. He'd do it, too.
That's my solace. In a time of political and personal upheaval, I still have friends to rely on. It's not conventional for a princess to have knights as her confidants, but I have no complaints about the arrangement. I'd much rather have to listen to exaggerated stories about duels and melef battles than have to suffer through an analysis of the newest fashions coming in from Egzardia.
Not all women prescribe to such banalities. Neither I nor my sisters truly did no matter how much we dressed up and played the part. We're nothing though, Alucier claims, in comparison to his sister, Damise. The oldest of his six sisters, she took over the family's farms when their parents retired to enjoy their wealth. Alucier is down at the docks now to meet her leviship as she comes into Palas for business. With the razing of most of Fanelia's land and an influx of its refugees needing food and shelter, Damise is in an excellent position to strike many favorable deals. Her hometown of Dunhaven contains some of Asturia's most fertile soil and the Maerzen name is firmly stamped on the deeds to the majority of that land.
I'm not sure what to expect of the woman. Running a large, and more importantly successful, farm system would require many of the same skills used to run the country. Knowing Alucier as well as I do, I can't picture any member of his family being anything like the politicians I used to deal with. He's always treated me as a sister; perhaps I'll find a kindred spirit when I join them for dinner tonight. Whatever she's like, she'll be a much-needed reprieve from the company the new, accessible Princess Eries has been forced to keep.
Arrangements have been made to give me the night off. Officially, I'm using the time to rest up from the market tour I did this morning. Unofficially, I'm walking out of this palace in a plain, blue commoner's sundress (purchased at the end of tour) and going to Tuvello's (pointed out by a guide as one of the 'rougher' taverns at night in central Palas despite its history with the Caeli during the middle of the tour). All of my jewelry is stored in my dresser, to help with the illusion of being a commoner and to ensure that I'll still have it in the morning. I'm not going unescorted, but Alucier and Revius' accounts of Tuvello's nightlife don't contradict the tour guide's.
When Revius meets me at my door, he does a poor job of suppressing his amusement with my attire. "Such a risqué dress, your highness. You're showing forearm and everything."
"It's hard to take offense at that considering it's coming from someone who wouldn't own any proper clothes at all if not for his military uniforms."
Revius doesn't answer. He's knows I've been looking forward to spending the next few hours free of any stress. Giving me an easy win is a nice start. He's not in any position to argue either. Foregoing his Caeli uniform so as not to draw attention, he's dressed in a tunic two sizes too large for him and pants that look like they should have been thrown out or handed over to a talented seamstress months ago.
He notices my disapproval. "This is a very fashionable look, you know."
"Yes, I can see how torn, ratty pants would be all the rage."
"Don't be so consumed with appearances, Eries. Everyone knows it's what's inside that counts."
I don't know how to return that shot. With the score tied, two commoners leave for a bar.
***
Tuvello's is full by the time we get there. No one pays me any mind, but several of the barmaids call out to Revius. They should know him well as he and Alucier share the apartment directly above, but a very friendly blond girl named Jisette has me doubting that real estate is the sole source of her familiarity with him. I also discovered the benefits of a loose tunic on a man when confronted by an attractive woman with idle hands.
I nearly run to their table when I spot Alucier and his sister. They were easy to pick out. Damise's hair was a darker brown than her brother's, but height and grey eyes with poor vision run in the family. You couldn't mistake them for anything but siblings.
Visually and in their attitudes. Damise's first words to me were, "I can't imagine why you were in such a hurry to get away from all the inappropriate touching."
Alucier skips the introductions, figuring they're unnecessary. Damise, however, would like to see things done properly, or least she acts like does to embarrass her little brother.
"All right, all right," he says testily. It's satisfying to see him on the receiving end of teasing that's usually turned on me. "Damise Maerzen, this is her highness, the second princess of Asturia, Eries Aria Aston. Your majesty, this is my sister, Damise. She has no titles except for the nicknames the farmhands give her and I cannot repeat those in royal company."
"Oh, really?" Damise sniffs in offense. "You should watch how you speak, dear brother, or I might have to resort to telling your lady liege some of the games you used to play with the farm animals."
Alucier swallows his drink hard and then the two are deep into a verbal sparring match. It's amazing to watch. They let the crafted insults fly, carefully keeping them within an unspoken boundary, and take as much delight in taking as in giving, like two professionals admiring each other's trade. I can't help but feel partly envious. Even if we had ever felt at ease enough to make rough jokes about one another, my sisters and I would have been scolded fiercely on if we were caught. Proper, dignified girls respect their family, or so we were told.
I wonder if the etiquette that taught us how to politely interact with officials also effected how we dealt with each other. Alucier and Damise don't waste time formally calling each other 'Brother' or 'Sister' as they exchange compliments on the cleverness of their latest affronts. They don't need the reminder of the titles.
Revius, disentangled from the barmaid but not unmarked by the encounter, joins us at the table. Damise lets Alucier have the first comment but outdoes him by not teasing Revius at all. Instead, she uses it as an introduction to a little round of flirting that escalates into a full match by the time the appetizers arrive. Alucier slides over to my side of the table, letting sister and friend have their privacy and preventing me from overhearing the racier dialogue.
"You didn't want to hear any of that?" he asks.
"No! Of course not!" I say, too quickly. "Anyway, she's just doing it to get a rise out of you, isn't she?"
"I don't know," he considers. "He is her type. Fun, good looking and gone in the morning."
I use a napkin to conceal the blush that's searing my cheeks. You can take a princess away from propriety, but alas, propriety refuses to be taken away from a princess.
Alucier picks up on my embarrassment and apologizes. "Why don't we leave these two alone and have a less exciting dinner up at the flat?"
I protest that he shouldn't leave his sister for me, but Damise and Revius don't even notice when the waitress packs up our food to take with us. They wave goodbye but it looks more like they're waving us out the door.
"You don't really think Damise is going to… that she's really interested in Revius?" I ask again when we're outside.
"Oh, I think she's definitely interested," he says without any worry. "And if she wasn't my sister and he wasn't my friend, who knows what they'd do. But they are, so I don't think they'll do anything at all. Except maybe pretend that they did something so they can jerk me around tomorrow morning."
"They're all so casual…" I whisper to myself.
He's apologizing again for bringing up the topic but that wasn't quite what I meant. "No, Alucier, it's not… that. I was thinking of your relationship with your sister. The fact that you can acknowledge her as a woman entitled to do as she pleases, even if it's something most people don't approve of, is…" I want to say remarkable. "It's not at all like it was between my sisters and I."
"Don't think me that enlightened," he sighs. "Truth is, I don't have much choice in the matter. Damise has always been a very straightforward, opinionated person. She's doesn't mince words because they might make others squeamish, even if it's her brother, whom she likes to point out, is five years younger than she is and not exactly an innocent lamb himself." Through venting, he returns to being mindful of my earlier discomfort. "But that's not relevant to anything," he coughs. "Say, what did you think of Lord and Lady Carrolle's party last night?"
"I thought it was boring and had nothing to do with what we were discussing. You shocked me a bit in the bar, but that was it. You don't have to worry about offending my sensibilities. It's probably good to get a shock to those every now and then. And I'm not stupid. I know what you and Revius are talking about at breakfast when you use all those cute euphemisms. It's not like I'm…" Well, I am a virgin, but despite my insistence on openness, I'm not about to unfurl that banner tonight. That status is not entirely by my choice anyway. "…completely unknowledgeable."
"And this would be where thinking of you like a little sister becomes a liability. If I don't like hearing this stuff from Damise and she's my older sister…"
"Yes, but siblings should be there for one another, even to talk about things they'd rather not talk about." It's such a basic premise, yet one that's eluded me where Millerna's concerned. I realized that the night she left for Freid. Tonight, I've seen the proof that it's more than just a nice ideal.
Neither of us says anything more as we go up the steps towards the flat. Alucier fiddles with the door lock and juggles two full plates of food. I take in the night air. It's a lovely evening. The Mystic Moon has retained its unusual brightness so it's light enough to see even without the torches that line the stairway. As midsummer approaches, the heat's been rising steadily but a change of winds yesterday is bringing a cool breeze from off the ocean. The palace is built back from the coast, up on a hill. It's refreshing to be so near the water at night for a change. It would be a shame to go inside.
"I don't suppose Tuvello's has any outdoor tables hidden away, do they?"
"No," Alucier answers. "But we could use the roof. We keep some chairs and a table up there. The access stairs are in the spare bedroom."
"The one that Damise is using? I hope she and Revius don't come back early and we have to stay on the roof all night," I joke.
"Eh, that's the risk I used to take all the time when Allen lived here."
I don't laugh, but I smile so that Alucier won't have to worry about offending me for a third time tonight. Allen lived in this apartment for four years. I visited him here often during the day then. I'm not so bitter that I can't hold happy memories of that time. Those were the closest years of our friendship. But as Alucier opens the latch to bring down the stairs, I stare out into the main room and remember the worst visit, on the only night I've ever been here.
I had come to tell him that Marlene was pregnant, to deliver the news that I knew would sadden him, but I thought would set him free. She had moved on; it was his turn to do the same. It wasn't that simple. I didn't understand his reaction. I couldn't understand. Back then, I was naïve enough to believe in the purity of romance. Desire was kept in check by fantasies until released by marriage vows. So when he told me he thought the baby could be his, I stared at him like a fool. Then realization broke with a slap across the face of my best friend and that innocence was gone forever. The only thing worse than knowing that my sister had possessed Allen's body along with his heart was confronting the fact that our desires were not dissimilar.
That was so long ago, but he circle has looped back over itself. Like Alucier and Damise, I don't really want to know if Millerna's considerations of Allen go beyond pristine courtly romance, but here I am with another sister placing herself in the hands of the man I loved.
Loved. I must congratulate myself on getting the tense right. I have a habit of forgetting.
The bottom of the stairs thumps loudly on the floor. "Eries? Food. Getting cold. Well, lukewarm."
"Sorry, I don't mean to ignore you. I was just…"
"Admiring the furniture? Someday, I'll have to give that couch of Revius' a proper burial."
"Reminiscing."
"Reflecting," Alucier states more accurately. "Reminiscing implies good times and you've got that Allen look in your eye."
People can know you too well. Most everyone else finds my measured expressions to be inscrutable, which is the way I prefer it. But years of experience have trained Alucier to pick out the subtle mannerisms that I don't manage to control. For instance, he pointed out to me once that when annoyed, I bring the tips of my thumb and index finger together on my left hand. I thought it was nonsense but then I caught myself making the gesture four times during the council meeting the next day.
So if he says I have an 'Allen look', I must have one. He laughs at me when I ask him what it is and waits until he's on the roof to reveal the secret. "You're eyes were open."
"I'll have you know," I shout up to him. It's not an effective way to yell at someone so I climb the ladder. "I'll have you know," I repeat, "that even though I was thinking of him, it was entirely within the context of being in my past."
"Good for you," he says quietly.
The table is close to the edge of the roof on the end facing the ocean. The noise from the street prevents from hearing the waves, but I can see them for miles. The hypnotic rhythm of the walls of water breaking on the beach and their recession back to the ocean dulls dinner conversation. I normally wouldn't mind but what Alucier said is bothering me. He seldom tells a joke without there being a ring of truth behind it.
"So what was I doing?" I question him. "Raising an eyebrow? Tilting my head just so?"
He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, a sign that I might not like to hear what he's about to say. "You were staring at the apartment in complete obliviousness. I said your name more than once, you know. Now, our décor is not that fascinating and I can't recall anything that happened between you and me or you and Revius that was that profound."
"It wasn't something that I did?"
"It's something that you've been doing since you were fifteen."
I could answer with a list of the things I have done to forget Allen. I could present all the small pieces of evidence that prove I'm no longer in love with him. It would be easy; I've been collecting and cataloguing each scrap since the moment I told Allen I couldn't handle being his crutch any longer.
Instead, I fall back on excuses. "There's a lot of history between us. Some of it took place in this apartment. It's natural to be reminded of it when I come here."
"To be reminded, yes. But to lose yourself in a memory?"
"Pardon me for waxing melancholic at such a joyful time in my life. With my sister missing, my father possibly dying, my brother-in-law already dead and my nephew an orphan, I should be dancing in the streets. Not too loudly, mind you, because Zaibach might not like the noise and forget the 'do not destroy' clause in our treaties."
Alucier swirls his last piece of steak around in a pool of sauce. "This really was a lovely dinner, wasn't it?" He doesn't address my outburst because everyone knows what a harsh overreaction is a sign of.
He's been bringing this topic up on and off during the entire six weeks since Allen left Palas. I've ignored his both subtle and flagrant hints but it's clear I was only winning small battles, not the war. He won't be dropping this anytime soon.
"What do you want to hear from me, Alucier? I've told you everything. If there are some magic words that will get you to leave me alone, please tell me because rehashing my history with Allen isn't something I particularly enjoy doing."
I think I've made my point. He finishes the remnants of his meal and gathers up the dishes. While wiping the table, he starts in on me again. "Do you have any idea how frustrating you are? I can get bits and pieces out you, mostly you swearing that you're fine. I'm used to my sisters, who never shut up about how they're feeling. Any time any one of them broke up with a boyfriend, they would gather around and pour over every piece of minutia in that relationship. Then there's Damise who likes to torture me with her stories about the worthless men she's been with. I may complain about having to listen to all that, but at least they're willing to be completely open about how hurt they were."
"There's a difference," I argue. "I loved Allen, but I never had him to lose him."
"A technicality. He was a huge part of your life that's not there anymore."
"By my own choice…"
"And you don't want him back?"
"No," I say forcefully. "Not with things as they are. I do miss him, but it would hurt more to stand by him and watch him make the same mistakes over and over again, knowing that he could do and be so much more if he just let go of his pain. Doesn't it hurt you when you see Damise contenting herself with flings with like Revius instead of finding someone she could be truly happy with?"
"Believe me, Revius is the nicest guy she's been around in years. My parents would be thrilled if she brought him home compared to the others."
"I wasn't asking about Revius' qualifications as a suitor."
"I wish for something better for her," he admits. "But she's my sister. I love her and I will stand by her no matter what she does."
Allen indirectly accused me of abandoning him; it's not intentional, but Alucier sounds as if he's implying the same. "Yes, she is your sister. You have to stand by your family, no matter how much you disagree with them. But…"
"I didn't mean that you were wrong to walk away from Allen. There are different standards for friends and lovers versus family." He can't resist one small joke though. "Then again, you did let Princess Millerna go to Freid…"
I take the lightened mood and run with it. "Thinking of shipping Damise off? The northern region is wonderful this time of year. It's much cooler up there in the mountains."
"But then Mom and Dad would probably want me to do something with the other five…"
"They can't be as bad as my one."
"Care to make a wager? Besides, I know you'll welcome Millerna back with open arms when she finally does return."
"Of course I would. What did I just tell you about family?"
"My apologies," he says. "But if it's different for friends, does that mean I can run away when you start complaining about her chasing after Allen?"
"But you'd still be my guard. You took an oath. I could whine all day if I wanted and you couldn't do a thing."
"I haven't in the past."
For that, I let him finish with the dishes. I'll have to go back to the palace in a little while anyway; a few more minutes of night air will help me clear my thoughts before resuming my duties.
I need for Millerna to return, whether I wrong about what I read in her letter or not. If only I could know when she'll be back. I can't plot a course between Freid and Atlantis and then to Asturia. It could be months until I see her again.
Although out of practice, I offer a prayer to Jichia that they wait will not be long. For added measure, I look to the stars. An old wives tale has it that when the Mystic Moon hangs low in the sky just over the horizon, you can ask the gods for one favor and it will be granted. It's in the same spot it's always in but I close my eyes and make a wordless request to whoever might be on the moon to listen.
When I look at the moon again, something is silhouetted against its light. It's far too large to be a bird…
"What the hell is that?" Alucier asks, spotting it too.
It flies closer, still unidentifiable but squinting, I can make out a shape.
It looks like a dragon.
***
Author's Notes: I know I promised a semi-reunion between Allen and Eries but I was getting sick of looking at this boring transition chapter so I moved it into the next one. Plus, I think Eries' meeting with the new, improved (now featuring maturity!) Millerna will serve as a nice parallel to her meeting of the newer, improving (now featuring less anger!) Allen.
Next up: Five chapters down, four to go as we return to on camera series events -- One Wedding and Considerably More Than Four Funerals. (To answer Ron and his Sakura's question, yes, the last chapter was named after 'The Handmaid's Tale'. All the chapters in this story are named after either a book or movie -- as I think became really obvious with the title for the next chapter.)