"Kaelin?" Melia froze, hand hovering over the doorknob behind her. Dunban was still asleep in the room beyond, but if she screamed for help, he would likely wake. Her hand shifted to the dagger sheathed on her hip. "What are you doing here? Where is Lucio?"
"He asked me to take over for a few hours." His gaze dropped to her knife. "I… um… hope that's okay with you? Your High— Majesty." He paused to scratch at the fading bruises on his knuckles. Attempting, and failing, to smother his nerves. His long headwings twitched. "Sorry…"
The tension in her muscles eased. She pulled the door to her suite shut and pasted a polite smile over her lips. How could she have suspected him of treachery? He didn't have the stomach for it. Or the skill. His professional façade crumbled beneath the weight of even the lightest scrutiny. There was no way he'd be able to hide any misdeeds from her for so long. Although, if Lucio trusted him, perhaps it was worth maintaining distance.
"I haven't grown accustomed to the new title yet, either," she said with practiced warmth.
And he accepted it readily. He heaved a sigh, shoulders rounding a bit, rather than standing at full attention. "I'm so glad you understand."
"Did Lucio mention where he was going?" She didn't really expect an answer. Not an honest one, anyway. If Lucio had left his post to carry out any nefarious plans, he wouldn't have told Kaelin that. But maybe the universe would give her a win this time. She sorely needed one…
"Resting," Kaelin said. No hesitation. His expression darkened a fraction but it passed like a stray cloud over the sun. "He's got a bunk in the barracks so he's probably there."
"Probably?" She quirked an eyebrow.
He cringed, tried to conceal it with a shiver. Like he'd caught a chill. "Well… If he knows his father's not around, he might stay at the family home. Bed's comfier." In the space of a millisecond, his entire face flushed red. "I mean, that—that's what he's said."
If the realization that just struck her was an object, it would be a trading ship. Plummeting out of the sky and crushing her to death. Every recent interaction she'd had with Kaelin flashed through her mind. The odd animosity between him and Galvin, his switch to the nightshift, the apparent conspiring with Lucio. And now this. Paired with Lucio's confession from the previous night – the rumors of his sexuality – it seemed almost obvious. How had she missed it before?
"You're lovers."
Kaelin's eyes flew wide open. "No! No, we're not." He shook his head vehemently, pressed his lips into a thin line to prevent any more damning words from escaping.
"Don't lie to me," she snapped.
He stepped away from her, mouth agape. The gears in her mind whirred as she analyzed his reaction. Perhaps he would respond better to a gentler approach? She smoothed away her frown. It had slipped through her mask when her attention had been diverted. But a smile felt too unnatural, too forced. And she didn't want to scare him off with obvious manipulation. Kallian had called her heavy-handed before, but she was a quick learner. She had to be…
"Please forgive me," she said, ducking her head as if in embarrassment. Put him at ease with a hollow mimicry of her former self. "That was very inappropriate and I—" The tremble she added to her voice sounded almost genuine. "It isn't my place to pry into your private affairs."
His eyebrows knit together, but the rest of his body relaxed. "You don't have to apologize to me, Your Majesty. I think it is generally… bad form to lie to your sovereign." He hid his face in his hands with a groan. Then he forced his arms back to his sides. "It was selfishness that led me to dishonesty. Many have told me I'm not worthy of my place in your service and I didn't want you to think the same."
She pursed her lips. Part of her wanted to reach out, reassure him. But a small tug in the back of her mind kept her silent. Let him talk and perhaps he'd slip.
"Lucio has tried to shield me from it, keep us a secret," he continued, words rushing to fill the void. "I don't want to deny it anymore. I won't be made to feel ashamed of who I am and who I love. So, dismiss me if you must. That dishonor would hurt less than remaining loyal to a regime that can't accept me."
"Do you resent me for my mixed blood?"
"What?" Twin splotches of color burst to life in his cheeks and the feathers of his wings puffed up. "That's ridiculous! Why would you ever think that I—"
She held up her hand and his indignant response faltered. "I find your assumption that I won't accept your sexuality just as ridiculous. Although, I understand why you would be cautious." A sad smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. "I, too, would rather push away a potential friend than find out they were a villain once they'd stabbed me."
He laughed, still a bit hesitant. "I see your point."
"Now, if that's settled…?" She waited until he nodded then moved on to her next concern. "I'm famished."
"Oh! Right!" Kaelin fished a small, crumpled package out of his uniform's pocket. He held it out to her and she took it warily. As she unwrapped it, he said, "Your Nopon friend asked me to give it to you. It's – well, it was – a muffin."
The muffin had been smushed beyond recognition to fit in Kaelin's pockets, but seemed… edible enough. It smelled of spiced rum and citrus. Unlikely to be poisoned if Riki really had delivered it. She broke off a tiny piece, turning it over in her fingers. Rich brown flecked with orange zest.
Kaelin watched her, biting at his lip, headwings jittery. "He… um… also said you owe him a favor…? Something about a gift for his 'wifeypon', I think."
Her suspicions about the muffin's origin cleared away. He couldn't possibly have known about her promise to Riki if he'd never spoken to the Nopon. And she doubted Riki would share that information with just anyone. She popped the piece of muffin into her mouth, closing her eyes for a moment as the flavor hit. The tang of the orange paired well with the heat of cardamom. And a hint of sweetness pulled the entire confection together.
Riki has surprisingly good taste, she thought as she devoured the rest of the muffin.
"I planned on visiting the commercial district today, anyway. My staff broke during…" Prison Island. She didn't want to say its wretched name aloud, cursed herself for even thinking of it. "In any case, I'd like to be able to train again. Would you fetch Riki for me?"
"Your Majesty, I'm not supposed to leave you alone."
She waved aside his concern. "I only intend to visit Catlaina in the infirmary. There will be plenty of witnesses should our enemy strike. And you'll be quick, won't you? It couldn't take more than a few minutes to find my friend." She'd thought they wouldn't be bold enough to attack at her wedding too. How wrong she'd been…
Her stomach twisted and she struggled to keep down her meager breakfast. But she trusted Dunban. If he believed a second attack wouldn't occur so soon after the first, then she did as well.
"I'll walk you there, at least," Kaelin said, straightening his shoulders. Yet, his voice betrayed his uncertainty.
"Very well." As much as she tried to keep the annoyance out of her tone, a little slipped through. Yet, she recognized this wasn't a hill worth dying on.
She turned on her heel and strode down the hall. True to his word, Kaelin left her at the infirmary entrance without further protest. Although, he did ask her not to leave until he'd returned with Riki. She agreed quickly, eager to be rid of him. Every piece of her longed for space, for a chance to lower her guard with someone she trusted. Even if the entire army revealed themselves as turncoats, Catlaina would be the odd one out.
"Greetings, Majesty." The staff member closest to the transporter set down their clipboard, offering her their full attention. "How may I serve you?"
"I've come to visit Catlaina," Melia said, tone cool.
The physician's assistant blanched. "I would love to escort you to her, of course, but…" They fumbled for their clipboard and flipped through a few pages. Their fingertip tapped the relevant information, but with the paper angled as it was, Melia couldn't see what they were gesturing to. "She's asked us not to allow visitors."
That set off instant alarm bells in her mind. She pursed her lips, struggled to remain calm, appear unbothered. It wasn't like Catlaina to isolate herself. And didn't it make sense that a ruler's enemies would target her most trusted guard? Melia pushed her shoulders back, standing as tall as she could.
"Surely, she would make an exception for her empress."
The attendant opened their mouth to protest, but she stepped around them. With the infirmary's open floorplan, it didn't take long for her to locate Catlaina's cot. Catlaina was sitting up, a small tray table balanced over her lap. She tensed as Melia approached and pulled the table closer. The movement jostled her water cup but she grabbed it before it could spill. She took a slow sip.
"How are you?" Melia asked.
Catlaina eyed her up and down, mouth twitching into a faint scowl. Then she turned back to her breakfast. She scooped up a spoonful of porridge and inspected it carefully before eating. Each bite stretched out. A crafted eternity, during which Melia could only watch in silence.
When at last she swallowed, she directed her words to the physician's assistant. "I believe I asked to be left alone." She sighed. "At least fetch Her Highness a chair…"
The assistant nodded, wide-eyed, and scampered off to accommodate Catlaina's order. Melia frowned after them. For a moment, she considered calling out, requesting they also bring a curtain. Catlaina deserved a measure of privacy after all. But the moment passed and the attendant slipped out of sight. She turned her attention back to the injured guard.
"You look well," she said, despite Catlaina's refusal to engage with her. And she meant it.
Catlaina's skin had regained its usual color, her hair shone. It was a considerable improvement from the last time Melia had seen her. Perhaps she'd been ill then. Regardless, the doctors seemed to be treating her well. Melia allowed a relieved smile to slip through her façade.
"I am." Catlaina stared straight ahead. She dipped her spoon into her bowl, stirring its contents without purpose.
By the time the attendant returned with a chair, she hadn't said any more. Melia sat down and dismissed them. A vain attempt at obtaining privacy. She waited until their footsteps faded far enough into the background before trying yet again to spark a conversation.
"Did you hear the news? About the emperor."
That did it. Catlaina's dark eyes snapped to hers. "What's happened?"
"He's dead." Her stomach churned as she said the words aloud for the first time but she pushed on. "He succumbed to injuries sustained in the Mechon raid yesterday morning."
The spoon slipped from Catlaina's fingers, clattering uselessly against the ceramic bowl. "That isn't… I'm so sorry, Your—" Realization cut her off. Her wings drooped and her brows knit together. She ducked her head in place of a full bow, hair narrowly avoiding the porridge. "Your Majesty." After a brief hesitation, she raised her head, met Melia's gaze once more. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Melia said quickly. She leaned forward in her chair, lowering her voice. "Although, I'll admit Alcamoth's situation is far from ideal. We've been thrust into a war we never wanted and hostility between our political factions is mounting."
Catlaina frowned but didn't reply.
"That's one of the reasons I'm here," she continued. "Accuse me of selfishness, but I need your help. I ask that you return to your position as my guard the moment you've fully healed. You're one of the few left that I can trust."
"I can't."
A fist of ice clenched around her heart. She sat back, shoulder blades slamming into the chair's unforgiving metal. It might have hurt, if she could feel anything aside from the cold. Perhaps her faith had been misplaced. But what had she done to lose Catlaina as an ally? Their entire relationship seemed to have shifted in the space of a few days. When her guard had been absent… She opened her mouth to speak but couldn't find the words.
"Anything else. Request anything else of me and I'll do it. But I can't endanger myself anymore." Catlaina slid the tray table away, uncovering her stomach. "I have to protect my baby."
Melia stared at the now obvious bump. Then she forced her gaze back up to Catlaina's face. A small part of herself couldn't help but be relieved. Pregnancy almost perfectly explained everything – the absence from duty, the sour moods. Their relationship wasn't falling apart.
But… why hide it for so long?
She pushed down the doubt that threatened her calm. "Of course. I would never ask you to risk your child's wellbeing." She hesitated a moment then stood. "I suppose I should let you rest. And congratulations."
"Thank you," Catlaina said, resting a hand on her stomach.
A silence fell over them as she leaned back in the cot and closed her eyes. For a moment, Melia assumed the conversation had run its course. She couldn't make further demands of her guard – former guard. Even if there were less hazardous tasks to be assigned. The mere fact of their association put Catlaina and her baby in danger. It didn't matter if it was all in the past; the empire's enemies didn't care. Only fleeing from Alcamoth would guarantee their safety.
"I really thought he would tell you." Catlaina's voice, though soft, broke the chain of negative thoughts.
"What do you mean?"
After a pause, she explained how Dunban had discovered her pregnancy during the wedding attack. How she'd begged him not to reveal her secret. "I didn't expect him to keep his word."
Melia bit back the humorless laugh that welled in her throat. The expression would only poison their already strained interaction. She rearranged her features into an approximation of neutrality. "From my experience, he doesn't make a habit of breaking promises."
Catlaina hummed in response, noncommittal.
Then she turned back to her breakfast, leaving Melia to fidget in the space between sentences. She didn't know if she should leave without closure. It occurred to her that she'd promised Kaelin she would stay in the medical ward until he returned with Riki. And, as she confirmed with a glance over her shoulder, he had yet to arrive.
A dozen questions crowded her mind. But the most pressing – the one that nearly compelled her to throw away all her restraint – was the question of paternity. She hadn't been aware that Catlaina was seeing someone. Even casually. Though she knew they weren't as close as she liked to pretend, she assumed she should at least have a guess. A fellow guard? But no names came to her.
She tried to piece together the right words, find a subtle way to ask. To no avail. Every possible combination sounded too forward, too familiar. Or, worse, too clinical. She cringed inwardly and whirled around. It would be better to hover around the infirmary transporter than to stew in the weighted silence.
"Are you leaving?"
"I am," she said, keeping her back to Catlaina.
The spoon clinked against the side of its bowl. "In a few days, I'll be cleared for release. Will you… You'll give me my new orders then, won't you?"
Blessedly, before she had to respond, Kaelin materialized on the transporter across the room, Riki at his side. Her chest tightened at the sight of her friend. Not in a bad way. More like excitement turned up to a degree she couldn't quite handle. Her heart might've burst.
She exchanged hurried goodbyes with Catlaina then joined Kaelin and Riki.
Kaelin perked up as he noticed her approach. Though he couldn't banish the irritation from his eyes – the branching red of strained blood vessels. It took him a moment to remember the proper etiquette. When he did, he dropped into a clumsy bow, headwings dragging across the floor. He straightened, staggered, and caught himself with a hand braced against the reception desk.
Riki, by contrast, was his usual self. Mostly. He trotted forward to meet Melia before she could close the distance between them. But, rather than bounce, he stayed rooted to the ground.
"Did Melly like breakfast? Riki ask for finest pastry to cheer Melly up."
"It was delicious," she said, a pleasant warmth creeping into her chest.
She treasured her friendship with Riki – with the rest of the group too, really, but the Nopon's compassion was on another level. A subtle care, never overbearing. It contrasted with his typical bravado to the point of comedy. He'd never struck her as the perceptive kind until then. One would be blinded by his ego and carefree attitude long before he graced them with his softer side. And, at that point, he shone too bright to see through. Perhaps a reevaluation was in order…
They filled their trek to the commercial district with empty talk. Under normal circumstances, she might've steered the conversation into more meaningful territory. But recently, every sentence was obscured by layer after layer of symbolism and double entendres, every discussion holding something vital. And she was tired. So tired of those drawn out, unavoidable topics.
Kaelin lagged behind them the whole trip. At times, when she'd stopped to point out a trinket Oka might like, she caught him nodding off. Against a wall, sitting atop a sealed barrel, and, once, standing in the middle of the open-air market.
She couldn't help but wonder where Lucio was. If he would soon replace Kaelin, let the poor man sleep.
The other details of their shopping trip made little impression on her. She recited opinions she'd heard before, read in adverts. Not that Riki knew any better. He seemed pleased with what he interpreted as her enthusiastic engagement in the gift selection process. His wings fluttered at her answers, eyes twinkled. By the end, he'd accumulated an impressive hoard. Glinting jewel pendants, decorative knives with hilts of twisted metal. And a poofy quilt that she ended up carrying because it was much too large for him to manage on his own.
"You spent a… fair sum…" Melia said as they headed back to the palace. Her new staff hung heavy at her hip. She barely remembered purchasing it…
"Riki splurge for littlepon!"
Her footsteps faltered, but she caught herself before she could fall behind. Had her father ever given her anything simply because he wanted to? As far as she could recall, his gifts always had purpose. Strings. They never existed as a pure expression of love. Her first staff to protect the empire. A gown to impress the ministers at her introduction to court.
Even his wedding rings followed this model. One for tradition and the other, an apology. That's what Kallian had said, anyway. But he refused to explain what their father needed to apologize to Yumea for. Whenever she asked, he'd cracked each of his knuckles – slow, deliberate – then changed the subject. So she stopped asking.
She wondered how her life would've turned out if her father was a little more like Riki. What if, instead of that textbook she'd never opened, he'd gifted her a novel? A silly, purposeless tale. And yet, it was so much more than that. It served as proof that her father valued her beyond her usefulness, her ability to benefit his plans.
Proof that, in this world, didn't exist. And it never would.
Her stomach dropped. Like falling from a great height, the wind stealing the air from her lungs. She paused at the mouth of the hall leading to the Villa transporter.
"Help Riki back to his room," she said, shoving the quilt into Kaelin's arms. "I need to train."
He blinked down at the blanket then nodded. Too exhausted to protest this time. Riki turned to frown at her. But, rather than object on Kaelin's behalf, he waved a hearty goodbye and ushered the guard toward the Villa. She watched them go, listening to the high-pitched murmur of Riki's voice. Reassuring Kaelin, perhaps. Or talking about Oka and his littlepon.
What would—
She forced the thought out of her head, spun around. The training hall wasn't far. All she had to do was keep the questions, doubts, imaginings at bay until she arrived.
Dunban sheathed his sword as Minister Caul approached. Sweat dripped down his forehead, his muscles already aching. For a moment, before the minister reached him, he wondered if he'd grown weaker. It was only a matter of time until age and injury caught up… But no, not yet. He couldn't stop fighting. If – when – they rescued Fiora, then he could retire should he need to.
"Greetings, Your Highness," Caul said, sweeping into a graceful bow. When he straightened, he untucked a file from under his arm and offered it to him. "The military report you requested."
He wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers before accepting the folder. "Thank you." A quick flip through confirmed its contents. Exactly what he'd asked for. Numbers and descriptions sprawled across each page. At times, Caul's neat script popped up in the margins, adding dates and status markers as necessary. He snapped the file shut then glanced around for a place to put it.
"You decided not to trust Prince Kallian?"
"Not so," Caul said with a firm head shake. "I failed to locate him. Inquiries with the servants turned up nothing of use so I sought you out instead."
A frown tugged at the corner of Dunban's lips. "No one knows where he is?"
"He left the palace accompanied by his defense team. I trust my men and so, choose to believe they are all safe wherever they may be." Caul laced his fingers together behind his back. "Is there anything else you require of me, Your Highness?"
Even after what happened at the wedding? Dunban wanted to ask, but he held his tongue. Although, he still wasn't quite accustomed to the rules of High Entian politics, he knew for certain that leveling severe accusations with no evidence wouldn't gain him any favor. Not that he'd intended to suggest Caul had anything to do with the attack. The minister just might interpret it that way and then the door would close forever. He had to be careful. Especially if he wanted access to the information he needed.
"No, that's all."
Caul bowed again before leaving the training hall.
Dunban spent the next few minutes rereading the military report, scanning for anything he'd missed on the first pass. Everything seemed correct. A frustrated sigh tore its way out of his mouth. Without investigating the barracks and weapon storage for himself, he had no idea if the information was accurate. This was why he'd wanted to assign the task to Kallian. The prince likely knew enough about his own army to notice suspicious details. Omissions, faked inspection dates, a misplaced decimal point.
Or maybe not. Maybe he placed too much faith in Kallian. He held back another sigh, turned to the next page. As absorbed as he was in his reading, he only noticed another presence in the training hall when it was right behind him. He whirled around, skin prickling.
Melia smiled at him then gestured vaguely with her staff. "It seems we've had the same idea." Her gaze dropped to the file clasped in his hands. "What's that?"
"An account of your military resources," he said, handing it to her. "Minister Caul just delivered it. Any chance you can verify the numbers?"
She took the file, sat on the ground, and began to stretch her legs as she read through. A cute little wrinkle creased her brow, a contemplative pout turned her lips. Dunban snatched his sword from where it lay on the floor. Unwilling to entertain such thoughts, he launched himself back into his training while he waited. Just going through the motions, like a dance. He didn't want to damage the practice dummy and working with a sword other than the one he would carry into battle was counterproductive.
"You'll have to ask Kallian," she said at last.
"Right…"
"I suppose I could ask him myself, if you'd prefer." She pulled a face then quickly concealed it by switching into a different stretch. The soles of her feet pressed together and her head bent down. When she spoke again, her voice was muffled. "It would be best not to risk straining your relationship any further."
"No, I'll handle it. I was about to—" He cut himself off, unsure if he should tell Melia that Kallian was missing. Potentially missing, he amended. And that distinction helped make his decision. Why upset her when there was no reason to believe anything was wrong?
"About to…?" Melia sat up and cocked her head to one side.
Behind her, a shadow flitted between two of the columns that lined the training hall. Dunban pivoted, leveling his sword at the intruder. Melia's fingers curled around her staff. But she didn't look over her shoulder. Her gaze remained on him, though it was glassy. He suspected she couldn't actually see him, that she needed to anchor her eyes somewhere while she focused on the ether around them.
"You may as well come out," he called. "I've already seen you."
Lucio stepped into the etherlight, hands raised in a show of innocence. "I wasn't trying to hide, just didn't want to interrupt." His attention shifted to Melia as he lowered his arms back to his sides. "Your Majesty, I apologize for my absence this morning. I hope Kaelin was a suitable replacement."
Melia jerked out of her trancelike state and turned to face Lucio. Though he could no longer see her expression, Dunban caught the note of wariness in her voice. "He served adequately. Thank you."
Then she jumped to her feet, staff in one hand and the file in the other. She cast her gaze around the immediate area, almost languidly. Eyes searching for something he couldn't determine. A deep frown curled her lips. After another moment of indecision, she passed the report to Lucio.
"What is this?"
She waved aside his curiosity. "Just hold it, please."
Dunban fought down the urge to snatch the file away. He didn't want to doubt her judgement but… Lucio just couldn't be trusted with that information. Even if he had nothing to do with the wedding attack, there was no guarantee that he wouldn't utilize the report for other schemes.
"I can take it," Dunban said, stepping forward, reaching out a hand.
Before Lucio could give him the documents, Melia cut in between the pair. Her fingers brushed across Dunban's arm, gently pushing it down. "We can trust him. He knows what will happen to Kaelin if he betrays us." She threw a sharp smile to Lucio. "Isn't that right?"
The guard's eyes flew wide, face paling. "Yes, Your Majesty…"
Dunban knit his brows together for a moment. What did Kaelin have to do with any of this? But it didn't matter. If that's what it took to keep Lucio in line then so be it. He didn't need to think about it too deeply. Or at all. His eyes narrowed as Lucio shuffled back to the column, almost blending into the shadows there. Giving him and Melia space.
"Were you finished training?"
He tore his gaze away from Lucio. "I was. Sorry, I'll get out of your way."
"Well, actually…" She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, avoided eye contact. "I wanted to ask if you'd like to spar. With me. Obviously." A bright scarlet spread into her cheeks. Her headwings fluttered, as though trying to fan away the heat of embarrassment.
Then, effortless, the chill of formality iced out her emotions. She even managed to subdue the blush. And, as she spoke again, her tone remained stubbornly level. The same energy she would have when delivering a routine report. "Upon reflection, I have decided I am too reliant on my ether manipulation. It puts our team at a disadvantage."
"Melia… what happened on Prison Island wasn't—"
She cut him off with a bark of laughter. Humorless, cold. More of a scoff than a laugh, really. He let the reassurances fall away. She didn't want to hear them, regardless of their accuracy. As far as he was concerned, he was more at fault for their failure than she was. If only he could have focused…
"I can stay a while longer," he said, pretending he'd never brought up the ill-fated battle. "Did you have anything specific in mind? A goal?"
Her shoulders slouched forward a little. The façade slipped easily from her grasp, so easily that he wondered if it was intentional. "When my ether runs low, I'm powerless. I don't— I can't continue to put others at risk."
Dunban shook his head, mouth already opening to dispute her.
She held up a hand, silenced him before he could form the first word. "Don't." She sighed and lowered her arm. The sharpness faded out of her voice as she continued. "I just want another option. Something more effective than turning my staff into a cudgel."
"I understand that," he said slowly, "but, like you said, we're a team. You don't have to do everything on your own anymore."
He paused and frowned down at his sword. Memories of his own training flooded his mind unbidden. Endless days bleeding into nights without much rest. Kept up by muscles pushed too far and the stinging consequences of his mistakes. Even simple sparring could turn deadly. A slip of the foot, a misjudged swing… He tried not to remember the faces of fellow soldiers that had gone out that way. Not many, but enough to make him hesitate now.
"Wouldn't it be better to continue working with ether? You could figure out how to use less and accomplish more."
In the privacy of his thoughts, he admitted that he didn't want to turn his sword against her. Or against any of his allies. He couldn't trust himself to hold back, to not give in to survival instinct. There was a reason he'd lived on while the others around him perished. At least, that's what he liked to tell himself. He needed a reason, needed to feel like he deserved the time he'd been given.
"That's not how it works," Melia said, expression troubled.
For a moment, he almost believed she'd read his mind. Then he recalled the last thing he'd said aloud and her response fell into place. He smiled sheepishly. "Ah, well…"
"It's fine." She turned away in a manner that suggested the situation was far from fine. "Few people know anything about ether manipulation. Or ether in general. It isn't fair to expect you to be any different."
A dull ache spread through his chest. Maybe she hadn't meant it as an insult, but the words still stung. The others that she'd grouped him with were untrustworthy. They'd hurt her. They didn't understand. He didn't want those negatives attached to her opinion of him. Even if he deserved it.
"I should know better than to speak on topics I know nothing about," he said. "You know what's best for your training. It's not my place to make ill-informed and unwanted suggestions." He hesitated. Before her response, he hadn't thought he'd done anything wrong. But now, putting words to his actions… Her displeasure was more than justified. "I'm sorry."
"If you don't want to help me, that's alright. Please, just say so." She still refused to look at him and her voice held no emotion.
"That isn't—"
"Your Majesty?" Lucio's voice cut Dunban's protest short.
Melia whirled around, staff poised for a fight. But, after finding nothing threatening in the guard's stance, she let the weapon fall back to her side. She crossed over to him. "What is it?"
He gestured with the file in his hand. "I know you asked me not to but…" His free hand drifted up to stroke nervously at his wing. Then, he forced it back down, expression hardening. "Before I was assigned to the emperor's guard, I spent a lot of time helping my father with the administrative side of Defense. Even considering our recent losses, these numbers are too low."
If Dunban hadn't already been listening, that would've caught his attention. He shoved aside the embarrassment over his misstep with Melia and joined them by one of the border columns. "How long ago was that? The last time you checked inventory."
Lucio stiffened, eyes darting to Dunban. "Three months, Your Highness."
"We had no major military activity in that time," Melia added.
Was that warmth in her voice? Bionis, he hoped so… He quieted the rush of his thoughts, the questions. He couldn't afford to be sidetracked by their personal issues. "What do you want to do?"
Melia frowned at him, though this time, it was the result of her concentration rather than irritation. Still, his heart sped up. Had that been the wrong thing to say? He wanted to show that he trusted her and her judgement. But maybe he'd made a mess of things again.
"It's certainly worth investigating," she said at last. "We can't plan a counterattack with inaccurate information." She secured her staff to her belt then marched out of the training hall with Lucio on her heels.
Dunban stayed rooted in place, unsure. After their conflict – he didn't know what else to call it – he assumed she wouldn't want him around. She didn't need him. And that was fine. He should've been focused on rescuing Fiora, not getting mired in every political plot he stumbled upon. Even with his position as the empress's consort, he knew where his loyalties lay. Not that he disliked Alcamoth. But if he had to choose— He prayed he wouldn't have to.
"Aren't you coming?"
The sound of Melia's voice jolted him out of his thoughts. He glanced around as if she might've been talking to someone else, but soon realized how foolish he looked. Settling his gaze on her, he shrugged in lieu of a verbal response. Then he remembered what she'd said before, that she just wanted him to communicate honestly.
"I didn't think I was wanted," he said with a bit of a chuckle. It was hollow, a poor attempt at disguising his own hurt.
He felt pathetic. Seeking her reassurance when he was the one who'd harmed her. His fingers twitched with the urge to do something. Anything. The silence was too much to bear, grating on his nerves until he could scarcely hold himself together.
"It would be impractical to search the armory on my own." She paused, wings fidgeting. Though, when she spoke again, her voice remained steady. "I'm not angry with you. I may have sounded like I was, but I'm not. So, if we can put that incident aside for now, I'd be grateful."
"Of course." He knew he'd agreed too easily, but he didn't want to dwell on their disagreement either. Even if it would've been better to sort everything out right then. Or maybe he was wrong and a little space was exactly what they needed.
Melia brightened almost immediately. A small smile, tinged with relief, quirked her lips. "Good. Thank you."
She didn't wait for him to reply, slipping her arm through his and guiding him along. Back to where Lucio waited. "This will be my first public appearance since… since I became empress, so we'll have to be careful. Both in terms of safety and our relations with the people."
"I understand."
Lucio fell in step behind them, silent aside from the rhythmic clang of his boots against the palace tiles. Dunban resisted the urge to glance over his shoulder. If only to assure Melia that he truly did trust her decision to keep the guard around. But that didn't mean he had to feel safe with Lucio at his back.
"Expect a crowd," she continued, lowering her voice as they passed by a pair of servants. "We'll be honest about our intentions; we can't hide them with so many observing us. But we must emphasize that our visit to the armory is nothing more than a routine inspection."
He nodded his agreement. The people of Alcamoth needed to believe their government was strong, united, in this time of strife. They couldn't be allowed to see the cracks forming, else the city would fall further into panic. And, in fear, doubt bloomed. Resentment. All the ingredients for revolt sat ready on the counter, awaiting the day they would be mixed together.
His eyes strayed to Melia, her face pale but jaw set in determination. He wouldn't let her down.