Medieval: Corvus Stories

[PFA]

I meant to post this shortly after Dominion, but uhhh I procrastinated. >_> Here it is anyway!

(Spoilers for Dominion, happens shortly afterward)

Hard Decisions

SPOILER: Click to show

"Please, no, I-I can't!"

Achilles Oberon's frown deepened, seeing the horrified look on his teenaged son's face. The letter he had received from House Jade that morning was... not good. His eldest son, Cyril, had been married to his wife Heather for two and a half years, and as far as anyone could tell, they were happy together. However, apparently the Jades noticed something amiss, and were able to discover that Cyril's love for his wife was in fact not legitimate. According to them, Heather had been feeding him love potions for the entire time they were courting, and were only just now able to put a stop to it.

The guilt had been pressing on Achilles' mind ever since he read the letter. All this time, how could he have not noticed what was happening? How could he have possibly been so foolish as to not see the signs when they were right in front of him? He'd always felt bad for being so busy, not being able to devote time to spend with his own family, but to not notice that his own son's mind was being slowly poisoned... Achilles took a deep breath to calm himself. The past was the past, and he could only move forward. Which, incidentally, led him to where he was now.

"I don't like it any more than you do, Nestor," he said carefully. "But I can't just ignore this. Cyril... Lord Everett says he can't focus. Can't make decisions." He hesitated for a moment, before adding, "...That's not good for the future Lord of House Oberon."

"B-but... I can't run a House," Nestor insisted, his voice hitching as he spoke. "I wouldn't know how. I'm not good enough!"

Achilles sighed. It was true—Nestor had always been such a timid, softspoken boy. Cyril in comparison was always bright and confident, and under normal circumstances, he would never even consider disinheriting him. But if Cyril's condition was really as bad as the letter described... he may not have had much of a choice.

"You are my only other son, Nestor," Achilles told him. "You knew that if anything were to happen to Cyril, the responsibility would fall to you."

"B-but... Cyril will get better, right?" Nestor asked. "Th-that's why they sent him to Medieville. S-so he could get better."

"They hope." Achilles sighed remorsefully. "...Three years of love potions won't be easy to reverse."

"I..." Nestor hesitated, swallowing the lump in his throat. After several moments to work up the courage, he finally spoke. "...I should have said something."

Achilles was puzzled by the remark. "...Excuse me?"

"I-I always thought... I mean, Cyril..." Nestor swallowed again. "Something felt wrong. Cyril liked Heather too much, a-and Heather... she scared me. B-but I always thought I was just being p-paranoid, you know? So I never... I never said anything." At this point, the tears that had been forming in Nestor's eyes finally spilled over, running down his cheeks. "I couldn't even save my own brother; I can't run the whole House! I-I just can't..."

Achilles' frown deepened further still, and he gently wrapped an arm around his distressed son to comfort him. "It's not your fault, Nestor," he offered. "None of us could have expected this. Please don't blame yourself."

Nestor didn't respond, just sobbing wordlessly. Achilles absently ran his fingers through the boy's mussed hair, lost in distant thought. If only he hadn't been so busy with work, if only he had spent more time with his children... if only he had done anything to prevent this whole mess. No, if there was anyone he blamed for not saying anything, it was certainly not Nestor.

"...We'll see how his recovery goes," Achilles said carefully. "Woo willing, he'll pull through, but if he doesn't..."

"He'll pull through," Nestor insisted. "He's Cyril, he... he has to."

Achilles sighed softly. "...I sure do hope so."

[PFA]

Another fic that happens shortly after Dominion! \ o / Collabed with Shinko and Tiger, more Dominion spoilers ahead

Hannibal Lecture

SPOILER: Click to show

The dungeons at Jade Manor were a far cry from the opulence and luxury that Heather Oberon was accustomed to. No silken sheets and whitewashed walls. Only flat stone, metal bars, and crude straw stuffed mattresses.

Heather had been stripped of her Oberon blue and white, and was instead in a plain brown peasant’s dress. Her jewelry was gone, and without access to a mirror or grooming supplies her hair was starting to fall into disarray. Despite that, she still carried herself with dignity- some might have called it arrogance. She might still have been beautiful, had it not been for the ugly scowl on her face. She had no idea how long it had been. A few hours? A day?

Not that it mattered. She’d lost everything. In an instant all she’d worked for had been snatched away. Her husband, her title, her land… She curled her hands into fists, wishing she still had her wand so that she could blast the entire manor to pieces and escape- preferably killing Lord Joffery and Lord Everett in the process.

The sound of footsteps caught her attention. She looked up, smoothing the cheated rage from her expression and schooling it into a look of unconcern. The young noblewoman was determined not to give whoever it was the satisfaction of seeing her wallowing in her defeat.

“Hello, Heather,” came a voice she certainly didn’t want to hear—Lord Everett’s. Sure enough, shortly afterward the Lord of Embers himself strode into the room, followed closely by the also painfully familiar face of Master Leif. Scowling at Heather, Everett continued. “We have some questions we’d like to ask you.”

So they were here to interrogate her formally. She’d been wondering when they’d get around to it. The young woman inclined her head in a mocking bow. “I am a captive audience, Lord Everett.”

“Cute,” Everett scoffed. “So then, why don’t you tell us more about what you’ve done to Cyril? How long have you been giving him love potions, for one?”

Heather wasn’t entirely surprised by this question. They would want to know the depth of how badly he was damaged, and knowing the start date for when she’d begun dosing him would help them with that. She briefly considered refusing to answer on principle, or lying about it, but there was really very little point. They already had her in custody and weren’t going to release her. At least if she cooperated they could get this overwith. And perhaps Heather could take the opportunity of a captive audience of her own to get back at them a little. It was petty, but what did she have to lose?

So, Everett wanted to know when she’d started dosing Cyril with the love potions. Funnily enough, Heather remembered exactly when it was, because the date in question was a relevant one. A sly smile played across her lips, and she leaned back against the wall of her cell, singing softly.

“Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Twenty-first Birthday, dear Cyril,
Happy Birthday to you~”

Everett could only cringe at this. “You… you did this on his birthday?”

Leif had come down to the dungeons prepared to deal with Heather Escalus being...well, Heather Escalus - but evidently he hadn’t prepared well enough, because barely a minute had passed and he already wanted to draw his wand on her. She knew just how to grate on people’s nerves, Leif could give her that.

He glanced at Lord Everett. “When is Lord Cyril’s birthday?”

“October,” Everett replied. “The end of October.”

“Such a lovely time of year in Heleos, October,” Heather supplied helpfully, smiling like a small girl who’d been offered a huge bag of candy. “Nice and warm, but not overly hot. We went to the old Grand Cathedral. He spent two hours there, admiring the architecture. I wanted to be sure it was the best birthday he’d ever had. I even made sure I found out from the servants what his favorite kind of wine was, so I could provide it for him when we had finished at the cathedral.”

She mimed holding a wine glass and tipping it back to her mouth. Her smile became much darker, and in a simpering voice she said, “‘This has been an excellent birthday, and you’ve been nothing but kind to me! I’m very grateful, and have I ever mentioned how lovely your eyes are?’”

Leif clenched his jaw tightly, but managed to avoid saying anything in reply to Heather, instead trying to mentally calculate how much extra time that added. “That’s about...two or three more months than we knew for sure, then,” Leif said quietly in as neutral a tone as he could manage. He wasn’t surprised to hear the number was short; Heather’s entire plan had been to marry the Oberon heir, and on a love potion, Cyril would have had no compulsion to wait.

“That sounds right,” Everett agreed, trying not to look completely appalled as he continued. “That’s quite a long time to go unnoticed. You didn’t do anything else to ensure that, did you?”

Heather tilted her head, quirking an eyebrow. “Whatever do you mean by that? Oh wait- are you trying to imply I used magic on Lord Achilles or the rest of the Oberons? How adorable.” She waved a hand dismissively. “No, my lord, I didn’t need to waste any power on that. Your dear, sweet nephew has the most oblivious father alive. Frankly, we barely saw the man. He was always off handling matters of state, and when he was about he was either too distracted to pay us any attention or giving Cyril the indulgent smiles one would give a small child with a new toy.”

She chuckled. “It’s funny, in a way- Lord Joffery noticed something was wrong in the space of ten minutes. Lord Achilles completely overlooked it for almost three years.” The noblewoman winked at Everett. “I suppose being an awful father runs in the Oberon family- just look at Priam.”

“How dare you speak of Lord Achilles that way,” Everett spat, though inwardly it bothered him. His brother-in-law being so busy as to not notice something amiss with his own son… he shook his head. “As for Cyril, need I remind you that that was your fault?”

“And it’s not as if you made any efforts to correct Priam’s upbringing,” Leif snapped. He knew she wouldn’t care and that he ought to stay quiet - and that just frustrated Leif even more. Well, it doesn’t matter - calm down, don’t give her more material to work with.

“You wound me,” Heather said, putting a hand over her chest. “I encouraged Cyril to play with his son. Frequently! If he chose to bond with Priam by talking about how beautiful Mommy was, well who am I to judge?”

She chuckled, leering at Everett. “Though I suppose I shouldn’t be so quick to call Lord Achilles out for neglecting his family. I mean, three years is an awfully long time not to see one’s nephew.”

Everett was momentarily stunned by the remark. Was she trying to accuse him of neglect? His instinctive response was to talk about how his duties kept him busy, but… that was probably not the best choice, given the context.

“…I visit as often as occasion permits,” he decided on instead. “But there is quite a bit of distance between Astralogos and Solis. That’s hardly my fault.”

“Certainly not,” Heather agreed, her smile neutral. “It’s not an insignificant distance. And yet… when finally he came here to Solis, I can’t help but recall that you were not there to welcome us. You sent your son to do it instead.”

“I…” Everett bristled, considering this. Again, he realized the obvious answer: he was busy. But that was hardly the same thing, right? It’s not like he wouldn’t have noticed when…

No, she’s just trying to agitate you, he reminded himself. Don’t let her get to you.

“That’s hardly relevant to the matter at hand,” Everett finally said. Deciding to change the topic somewhat, he added, “You mentioned his father, but what of the others in his House? His brother, perhaps?”

“You have quite a bit of faith in your in-laws,” Heather observed. “It’s rather sweet, in a naive way. I have no idea what Nestor’s impression of our relationship was, he seldom spoke to us. Perhaps he suspected me, perhaps not. I think he might have been just a bit afraid of me, if nothing else. But he never voiced any suspicions if he had them, he was too busy being skittish and withdrawn. You really don’t know Lady Cassandra’s family all that well, do you?”

Again, Everett cringed. She was definitely trying to get a rise out of him now, but he wasn’t about to give her that satisfaction. “I know that Nestor is a timid boy,” he did say, “but that doesn’t necessarily mean he wouldn’t say anything. You didn’t intimidate him into silence purposefully, did you?”

“What, and break character?” she retorted. “I was the sweet, wonderful Heather. Cyril’s sun and moon, his day and night. I had to play the part. Besides, if my experience is anything to go by, among nobles being a sibling means very little. Certainly my eldest brother never cared enough about his family to come back from wherever it was he ran off to after he was disinherited.” Recalling something Cyril had mentioned to her once, she added, “Though I suppose I can’t blame you for not being aware of that. I mean your boys get along splendidly, all the time.”

Leif tapped his fingers against his wand, wishing he could draw it. The tension felt palpable and stretching in the air. Through a jaw he couldn’t quite entirely unclench, Leif growled, “As Lord Everett already said - the Jade family isn’t relevant to this conversation. Stop wandering off-topic.”

“Well, when you arrested me our dear lord was very quick to point out that my husband is his nephew, and his family. Jade, Oberon… it’s all the same right? One big happy family. Isn’t that right, Uncle Everett?”

“Don’t call me that,” Everett spat, before pausing to reign in his temper. She was just trying to distract him, he reminded himself again. This wasn’t the time to get angry.

“Why not?” she inquired into the momentary silence. “After all, that’s what Cyril calls you. He thinks the world of you, you know. Or well, he did,” she smiled serenely. “Now he thinks you’re a monster. You and Joffery both. I really hope you don’t expect that association to go away just because you neutralized the love potion, because it won’t. He’s still going to be afraid of you, suspicious of you, and you can’t do anything about it. I’m sure his aunt would be thrilled- Oh I’m sorry, I shouldn’t bring her up and make you jealous of our real, pure love.”

That reminder of the thoughtless comment Cyril had made while under Heather’s influence made Everett want to punch her in the jaw, but again, he refrained. “I’m not jealous of anything you have, Heather.”

“Oh aren’t you?” she asked with a smirk. She jerked her head at the archmage who was still lingering behind Everett like a shadow. “I noticed your little pet has been with you every time you’ve come to talk to me. What’s the matter, can’t you defend yourself? Oh that’s right- no you can’t. You can’t even levitate a feather. Mighty lord of all Corvus needs someone else to cast his spells for him.”

“You’re wrong,” Everett insisted, but then stopped himself. She was still trying to get him on the defensive. Don’t listen to her, Everett, he reminded himself again. “…Master Leif happens to be a good ally. I brought him here to help interrogate you, as I recall.”

Leif crossed his arms, scowling at Heather. He very much wanted to tell her that they were going to help Cyril recover from what she had done, that he’d actually agreed to come with Leif to Medieville to get help; it would be enormously gratifying if that wiped the smirk off her face. But likely as not, she would just have some sarcastic comment for that, too. Frustration was building up tightly in Leif’s chest. After a moment, he settled for, “Besides, I have my own reasons for wanting to know, first-hand, what you’ve done,” in as scathing a tone he could manage without crossing the line into a snarl.

Heather smiled brightly. “Oh I’m sure you do. And I’m sure it has nothing to do with our lord not being equipped to handle me himself.” She shrugged. “Interrogate away. I’m not stopping you- I’ve answered every question you’ve asked honestly. But it is so dreadfully lonely down here, so I didn’t see any harm in making conversation at the same time. You’re both awfully touchy. I’m an Oberon now, aren’t I? I’m as much your family as my husband is.”

“You are no family of mine,” Everett said bluntly. “Now then, shall we get back to the subject at hand?”

“The law suggests otherwise,” she replied, ignoring his request to get back on track. “Our marriage is legally binding, and Priam legitimizes it. By the laws of Kyth and Corvus you and I are family, Lord Everett.”

“Speaking of the law…” Everett scowled. Heather was very insistent on veering off-course, it was making him lose focus. “…Priam. Did you do anything to Priam we should know about?”

Heather shrugged. “Depends on what you mean. I’ve not hurt him, if that’s what you’re asking. Perhaps, given more time, I might have put some work into molding him to my purposes. After all I know I’m not going to live forever, so my heir needs to be suitable. But while he was still small and noisy and impossible to reason with I usually left him to his father or the servants. If there are issues with his behavior bothering you, take it up with them. Or,” she jerked her head at Leif, “Maybe your pet can cast a silencing charm on him.”

Leif’s hand visibly twitched toward his wand - casting a silencing charm on a child simply because the noise was annoying? White-hot anger thrashed in Leif’s chest, begging to be set free - a force spell, a stinging hex, shrinking the cell around Heather until she was trapped between the bars and the walls like a bug under glass… “Well - we can safely say Priam’s far better off away from you!”

Heather rolled her eyes. “You all keep saying that, and it’s starting to get on my nerves. Noble children are political tools, nothing more and nothing less. After all, weren’t you wonderful, oh so morally superior Jades going to marry off Lord Joffery to Princess Destiney so that your house could grasp at the throne? Spare me your condemnation, the hypocrisy ill becomes you.”

“Children are not tools,” Everett growled. “And that is not the same as what you did.”

“I married for power,” she retorted. “I manipulated a naive idiot and used him as a puppet to secure a position of authority. It’s exactly the same as what I did.”

Everett gritted his teeth, pondering how to respond. How dare she make such an accusation? He wasn’t at all the same as her, he knew it, but he couldn’t think of anything to say that could change her opinion—if her opinion could even be changed to begin with.

At the prolonged silence, Heather smirked. “Of course, that plan failed when Destiney died, but Joffery just skipped down to the next princess waiting in line. Like father, like son.”

That was it. All at once, Everett snapped, slamming a clenched fist into the bars. “You take that back.”

Leif twitched in surprise at Everett’s sudden show of violent anger - he didn’t think he’d ever seen the Jade lord so furious before. “That’s - that’s enough, Heather,” he managed, seizing his wand, though he left it holstered for the moment. “Keep your answers short and to the point. If you can,” he added after a moment, hoping that maybe if it seemed like a challenge, Heather would comply. Leif was not very optimistic that this would actually be the case.

Heather quirked an eyebrow, startled herself by the Jade lord’s reaction. She honestly hadn’t expected to get him that upset, but she wasn’t going to complain about it. At Leif’s words she smirked. “Short and to the point. Will do- with my answers to your questions.” She turned to Everett, bowing her head. “I suppose I must redact my statement, since you insist. Though I wonder at your criticism of me for forcing false love upon Cyril, as if love were the most potent, sacred force in the universe. By all accounts you loved Lady Cassandra, and yet it took you what, three years to replace her with one you, from what I understand, loved just as much? It seems an awfully fickle emotion- or maybe you and Joffery just have an easy time replacing lovers like broken toys.”

“Do NOT bring my wife into this, Heather,” Everett spat. “You couldn’t even begin to understand.”

“I understand just fine,” she retorted smoothly. “When Lady Cassandra died you refused for years to remarry because you were so grief stricken you thought you could never love again. But then when cooler heads forced the issue, you fell head over heels for the first new woman you talked to. As I said, love- at least what you perceive as love- is fickle.” She laughed suddenly. “Or maybe, considering how quickly you warmed to her, Lady Satine and I have more in common than I realized.”

Everett let out a low growl at the assertion. “Satine was nothing like you. Nothing!”

“No, I don’t suppose she was,” Heather mused. “You must miss it, having someone who would hold your hand and tell you how special you were, and kowtow to your every imperious desire. Shame the Jade patriarchs seem to have a curse in their blood besides fading magery. I wonder how long before Hope bites it?”

Leif was really starting to fear what anger Heather might drive Lord Everett to - this needed to stop, but the whole situation was feeling more and more out of the Jades’ control. Hoping it wasn’t a mistake, Leif finally drew his wand, and though he kept it close to his side for the time being, the tip pointed to Heather. “If you can’t keep your answers short and your commentary silent, Heather, I’ll be glad to assist.”

“I don’t see why you’re getting mad at me, I’m just stating facts,” Heather said, an infuriating smirk on her face. “I mean think about it- Lady Cassandra died giving birth to Lord Everett’s child. Lady Satine died because Lord Everett brought her to Corvus where she had no immunity to the local diseases from the swamps. In a sense, he murdered both of them.”

Any response Everett may have had caught in his throat, coming out as more of a choked whimper. He was silent for a moment, mouth agape, before finally he whirled around, storming for the exit. He couldn’t take this anymore.

“You deal with her, Leif,” was all he said, before leaving.

Leif brought his wand up sharply, grateful that being an archmage came with the perk of casting spells wordlessly - he didn’t think he could unclench his jaw right now to speak the incantation for the silencing charm he flung at Heather. The noblewoman tensed, unsure of what he’d done, but knowing whatever it was would probably take full effect- the Jade mages had meticulously taken apart all of her protective enchantments when she was imprisoned. After a moment of waiting for something to happen, she gave Leif an unimpressed look and opened her mouth- but no sound emerged. Realizing what he had done, she rolled her eyes, smirking at the archmage. So he’d silenced her- she already succeeded in forcing the lord of House Jade to retreat, what difference did that make now? She put a hand to her mouth, and blew the archmage a kiss, wiggling her fingers at him.

Leif let his lip curl with disdain. “Keep them to yourself, I’m taken and definitely not interested.”

He could yell at her, or try to threaten her, or counter her claims about Lord Everett and Ladies Cassandra and Satine - Leif had even been around in the last year or two of Satine’s life. And nobody ought to disrespect the Lord of House Jade in such a way.

But what was the point? Heather probably knew what she was saying wasn’t true, and from what Leif had seen, she didn’t think much of anyone who wasn’t herself. He’d be wasting his time, and maybe just giving her more material to use later. It was the latter more than the former that made him keep his commentary to a very angry, “This isn’t over. I told you to keep your comments to yourself - you’re not going to like the way I make certain you do that.”

He wasn’t sure what that method was going to be just yet, but he was going to make sure it wasn’t anything comfortable. Leif turned on his heel and strode out of the dungeon, trying to keep his steps controlled and even, but the echoes of his boots’ hard strikes against the stone floor certainly sounded louder than his steps coming in.

* * * * *

Everett didn’t really know where he was going. All he knew was that he wanted to be alone.

It frustrated him, that he’d let Heather get him this upset. He knew she was lying, he knew she was just trying to rile him up, but none of that took back the sting of her comments. For her to talk about his family like that, about Cassandra and Satine… that she would even dare insinuate that their deaths were his fault. He knew that wasn’t true, there was nothing he could have done, but…

An old bitterness welled up within him at the thought of it. For supposedly being the most powerful man in all of Corvus, when it came down to it, there was so much that he could do nothing about. Cassandra died, and he could do nothing. He had watched Satine die, and he could do nothing… just sit back and watch it happen.

He desperately needed to calm down. The thought occurred to him that maybe he could go to his office, since surely no one would be there. However, before he could get that far, he heard a familiar voice calling out to him, giving him pause.

“Father?” It was Reynold’s voice. Apparently his second son had noticed him storming through the halls, confused, and decided to approach him. “Weren’t you going to interrogate Heather? Where’s Master Leif?”

“I… I was,” was Everett’s response, before trailing off into uncertain silence. What was he supposed to say next? That she’d gotten him angry and he stormed off like a petulant child? That sounded terrible, and was not something he was particularly keen to admit to his own son.

Reynold was an observant one, though, and the silence did not escape his notice. Frowning in concern, he cautiously asked, “Is… is something wrong?”

“No. …Not exactly.” Everett sighed, massaging his temples in frustration. “I was just—”

“What happened to your hand?”

Everett blinked, pulling his hand away to get a better look at it. Amid everything that was going on, he hadn’t really noticed, but apparently he had hit the cell’s bars rather more violently than he realized. His hand still stung slightly with pain, and it had started to swell and bruise.

“I… I suppose I lost my temper,” he said dismissively. “It’s nothing.”

This, however, only concerned Reynold more. “What? What happened?”

“I’d rather not discuss this right now,” Everett replied, carefully pushing past Reynold and continuing on his way. “I need to go.”

“What? Wait a minute!” Reynold yelped, a note of panicked worry making it into his tone. This was not normal. Something was wrong.

Everett frowned, glancing over his shoulder to see that Reynold was following him. “Reynold, please…”

“This isn’t like you, Father. Something’s wrong,” Reynold told him. “Please, I just… I just want to help.”

“I don’t—”

“What’s going on?” came another familiar voice—Joffery. Oh ‘Woo, now Joffery was getting in on this, too. “…Father?”

“Joffery,” Everett replied, “Reynold, I appreciate your concern, but it’s not… I mean, I don’t…” He hesitated. And then, he continued, his voice cracking momentarily. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

All fell to silence, neither of the younger Jades quite sure what to do. It was Joffery who finally stepped forward, wrapping his father in a hug. Everett was startled by this, resisting it at first, but then he relaxed, slowly easing into it. After a few moments, he even returned the gesture, carefully and deliberately wrapping his arms around Joffery.

Seeing this, even Reynold, one who didn’t usually care much for hugs, decided to join in, giving his father an awkward but heartfelt hug. “I don’t know what happened,” he said carefully. “But we’re here for you.”

Everett remained silent, pondering this. He loved his family above all else—it was the entire reason Heather’s comments were able to rattle him so much. He would do anything to help them… but now that they were trying to help him, he was pushing them away. Maybe Reynold was right; he shouldn’t just leave them out of this.

“…We were interrogating Heather,” he finally said quietly. “She made some comments, and I… I lost my temper.”

Joffery frowned, finally pulling back from the hug to look him in the eye. “What kind of comments?”

“Insulting ones.” Everett scowled, averting his gaze. “About me, about you, about…” He hesitated again. “…About your mother.”

“She… what?!” Reynold’s eyes widened in horror. “Why would she do that? Why would she talk bad about Mother?!”

“To rattle me. Get me angry.” Everett sighed, pinching his brow. “…It worked.”

“That’s terrible!” Reynold cried. “How dare she talk to you that way!”

“I didn’t think it would bother me, but she wouldn’t stop,” Everett continued with a slight growl. “So I… I left. I left Master Leif to deal with her, and came out here.”

“I’m sorry you had to put up with that,” Reynold said, looking up at him with a mixture of sympathy for him and anger at Heather. “She really shouldn’t be allowed to say things like that.”

“…No,” came Joffery’s voice, who until that point had been uncharacteristically silent. “She really shouldn’t.”

Everett blinked, surprised to hear such a dark tone from his usually jovial son. “…Joffery?”

“Will you be alright if I left you here?” Joffery asked simply, his tone level.

“Er… I’ll be fine, thank you,” was Everett’s reply. “But what—”

“Good.” Without warning, Joffery turned on his heel, marching away and toward the dungeons. “I’m going to talk to her.”

“What?” Everett’s eyes went wide, watching him incredulously. “Joffery she— some of her comments were about Hope, she might try to—”

But this only seemed to anger him more. “Reynold is right; she should not be allowed to say those things.”

Reynold had been stunned speechless. This was Joffery, his idiot singing brother, but right now it sounded like he really and honestly meant business, something he never would have expected out of him. But Reynold quickly regained his bearings, hurrying after his brother. “Um, can I come with you?”

“If you like,” Joffery replied. “Either way, I will not stand for this.”

Everett wasn’t sure how to respond, and ultimately just watched them leave wordlessly. Of all the years he had spent with Joffery, he had never seen him like this. He didn’t know what to make of it, but there was one thing for sure—Joffery had made up his mind, and there was no stopping him now.

Leif had taken a few minutes outside the dungeon to try and cool the last of his temper, and to give Lord Everett a chance to clear his, before he went looking for the head of House. Leif doubted Everett would want to actually talk about what had happened, on an emotional or tactical level, but Leif felt like he ought to make sure that was the case first.

He was able to get directions to where Everett had last been spotted by some of the servants fairly easily, but it was Joffery who Leif found first, and not far from the dungeons, either. For the second time in less than an hour, Leif was surprised by the stark anger in a Jade’s expression. “Lord Joffery?” he said hesitantly.

Upon seeing Leif, Joffery’s expression briefly shifted from the uncharacteristic scowl to a look of confusion. “…Master Leif? Weren’t you with Heather?”

“...I was, but we finished questioning her for now. I just left. ...Is everything all right, Lord Joffery?”

“I heard about what Heather said,” Joffery said, his scowl reforming. “And I won’t stand for it.”

“Uh, me neither,” offered Reynold, who was trailing behind his brother. “She’s not going to get away with such disrespect!”

“No, she’s not,” Leif agreed slowly, looking between the two brothers before his gaze settled on Joffery. “May I ask what you’re planning to do, Lord Joffery?”

“I’m going to talk to her,” Joffery replied simply, continuing on his way toward the dungeons. “You can come with me if you like.”

“Talk to her?” Leif repeated, falling into step just behind the Jade heir. “Wait, Lord Joffery - she’s - it’s a noble gesture, but she’s not...she has a silencing charm on her, but - with all due respect - she’s not going to care what you have to say.”

“If so, then it’s on her head,” Joffery said. “Because it needs to be said.”

“I - I mean, I agree…” Leif sighed - it didn’t seem like he was going to talk Lord Joffery out of this. Still, he felt he had to warn Joffery, “Just because she’s silenced doesn’t mean she’s going to be any less rude. It’s more frustrating than you would even think - and I know I went down there expecting a lot of frustration.”

“I’m sure I can handle it,” was Joffery’s only response.

Leif resisted the urge to sigh again. “As you wish, Lord Joffery. I am definitely coming with you, though.”

“Alright.” Joffery nodded, continuing on his way. He was appreciative for the company, though the way he was feeling right now, he would have been perfectly fine with going alone. One way or another, he wasn’t going to let Heather get away with this.

* * * * *

Heather hadn’t even really had time to do more than lay backwards on her makeshift mattress, gloating inwardly at her psychological victory, when she heard footsteps approaching again. What, already? She frowned, worried for a fleeting moment that Everett had sent along someone to give her some sort of painful retribution for being rude. The woman propped herself up on her elbows to see who was coming in.

It was Lord Joffery who entered this time, followed shortly by two others. Joffery’s demeanor, however, was markedly different than it had been in their previous interactions. Where he normally had a cheerful disposition, right now he was carrying himself a lot more like his father, down to the no-nonsense scowl on his face.

“You have no right,” he hissed, “to speak to my father that way.”

Heather quirked an eyebrow, her expression unimpressed. So the young Jade was here to give her a lecture. Very pointedly, she shifted her elbows so she was lying flat on her back again, giving Joffery a cheeky wave.

Joffery, however, was not deterred, striding up to the cell as he continued. “Do you realize what you are, Heather? You are a prisoner of House Jade, and that means you have NO status. Certainly not what you had as a noble—you gave up that right after what you did to Cyril.” Looking at her crossly, he continued. “You cannot speak to anyone, not even your own family—no, especially not your own family, without explicit permission. Do you understand me, Heather?”

The woman scowled, rolling over on her side so that she could look at Joffery. There were a number of things she’d have liked to retort, but the silencing charm was still in effect so she couldn’t. How brave and noble of Everett’s heir, to come and stride over a foe who was without the means to fight back.

Her eyes slid past Joffery, taking in the two standing behind him. One of them was a boy who looked enough like both Joffery and Everett that she could surmise he was probably one of Joffery’s brothers. The other was Leif, yet again. At the sight of the mage she smirked, and batted her eyelashes coyly in his direction. Leif sneered back at her.

Seeing that she was ignoring him, Joffery’s scowl deepened. “I said, do you understand me, Heather?”

Heather, rolled her eyes, turning her gaze back to Joffery. She pointed to Leif, then made a “x” motion across her neck. She couldn’t precisely acknowledge him when she couldn’t talk. Granted, she could nod, but she wasn’t going to make this that easy on him.

“Oh, I know. Master Leif already told me about the silencing charm,” Joffery told her. “But it’s just as I was saying: you have no permission to speak.”

The woman shrugged, laying back down and pointedly turning her back to Joffery.

“I don’t think she’s listening, Joffery,” Reynold pointed out. “Maybe she’ll pay more attention if you remove the silencing charm.”

Joffery thought on this for a moment. Then, after a moment, he nodded at Leif. “Very well. Go ahead.”

Leif didn’t think this was a good idea at all - but he didn’t exactly want to advertise that to Heather. Hopefully Joffery knew what he was getting into. The archmage raised his wand and muttered the counterspell. “Remember, Heather, the muzzle can go back on any time. I suggest you watch what you say.”

The woman rolled back over, smiling serenely. “How kind. I suppose-”

“I only asked for the silencing charm to be removed,” Joffery added. “Not that I was giving you permission to speak.”

Heather’s mouth curled unpleasantly. “Refusing to allow me to speak is no different then silencing me with a spell you know.” She snorted. “Any schoolyard bully can assert their dominance over a foe who is incapacitated. If you really think you’re so much better than me, young Master Jade, you’ll have to prove it by using methods other than the ones I used- lest we forget that removing the ability to say no or fight back is precisely what I did to Cyril.”

Leif snorted. “Yes, a silencing charm is exactly the same as a love potion. Some mage.”

Joffery’s eyes narrowed. She was stubborn. “Alright, fine, if that’s the way you want to do this. But as Master Leif said, you should watch what you say—you have have no place to speak out against your capturers.”

Heather quirked an eyebrow. “I have nothing more to lose at this point- you’ll need more than a stern voice and your rank to cow me, Joffery Jade.”

“Nothing more to lose? That’s an awfully confident assertion,” Joffery noted. “There are far worse fates you could be subjected to right now, and some of them are permissible by Kythian law for prisoners to be subjected to. Given your position, do you really want to risk that?”

Reynold remained silent, but his eyes widened at this. He knew that Joffery was angry, but he never expected him to be the kind to make such bold threats. Did he really mean that, or was he just saying that to be intimidating?

Heather frowned. “Are you really that galled over a few petty insults that you’d sacrifice your own morals?”

“Oh, of course not. My morals are important to me,” Joffery told her. “Because I, unlike you, have them.”

“Besides that, I’m not sure I’d call speaking out against the Lord of House Jade ‘petty insults,’” Reynold added.

“I said nothing to him that wasn’t true,” she retorted. “Or at least that didn’t have a core of truth to it.” She smirked. “After all, it is a fact that if Cassandra had not been carrying his child, she would not have died when she did. And coming to Corvus to marry him put Satine in the way of a local disease to which she had no immunity.”

Reynold bristled at this. “Excuse me?”

“That disease is normally treatable with the right potions,” Leif said coldly. “Lord Everett couldn’t possibly have predicted...seventeen, eighteen years ahead of time that a drought would hit Corvus and kill the plants that go into those potions the same year Lady Satine came down with the illness. No sane person would call that his fault.”

“…You would dare say that was his fault?” Joffery questioned, his eyes narrowing at Heather. “That is the furthest from the truth.”

Heather shrugged. “Logic doesn’t really come into it when emotion is clouding things. Certainly Lord Jade didn’t have a retort to offer.” The woman smiled serenely. “I think he was about to cry, honestly. Then he had your friend over there gag me, and that was the end of our lovely conversation.”

Joffery felt his fists clench. So that was the comment that had his father so upset? It wasn’t surprising, given how thoroughly thoughtless it was. “And why, pray tell, do you feel inclined to tell us this? What does it gain you?”

That wasn’t the reaction Heather had been hoping for. No angry outbursts- oh he was angry, but not in a towering temper like she’d hoped. She shrugged, looking away. “I was curious to see what you’d do. You came all the way down here, so I figured you might be curious to know why you needed to. I guess you don’t really care what I said- you just want to impress Daddy by telling me off,” she smirked at Reynold. “Is that why you trailed along? Didn’t want big bro to show you up yet again?”

This time, the comment made Joffery falter slightly. How did she know about his relationship with Reynold? Was it a lucky guess, or did someone tell her? Reynold himself hesitated for a moment, pondering what to say. He couldn’t deny it, the thought had crossed his mind, but…

“I… we came because what you did was wrong,” Reynold decided on. “Not because we’re trying to impress anyone.”

Joffery smiled at this, pleased with this response. That Reynold was willing to put their rivalry aside, if even for a short while, was reassuring to him. His smile soon faded, however, to be replaced by the serious scowl from before.

“You, on the other hand, impress no one with your thoughtless comments,” he said. “Though again, I remind you that it is not your place to insult your superiors.”

Heather had to fight to keep her expression neutral. Joffery kept coming back to that point, refusing to take any of the bait she was dangling in front of him. It was galling. She needed to get a hook in somewhere. He’d definitely hesitated when she brought up the issues with Reynold, and Reynold himself had taken a while to answer. Perhaps the younger boy would be an easier mark?

She snorted softly, giving Reynold a calculatedly disappointed look. “I really thought you’d understand on that point. I mean I know what it is to be constrained by an older brother who my father insists on being his heir despite the man being wholly unsuited to the job.”

Reynold tensed at this, but chose to say nothing. Joffery, on the other hand, narrowed his eyes at the comment. This was getting way too specific to be a lucky guess, but how did she know this? Someone must have told her, but the only person he could think of who might know about this… oh ‘Woo, please no.

“Where are you getting this information?” he questioned.

The woman smirked, shrugging casually. “Information about the people you’re going to be having diplomatic talks with is valuable. And as I’m sure you surmised by now, the Oberon with that information was in no fit state to make use of it. So I just asked him to tell me everything he knew so that I would be able to make advantageous advances in our political talks. Loyalties mean nothing to someone on a love potion.”

Joffery gritted his teeth. So she did get it from Cyril. He was already furious at her for what she did to him, but the thought of someone getting sensitive personal information out of his cousin so easily… it sickened him.

“You’re despicable, Heather,” was his only response.

She rolled her eyes. “Blood is cheap in noble families, you both ought to realize that by now. My birth family as witness- my oldest brother ran away from home because he couldn’t handle the brutal truth of politics, and was never heard from again. In politics you either turn nasty, or you quit like a coward.”

Reynold scowled, but again decided not to say anything. There was a part of him that wanted to tell her that no, Anders was not a coward, but he also didn’t want to give her the luxury of knowing that he was friends with her lost brother.

Leif raised his eyebrows. “Really? Those are the only two options? Because I’ve met quite a few lords and ladies and others of noble station who are neither cowardly or nasty. Even if you want to call my experiences anecdotal - I’d like to point out that if every politician were as corrupt as you, there wouldn’t be laws against magical manipulations. And if otherwise we were all cowards, you wouldn’t have been confronted, captured, and put in this cell, would you?”

Heather rolled her eyes. “I’d like to point out that when Lord Joffery realized something was wrong with his cousin, he didn’t confront me himself. Instead he had to run and hide behind Daddy and his pet mage. And it took having a powerful mage on his side for Everett to confront me.”

“I was taking care of Priam,” Joffery pointed out. “And Master Leif happens to know about potions. It was a group effort.”

“And it would be stupid,” Leif said bluntly, “to confront a sociopathic mage without a mage of your own on hand. That would be like offering your arm to an alligator. Lord Everett isn’t an idiot.”

Heather glowered at Leif, but suddenly she smirked, turning to Joffery. “Speaking of my son, how is he doing? I wonder, what’s going to become of him now? How long until word spreads of what I did, and the entire region knows that Cyril’s heir was conceived under the influence of a love potion? Your mage friend keeps talking about how much better off he is without me, but can the boy possibly hope to have any real future with that scandal hanging over his head?”

“And what makes you think that’s any worse than what you would have subjected him to?” Joffery questioned. “Or what you already were subjecting him to?”

Heather scoffed. “He was perfectly fine. I never hurt him; I just didn’t indulge his whining for attention. I had things to do- he figured out eventually not to bother me, and stopped screaming and acting out. The worst thing he was guilty of was being skittish, which while not ideal I would have trained him out of given enough time.”

“He would have been worse than skittish,” Leif said, crossing his arms. “And I know I, for one, don’t want to see the methods you would have used to ‘train him out of it’.” Admittedly, Leif wasn’t positive how a normal child would act under completely inattentive parents, but he had a feeling nervousness was not the only symptom. If Priam had turned angry and disobedient like Leif had...Heather would not have taken it well.

“He already is worse than just skittish,” Joffery pointed out. “Raising a child is a delicate process that involves more than just not hurting him, Heather.”

“So you will spoil him then,” she replied, shrugging dismissively. “And when he is forced to confront the fact that the world hates him for what he is and no one will accept him as Cyril’s heir, he won’t know how to handle it.” She folded her arms. “Your bleeding heart is going to come back to bite you one day. Emotion and bonds create vulnerability. Cyril trusted me, and I used it against him. Your father cared for both of his wives, and I used it against him.”

A smirk crossed her face, and she added, “You regard your brother with an inordinate amount of sentiment in spite of the fact that he resents you. One day, someone may use that against you. Perhaps even him.”

Though Joffery did his best to maintain his serious demeanor, he faltered slightly at this. He wanted to believe it wasn’t true, but… could it be true? Did Reynold really resent him that much? He found himself afraid to meet his brother’s gaze and find out, so chose instead to continue glaring wordlessly at Heather.

It was Reynold himself who finally broke the silence. “I’m not like you, Heather!”

“Oh aren’t you?” Heather asked with a smirk. “Jealousy, resentment, a desire for your worth to be recognized- I know your mind as well as I know my own, Reynold Jade.”

“You’re wrong! Just because…” Reynold paused, pondering what exactly to say. After a moment to reign in his temper, he shook his head. “I would never use my brother that way. I’m not like you.”

For a moment, Joffery’s expression softened. “Reynold…”

Leif would have breathed a sigh of relief if he hadn’t thought Heather would pounce on it instantly. Joffery and Reynold’s relationship wasn’t perfect, but at least they had each others’ backs in situations like these. Thank goodness it isn’t the Accipiters and I trying to interrogate her - I can only imagine the mess if she started picking at us. He was honestly a little surprised the woman hadn’t brought it up herself yet, though perhaps as far south as Heleos and Astralogos were, she hadn’t heard enough about the Accipiters’ dramatically-strained relations to make the connection. Or maybe she just considered the Lords of the House more interesting targets than their “pet mage”; Leif wasn’t going to pretend he completely understood her thought process.

Heather, on the other hand, was scowling. The two Jade brats kept feeding off of each other. When she thought she had Joffery in a corner, his brother spoke up in his defense. When she needled at Reynold, he shut down and Joffery distracted her in his silence. Growling softly, she said, “You say that now- but I don’t think your dear cousin ever thought he would betray either of you. When you are soft, you get taken advantage of. He was a fool, and so are both of you.”

“That’s an awfully narrow-minded way of thinking,” Joffery said, once again returning to his previous serious demeanor. “If you honestly think that kindness leads only to betrayal, then I honestly feel sorry for you.”

The woman sneered. “Spare me your pity. I’ve no use for it.”

She then turned over, pointedly turning her back to the Jades once more.

Joffery raised an eyebrow. “Are you done, then?”

His only answer was was Heather shooting him a venomous glare over her shoulder, before turning her face back towards the wall.

...All right, Leif thought, raising his eyebrows at Heather’s back. Tag-team her with a relative and offer her pity to get her to shut up. Good to know. I’ll pass that on to Lord Everett.

Leif still didn’t think they should press their luck, that they should get out of the dungeons while they clearly had the upper-hand. Hopefully Joffery would recognize that, because Leif didn’t think it would be a good idea for the pet mage to point it out. Giving Heather a new target at the last minute was about the opposite of what he wanted.

Thankfully, Joffery himself seemed satisfied with the outcome, giving a pleased smile. “Good. I hope you remember this little talk of ours.” He turned, heading for the exit. “Come on, Reynold. Master Leif.”

And with that, the three Jades left the room, leaving Heather alone to sulk.

* * * * *

Everett was concerned. Ever since Joffery had stormed off insisting that he was going to talk to Heather, he couldn’t stop worrying about what she was going to do to him. Her words kept cycling through his mind, and… Reynold had gone with Joffery, ‘Woo, what was she going to say to him?

It was enough that he’d ultimately decided not to go to his office, instead heading back toward the dungeons. He didn’t go inside, of course—he wasn’t ready to face Heather again, not yet. But he did wait outside, far enough away that he couldn’t overhear whatever conversation they were having in there. Silently, he prayed to Woo that it wouldn’t go as badly for his sons as it did for him.

It wasn’t until a while later that the two boys emerged from the dungeons, along with Master Leif. Everett braced himself for the worst… but to his surprise, they seemed to be in good spirits. Did it… actually end well?

“Are you two alright?” he asked regardless, moving in immediately to greet them.

“Oh! Father, I didn’t know you’d be here,” Joffery replied, smiling. “Don’t worry; I don’t think she’s about to forget what we told her.”

“…Is that so?” Everett asked, clearly surprised. He glanced past his sons toward Leif, as if to ask what exactly had happened.

Leif tucked his wand back into its holster. “They did well with her, Lord Everett - refused to rise to her taunts and backed each other up until Heather got...bored, I suppose. She’s sulking, I think.” He smirked in the direction of the dungeons briefly, before turning back to Everett. “We didn’t try asking her anymore questions, but maybe this will make her less inclined to try toying with us if we need to do so again.”

Everett was stunned speechless. Was it really true? His two eldest sons, often immature and contributing to the Lord of Embers’ endless headaches, had actually managed to get the best of Heather? In almost the amount of time it had taken her to get him angry, no less? After a moment to let this sink in, he gave a pleased smile. It was good to know that all his years of patience with the boys was paying off.

“Well then… I’m glad you could talk some sense into her,” he said. “I’m impressed.”

Joffery smiled broadly, reaching over and patting Reynold on the shoulder. “I couldn’t have done it without you, brother. Thank you.”

“Oh, um… you’re welcome,” Reynold replied, giving a small smile of his own. “I just couldn’t let her get away with lying like that.”

“Well, you apparently handled it… better than I did,” Everett admitted carefully. “…Thank you both.”

Joffery’s smile softened, and he stepped forward to give his father another hug. “She told us what she said to you. You know it’s not your fault, right?”

“I…” Everett hesitated, cautiously putting an arm around Joffery. “…I realize that. But thank you.”

“Don’t blame yourself for getting upset. She caught you off-guard,” Reynold added. “And it was really insensitive.”

Everett didn’t respond, thinking on this silently. After a moment, he pulled back from the hug, clearing his throat in a futile attempt to regain his composure. “I should thank you as well, Master Leif. Your help has been invaluable.”

Leif, who had been fiddling awkwardly with his gloves and wondering if he ought to leave to give the Jades some personal family time, looked up in surprise. He hadn’t expected to be thanked for standing off to the side and occasionally making snarky comments. But he was quick to bow his head and reply, “Of course, Lord Everett. I’m glad I could be of assistance.”

“You’ve been helpful through this whole ordeal,” Everett clarified. “So thank you.”

Leif smiled. “Anytime you need an ornamental rug dropped on someone, I will be more than happy to assist.” Despite his jestering, Leif was grateful to have his efforts acknowledged, and to know they had been useful. People said the Lord of House Jade was very cold and distant, but he was much more generous with his thanks than some people Leif had endured.

Everett gave a small amused laugh, then fell silent, pondering what to do now. It seemed the feeling was mutual, as everyone just stood there for a moment, lost in thought. It was Joffery who finally broke the silence, snapping his fingers in remembrance.

“Oh! I was going to help Hope with the children,” he said. He was about to head toward the nursery, but he paused, glancing back toward the others. “…Would anyone like to come with me? I don’t think you’ve all met Priam yet.”

“I…” Everett paused, considering this for a moment. “…I suppose it couldn’t hurt. Reynold? Leif?”

“I’d like to meet Priam,” Leif agreed with a nod.

“I, well, uh…” Reynold fumbled for a moment, unsure. After a moment, he finally shrugged. “…Okay, sure.”

Joffery smiled, and started leading the way to the nursery. After having to put up with Heather, it would be nice to have something pleasant to take their minds off of it.

[Shinko]

This story takes place about a week after part five of "A Chance to Help." Collabed with PFA and Tiger

Bruises

SPOILER: Click to show

Ophelia frowned at the bookshelves Jade Manor’s personal library, quirking an eyebrow at the rather tightly crammed state of the books. It was obvious this room had been constructed to accommodate a much smaller collection, and as that collection was expanded the room had not expanded to match. She put a few fingers down tentatively on the book she wanted- a historical tome written in High Courdonian- and gave it a tug. It didn’t budge. She pulled harder, and still nothing. Finally, reaching her whole arm behind the book to push it forcefully off the shelf, she managed to get it free- losing her balance and slipping from the ladder she’d been using to reach the shelf in the process. She gave a sharp cry as she overbalanced, her right leg shooting forwards through the gaps in the latter as her body fell sideways.

Cai, sucking in a startled breath through his teeth, reached out a hand toward her back to steady her, adjusting his aim slightly more toward her shoulder than the center of her spine at the last moment so that he didn’t strike the line of sensitive skin there. The burn-scarred fireknight was a good foot or so shorter than Ophelia - hence why she was on the ladder and he was not - but he was stronger than his height might have implied, hopefully enough to keep Ophelia on the ladder while she regained her balance.

Ophelia, her heart still hammering a bit, scrabbled for the ladder with her left arm, finally managing to grab it and draw her herself back upright- more or less, she was sort of sitting on the rung her leg had gone through- onto it. “Woo, that was almost bad,” she muttered, her face tight with pain. She gently slid her leg back out from between the steps, hissing as her knee protested. “If my leg’s not at least bruised I’ll be surprised. They really need to expand the library so the books aren’t packed in so tight.”

“They do seem to be running out of space. ...Well, they ran out long ago, I suppose. Are you all right?”

She managed to prise herself free and climb down the ladder, sitting with a thump at the base of it and drawing back her skirts to look at the leg in question. Her calf and knee were swelling on on one side, reddish and quickly going purple. With a sardonic look she remarked, “Looks like a negative, Right Wedge. Gonna have to call the medic.”

Cai crouched beside her, frowning at the sight of the wound. “That does look painful - there are healers somewhere in this manor, they should be able to heal that for you fairly easily.” He’d kept his hand on Ophelia’s shoulder as she came down the ladder, and realized he still had it there now. Cai’s first thought was that he should draw it back, but...did he really have to? They were a couple now - they had been for a week, a span of time Cai found difficult to believe had gone by already.

Glancing back at the bruise again, however, reminded him that this was not the time, and Cai mentally pushed aside the concerns about propriety and the still almost confused excitement over the escalation of his and Ophelia’s relationship. “I can look around here and see if anyone knows precisely where they are, so you aren’t stuck walking on a bruise that size while neither of us has any idea where we’re going?”

Ophelia smiled wanly. “Woo, my brother won’t talk to healers about life-threatening burns and lacerations and I’m going to see one for a bruise. I’m talented aren’t I, falling off a perfectly stationary ladder?” She leaned her head sideways a bit so that her cheek was resting on Cai’s arm. “Alright, if you think can find someone closeby. Sorry about this, Cai, I should’ve been more careful.”

Cai felt the pace of his heart pick up at Ophelia’s touch, and it felt like an extra second or two before he could gather his thoughts. “Falls happen to everyone, there’s nothing to apologize for. And it’s swelling already, that’s going to get very uncomfortable.”

“Oh, I don’t know. You both look pretty comfortable to me.”

Ophelia’s head shot up in surprise, her head twisting around on her neck towards the speaker as a crimson flush spread across her cheeks. Cai turned as best he could while still crouched, startled as well and momentarily having to fight off a jolt of guilty panic, like he’d been caught doing something wrong. It at least didn’t put up much of a struggle.

They were both greeted by the sight of a light-haired man of obvious elvish descent, looking down at them with amused amber eyes. He was dressed in a green and gold tunic indicative of House Jade. Ophelia recognized him immediately as the Jade’s elven advisor, Peter.

“I’m sorry, you don’t need help, do you?” he asked. “I mean, you seem to be in good hands already, but I may as well ask.”

Ophelia laughed a little breathlessly, rubbing the back of her neck with the hand that wasn’t still clutching the book she’d hurt herself to get. “Advisor Peter, I, ah… I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.” She cleared her throat, “Cai, this is Peter Jade, he works for Lord Everett. Advisor Peter, this is Sir Cai Shahar, Right Wedge of the Third Wing of the Jade fireknights.” The flush crawling further across her face as she smiled somewhat crookedly, she added, “And he’s my boyfriend.”

Cai nodded in quick agreement. It was probably good that she’d mentioned that fact, so Peter didn’t get any false impressions about what was going on. It also made his stomach do some extremely impressive-feeling acrobatics, maybe the sorts of things a phoenix could do if it didn’t need to keep a rider in the saddle. Trying to ignore the mingled feelings of thrill and awkwardness so he could speak normally, Cai bowed - again, as much as he could while stooped. “An honor to meet you, Advisor.”

“It’s an honor to meet you, too, Sir Shahar,” Peter said, returning the bow. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend, Representative. Is this a new development?”

Ophelia glanced in the fireknight’s direction, giving him a somewhat bemused smile. “Yes, we just started… courting I suppose? A week or so ago. But we’ve been friends for quite a while.”

“I see. Well, congratulations,” Peter replied amicably. Sending an amused glance toward Cai, he added, “You both seem quite happy with the development.”

Cai nodded again. “We…” He glanced at Ophelia, but after only a brief pause, turned his eyes back toward Peter and said, “We are. Thank you, sir.”

Ophelia smiled, grateful to hear it in spite of the fact that she had no reason to suspect he would say anything different. Peter’s own smile broadened slightly, looking between the two of them.

“Well, I’m happy for you both,” he told them. Then, his eyes acquired that amused glint again. “I just hope there won’t be too much falling off of ladders in your relationship.”

The half-elf ducked her head, looking acutely embarrassed. “The book was stuck,” she mumbled, as if that explained everything. Glancing at Cai with a crooked grin she added, “Though I suppose technically you are supposed to sweep me off my feet, so. Better get on that, Sir Shahar.”

Cai blinked in momentary surprise, but Ophelia teasing him wasn’t exactly a brand new experience. “Yes, that’s what I’ve heard...give me a little time to adjust and learn all the ropes. I’ll do better next time,” he promised with a smile.

“See that you do,” Ophelia replied with mock sternness.

Peter chuckled at the banter between the two of them. “Anyway, my question still stands. Did you need help?”

“Oh - yes, actually,” Cai said, rising to his feet. “Ophelia bruised herself on the ladder rather badly - I know there are healers somewhere around here, but I don’t know precisely where; if we could get directions, I would be very greatful.”

Ophelia tried to stand herself, pulling up on the ladder for support, but by this point her knee and calf were badly swollen. She gave an involuntary whine of pain upon the attempt to put weight on her leg, and sank back down. Cai frowned and, carefully, put his arm a little around her shoulders. “Are you going to be able to get there all right?” he asked.

The half-elf shrugged, “I’ll have to, won’t I? I love you, but you’re too short for me to really properly lean on.”

“I’d be more than happy to help if you like,” Peter said, offering a hand. “I may not be your boyfriend, but you could lean on me if it helps. As long as Sir Shahar doesn’t mind, of course.”

“She’s the one who will be doing the leaning - if she has no problems with it, neither do I. ...And even if I did, she does need the support right now,” Cai replied.

Ophelia smiled, reaching up to the proffered hand. “Thank you, Advisor. I think Cai’s right, I could do with some help.” Glancing in Cai’s direction she quipped, “But you don’t have to worry- I much prefer your shoulder being lower than mine under normal circumstances, it’s just the right height for a cozy pillow.”

Cai felt both heat and a smile flood his face. “Good, I’m - I’m glad it’s at a proper height. I don’t think it’s going anywhere higher, at this point.”

“You should be very proud, Sir Shahar,” Peter remarked as he helped Ophelia up. “Everyone aspires to be a proper pillow for their romantic partner.”

“I...will consider it a high achievement, then, Advisor.” The heat in Cai’s face didn’t seem like it would be leaving anytime soon. The fireknight tried to momentarily distract himself from this by taking position at Ophelia’s opposite side, just in case. A low shoulder was better than no shoulder at all.

“As you should,” Ophelia replied teasingly as Peter began to guide them out of the library. “For no military distinction can surpass it.” Sobering somewhat, she added, “Can you grab the book? It’s heavy and I don’t think I can carry it in one hand.”

“Of course.” Cai paused to pick up the thick volume and hurried to follow the elves into the hallway.

“So what book were you checking out, if I may ask?” Peter wondered.

Ophelia bit her lip, unsure how to answer. The book in question was written in High Courdonian, and she was mostly checking it out as part of her lessons in Low Courdonian with Cai- to see how the grammar differed between the two dialects and make note of any dialect words that came up in the text. She’d originally come to Solis a year prior with the intent of learning the language to help escaped slaves fleeing out of Courdon and into Kyth- something that she was having to do under the table because of a treaty between the two nations that demanded escaped slaves be returned. Cai was her teacher in the language because he was himself an escaped slave, and this fact was one he kept a closely guarded secret on account of that treaty.

Peter was an elf, and the elves of Nid’aigle all loathed Courdon- the country viewed elves as an inferior race and frequently raided Kyth for elvish slaves. Ophelia was fairly sure if she answered honestly he wouldn’t judge them for it- he might even sympathize. But the secret wasn’t really hers to share. She glanced at Cai, quirking an eyebrow in an invitation for him to decide what to say.

Cai considered for a few seconds, his pulse quickening for different reasons now. Though Peter was an elf and would therefore have no motive or safe means to alert Courdon to Cai’s presence here, it was not a secret he told many people. Besides, in the halls of Jade Manor, there was too much risk of being overheard, perhaps by someone with less reason to fear being enslaved.

There was no point in hiding the book, Cai supposed; all Peter would have to do to catch them in a lie would be to glance over and catch sight of the title. “A volume on the Courdonian language,” he said. “Ophelia is a translator, and one of the documents she’s working on has a few Courdonian passages scattered through it.” It was probably going to seem odd that Cai was explaining Ophelia’s work, but that couldn’t be helped.

“…I see,” Peter replied, glancing toward the book to confirm that it was indeed written in Courdonian. His smile faltered for a moment, but only briefly, before it returned to the same pleasant expression he always wore. “Well, best of luck to you with that.”

Ophelia could guess from the abbreviated reply that Peter wasn’t wild about that answer, though whether that was because he could tell Cai was lying or because of the general elven prejudice against Courdon she couldn't guess. I really wish he’d picked a lie that painted that in a better light, she thought dismally, but didn’t comment on it.

“So what were you doing in the library?” she asked instead, hoping a change of subject would lighten the sudden tension in the air. “Before you found the two of us getting into a losing battle with a ladder.”

Peter chuckled lightly, as if the tension was suddenly gone. “Oh, nothing terribly important. I was just looking for a bit of light reading.”

“Light?” Ophelia asked, quirking an eyebrow. “I don’t think any of the books in there are light. They’re all huge, heavy, and crammed so tightly in the shelves that I almost squashed my poor boyfriend trying to haul one out.” She glanced at Cai with a smirk. “Only imagine how cross Lieutentant Escalus would’ve been with me if I ended up on top of you, and left you unable to work.”

“Oh, very,” Cai said lightly. “Though if you and that book managed to hurt me badly enough that I couldn’t work, I imagine at least the healers would have come to us instead of us going to them - less walking on a bruised leg for you.”

“I think I’d be concerned for our fireknights if you couldn’t handle your girlfriend falling into your arms,” Peter teased.

“She is quite a bit taller than me - and unlike enemies in the field, I can’t dodge and let her fall to the floor, nor do I think she would approve of being attacked with a blade or phoenix. Not that Tamir would agree to do it, now that you’ve given him treats.”

Ophelia grinned broadly. “And what does that say about the fireknights, that their phoenixes’ loyalty can be had for a few grapes? All the same, I am glad you didn’t let me fall, even if you were apparently at such tremendous risk of injury. ...Are you trying to imply that I’m fat, Cai Shahar?”

Cai blinked. “I - no, that wasn’t my intent at all!” He held up the book slightly, careful to only show the back of it. “The primary threat of injury to me would be this dropping onto my head or crushing my chest. It would be a Courdonian book that attempted to murder or at least grievously injure someone.”

Peter gave a dry laugh, but otherwise didn’t comment. Ophelia snorted, tilting her head back so that her eyes glittered with mischief. “But you weren’t threatening the book with stabbing or phoenix immolation.” She let her lower lip quiver. “Admit it, you think I’m fat.”

She’s only joking, Cai reminded himself, easing aside a frantic conviction that he needed to fix it now. “I analyzed the situation as a knight - if a bandit leaped out at me from a library shelf, I wouldn’t be worried about him squishing me as much as his knife stabbing me - but I’d still go for the man rather than the small blade in his hand. ...You are taller than a book. I hope that does not constitute an insult - it would be very difficult to do your job if you were shorter than the books. ...It would be difficult to do a lot of things if you were shorter than a book.”

Ophelia was silent for a moment, giving Cai an unconvinced look. Then she grinned, reaching towards him with her free arm and lightly clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re cute when you’re flustered, Cai, even if I really was mad I couldn’t stay it.” Impishly she added, “Don’t worry, ‘fat’ is one of the less insulting things that have been insinuated about me.”

“For what it’s worth, Representative, I don’t think you’re fat, much less any of those other things,” Peter offered.

“Me neither,” Cai agreed in a firm tone. He knew exactly the sorts of things that others had said about Ophelia, criticisms of her hybridism from both elves and humans. “...Would it make up for any accidental implications on my part if…” He glanced briefly at Peter, but decided to continue regardless of the relatively unfamiliar man’s presence. “If I reminded you I think you’re very pretty just the way you are?”

Ophelia had been giving a grateful smile to both of the men, but when Cai said that he thought she was pretty, the young woman’s expression went unexpectedly blank. A moment later, her cheeks took on a slightly pink hue, and in a very small voice she said, “Ah… you do?”

“I do,” Cai said with a small but genuine smile.

Peter, who had been watching the couple with an amused smile, finally decided to comment. “Nice save, Sir Shahar.”

“Er...thank you, Advisor.”

Ophelia, seeming to recover from her momentary lapse, laughed. “I do appreciate it Cai, thank you.” To Peter she added, “And thank you as well, Advisor.”

“Of course,” Peter replied with a smile. “I know my opinion probably doesn’t matter as much to you as that of your boyfriend, but I offer it regardless.”

“The opinion of someone who’s been giving counsel to the ruling family of all Corvus for nigh on a century is hardly something to sneeze at,” she pointed out with amusement. However, the warm look she gave Cai made it fairly obvious that Peter wasn’t wrong.

Peter chuckled. “Thank you, but I can see where your loyalties lie, Representative.”

Relieved that the conversation had come to a happier point - and one where Cai wasn’t jumping from one misspoken explanation to another under a two-pronged attack of teasing - Cai let his shoulders relax. The look Ophelia gave him made any other tension remaining in his muscles melt away.

They finally arrived at the wing of the manor where the Jade family’s healers were housed, and once Ophelia was situated in one of the examining rooms, Peter took his leave to return to the task he’d been at when he found them. The healers hadn’t yet arrived to see to Ophelia, busy in other rooms seeing other patients, so the half-elf took advantage of the relative privacy to give Cai a crooked smile.

“Sorry, he’s a bit of a tease. And you really are cute when you get flustered, so I couldn’t resist building off of it. Hope we didn’t wear you too ragged.”

Cai shook his head. “Not too badly, I could tell you were teasing. ...You will tell me straightforwardly if something I do or say does offend you, right?” he asked. “Because if it did, I wouldn’t make excuses to try and play along - I would apologize.”

“Believe me, if I’m actually upset about something you’ll be able to tell,” she assured him. Hesitantly, she reached out and took his hand in hers. “Thanks for putting up with my teasing though, Cai. I know I can be kind of relentless at times, so I also want you let me know if I ever do anything that sincerely upsets you, okay?”

Cai nodded, curling his fingers around Ophelia’s hand and feeling his own quick pulse where the base of his thumb touched her skin. “Alright, that sounds fair.”

He realized the book was pressing awkwardly under his arm, and used his free hand to heft it onto the examining table beside Ophelia, cover down. Shaking his head at the book, he muttered, “I hope I didn’t offend Advisor Peter with my...explanation. I’m sure he can be trusted; places like this just have extra eyes and ears.”

“I understand, Cai, it’s why I let you decide what to say,” she replied gently. “I’m not going to tell anyone else anything implicating without your permission. For what it’s worth though, I don’t think he was offended at what you said in particular- the elves of Nid’aigle just really, really hate Courdon. And as long as they live, a good proportion of them have personal grudges that stretch back hundreds of years. It’s part of why the commander of the my brother’s company helped me set all this up in the first place.”

“That’s perfectly reasonable - any elf would have good reason to hate that country. Hopefully it was just the topic in general and not him realizing I was lying that made him cross.” Meeting Ophelia’s eyes, Cai added, “Thank you for guarding that secret for me. I trust your judgment - but it feels...better to have some control over it.” Ophelia smiled with understanding, and gave Cai’s hand another squeeze. He shook his head again, a little more quickly this time. “But, what’s done there is done. How is your leg feeling?”

The half-elf looked down at it and sighed. “I’ll survive. It hurts, but when the healer gets to me it’ll be gone in less than a minute. I really am sorry for being so clumsy and getting us into this mess,” she chuckled. “That is not normally what one imagines when they talk of falling into the arms of a loved one.”

Cai chuckled. “I suppose not - but don’t apologize, it could have happened to anyone. Traditional or not, I’m glad I was able to help catch you - though it wasn’t precisely a catch, more of a support.” He hesitated, glancing toward the door - nobody seemed to be there or approaching, so he turned back to Ophelia and quietly, a little tentatively, offered, “If you feel like we need to make up for it, we can try a proper fall and catch on our own later - from a safer distance, though, maybe you just leaning back instead.”

Ophelia smiled. “I’d like that. As much hassle as that book has put us through already today, I’m willing to let it wait and spend some time doing something enjoyable instead. I did say you make a great pillow.”

“So you did - and like any knightly skill, I need to make sure I’m keeping it well-honed.”

“Although,” she said thoughtfully, “I suppose it’s not really fair to make you do all the work. Catching me and being my pillow and such. I should do something for you once in a while.”

In spite of the lightness of her tone, an air of nervousness descended over Ophelia. She glanced towards the door, swallowing visibly. Cai started to speak, but then Ophelia, seeming to make up her mind about something, leaned up towards Cai and gently, almost tentatively, pressed her lips against his.

Cai froze for a second, outside and in, his brain just barely coughing up a spastic chain of realizations - Ophelia’s lips on his, Ophelia’s soft, pretty lips on his and he could feel where the burn scars on his lips were but she was kissing him anyway, Ophelia kissing him...

What felt like a jolt, almost like the feeling of being on phoenixback when the bird let itself be struck by lightning but much better and not at all eerie, darted down Cai’s spine, unfreezing his muscles so he could reciprocate the kiss. Almost unconsciously, and slowly, he reached a hand up to touch her arm. She responded to the gesture by lifting the arm in question, wrapping it around Cai’s back as if to pull him closer. She’d been afraid he would pull away, but no, he was kissing her back...

She wasn’t really sure if they were like that for a few minutes or only a few seconds, but eventually they pulled apart again. The half-elf smiled shyly, her cheeks bright scarlet. “Sorry that… wasn’t too forward, was it?”

“Too - no, no it wasn’t too forward,” Cai managed, his heart striking excitedly hard against his chest. “It was - it wasn’t too forward...I liked it,” he decided at last, giving up on trying to craft an elegant reply while his brain seemed too busy trying to fully absorb what had happened. Ophelia had kissed him…

Ophelia giggled, though it was more out of relief than at Cai’s tongue-tied state. She leaned forwards, pressing her forehead against his. “That’s good- I did too. I’ve never kissed anyone like that before so I was worried I’d get it wrong somehow. But I’m glad it was good.”

She was rambling. She knew she was rambling, but that was okay- Cai didn’t seem terribly more coherent than she was.

Cai draped an arm around her shoulders. “It was very good. Not wrong at all. … I didn’t even think to worry about one of us getting it wrong. And - I haven’t kissed anyone before. How did I not…” He mentally shook the confusion off. “You said it was...no, you said you liked it, too. So...I did all right? The burns didn’t...throw it off?”

“Burns?” Ophelia repeated, leaning back just a bit so she could see. “Oh. Honestly I didn’t even notice.” She relaxed against him again. “You did great. That was… I dunno, is ‘fun’ the right word? It… it felt nice.”

“Fun...I think that’s a good word. Definitely nice, too.” He tried to consider his words before speaking, but again had to give up fairly quickly or risk sitting in silence for an uncomfortably long time. “So...is this going to be like the hugging, where we start doing it a lot more often once we’ve done the first?”

Ophelia tilted her head somewhat. “Do you want to do it more often?”

“Yes,” Cai said quickly, before catching himself. “...If you like, yes. As you said, it felt...good. Very good.”

She smiled, gently kissing him on the cheek. “We’ll do it more often then.”

As the happy couple shared this sweet exchange, they didn’t realize that Peter was standing silently just outside the doors of the examining room—he’d decided not to return to the library just yet after all, waiting for a healer to arrive to ensure that the representative was taken care of. He did his best not to listen in on their conversation, out of respect for their privacy, but did occasionally glance back into the room to make certain they were alright. When he saw them kiss, Peter smiled in amusement. Yes, it seemed they were more than alright.

Ah, the sweet innocence of youth, the advisor thought absently, and for a moment, a thoughtful look entered his eyes. Looking at Ophelia, he couldn’t help but wonder… Peter shook his head. This wasn’t the time to contemplate that.

It wasn’t much longer that the healer arrived. Peter smiled, directing her into the room, before continuing on his way. His task here was done, and it was onto the next one, just as always.

[Shinko]

So this is a collab that has been close to a month in the making, and will be posted in up in eight parts- the story of what was going on on the sidelines of the main roleplay game, and two minor Corvid houses trying desperately to keep their heads above water in a situation that was way, way bigger than them. Avery and I present to you-

Once Upon Another Time: Part One

SPOILER: Click to show

“But I made a reservation,” the older, well-dressed man said, staring with a furrowed brow at the innkeeper standing before him. “I sent a pigeon requesting a block of rooms just as soon as I heard of the king’s death-- and received a reply confirming its receipt--”

“Do you have this reply?” the innkeeper said dully, picking at his grimy nails without sparing the ranting man even a glance.

“Well, no,” the man said, before realizing the implication of the innkeeper’s comment, at which point a sharp frown curled at the corners of his lips. “Are you calling me a liar?” he demanded.

“Of course not.” The innkeeper smiled thinly.

“Then give me my Woo-cursed rooms.”

“I’ve no rooms to give. Very busy week, you know. Lots of visitors in town.” The innkeeper shrugged. “You could try the King’s Arms, perchance?”

At this suggestion, the main flinched as if he’d been slapped. “No. I booked here, and it’s here that I shall stay--”

“Basil, dear,” cut in the woman who stood at his side. She was younger than him, but not by much, with a tan, wrinkled face and silver hair largely covered by a checkered veil. Setting a hand on the man’s arm, she added, “Being rude will hardly help us.” She glanced behind her, at the young man and woman who stood silently at she and her husband’s flank. “You wouldn’t happen to have that confirmation with you, hm?” she asked them, her voice light even as her husband continued to fume beside her, glaring daggers at the nonplussed innkeeper.

The younger man, a bronze skinned blonde with a carefully trimmed mustache, dressed in livery of orange and blue, folded his arms, frowning in thought. “Perhaps. Let me just…”

He turned, kneeling down beside the packs stuffed with an array of clothing, formal and non, as well as various other curios necessary for travel. After a moment of fumbling around, he finally came up with slightly crumpled envelope. Withdrawing the letter from within, he quickly skimmed it before stepping around the older couple to place it on the desk, his face a study of absolute politeness. “There you are- sorry about the trouble, looks like we had it after all.”

The innkeeper received the proffered parchment as one might take a hold of a venomous snake, skimming it only briefly before pushing it back away. “That is a confirmation, yes,” he muttered darkly. “In my wife’s hand. But I suppose she must have overbooked us-- she shouldn’t have accepted such a reservation, we were already full up--”

“And that’s my problem how?” Basil snapped, his hazel eyes glimmering with aggravation.

“I have no rooms to give you.” He hesitated, his eyes falling toward the small retinue of servants who stood a few feet away. “At least, not as many as you’ve booked.”

“How many can you spare, then, sir?” This was his wife, her voice edged with far less frustration than was her husband’s. As if she rather sought to win the innkeeper over with patience and cheer, not barked commands.

“Three,” the innkeeper said. “And… not our finest. They’re in an anterior building. Next to the stables?”

At this, Basil laughed. “The stables? Do you know who I am?”

“Basil--” started his wife.

“Stay out of this, Astra,” he snapped in reply. “This sort of treatment is unacceptable. Unacceptable!”

The younger blonde, one Dimitri Escalus, glanced at his partner, a short, slim woman whose features were like a melding of the older couple, several decades younger. But she didn’t meet his gaze, rather staring firmly at the floor as if she wished to be anyplace else but here right now. Wincing at her obvious discomfort, he coughed to catch the attention of the arguing parties. Smiling apologetically, he spoke up. “Lord Cressida, if there was a clerical error the poor man can hardly be blamed for it. Certainly it wouldn’t be chivalrous or charitable to ask him to turn out his guests. Perhaps we can simply let it be? I for one like horses.”

And we are staying in this hole-in-the-wall despite being able to afford well better because we wanted to avoid the chaos and spectacle that the major houses are making of themselves in the better parts of town, so can you please stop making a scene and defeating the entire point? He thought desperately, though of course he didn’t dare give voice to such. He was only the husband of this man’s daughter, a younger son of a neighboring noble. He was only sticking his neck out in this conversation in a desperate attempt to spare his wife the embarrassment.

His wife, at least, seemed to appreciate it, drawing her gaze from the floor just long enough to spare him a terse smile. “I like horses, too, Father,” she said to the older man. “It’ll be fine--”

“Oh yes, Gracie, far be it from me to forget about your love of all beasts,” Basil huffed. He was clearly still unhappy, but at his least his son-in-law’s words seemed to have killed most of his argument. “We’ll take the rooms,” he said to the innkeeper. “But I want a discounted rate. Heavily discounted.”

For a moment, the innkeeper pursed his lips, as if considering denying Basil’s request. After all, with such a busy week ahead, he could most surely still rent out the stable-side rooms as an inflated rate even if the brooding party turned heel and stomped out. Then however, the man seemed to read the venomous look still flickering in Basil’s eyes, and decided better of fighting further.

“As you wish,” he said. “I’ll give the rooms to you for half-rate.”

“Very well,” Basil grumbled. “Now, let’s finish this song and dance, and give me the keys. We’re all very weary from the road. We’ve had a long journey from Corvus.”

“Corvus?” The innkeeper asked, as he went about fiddling beneath his desk for the proper keys. “Are you with the retinue from House Jade, then? I wasn’t aware any of your lot would settle for such, ah…” He gave the dusty room around him a bemused look, before finishing, “... quaint accommodations.”

“That is none of your business,” Basil snapped, neither confirming nor denying it. “Now, the keys?”

“Right here.” The innkeeper handed over three silver keys, starting to tarnish with age. “Just go back out the way you came in, swing a hard left, and head toward the stables. Your rooms are just behind them. And enjoy your stay at the Brettony Inn! We truly appreciate your patronage.”

**

The blonde man sighed as he pulled the shutters back to look out the window of the rather lackluster room they’d been given. Of the three, the best- though not by a wide margin admittedly- had been claimed by Lord and Lady Cressida. One of the remaining rooms went to the small retinue of servants and knights whom the Cressidas had brought along with them. This final one, he and Grace would be sharing.

“Not a cloud to shield the stars,” he remarked absently, looking up at the sky. “Certainly nothing like Corvus this time of summer.”

He let the shutter fall closed again, turning to face the woman he’d been married to for about four years now. “So we’re settled… finally. What happens now? I only have a very sketchy picture of the Ascension family and how you- we I guess- fit into it. Is there anything in particular I should know?”

Grace, sitting on the mattress-- which was, she’d just confirmed by prodding at it, nothing more than hay covered by a rough-hewn sheet-- shrugged at her husband. “Mum grew up in the palace from the time she was a girl. The king’s ward and adoptive daughter. And the queen at the time, Maia, well-- they were close, I guess.” She bit her lip. “I don’t think Mum’s been to the capital since Falcon’s funeral, really. My father, he’s… not big on traveling. But the Ascensions… they’re decent people, I suppose. And Desi...”

Grace smiled crookedly as she thought about her cousin, whom she’d not seen since the two of them were girls. Only a few months apart in age, Destiney had, as a child, been everything that Grace wasn’t: tall, striking, sociable. And where Grace had always possessed a clear head and quick wit, Destiney had been decidedly… well--

“... She’s sweet,” Grace finished finally. “I imagine she’s all broken up about Starmey’s death, but she’s nothing to be afraid of. Although I can’t imagine she’ll be thrilled with the likes of House Jade and Woo-knows-who-else lobbing their sons at her like she’s a fish they’re trying to snare in a net.”

“I wouldn’t imagine so, no,” Dimitri agreed. “Though all things considered she’s probably fortunate that the issue wasn’t forced before now- Starmey must’ve been beating off marriage proposals with a mace from the day she turned sixteen.” He sighed, sitting down on the straw mattress next to Grace. “Sympathetic thought I am for your cousin, I honestly think it’s better we stay well clear of all of that. The Jades would not appreciate us tripping up their attempts to grasp at the throne. Though I should hope at the very least they’ve the tact to wait until after the funeral to have a go at wooing her. Even for a hardened politician, trying to take advantage of a woman who's wrapped up in grieving is rather a low blow.”

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” Grace murmured. “High lords and royalty… they think differently than anybody else.” She’d certainly heard enough horrifying stories from Astra to confirm as much.

Dimitri quirked an eyebrow, frowning. “And is there something along those lines I should know about, before I accidentally say or do the wrong thing and step on someone’s toes?”

Grace considered. “Don’t bring up King Falcon around any of his children. And when we visit the queen mother, don’t mention anything disparaging about Courdon. She’s lived here most of her life, but she’s still got an accent, and it’s… touchy, I’d say.”

Dimitri winced, his blue eyes bright with panic. “Ah, um, right. Queen Maia. I certainly wouldn’t want to upset or offend her. That would be bad.” He bit his lip. “You don’t think… I mean it’s pretty obvious looking at me I’ve some Courdonian blood in me, supposedly my grandmother was a minor noble from there- should I stay away, or…”

Grace, sensing her husband’s increasing unease, forced a smile as she reached over and set a gentle hand on his knee. “Relax,” she said. “She’s a nice woman; I think you’ll like her. And since I hear she’s been ill, the visit will likely be in her rooms, anyhow. Very low-key, not exactly the full valour of the court. So as long as you don’t go about lobbing insults or trying to speak Courdonian with her, I’d say you should be fine.” After a pause, she added, “And don’t mention anything of House Jade’s plan. I don’t think she’ll be overly amused by it.”

He sighed, giving Grace a grateful smile and briefly squeezing the hand she’d put on his knee. “Alright, fair enough. I can remember that. I imagine she’ll be more interested in talking to you and Lady Astra than me anyway.” He leaned back on the bed, his knees still hanging over the edge. “So there’s the funeral, then the crown feast the day after, and then a week or thereabouts to prepare for Destiney’s coronation. We just need to avoid the Jade retinue, keep our noses clean, and say hi to your relatives among the royals. Should be straightforward, right?”

At this, Grace couldn’t help but laugh. “At least you’ve not let my father’s grumpiness kill your optimism. But trust me when I say that there’s still a lot more time. I really don’t think straightforward is ever the best word to use when the Ascensions are involved. They’ve more drama between them than needles of hay in this oh-so-comfortable bed.”

Dimitri rolled over on his side, resting his chin on his palm with a crooked smile. “Can’t blame a man for dreaming. Ah well- guess all we can do is take things one day at a time. And hope Rhea doesn’t drive Fill and Bella too crazy in our absence.”

At this, Grace’s face took on a serious look, her smile evaporating like a puddle on a hot, dry day. The thought of her little daughter so far away in Corvus… even if she was in the capable hands of Dimitri’s brother…

“I hope she’ll be alright,” she murmured, turning away from Dimitri. “I worry about her; she’s never been apart from us before. And it’s so hot this time of year-- and the mosquitos so bad, and--”

“And it would be just as hot and mosquito ridden of we were in Heleos instead of here,” Dimitri pointed out, though not without sympathy. He pushed himself upright, and put an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “I miss her too, Gracie. But we’re nobles and duty has to come first. Sucks, but that’s the way it is. But I bet you she has the biggest hug waiting to tackle your legs out from under you with when we get back. And we both know it’ll be you and not me- Mommy always gets first dibs.”

Grace neither withdrew from her husband’s hold nor leaned in toward him, rather sighing deeply as she replied, “I suppose so. And I know it’s duty. But I just… sometimes I wonder why it has to be my duty. I mean, why couldn’t Wynn have come? Or Mal. For Woo’s sake, Mal’s with the Jades-- they were already traveling here, she could have easily come along. But when it comes to supporting Mum, suddenly I’m the only one willing. Which would be fine, I guess, but then Father has to be so… so…” She shook her head. “I’m the only one of my siblings who cares enough to come, Dimitri, leaving my baby behind to do it, and yet does my father care? No. All he cares about is the fact that my hair’s still too short, and I don’t wear a veil, and--” She cut herself off, as though trying to stop herself before she grew overly addled.

“...I’m sorry Grace,” he said softly. “I think you know I of all people understand. I can’t make Lord Basil stop heckling you, much though I’d like to, but remember this.” He brushed a finger on his free hand through her short-cropped chestnut hair. “I think you look very becoming with short hair. And that it’s a waste to hide such pretty hair under a veil. And even if Lord Basil doesn’t appreciate you coming all the way here, I know Lady Astra does- and I’m sure Queen Maia and your other relatives will too.”

“That’s true,” she conceded, before with a dark grin adding, “And who knows? Perhaps my father will make a fool of himself in front of Maia and get himself dressed down for it. Woo knows I’d like to see him the one flustered for once.”

Dimitri laughed at that. “I admit, given all the passive-aggressive comments he’s levied at me for supporting you in your life decisions he doesn't approve of, I would not be upset to bear witness to that!” He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “For now, what do you say we get some sleep? Or try to anyway- I think when I was laying down just now I felt about half a dozen stems of hay jabbing me in the back through the sheet.”

“That’s probably wise,” she agreed. “I’m exhausted. … Although to be honest, we might’ve found more comfort in the stables themselves than we will here. Forget about the hay, Dems. I don’t mean to alarm you, but I think I’ve already counted two dozen fleas crawling up your leg.”

“You what?”

[Shinko]

Once Upon Another Time: Part Two

SPOILER: Click to show

“I hope they haven’t told her about all the madness and tomfoolery,” Astra murmured a day and a half later, some six hours after the conclusion to the funeral of King Starmey Ascension. Outside, the sun had just barely set, the sky still painted with vivid hues of orange and gold, and the inside of the Raven’s Keep castle was dim beneath the flicker of the wall-mounted candles that lined the twisting corridors. As she, Grace, and Dimitri followed a guard clad in Ascension livery up yet another spiral staircase, the old woman let out a winded sigh. “I don’t miss this place at all,” she commented. “No matter where you’re headed, it always had to involve a hike.”

“It’s worth it to see Grandmother, though, right?” Grace said, and as Astra nodded, she went on, “You’re right, though. I hope no one’s told her of the madness. I can’t think she’d be very thrilled about the idea of a vapid Stallion lord dancing on her son’s casket. … Although that Father’s not here will please her enough, anyway. I’m glad he agreed to stay behind at the inn. Swallowed his pride for once and admitted that it’d be best for everybody that he didn’t come.”

Not long later, the group arrived to the top of a final staircase, and all stayed silent as the guard led them down a narrow hall. Finally he drew to a halt outside a plain door, gesturing for Astra, Grace, and Dimitri to stop at his heel. “The queen mother’s inside,” he said to them. Eyes falling to Dimitri, he pursed his lips and added, “You’ve never met her before, right?”

The Escalus bowed his head. “No, I have not.”

“Don’t speak to her until she’s spoken to you. She’s had a difficult time since the poor king’s death, and I’m not quite sure if she’s in much of a mood for conversing with strangers. So let her set the terms of your exchange, Lord… Escalan, was it?”

Dimitri gave what he hoped was a polite smile and not an awkward one. “Escalus. And I understand perfectly; You have my word that I shan’t be a bother to her majesty.”

The guard nodded shortly at Dimitri and then, without another word, opened the door. Stepping inside, he gestured for Astra, Grace, and Dimitri to follow him in, although he didn’t wait to see if they obliged, rather striding at once over to the bed in the far corner, upon which sat an elderly woman, barefoot, silver-haired, and wearing a plain, dark purple dress. Her gaze at once fell past the guard and on the three who lingered in the doorway, her lips pursed as she studied them.

“Presenting your visitors, Lord Esc--” the guard started with a bowed head, but the woman quickly cut him off.

“You hardly need to announce my Astra and Gracie.” The woman’s hard look melted into a smile. “It’s been too long,” she said to them. Patting the edge of her bed, she continued, “Come here. The healers have all told me I mustn’t stand except when necessary, but that hardly means I can’t give you a hug from here, does it?”

Dimitri instinctively inclined his head in a bow to the elderly woman on the bed, though he instinctively hung back at her invitation. He was not Lady Astra or Grace, so certainly she didn’t mean for him to approach her so familiarly. At his side, Grace reached out and threaded her fingers through his, pulling him forward.

“You can stand behind us,” she murmured into his ear. “Don’t be afraid. She doesn’t bite.”

“Don’t I, now?” the elderly woman asked flatly, her ears apparently still sharper than Grace had reckoned. “Maybe that’s why Basil’s not shown up, hm?”

The young nobleman coughed, unsure how he should respond to this-- but beside him, Grace just quirked a grin. “My father’s busy picking the fleas out of his hair, Grandmum.”

“Fleas?” Maia furrowed her brow. “Why’s he got fleas?”

“He did a rather poor job picking our lodgings,” Astra said, striding over to Maia’s bed and taking a seat the edge of it; Grace, letting go of Dimitri’s hand, followed her mother in turn.

“You could have stayed here,” Maia said, frowning, as she reached out and clasped Astra’s hand in hers. “We would have put you up, honey. We’re already hosting Aurora and Sunney, and we would’ve taken in Halo, too, if the Arachs didn’t have that manor.”

“We didn’t want to be an imposition,” Astra said. “The inn’s quite alright-- just a bit… quaint.”

“You’re never an imposition,” Maia replied. “And I don’t like seeing you flea-bitten.” With that, her focus drifted toward Grace. “It’s been too long,” she said to her. “You’ve grown up entirely, haven’t you?”

Grace shrugged. “I suppose I have.”

“You’ve a baby now, don’t you?” Maia asked.

“Yes.” Grace nodded. “Her name’s Rhea. She’s two.”

“I bet she’s lovely.” Maia spared a brief, warm smile before turning to look toward Dimitri, who still stood several feet away. Her eyes meeting his, she jutted her chin and said to him in a tone that was suddenly cool and formal, “At least you’ve got the courage to come visit me. Unlike Basil. I take it you’re my Gracie’s husband?”

He bowed again politely, desperately hoping this woman couldn’t somehow sense the frantic hammering of his heart. “I am, your majesty. Lord Dimitri, of House Escalus in Corvus. It’s an honor.”

“Ah, no need to introduce yourself,” Maia said, letting go of Astra’s hand to instead take a hold of Grace’s. “Lord Dimitri Escalus. Son of Olander and Velvet. Third son, I do believe? Your older-- but not eldest-- brother’s set to inherit.” Squeezing Grace’s hand as the woman gawped at her in surprise, Maia continued, “Don’t think I didn’t read up all about you when I heard of the betrothal, Lord Dimitri. I hardly let my grandchildren marry about without the crown’s approval. Even if Basil might like to think he can do whatever he wishes with his children… well...” She smiled serenely.

The young nobleman felt his throat lock up. The king’s mother had researched him to approve of his marriage to Grace? She’d even found out about Anders, and he’d been out of contact with House Escalus for fifteen years. Dear sweet Woo, did that mean she knew how big of an arse he’d made of himself the first two years of their marriage, before reality slapped him in the face and he started treating his wife with the respect she actually deserved?

He gave a somewhat shaky smile. “You are well informed, your majesty. And a caring matriarch, to look into such matters on behalf of your grandchildren.” He bowed his head again. “I am glad I never gave you reason to intervene, and I hope that I may continue to provide well for Grace.”

“Falcon may have liked to lob his children at whomever and wherever he thought they’d stick, but I’m a bit more picky, I’d say,” Maia agreed, her eyes twinkling with something near mischief as she watched Dimitri sweat.

“Maia, you’re frightening the poor boy.” Astra set a firm hand upon the queen mother’s arm. “He’s not like Basil,” she went on. “He’s been very good to Gracie, recently.”

“Recently?” Maia latched on only to this word. Focusing back on Dimitri, she asked almost lightly, “I do hope my Astra counts the entire length of your marriage as ‘recently’, hm?”

“I was… not terribly mature going into the marriage, m’lady,” Dimitri admitted, trembling now in spite of himself. “It deeply shames me that I was perhaps not the best husband at first. But I’ve come to grips with my idiocy, and I’ve been doing my level best to improve myself and give Grace the husband she deserves.”

For a very long moment, Maia said nothing-- only stared at Dimitri with hard, impenetrable eyes, Grace’s hand still firmly clasped in hers. Then, finally, she gave a short shrug. “At least you’ve admitted it. Unlike some.”

“Basil’s fine, Maia.” Astra sighed. “I know you’ve never approved, but--”

“Perhaps I wasn’t speaking only of Basil.” Maia smiled grimly, before continuing in a voice so deliberately airy that it was impossible to miss the dark layer underscoring it, “I am very fond of my grandchildren, Lord Dimitri. I would like much better for them than what I had for me. Or than what my children had due to Falcon. Do you understand?”

He nodded, meeting the old woman’s eyes squarely in spite of the instinctive desire to duck his head and stare at the floor. “I do, your majesty. I swear that I will do everything within my power to ensure that Grace lives as happy and comfortable a life as House Escalus can provide- and the same goes for our children.”

“A very honourable promise,” Maia said. “And one I do hope you’ll uphold. For remember, Lord Dimitri-- so long as you treat my Grace well, you’ve a friend in me. A friend in the crown. But if this court ever hears-- even once I’m gone-- that you’ve done anything to hurt her…”

“Grandmum!” Grace tugged her hand away from Maia in horror. “You don’t need to threaten him!”

“Threaten him?” Maia practically beamed. “I don’t make threats, sweetheart. Only promises.”

“A promise for a promise only seems fair,” Dimitri replied with a very fixed smile, his face pale under the freckled bronze complexion of his Courdonian grandmother and nausea roiling in his gut. “But I can assure you that if she is hurt, it will not be my doing- and whoever is responsible will have me to answer to. Though I should hope it will never come to that.”

“Of course it shan’t,” Maia agreed, before finally-- mercifully-- steering the conversation away from Dimitri as she jabbed a finger at a ring of red bites on Grace’s hands. “You’re not going back to that inn,” she announced. “If Basil wants to stay there, Woo knows I won’t stop him. Perhaps I’ll even point him out to the vermin so they can take an easier meal! But I’m not having you two eaten alive by bugs.” She glanced at Dimitri. “Or you either, I suppose.”

“It’s alright, Maia,” Astra replied. “We’ll survive. And everyplace in this city is booked up solid, anyhow.”

“Nonsense. Are you sure you won’t stay here in the palace, sweetheart? I can have guest chambers prepared for you within the hour.”

Astra shook her head. “We don’t want to impose-- and we’d rather stay somewhere quieter, anyway. I’m sorry.”

“Hmph.” Maia looked toward the royal guard, who’d been standing nearby, though silent, throughout the exchange. “The stone lake-house,” she said. “Off Lake Plume, fringing the woods. We still own that, don’t we?”

“I believe so, yes, Your Majesty,” the guard replied, his head dipped into a bow.

“Find them the keys for it. And send some servants to make it up and tend to them for the week.” She glanced back at Dimitri. “You can be the one to tell Basil he’s not invited. I’ll hardly have him cross with Astra.”

Dimitri glanced in Grace’s direction, a slightly bemused expression on his face in spite of the tension that was still gripping him. “Well I have practice telling him things he’s not fond of hearing, so it’s not like it’d be the first time. Very well, your majesty.”

“Wonderful.” She sighed. “I suppose I ought be getting back to resting now, as much as I’d like for you to stay and chat. I hope you’ll come back and visit again before you head back to Corvus, but if you can’t…” She leaned forward and planted a kiss first on Astra’s cheek, and then on Grace’s. “I love you both. Always know that, okay?”

“Of course.” Astra returned the kiss. “I love you, too, Maia. And I’m so, so sorry about Starmey. I know how much he meant to you.”

Maia swallowed hard. “He did mean a lot to me,” she agreed. “Losing him… it’s the hardest thing I think I’ve suffered since… well…”

Astra gave a knowing nod. “I’m sorry,” she said again, before standing up from the edge of the bed; Grace echoed the movement, giving Maia’s hand one last squeeze before starting over toward Dimitri’s side. The young nobleman’s heart was still hammering so hard he thought it might escape his chest entirely, but the fact that the interview finally seemed to be over hit him with a giddy sense of relief. He gave his wife a wan smile as she approached, and once she reached him, Grace reached out and took a hold of his hand.

“You did great,” she whispered into his ear a few minutes later, after the guard had escorted them back out Maia’s chambers and they’d begun down the seemingly endless stretch of staircases. “I think she likes you.”

“Well that’s good,” he replied, somewhat light headed from relief at having escaped the weighty gaze of the former queen. “Though if that’s how she handles people she likes I shudder to think how that might have gone if she decided not to like me.” His gaze flicked away for a momen. “Not that I don’t deserve it on some level. Woo above though, I think I need a drink.”

“I’m sure there will be copious liquor at the lakehouse,” Grace said brightly. “And my father won’t be there to chastise us for partaking to the excess.”

“He’s not going to be happy,” Astra sighed from a step below.

“Is he ever?” Grace asked. “And anyway, he can hardly fight it. Even he’s not stubborn enough to refuse a royal command.” She looked back at Dimitri. “Isn’t that exciting, Dems? You get to be the harbinger of a royal command.” She grinned.

He laughed, albeit a bit breathlessly. “Well I can scratch that off my bucket list. Lord Basil can be upset at me all he wants- I will take his wrath over another interview like that a dozen times over!”

**

After a somewhat tumultuous conversation with Lord Basil, Dimitri met back up with the two noblewomen and headed for the lakehouse that they would apparently be staying in for the remainder of their time in Medieville. All joking aside, the confrontation with the Cressida lord had not been a fun one, and Dimitri was well and truly ready to just sit down somewhere for a while and calm his frayed nerves.

When he followed the two women into the stone cottage, however, he again felt himself freezing up like a rabbit in the sights of a hawk.

Dimitri was no stranger to luxury, having grown up a nobleman in a house possessed of a fair bit of money. However, there was a stark difference between the dwellings of a minor lord, and the dwelling of the royal family. Dimitri could instantly tell that everything in the lakehouse was the absolute best that money could buy- far above what someone of his station could reasonably afford. The carpets and tapestries were exquisitely crafted from expensive silks and satins, and the furniture was heavy, solid heartwood polished until it almost glowed. When they walked into the building, servants in livery of Ascension purple and grey paused to bow to them before hurrying about their tasks.

Are… are we in the right place?

Grace, standing next to her husband, seemed to read his surprise, shooting him a soft smile as a pair of servants moved to take away their luggage, which they’d hauled over from the Brettony Inn. Knowing that the contents would all be neatly unpacked and put away before she, her mother, and husband even made it to the quartet of bedchambers upstairs, Grace reached over and set a hand on Dimitri’s wrist.

“Nice, isn’t it?” she asked brightly. “The royal family spends time here in the summer when it gets too miserably hot. It’s dark out now, of course, but in the daytime it’s filled with so much lovely light.”

“I… I’m sure it is,” he replied. “Certainly you can tell it belongs to the Ascensions- I’ve never seen a dwelling this extravagant, excepting of course the queen’s chambers in Raven’s Keep.” With a somewhat embarrassed cough, he admitted, “I’m almost afraid to touch anything- one of those tapestries is probably worth enough to buy an entire wing of Escalus Manor.”

“As long as you don’t go about pillaging things with reckless abandon, you should be fine.” This was Astra. Eyes falling toward the gleaming wooden staircase at the other end of the foyer, she quickly added, “I, however, am spent. I think I’ll be turning in for the night. Don’t destroy the place, alright?”

And then, with a teasing grin, Lady Cressida was gone, disappeared up the stairs and into the one of the upstairs bedchambers, the door thumping loudly closed behind her.

With her mother away, Grace drifted toward the parlour that adjoined the entryway, giving a sharp yank to pull open the wood-framed door that separated the two spaces. “Come on, Dems,” she said, beckoning him to follow her. “You mentioned a drink, right? Well, in here I’m sure you’ll find many.”

That remark did catch the nobleman’s attention, and he grinned lopsidedly. “I suppose I did. Woo, we’re going to look in the cupboard and find two hundred year old vintage or something equally luxurious when I’d be just as well with some mead. This is certainly a step up from the Fleapit Inn.”

He followed Grace into the parlour, casting a glance back over his shoulder to where Astra had vanished. “We might want to take our drinks outside though- we don’t want to accidentally wake your mother.”

Grace shrugged, drifting over to the floor-to-ceiling, glass-doored cabinet on the far side of the parlour. Stretching nearly the length of the room, and flanked on either end by french doors that led out to a stone patio overlooking the lake, it was filled to its brim with more liquor than most ordinary men saw in a lifetime. Not just wine, but every type else under the sun: cognac, brandy, even rum imported all the way from Dormor, its glass bottle so thick as to be nearly opaque.

“What shall we have, Dems?” Grace asked. Running a light hand over the lock holding the doors shut, she added, “You’ve the ring of keys we got at the Keep, right? One of those ought to open this up.”

“Hm,” Dimitri approached the cabinet, still feeling rather like he ought to stop one of the servants and ask if it was really okay for them to take any of this. He tried a few of the keys on the ring in question, before he was finally met with a satisfying click and the glass door pulled away.

“I’ll admit, I’m not really an expert on alcohol,” he admitted. “Father generally frowned upon us drinking in excess, so I’ve only really had wine or beer with dinner, and then occasionally mead on holidays- because we both know I don’t follow Father’s orders all or even most of the time.” He flashed a grin at this, but turned his attention back to the cupboard. “I suppose the question is, do you want to go the safe route and chose a wine, or are you feeling more adventurous? I can’t really account for the strength of some of these things.”

Grace cocked her head, studying the bottles that lined the heavy oak shelves. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s a little embarrassing, but I don’t think I’ve ever even had anything but wine, Dimitri. My father never even let me drink ale. He thought it wasn’t ladylike.” She sighed and wrinkled her nose.

The Escalus nobleman tilted his head, but he didn’t look surprised to hear that. It was of a piece with the rest of what Basil generally did. “Well then, perhaps we should spoil ourselves a bit.” Reaching at random, he pulled down one bottle of rum, and one of brandy. “How about we try a little both of these? Since they’re both something neither of us have had.”

“Sounds good to me,” Grace said, drifting over to the cupboard perpendicular to the liquor display that held in it a collection of heavyweight glasses. “Don’t break one, Dimitri,” she teased, holding a pair out toward him. “I’m sure they’re worth more than House Escalus makes in a year.”

“I will take tremendous care, I assure you,” Dimitri replied fervently, carefully shifting the bottles into one arm and cradling them like one might an infant. He accepted the glasses from Grace, and said, “Come on, let’s go outside.”

He led the way out onto the patio, whistling softly at the view. He could see the distant firelight of torches and candles in windows in the city across the lake, and if he turned the other way, the bridge that lead out to the Ash Road was just barely visible in the dark. He could hear the roaring of the falls not too distantly, and high overhead a thousand bright stars winked down at them.

“Very nice,” he remarked, setting the bottles and glasses down gently on a small table on the patio. “Isolated enough for quiet and privacy, but close enough to everything for convenience.”

He opened both of the bottles, pouring the rum into one glass, and the brandy into the other. “Ladies first- you can have your pick.” He said with a grin.

“Let’s see…” Grace mulled for a moment before reaching out and picking up the cup containing the rum. “If I’m going to be a lady remiss of my station, as my father would so eloquently put it, I might as well go for the exotic, hm?”

“Sounds perfectly fair,” her husband replied, taking the neglected glass of brandy. Holding the glass out to her he said with mock formality, “A toast to beds without fleas, and your grandmother not deciding to have me packed off to Lange.”

“I can drink to that,” Grace agreed, clinking her glass against his before tipping it back and taking a healthy swig. She grimaced as it went down, burning against her throat, nearly choking it back up as she gasped to Dimitri, “Wow. That is sure different than wine.”

Dimitri, who’d taken an equally hearty sip of the warm but not quite as fiery brandy, gave her a crooked smile. “Hard liquor usually is, at least so I’ve been told. Puts a bit of a lit coal in your stomach, hm?”

“A bit.” Grace took another swig. “We should get us some of this in Heleos. I think Bella would like it.” With another hearty sip, she held her glass out back toward Dimitri. “Refill me?” she asked.

The nobleman laughed. “That was fast. Fancy yourself a Bernian do you? Alright but you might want to slow down a little more. Alcohol like this is better savored than chugged.”

He poured more of the rum into her glass, and continued to drink the brandy. “I feel a little bad for your parent’s servants, still stuck at the Brettony with Lord Basil- though at least they’re not all stuffed in one room now.” With a smirk, Dimitri added, “And his lordship gets them all to himself, since you and I and Lady Astra have the Ascension servants out here.”

“My uncle’s just died, Dimitri,” Grace said drily, swishing the rum around in the glass. “I think I ought be allowed to drink what-- and how fast-- I’d like.” Grinning darkly, she went on, “I’m sure his servants are all having heated debates with each other over who has to actually serve him. He can’t be in a pleasant mood. At least if they’re lucky he’ll conk out sooner than later, and maybe they can enjoy the city. I’m sure most servants from Ecliptus never get to see the capital. It’s probably a decent trade-- my father’s grumpiness and a sorry excuse for an inn in exchange for a once-in-a-lifetime holiday.” She took another sip of the rum, this one a bit slower, before casting her eyes toward the lake glimmering beneath the patio. “I wonder what the Jades are doing. I can’t imagine they liked that Stallion git stealing their thunder at the funeral.”

Dimitri raised an eyebrow at Grace’s remarks about the rum, but opted not to argue the point further. Drinking more of the brandy, he shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t imagine they did. Not if Lord Joffery’s reaction was anything to go by. The whole debacle was just… embarassing frankly. Their actions reflect on all of Corvus, and even if the Stallion idiot deserved to be called out, making a song and dance routine out of it was hardly the most respectful thing to do at a funeral either.”

Reaching the bottom of the brandy, Dimitri poured himself just a little more- he wanted to try the rum, but not quite yet. “As for what they’re up to now… who can say? Probably plotting more ways to impress the princess at the feast tomorrow and adjusting their previous strategy to account for Stallion’s suitor. I really hope they at least behaved like civilized nobles at the feast.” With a smirk he added, “If for no other reason than so I don’t have to listen to your father gasping with indignant rage through the entire dinner service.”

“Oh, Woo.” Grace leaned against Dimitri as she took another small sip-- the burn of the rum just as potent but no longer quite so shocking, her throat growing used to the scorch. “I mean, I suppose I’ve known all along that Father would be there, but-- it’s not going to be fun. Get him in a room with the Ascensions, and the Jades, and…” She shook her head. “Are we sure we even have to go? We could just hide out here. I’m sure nobody would miss us-- it’ll be so crowded, who would even be able to tell?”

Dimitri chuckled, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I wish we could. Sadly, I’m fairly certain there is an entire, lengthy list of people who would notice our absence and never let me hear the end of it.” Making a face not unlike a forlorn puppy, he asked, “You wouldn’t subject me to the wrath of your royal relations again would you Gracie? I thought you liked me.”

Grace rolled her eyes, once again turning to the half-empty glass of rum. Swallowing down another mouthful, she said, “Grandmother won’t even be there. And I’m pretty sure Destiney barely notices her own shadow half the time, let alone her distant relatives.” With a sigh, she added, “You’re right, though. Even if the royals didn’t notice, Father would. And if you think he’s cross with us now…” Grace sniggered before finishing off the second cup of rum with one last hearty gulp. “Woo,” she muttered afterward, reaching up to rub at her temple. “We really have to get us some of this stuff for Heleos. It can’t cost that much, can it?”

“That good, huh?” Dimitri asked, grinning. He was just starting to feel the edges of heat in his face and arms, and the fuzzy giddiness that indicated the alcohol was getting to him. He didn’t want to get too far gone, just tipsy enough to settle his nerves after the conversation with Maia. But curiosity got the better of him, and he let go of his wife’s shoulder to reach around and pour some of the rum into his own glass. “Sadly, it probably can cost quite a bit more than you’d anticipate. Importing anything from overseas means paying not only for whatever it is, but paying the people with the boat to bring it over, paying an import tax, and paying to have it carted all the way to Heleos from the coast. It’s probably well outside the Escalus price range.”

He took a generous gulp of the rum- and immediately gagged, forcing himself to swallow as much as he could before he had to bend over double, coughing to clear his airway.

“Are you alright?” Grace quirked a brow, rubbing at the small of her husband’s back as he sputtered on the rum. “I mean, I know it burns but--” She gawped at him before letting out a short laugh. “Woo, and Father says it’s women who can’t handle anything stronger than wine. Pour me another glass?”

He shook his head, looking up at her with an incredulous expression. “Gracie, that is some strong alcohol. You may feel fine now but give it another fifteen or twenty minutes and it is going to hit you like a ton of bricks. Maybe we should get you some water- a lot of water.”

Dear Woo, her parents are going to have my head.

“Afraid I’m going to drink you under the table, Lord Escalus?” Grace teased. Gesturing at the bottle of brandy he’d been nursing, she went on, “At least give me a cup of that first. You got to try both-- it’s only fair.”

“Maybe another time Grace, we’re going to be here all week,” he said, the concern on his face making it plain he wasn’t joking. “I think the two glasses of rum you’ve already had are enough. Way more than enough. Trust me on this one, we need to get some water into you.”

Grace pouted, making a playful swipe toward the brandy. “You’re no fun, my lord. Why, perhaps I’ll tell my grandmum that you’re suddenly treating me very poorly.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Maybe we can smuggle the rest of the bottle home to Heleos, anyway. I doubt the Ascensions would notice-- they’ve plenty where it came from.”

“Honestly I think your grandmum would be more annoyed with me if I let you keep drinking,” Dimitri retorted dryly. “If you’ve never been drunk before, you probably don’t quite know how hard and fast alcohol hits. I’m really not joking, you should stop.” He dumped the remainder of his own rum out into the grass and put his glass down on the table. “See, solidarity. I’m not being a buzzkill, I promise.”

“Fine.” She sighed-- and just as soon as she had, grimaced and blinked quite sharply as her head went suddenly light. Know-it-all, she thought, but didn’t say, rather swallowing hard and drawing away from Dimitri. “I suppose the water might not be a bad idea,” she muttered. “I’m sure a servant will fetch it for us.”

The nobleman nodded, “Right. They’ll know where everything is better than we would. I’ll ask someone.”

He poked his head into the house, managing to flag down one of the servants and convey the request. He was starting to feel rather fuzzier than he’d intended- apparently the brandy had also been stronger than he’d realized. “Come on, let’s sit down somewhere,” he suggested. “Maybe in the grass by the lake- if we’re going to get as drunk as I think we are, might as well be comfortable, hm?” He gave her a crooked smile.

“I guess,” Grace said, as within moments a servant hurried outside to she and Dimitri’s table with a pitcher of water in hand. The man set it down with a polite bow, and Grace smiled and dismissed him with a wave. “I suppose that if I suggested swimming, you’d shoot me down?” she said to her husband once the servant was gone. “I know it’s not as hot here as it is in Corvus, but it is still pretty balmy, Dems. I could go for a nice dip in the lake.”

He gave a soft laugh, “It’s not hot out- that’d be the rum, dear Gracie. And swimming might not be the best idea just this moment.” He poured some water for both of them, though his hand wasn’t as steady as he’d have liked. “Here, hopefully this’ll cool you off.”

Taking a sip of the water, and with the cup still in hand, Grace stood and started toward the edge of the patio, taking careful steps to descend the stairs that edged it and led to the rolling banks beneath. Only a few dozen yards away, the calm waters of Lake Plume nipped at the sandy, grassy shore, almost black beneath the midnight sky.

“We can at least dip our toes in,” Grace announced, kicking off her shoes. “So long as you don’t mind me sullying this lovely dress.” She gestured clumsily at her orange-and-blue ensemble, stiff and far too heavy for the weather, but which Basil had insisted she wear to visit Maia (“You’re going to court, Gracie,” he’d snapped. “You can hardly wear your Woo-cursed riding breeches.”)

“Well I suppose we can always tell Father you got caught in the rain,” he said, part of him protesting that this excuse would probably hold no water but the rest of him not particularly caring. He followed her, his steps not quite so staggering but certainly not steady. “I like that dress on you, though. I know you hate it but it’s very pretty.”

“It’s miserable.” Grace polished off the water and set the cup down in the grass, sauntering to the lake’s edge. “Men like my father just don’t understand. He laments me wearing breeches as if I’ve done something mortally offend the Lord Woo, but Woo knows if he ever had to wear a court dress-- or hell, any dress at all-- he’d probably pass out from the discomfort of it.” She took a step into the water, pausing to shudder at the chill of it before wading in even deeper. “Come in, Dems,” she called, watching as the bottom of her skirts floated up but not bothering to tug them back down. “It’s nice.”

He pulled off his boots and stockings before following after her. “Well like I said, dresses are very pretty,” he said. Thoughtfully, as he drew closer to her, he added, “Still, your father is silly. I rather like it when you wear breeches. All the cloth of a skirt hides you, and while I think dresses are pretty I think you’re prettier.”

Grace snorted and took another several steps forward, almost tripping as her foot caught on a large stone underwater. Swearing under her breath, she just barely managed to keep herself from going head over heels, the water now level with her thighs.

“Last time I was here, Desi and I weren’t allowed to get any deeper than this,” Grace said. “I swear, those guards were ready to haul her back to shore if she’d gone so much as a toe’s length further.” Grinning, she called over her shoulder, “Are you sure you don’t want to swim, Dems? Hardly any guards to order us about now.”

“Gracie darling, you’re drunk and so am I,” Dimitri remarked, though his voice sounded less worried now and more dimly bemused. “And your pretty dress will get even heavier wet. We can swim laaaater.”

He waded out towards her, though with his height the water that was up to her thighs only got up to his knees. He was getting a distinct sensation of vertigo now, and he gave his wife a lopsided smile. “I don’t think you’d have been much better off with the brandy- it didn’t burn a much but I can’t really see straight right now.” His grin broadening, he added, “And your dad says I’m a horrible influence.”

She turned toward him, still beaming-- and still wading deeper. “I’m the granddaughter of a crown traitor, Dems, what more could you expect? Now if you don’t want to swim, you’re welcome to stay there, but I think it’s a perfectly warm, lovely night. Wonderful swimming weather-- and just think, we’ll go to bed all refreshed, and with the last of those danged fleas washed clear off of us.”

“Noooo you don’t,” Dimitri chided with a smirk, stumbling close enough to hook an arm around her waist and gently tow her back. “Sorry my dearest, I got drunk so that I could forget worrying about my hide being hung from the ramparts of Raven’s Keep, not so you could drown and guarantee it.” Enjoying feeling of holding her so close, he leaned down a little and playfully whispered in her ear, “Behave now, Gracie. Pleeeeeease?” He gently kissed her on the cheek, adding, “For me?”

For a moment, she tensed in his hold, as if considering thrashing free from it. Then, with a sigh, Grace relaxed into it, blushing as he kissed her. “I suppose having your head on a pike outside the Keep wouldn’t be good for either of us, no,” she conceded-- before a flicker of movement from far down the shore of the lake caught her eye.

Grace stilled, craning her neck toward it, and narrowed her eyes to better make out what she was seeing. A figure. Or no, figures, a few hundred feet away from she and Dimitri, just over the edge of the lakehouse’s property. They walked a straight, hurried path, flitting the line between woods and shore, moving in an almost frantic way that quite suggested they thought nobody was watching them… nor did they want any onlookers.

“What in the world…?” Grace murmured, pushing out of Dimitri’s hold to get a better look at them.

Confused, Dimitri followed the direction of Grace’s gaze, and he too caught sight of the people in the trees. “Who’re they? They can’t be the crown’s guards, they’re not in livery.”

Grace took another step away from her husband, cutting through the water in the direction of the strangers. “Should we see?” she whispered. “We could ask them what they’re doing out this time at night. And so close to royal property.”

Dimitri frowned, but shook his head. “For all we know it’s just some kids- but if it is something bad, you’re drunk and I’m drunk and neither of us knows how to fight. Queen Maia sent us guards right? So we just let ‘em know something’s up and leave the problem to the people who’s jobs it is to handle it.”

“I guess,” Grace said, her head suddenly feeling very light, and her body very unsteady. “I…” She blinked sharply and pressed her hands to her head. “Woo, I think it’s hitting me finally.” She shifted in the water. “Maybe we shouldn’t bring this stuff back t-to Heleos.”

Her husband instinctively moved towards her, putting both arms out to catch and steady her. “Maybe we should get out of the water,” he suggested. “Sit down in the grass for a bit- the guards’ll handle whoever is out there.”

“Okay,” Grace said, using Dimitri’s body as leverage as she started awkwardly toward shore.

By the time the two had reached it and flopped back into the grassy sand, the figures were gone-- disappeared into the woods, it seemed, which only made Grace’s stomach flip harder. What kind of people went to the woods-- especially at this time of night?

“I don’t like this city, Dems,” she muttered, shuddering as a sudden breeze roiled the air. “Too much going on. Too much…” She hiccupped, the world before her spinning. “Should not have had that second glass,” she went on. “Woo, If I’m a mess tomorrow, my father’s going to kill me…”

“Well at least he’ll have both of us to split his wrath between,” Dimitri pointed out, sitting down next to her and putting his arms around her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Gracie, I’d have stopped you sooner if I realized how strong that stuff was. Should’ve been more careful.” He leaned his cheek against hers. “It’s my fault.”

“Don’t apologize.” Grace leaned against him, shutting her eyes. “Father’s right, isn’t he? I don’t act like a lady of my station. I’m an embarrassment. A failure.” She bit her lip.

Dimitri hugged her tighter, gently running his hands through her hair. “No you’re not, don’t even think it. You’re beautiful and intelligent and you’re a saint for putting up with me, even if Basil doesn’t think you’re pious enough. It’s not wearing skirts and a veil over your hair that makes you a good person, it’s what you do. And you’re good, Gracie, you’re way better than an idiot like me ever deserved to be married to.” He kissed her cheek again. “Don’t listen to your dad, he’s an old stick in the mud.”

“Thanks,” she whispered, but her voice was hollow. Insincere. Flicking a glance back at the cottage behind them, she added, “Maybe we should go inside. Dry off. Try to get some sleep so that we’re not complete wrecks at the feast tomorrow.”

“Maybe,” Dimitri agreed, his own voice sad. He wanted to do something to make his wife feel better, but through the haze of the alcohol in his brain he couldn’t think of what. Almost without thinking about it he kissed her again, before staggering shakily to his feet. “At least I brought headache potions with me from Corvus, though I wasn’t thinking this is why we’d need them.”

He offered his arm to Grace to help her up, and with a sigh, she reached up and took his hand, staggering unevenly to her feet. Her vision dancing as she did, Grace gritted her teeth and swallowed back the rum that was threatening to come back up, the sodden hem of her dress dragging in the sand as she and Dimitri started back toward the cottage.

“You won’t tell him, will you?” she whispered as they walked. “I mean, I understand if you want to, but…” She glanced down at her soaking wet outfit, the heavy material tarnished if not ruined. “He’ll already ask after the dress. It’s the best one I brought for court, but after this I don’t think it’s much suitable for anything.”

The nobleman shook his head, hugging her and guiding her towards the staircase. “He’ll probably guess, but I won’t tell him. And if he tries to yell, he can yell at me. I’m your husband, right? So I’m supposed to protect you. He likes yelling at me anyway, so it’s not like it’d be much different from normal. And don’t worry about the dress, we’ll think of something. I promise.”

“Thank you,” Grace said, squeezing his hand, and as the two reached the door leading back into the cottage, she couldn’t help but quirk a small, dark smile. “You think we should warn the servants we’re about to drag sand and lakewater all over the floors?”

He chuckled. “Well someone needs to go out and fetch the bottles and the pitcher of water. And it might be a good idea to have them set out some things for when we wake up.” He sighed. “At least if anyone in town asks why we look sick in the morning, we can play up the proper pious Corvids and say that the heathen city is making us ill.”

With a chuckle of her own, Grace leaned in and planted a kiss on her husband’s cheek. “And you say I’ve had too much to drink,” she said. “Now, come on. Let’s get upstairs before we’re both too far gone to make it up the steps.”

[Avery]

Once Upon Another Time: Part Three¹

SPOILER: Click to show

Dimitri rubbed his forehead as he and the rest of the party from south Corvus rode down the hill from Raven’s Keep. His black stallion, named Chase the Evening by Dimitri’s father, looked around at him and whickered, as if it could sense his dismal mood. Between the still somewhat lingering illness of the morning’s raging hangover and the fiasco that the feast had turned into, it had been a very long day.

“At least I don’t think we have to worry about anyone taking offense at anything we say or do,” he remarked to Grace in a somewhat tired undertone. “Not with Stallion and Jade making such fantastic spectacles of themselves. I do feel rather sorry for Princess Destiney though, it couldn’t be more obvious she’s not interested.”

“And that prince,” Grace said, gripping like iron to the horse’s reins. Woo, how she hated riding side-saddle, but with her voluminous dress, she hardly had any other option. “Joram, was it? If that’s what passes for a prince in Courdon…” She snorted.

“Can the gossip at least wait until you’re in private?” Basil grumbled from his own horse. The lord of Ecliptus had been rather sour throughout the day-- first over his daughter and son-in-law’s clear hangovers, then over the most horrifying behaviour of the major nobles at the feast. “You hardly know who’s listening, after all,” he snapped on. “Wouldn’t want to cause offence now, would we, Gracie?”

Dimitri was hard put not to roll his eyes. “If they don’t want people to gossip, perhaps they shouldn’t roll around on the floor with each other in the middle of the formal feast hall at the royal palace,” he retorted. Relenting, he went on, “At least the music was… interesting. They’re certainly cosmopolitan in their tastes in the capital. Though I don’t remember seeing any actual instruments, so I wonder who was actually playing?”

“It’s probably some brand of magic,” Astra guessed. “The palace has a whole staff of mages.”

“A waste of magic, if you ask me.” Basil scowled, and, as the horses reached the base of the Keep, glanced with a clear note of bitterness in the direction of the Brettony Inn. “I suppose,” he said ruefully, “that we ought part here, since I’ve been so nicely disinvited from staying with my own family.”

“That was hardly my decision, Basil,” Astra said.

“No,” Basil agreed. “But you could have pressed it, Astra, if you cared--”

“I thought,” Astra cut in, “that you were against causing scenes in public, Basil?”

Dimitri coughed, “Yes, I think if we’re trying to avoid insulting people, the queen mother is probably on top of the list of people we don’t want to upset. And lest we forget, she didn’t tell Lady Astra you weren’t invited, she told me. I am not her majesty’s adoptive daughter and I hardly have any leverage to negotiate with her. I would imagine you would rather your granddaughter was not orphaned because her father got lippy with Queen Maia.”

“Ah, yes,” Basil growled. “Much better that she have a father who drowns his woes in the Ascensions’ liquor cabinet.” With that, he pointed his horse away from the rest, calling over his shoulder before he galloped off, “Woo help you if you let my daughter drink any more of that vile stuff, Lord Dimitri. The queen mother should be the least of your problems, then.”

And with that, the lord of Ecliptus was gone, but thundering hoofbeats left in his wake. Once he’d disappeared into the darkness, Grace rolled her eyes and coaxed her horse back into a slow clip, silent as she started it down the lane that led toward the lake-house. Astra, too, said nothing, merely sighing as she followed her daughter, clearly not in the mood to give any more thought toward her husband’s threats and sullen demeanour.

Dimitri followed them, casting a withering look at Basil’s retreating back before focusing on the road ahead. He didn’t really think there was any threat of either he or Grace touching anymore of the alcohol in the lakehouse. The hangovers they’d both been nursing for most of the morning and early afternoon would see to that.

“So, what now?” he asked wearily. “I don’t think there’s anything lined up insofar as formal events go until the coronation which…” he mentally calculated. “Isn’t for, Woo, another week and a half. But I imagine you’ll both want to visit with your relatives in the meantime?”

“I probably ought to make nice with Falcon and Maia’s girls, at least,” Astra said. “But you two hardly need to be involved in that.” She shrugged. “You two should have fun, I’d say. You’re young. You’re in the capital. Basil’s exiled to the Brettony Inn. What better time will you have than this to live a little, hm?”

Grace couldn’t help but crack a grin. “I’d almost say you’re a bad influence, Mum.”

“So long as you don’t go guzzling rum-- yes, Gracie, I saw that bottle-- like a pirate, I don’t see what’s so wrong with relaxing,” Astra replied. “Let me do the drudge-work. Neither of you two needs to worry about it.”

Dimitri winced, though it wasn’t without a crooked smile. “I think we both learned a lesson, last night, Lady Astra. I can’t speak for Gracie, but I am not touching the liquor cabinet again.” Glancing at his wife with a more sincere smile he added, “But I wouldn’t be averse to poking around town and seeing what all there is to see, provided we can avoid the areas that the major houses are frequenting.”

The rest of the trip down to the lakehouse was uneventful, though somewhere across town Dimitri was pretty sure he heard a great deal of noise that he was very keen to avoid if at all possible. Certainly the occasional peasant he saw staggering through the street wearing a wide, dreamy grin or clutching a bottle or mug didn’t speak well for the current state of the city. Basil was bound to have a fun time trying to get any sleep over at the Brettony.

Finally they arrived, the Ascension guards bowing to them as they dismounted from their horses and the grooms emerged to take them away. Astra started at once toward the cottage with a firm declaration that she wanted to get some sleep, but Grace hesitated, lingering behind.

“Something the matter, Gracie?” Dimitri asked. He glanced around towards the distant lights of the city, adding dryly, “Aside from the fact that half of Medieville is liable to wake up tomorrow much like we did this morning.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she said, watching as the grooms disappeared with the horses. “I just-- we’ve spent all day cramped up in the Keep, surrounded by madness. And the night air’s so nice. The idea of going back inside right now…” She shook her head.

He smiled. “Ah, I see. I wouldn’t mind walking around for a bit and enjoying the quiet and fresh air. But do you at least want to change into something more comfortable first? I can’t imagine that dressmaker’s confection or the shoes that go with it are the best thing to wear to walk along a muddy lakeside in, and we don’t want to have to explain to father why all the formal gowns we left Heleos with are wrecked.”

“You know me too well.” Grace grinned. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Without another word, Grace strode briskly off toward the cottage and disappeared inside. When she returned a few minutes later, she hardly looked the same woman at all, her elaborate ensemble replaced by a simple, unadorned linen dress, a matching shawl, and sensible walking boots. There was not a trace of orange or blue on her, nor any sign that she was a part of the nobility at all.

“Here,” she said to Dimitri, holding out a plain cloak to him. “Figured if we’re going to wander about, you ought to cover up that.” She gestured toward his heavyweight orange-and-blue tunic, which was clearly the garb of a wealthy man. “Good thing I didn’t listen to Father’s packing list,” she went on brightly. “If he’d had it his way, we would have brought only court regalia. And that wouldn’t have been much fun at all now, huh?” Her eyes twinkled mischievously.

The Escalus nobleman gave a crooked smile. “Why do I have the sneaking suspicion there are breeches or trousers somewhere in your bags that are going to appear when you decide you have had enough thank you of playing the courtier? At least I doubt the Ascension groomsmen will be foolish enough to ask questions.” He accepted the cloak, tying it around his shoulders. His father wouldn’t be any more happy if Dimitri ruined his formal array than he would if Grace ruined hers, so the thick cloth was hardly a bad idea. Holding out his arm to Grace, he said, “M’lady, if I might be your escort for the evening?”

“Of course, Lord Dimitri.” She threaded her arm through his, before turning toward the woods that stretched beyond the gates that guarded the Ascensions’ cottage. “How about a moonlit stroll?” she suggested. “I hear the forest is quite beautiful at night. … And very far away from all the drunkards of the city.”

“An excellent notion,” he replied, glancing at the city again with a somewhat wry expression. “Though I suppose I’m not really in much a place to be passing judgement. Let’s stay within sight of the lights of the city though- Woo knows we don’t want to get lost.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Grace teased. “I’m quite the navigator. What else is there to do as a sullen child in Ecliptus but learn the constellations, after all?”

Arm still twined around his, Grace smiled at the guards posted before the gate as she and Dimitri passed through it. The knights’ hard stares made it quite clear what they felt about the nobles’ jaunt into the night, and one of them had just started to open his mouth as if to warn Dimitri and Grace against the journey, but Grace spoke before the man could.

“Perhaps,” she said, her voice equal parts ice and false cheer, “this excursion should stay between us? I have a strange feeling that my grandmother’s told you to report our activity to her, but well-- we’d hardly want to worry her, would we? She’s already having such a hard time after the poor king’s death, after all.”

“Unfortunately,” the guard replied with a cool tone all of his own, “the queen mother’s commands supercede yours, my lady.” He looked toward Dimitri. “If my lord wishes to venture out, then it is not my place to stop him. But it is my opinion that such a journey might better wait for daytime, when the peasantry is not quite so rowdy.”

Dimitri was a little caught by surprise at the guards trying to tell them off, though in retrospect he supposed it made some sense- they worked for the royals so they really had no reason to fear or even respect minor nobility. But really, what was there to be afraid of? They were out in a secluded area of the woods, far enough from town not to have pickpockets lurking about but close enough that it would take an idiot of a bandit raiding party to set up shop here.

“We’ll stay well clear of the rowdy peasants,” he assured the guard. Glancing down at his wife he added, “And stars or not we won’t wander too far. After our experiment last night I think it better we err on the side of caution, my dear wife.”

“Of course, my lord,” the guard said, his affect flat, but he and his comrades made no further efforts to dissuade Dimitri or Grace, rather watching the pair with disapproving eyes as the lord and his wife started into the woods.

“So,” Grace said once she and Dimitri were suitably out of earshot, “where should we go? Or shall we merely see where the paths take us?”

“Somewhere that your grandmother isn’t going to gut me if she hears about this,” he retorted, his grin crooked. “You seem to keep forgetting that just because you have immunity from the repercussions of pushing her buttons, that does not mean I do.” He shook his head, and though his tone remained light a trace of bitterness crept into his expression. “I can’t even assure the guards I can protect you with my Corvid magic because I’m not a mage.”

He glanced into the woods. “For now, I suppose we could just follow the path of least resistance and see where it takes us.”

“Aw, come on, Dems. I might have immunity, yes, but just think of how horrid it would be if you were beheaded. Why, I might get blood on my court clothes!” She grinned darkly. “Let’s go… this way,” she said, banking left as they reached a fork in the path-- away from the glowing lights of the city behind them. “Hope you’re not afraid of the dark, Dimitri.”

“Honestly, you are impossible!” he said, with a laugh. “To think when we first met you were shy! Not too far, by Woo, we’re in enough trouble!”

“Shall I take that to mean you are afraid of the dark?” Grace teased. “Because, really, my lord, that’s quite--” The woman abruptly cut herself off as she caught a flicker of movement from the corner of her eye, rustling amidst the trees that towered over the narrow path. Letting go of her husband’s arm, she frowned and took a cautious step forward, straining her eyes against the darkness. “Did you see that, Dems?” she murmured.

“Did I see what?” he asked, following her gaze through the trees. “What’s the matter, what did you see?”

“An animal, maybe?” she guessed, pressing a hand against the trunk of an old, fat pine tree as she took another few paces forward. “Maybe a deer. Or a wild turkey.” She turned sideways to shimmy through a narrow gap in the trees, now completely off the marked path. “Come on. Let’s see.”

“Ah, Gracie I’m not so sure this is a good idea,” Dimitri remarked, the joking tone gone from his voice. “If it was an animal it might be something dangerous. I mean back home you can step on what you think is a log and it turns out to be an alligator. Besides, I would really prefer we not get lost.”

“Scared of the dark, and scared of animals?” From behind the shield of the trees, Grace laughed, now completely disappeared from her husband’s sight. “Come on, Dems,” she called. “I’d hardly want to leave you all alone in the dark with scary turkeys about!”

“Gracie, wait!” He called to her, following her into the trees. He winced as his face was slapped by a low hanging branch that Grace had probably walked right beneath. “Seriously, come back, this isn’t funny-”

This time, Dimitri saw it too- a flash of movement through the trees, just beyond his field of vision. His head snapped around to face the source of the movement, at the same time as, from a few feet over, Grace let out a sudden, startled gasp of: “Oh, Woo!”

“Grace!” Dimitri called, turning towards the sound of her voice and finally spotting her. He darted around a bush, coming up beside his wife just in time to see what had startled her- people, three of them, standing frozen in surprise just a few feet away. Vague flickers of recollection through the drunken stupor of the previous night hit him- people in the trees…

“Ah, hello,” he said, trying to be polite in spite of the tension in all of his muscles. He came up behind Grace, putting a protective arm around her shoulders. “Sorry, we didn’t know there would be other people about.”

The only male amidst the three smiled at them, but it hardly met his lips, let alone his eyes. “It seems we’ve each surprised the other, then,” he said lightly. “All of us thinking to enjoy these woods on such a lovely night.”

“The city’s very loud,” supplied the second of the group, a slim woman who looked to be in her middle thirties. Like the other two, she was clad not just plainly but haphazardly, her stiff, dirt-stained dress looking as if it had been sewn together from a variety of spent rags, her plain shoes worn through with holes. “So many drunkards about,” she added.

“Indeed…” Dimitri glanced down at Grace, not liking this one bit. “Certainly it’s quite loud in town. I’m sorry if my wife and I disturbed your evening.”

“Oh, not at all!” The man practically beamed, before taking a casual step forward and adding, “Are you from the city? Your accent-- it’s…” He paused, reflected. “... It’s interesting.”

“No, we’re from Corvus,” The nobleman replied. “South Corvus, specifically, near the border. You likely wouldn’t hear that accent very often, I can’t blame you for not recognizing it.” He gave a very fixed smile. “We’re in town only a short while.”

The third girl, younger, looking no older than Grace, cast a look at her companions as she fiddled with the sleeve of a tattered dress. “That’s pretty far. You’re here for the funeral?”

“Our employers came for the funeral, yes,” Grace said, her fingers digging into Dimitri’s ribs as she leaned against him. “They’re asleep for the night, so we thought we’d take a look around the woods.”

“The woods?” The man finally betrayed a frown. “Why not the city?”

“As you said, it’s very loud.”

“Indeed.” The man cocked his head, thinking for a moment before he asked, “So, who’s your employer? Awfully kind of them, to let you wander the forest unbidden, isn’t it?”

“A minor House from the border, you’ve probably not heard of it,” Dimitri replied, giving his wife’s shoulder a squeeze with one hand. With a wry grin that wasn’t in the least feigned he added, “The staff at the Keep certainly hadn’t. When they introduced the lords at the feast, they pronounced the name wrong.”

The young girl snorted softly, though she quickly coughed as if to hide the sound. Next to her, though, the man showed no humor, his voice a lance as he said, “Your employer brought you to the feast? How generous! I do hope the royal family wasn’t insulted, that they felt the need to bring their own serving staff to a Keep event?”

“Wouldn’t want to offend those royals,” agreed the first woman. “Not in such a difficult time.”

“They are quite generous to us, yes,” Grace said, her voice cracking. “They brought us as guests, not to serve.”

The blatant interrogation was getting past the point where Dimtiri was willing to tolerate it. They were doing nothing wrong and there was no call for these peasants to be questioning them like one would question a criminal.

“That said, I wouldn’t want to test their generosity by staying out too long,” he said. “Not when they’ve already been so accommodating. Ladies, gentleman, we’re sorry again for disrupting your night. My dearest?” he said, turning his attention to Grace. “Let’s get some rest- I’m sure we’ll have plenty to do come the morning.”

“Of course.” Grace swallowed hard, forcing a pleasant smile toward the three as she added, “Have a nice night.”

“And you as well.” But the man was still frowning, his expression hard.

Dimitri nodded, calling upon every scrap of what little training in diplomacy he as younger son had been given to keep his expression pleasantly neutral. He turned, guiding Grace back in the direction of the path that would take them out to the stone cottage. As he and his wife emerged from the trees, he heard the younger girl call out pleasantly, “I’d not stray too far from your master’s protection in the future- the city is a dangerous place if you don’t know your way around.”

Grace didn’t respond, only bit down on her tongue and leaned in so tightly against Dimitri that there wasn’t more than a millimeter of space between the lord and his wife. Hardly noticing as a branch scraped through her hair, she practically flung herself-- and dragged Dimitri-- back on to the narrow path, her pace far from the casual meander she’d used whilst traversing it before.

“Should we go?” she murmured into Dimitri’s ear. “Back to the cottage?”

“I think that would be a good idea,” he replied in an equally hushed tone, his greater height allowing him to keep up with her frantic steps without much effort. “And I think we should avoid anymore moonlight strolls. I don’t know what all that was about, but there was clearly malice there and I don’t want either of us to have any part of it.”

“Or we could just stick to the path,” Grace whispered. “Tomorrow, if we want to try again--”

“Gracie, no. I am not going into the woods with people lurking about who would shout blatant threats at the servants of a noble house. And I am not letting you do so and deprive Rhea of her mother. We can find interesting things to do somewhere safer.”

“If they’d wanted to hurt us, they would have,” Grace replied, finally letting go of her husband so that she could pause and glare at him. “And what-- you’re not going to let me? What are you, my father?”

“There’s a vast difference between stopping you from doing something because I think it’s improper, and stopping you from doing something because I’m worried sick it’s going to get you hurt or killed,” he retorted. “No, they didn’t hurt us, but who’s to say they wouldn’t have if we’d not left when we did? Or if they’d kept picking at our story? I’m not trying to be a domineering jerk, Grace, I just…” He deflated somewhat, his blue eyes tired. “I’m worried if we keep doing reckless things like this it’s going to bite us harder than a hangover or a brief fright. The guards warned us against this, and I think they were probably smarter than us. Than me. It’s not even about Maia or Basil, I don’t want to see you hurt because you’re family and I care about you.”

“I…” She shifted uncomfortably for a moment, worrying at the dirt path beneath with the toe of her boot, before she shook her head and said, “I don’t need your protection, Dimitri. I’m not… I’m not a child, I can make my own choices. And I’m not going to spend the entire time we’re here hiding in the lake-house because some harmless peasants startled you. If you’re scared and want to do that, fine. But you hardly have to punish me for your silly fears.”

He covered his face with his hands. “I never said we had to hide in the lake house the entire week. Just that we don’t need to go into the forest after dark and tempt fate. Please Grace, I almost never try to stop you from doing what you want to do, and I wouldn’t be trying to stop you now if I wasn’t serious about this! I’m certainly not suggesting that I should protect you, because I bloody well can’t!” He looked away bitterly. “I’m not a mage, not a warrior, I’m barely even a noble by the standards of the people here, who have to be reminded of the name of my house. I can come with you, but I’m not proof against anything dangerous we might encounter- for myself or you. I’m… maybe you’re right, and I’m pathetic for being afraid of a few peasants, but that goes to show just how powerless I am. And that scares me.”

For a moment, Grace simply gaped at him, as if she couldn’t quite believe how quickly things had just escalated. She seemed torn between comforting him and snarling back at him again, and there was a dark, bitter edge to her tone as she finally said, “Is that an order, Dimitri? Me not coming out to the woods again after dark-- is that an order?”

He looked at her desperately, guilt and frustration gnawing at his insides. What was the matter with her tonight, why was she getting so mulish over something so stupid? He swallowed thickly, and felt his eyes burning with tears of anger and helplessness he didn’t dare shed.

“No,” he said finally, softly. “I won’t do that to you- I’m not like that. But I really, sincerely wish you’d listen to me, Gracie.” He sighed. “Come on, let’s get back.”

Grace didn’t respond to him, only shrugged her shoulders before starting again down the path, her pace not just hurried, but sharp. She didn’t look back to see if he would follow but could hear his footsteps behind her, and even once they reached the gates to the cottage, the woman didn’t spare her husband so much as a momentary glance.

“Nice stroll, my lady?” one of the guards asked as he went about unlocking the gate, the metal hinges giving a loud creak against the cool night air.

“You can tell my grandmother it was just lovely, thanks,” Grace muttered, slipping through the still-opening gate the moment the gap was wide enough. Dimitri, if he had a comment, did not make one, his expression distant and strained. He followed his wife through the gate, wondering briefly if he ought to mention the people they’d seen in the forest to the guards, but ultimately he decided against it. He’d probably be opening himself up to more scorn from his wife, which he didn’t think he had the energy to weather without snapping and saying something he’d regret later. In all likelihood the warning they’d been given before leaving was evidence that the guards already knew or at least suspected something odd was afoot.

He followed Grace into the house, where she made a beeline for the stairs, hurrying up them without a word to Dimitri; moments later, the sound of a door slamming shut echoed throughout the cottage, causing a passing servant to pause and frown to himself for a moment before he noticed Dimitri nearby, at which point he forced a short bow and scurried away back to his task. Dimitri said nothing to the servant, and made no move to follow Grace up the stairs. Instead he walked slowly to a small couch in the corner, sitting down on it with a sigh. He leaned forward, resting his head in his hands, as the stress of the past several days caught up with him. His shoulders shook and his breathing hitched, but if any of the servants noticed, they didn’t comment on it.

SPOILER: Click to show

¹Also known as, the Shadows are very anxious about Elin and are thus aimlessly trawling the woods for her. D:

[Shinko]

We interrupt this ongoing fic to bring you some sadcutes. A collab between myself and PFA

A Winter Bloom

SPOILER: Click to show

It was a foggy mid-winter afternoon in the Corvid capital of Solis. The frenzied excitement of Woomas and the turning of the new year had passed, and now had arrived the yearly waiting game of short, dreary winter days until spring returned the warmth that Corvus was so well known for.

When Anders Escalus had first come to Solis, almost twenty-two years ago, dealing with the winters had been a major adjustment. The city where he’d grown up, Heleos, was on the southernmost border of Corvus, near Courdon. It almost never got cold there at all, except on rare occasions after a big storm blew in. He’d been miserable for a long while, until an unknown benefactor had given him a thick winter cloak in Jade green, with a matching clasp that featured the House Jade emblem.

In the two decades since the original cloak had long since worn out, and Anders adjusted to the northern winters enough that the replacement he bought was a good deal lighter. But he still used the same clasp he’d gotten all those years ago, somewhat scuffed with age but mostly well cared for.

He was wearing the clasp now, holding together a Jade green cloak with the hood up against the cold and wet. He was a familiar sight around Jade Manor thanks to his long friendship with Lord Everett’s second son, Reynold, so when he arrived at the gate he was waved through without a second thought. However, today he was not here to meet with Reynold. Instead, he cut around behind the manor, taking a meandering path through the fog that eventually brought him to a cemetery.

He wasn’t sure where exactly the grave he was looking for was located, but he’d allowed himself plenty of time for this venture. Slowly, he began to walk through the rows, skimming the names on the headstones until he spotted the name he was looking for-

Lady Eleanor Jade
May 1247 - January 1303

The fireknight swallowed hard. So this was it- the final resting place of Lord Everett’s mother. A woman Anders had just a few weeks ago learned was also his aunt. Today was the anniversary of Eleanor’s death, and Anders was still a bit uncertain about if he should really have come to the cemetery. He’d never met the woman, in spite of their tenures in Solis overlapping by four years. He didn’t know who she’d been, whether she knew he existed or not, or what sort of relationship she’d had with her brother, Anders’ father Olander, that led to Anders not knowing she’d existed until Reynold went digging through some old genealogy books.

And yet… it just seemed right. The Jades had given him so much, helped him come so far from the embittered child he’d been when he left Heleos, that he felt he owed something to their shared heritage. Settling down to his knees by the tombstone, he reached into his cloak and pulled out a single, crimson flower with a long, thick stem in the center: a hibiscus, a winter blooming flower native to the region around Heleos where both he and Lady Eleanor had been born. Gently, almost reverently, he set the flower down against the base of the headstone. Drawing back his hood, he put his hands together, and began to softly recite a Wooist prayer for the spirits of the dead.

“Come to pay your respects, Major?”

Anders started; he’d not heard anyone coming towards him. Turning, he was surprised to see that the speaker was none other than Lord Everett himself, dressed in a thick winter cloak of his own and holding a small bouquet of lovely pink flowers.

“Ah, my lord,” he said, inclining his head respectfully. “Sorry, am I intruding? I can be off if you’d prefer to be alone, I just…” He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling like a small child who’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

But instead, Lord Everett just chuckled softly, shaking his head. “No, it’s quite alright,” he said. Moving closer to the grave in order to place his bouquet, he added, “Though I must admit, I’m surprised to see you here.”

Anders relaxed a bit at Everett’s obvious good humor, though it surprised him a bit to see the normally stoic Jade so casual. The fireknight looked at the grave, his expression apologetic. “I… I never knew. That Lady Eleanor was my aunt. Reynold told me a few weeks ago, and it’s the first I’d ever heard of it. It seemed right to pay my respects.”

He pushed himself up into a standing position with a sigh. “Part of me feels bad- she was still around for at least some of the time I was living here, and I never got the chance to talk to her. But then I also wonder if she’d have even wanted to talk to me. I mean I abandoned House Escalus, and it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that my demeanor when I first came here was like that of a petulant child. I doubt I would have been pleasant company. And there’s the question of why Fath- Lord Olander never mentioned…” He caught himself, wincing. “Ah, sorry, I’ve gone on a ramble.”

“It’s alright,” Everett repeated, though his eyes betrayed a distant thought at Anders’ words—memories, perhaps. He was silent for some time before he finally spoke again. “I think she would have liked to meet you. …She was concerned for you when she first heard you were here.”

Anders blinked, his expression somewhere between confusion and sadness. “She knew about me? I… I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. We’re from the same place, so it makes sense you’d tell her.” His voice tinged with obvious regret, the fireknight added, “I’m sorry there was never a good time for us to talk. As poorly as I got along with the Escaluses growing up, I’d have treasured the chance to have a real family for once.”

His mouth twitched upwards just slightly, and he added, “Though I suppose I still do… Reynold’s been like a little brother to me for a long time. Imagine my surprise when it turned out he and I were first cousins.”

Everett couldn’t help but smile at that. “Well, I’m glad the two of you have such a close friendship. I suppose it’s been beneficial for you both—Reynold has matured well.” Glancing at Anders, he added, “As have you, I can see.”

The fireknight met Everett’s green eyes with his grey ones, an emotion he couldn’t quite name fluttering in his chest. He broke the eye contact a moment later, averting his gaze as he tried to process the fact that Lord Everett, the man who he respected most in the world, had given him a compliment.

“Th-thank you, my lord,” he said, rubbing the Jade clasp on his cloak idly with a thumb. “I have you to thank for that as well though. You had no obligation to help me when I showed up in Solis twenty-two years ago. I was a headache you didn’t need, and you’d have been within your rights to ship me back to Heleos. I can’t ever really repay you for what you’ve done for me.”

“Of course. I’m glad I could be of help,” Everett replied with a nod. “And I’m glad that you could put your talents to good use here. I’m sorry that…” He trailed off, as if deciding against what he was about to say. Instead, he added, “Your good work is appreciated.”

Anders smiled, for just a moment looking like a young boy who’d been praised for getting good marks in his lessons instead of a thirty-eight year old man who’d been paid a compliment by his employer. “It has been my honor, and my pride to serve the Jade fireknights,” he murmurred. “And… and you as well, Lord Everett.” Glancing back at the grave, he added, “Maybe I didn’t know her myself, but I’m certain that Lady Eleanor would have nothing but good to say of the Lord you’ve been for Corvus. I certainly do, and given the chance to relive my life I’d have followed the same path over being lord in Heleos a thousand times over.”

Everett was silent at first, looking at the grave in thoughtful silence for a while. Then slowly, he smiled. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

The fireknight smiled in reply, and he too fell silent for a time, both men lost in their thoughts. At length Anders said, “My lord, if… if I may ask?”

“Yes? What is it?”

Anders swallowed thickly, “My aunt… what was she like?”

“She was…” Everett paused, pondering the best way to describe his mother. “She was a good woman. She was wise, and very supportive… I respected her for everything she taught me.”

The fireknight looked thoughtful at this, his grey eyes distant as he thumbed the clasp at his neck again. Supportive- something he’d never had from a parental figure. And he couldn’t say Olander had really taught him much either, leaving most of his instruction to tutors. He couldn’t really miss someone he’d never known, but he found himself feeling an odd sort of grief for what Eleanor could’ve been for him, under different circumstances. What she clearly was to her own children.

His thumb faltered in its rhythmic motions as a thought suddenly hit him. He looked down at the clasp, an odd expression on his face. “My lord, you… you mentioned that you told her about me, and she seemed concerned for me? Do you-” his voice faltered, and he had to take a deep breath before he could go on. “Do you know if she ever did anything? Where I was concerned?”

Everett blinked, considering the question. “I’m not… I’m not sure, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she did. I know she wanted to.”

Anders bit his lip. “I just remembered something- it should have occurred to me before but it was so long ago…” he undid the clasp on his cloak, a simple but beautiful gold pin with the emblem of House Jade on the front, that fit comfortably in Anders’ palm. Holding it out to the Jade Lord, he explained, “When I first started training as a fireknight, I found this and a winter cloak in Jade colors had been left on my bunk in the barracks. The cloak wore out a long time ago, but I still have this- and the note that came with it. It wasn’t signed, so I never knew who’d left it, but they said they knew Solis was a lot colder than Heleos in winter and that it was a gift to help me feel at home in the city.”

His hands were shaking slightly as he went on. “I never knew who gave it to me. I mean anyone who cared to do a little research could’ve figured out from my name I was from Heleos. But to think of something like that, something so relatively minor that it wouldn’t occur to most people but really was making me miserable at the time…”

“That…” Everett thought on this for a moment, smiling slightly. “Well, it does sound like something she would do.”

Anders closed his shaking hand around the clasp, his eyes blurring. Until now the fact that the lord’s mother was his aunt had been a curiosity, but not something that affected him much personally. He’d assumed she never knew about him. But that she not only knew, but went out of her way to help him when his own father didn’t even try to chase him when he fled…

The tears stinging at his eyes spilled over, and he clenched them shut. Looking away hurriedly, lest Everett think him an immature idiot after all, he muttered, “I-I’m sorry…”

Everett, however, just seemed baffled. “What for?”

“I… I shouldn’t be g-getting wrought up over something l-like this,” Anders admitted, rubbing his face roughly on his sleeve. “I’m an officer, and I’m almost forty, b-but I… It meant so much to me at the time, to think that s-someone out there actually cared.”

“I see.” Everett gave a small smile at this. “Well, it’s quite understandable. Don’t be ashamed of your emotions.”

Anders swallowed thickly, his breath hitching slightly. He slowly knelt down in front of Eleanor’s grave again, clenching both hands around the clasp, he looked at the name inscribed on the headstone- not just a name in his mind anymore, but a person. Someone who had extended him a small kindness twenty-two years ago, when he didn’t have a friend in the world. Hoarsely, his shoulders shaking, he whispered, “Thank you.”

Everett smiled at this, taking a step back to give Anders some space. All fell to silence for a while, but eventually the fireknight seemed to get his emotions back under control. He pinned the clasp back onto his cloak and stood up, smiling at the Jade.

“I should probably head back,” he admitted. “But thank you again, Lord Everett. For giving me this chance to make something of myself. Lady Eleanor did get that wish- No matter how far I fly, Solis will always be home.”

“Of course.” Everett nodded. “Again, I’m glad I could help.”

Anders bowed to the Jade lord, before turning to head out of the cemetery, pulling his hood up against the cold as he went. In spite of how emotionally exhausting this venture had become, he was glad he’d decided to come. To hear it from the mouth of Lord Everett himself, the man he respected most in the world, that he was wanted, appreciated, and cared about, meant more than he could properly put into words.

With a smile, he turned out at the gate of Jade Manor and made his way back towards the fireknight compound. There was work to be done, and he certainly had no intentions of disappointing the Jades now.

[Avery]

Once Upon Another Time: Part Four

SPOILER: Click to show

“So,” Astra said the next morning, as she, her daughter, and son-in-law sat on the back patio of the lake-house, devouring a simple breakfast of fruit, pastries, and mulled cider, “you two are awfully quiet this morning. I hope you weren’t up drinking again like Bernian peasants, hm?”

“We were not,” Grace confirmed shortly, as she slathered an already-decadent sweet roll with a healthy dose of jam. “Stayed as sober as the Lord Woo himself, I’d say.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” But the lady of House Cressida was frowning, her tone pointed as she pried on, “So what were you doing, Gracie?” When her daughter volunteered no response, she looked toward Dimitri. “Lord Escalus?”

Dimitri, who’d been nibbling half-heartedly on a date, glanced up at Astra with a shrug. He’d only finally been able to change out of the clothes he’d worn to the feast a short while ago, having fallen asleep on the couch and realized once he woke that Grace had locked him out of the room where all his clothes were. “We went for a walk,” he replied vaguely.

“A walk?” Astra raised a brow. “Where to?”

“The woods. It was just lovely.” Grace used a butter knife to carve into a boiled plum with far more might than was strictly necessary.

“You went to the woods? At night?” Astra gawped, her concentration dancing for a few moments between her daughter and son-in-law before she prompted, “And whose idea was that?”

“Mine,” Grace said. “I thought it would be relaxing.”

“And was it?” Astra’s gaze had grown pointed.

“Oh, yes, perfectly relaxing. Right, Dimitri?” Grace stabbed at the plum again before muttering, “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

“What is wrong with you?” Astra demanded. “Is that how you speak to your mother, Gracie? Or to your husband?”

“I…” Grace pursed her lips. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Apologize,” Astra said flatly. “Now. I won’t have you brooding like a spoiled brat at my table.”

Dimitri, through this exchange, had been flinching further and further into himself. “Can we please just stop fighting?” he asked, his voice very tired and strained. “I get it, I’m sorry. I’m a horrible person. I should be ashamed of myself. I’m tired Gracie, I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m sorry.”

“Why’s he apologizing?” Astra asked, her stare still leveled at her daughter.

Grace stared down at her plate. “We had a fight,” she said vaguely, much of the bite gone from her words. She was suddenly squirming in her seat as if she were but a child again, all of her confidence siphoned away by Astra’s flat words and accusatory gaze.

“I’d ask what about, but I don’t much care,” Astra said. “But life advice for you two-- never go to bed angry. It never fixes things, I can assure you of that.” Finally looking back toward Dimitri, whose eyes were underscored by heavy black bags, she added ruefully, “And it certainly makes for an awful night’s sleep.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Grace murmured.

“Good. But I still haven’t heard any apology from you, Grace. And make it genuine, please.”

“But--”

“Grace.”

The woman scowled. “I’m sorry, Dimitri,” she said, forcing herself to look at her husband. Her words were at first shallow-- unconvincing-- but her voice steadily took on a more and more thoughtful note as she continued, “I wasn’t mad at you. I was just… tired and annoyed. You didn’t do anything wrong. I just wanted to be mad at something, and I guess you were the only living thing around to be mad at. I’m sorry.”

Dimitri had been staring down at his plate at first, but as Grace went on he looked up, the guilt and frustrated helplessness in his expression clearing somewhat. Though he still looked tired and somewhat strained, he managed a crooked smile. “That’s fair, I suppose. Next time, let’s just go for a ride, hm? You can gallop as fast as you want and take out your frustrations that way. I’m afraid I don’t make for a very good punching bag, I have too many weak points in my stitching.”

He rubbed his face wearily, a slight smirk pulling at his lips. “And as comfortable as the Ascensions’ couch is, it’s not very conducive to sleeping on.”

“I didn’t sleep much, anyway,” she muttered, finally done mutilating the plum. “I’m so used to having you there, I kept waking up and panicking for a moment until I realised where you probably were.” She shrugged her shoulders before adding with a small smile, “At least all of us probably still sleep better than Father at the Brettony.”

“Don’t let him hear you talk like that,” Astra said, but the lady of Ecliptus was grinning, too. Taking a swig of her cider, she turned to glance out at the glimmering lake beyond the patio. “Lovely day, isn’t it?” she commented. “I’ve arranged to have tea with Maia’s girls later, but that’s not until afternoon. And it’d be a shame to waste the morning sitting around doing nothing, wouldn’t it?”

Dimitri chuckled softly in spite of his fatigue. “Will anything in town even be open? I’d swear half of the peasantry was raging drunk last night. If they’re not almost all pinned to a bed this morning I’ll be surprised.”

“The peasants, maybe,” Astra agreed. “But I’m sure there will be some merchant shops open. Perhaps we could find some nice trinkets to bring home. A treat for Rhea and Catia, maybe? And Lord Filipe, too-- surely you want to show him you’re gracious that he’s agreed to watch the baby, right?”

“That’s a thought,” Dimitri replied, glancing at his wife with a smile. “Only fair we bring back some sort of souvenir from the capital to show off to make up for vanishing on poor Rhea for several weeks. Maybe then she’ll like me again and not just tackle your legs out from under you when we get back.” With a mocking sigh he added, “And I suppose my brother deserves something for putting her up. And I need something to rub this trip in his face with.”

Finishing breakfast not long later, Astra retired briefly to her room to fetch her purse, and Dimitri his, before the three set off for the main merchants’ marketplace across the lake. True to Lady Cressida’s assessment, it was a pleasant day, the morning air warm but breezy-- but the party hadn’t even made it past the front gates before one of the Ascension knights stopped them, cutting them off with a deliberate, sweeping movement.

“My lord, my ladies,” he began, briefly bowing his head before bringing it back up again. Eyes trained conspicuously on Grace, he asked lightly, “Are we going somewhere this fine morning?”

“The marketplace,” Grace replied, furrowing her brow. “So if you might please let us through the gates…”

“I can,” the knight agreed, “but only if it’s with escort, my lady.”

“My son-in-law is escorting us.” Astra gestured at Dimitri, as if the knight could have missed him.

“A professional escort,” the knight amended.

Dimitri was caught by surprise, but a moment later he realized what was probably going on. He glanced towards the guards at the gate, and sure enough the shift that had been there last night had been relieved- and no doubt gone straight to Maia about their little midnight excursion into the woods.

Well this is going to make the rest of the week fun, he thought ruefully. On the one hand, he wasn’t averse to having people with them who actually could protect Grace and Astra. On the other… he knew how willful the women could be, and he knew they wouldn’t like it.

“It seems Lord Basil isn’t the only one who can get royal decrees he’s not fond of,” the nobleman remarked softly.

“Royal decrees?” Grace echoed, seeming perplexed for a moment before-- “Woo-darn it. What, exactly, did your comrades tell my grandmother, Sir, um--”

“Charis,” the knight finished coolly. “And the queen mother was told nothing but the truth, my lady. Suffice to say, she was quite displeased by the notion of her grandchild skulking about unbidden in the night.”

“I was hardly skulking,” Grace protested. “And my husband was with me--”

“I am merely the messenger, my lady.” The knight smiled down at her as if he were humouring a very small-- and very unreasonable-- child. “If you take issue with the order, then by all means take it up with the queen mother. Unfortunately, in lieu of that, you either leave the lake-house with myself as an escort, or not at all.” As if sensing the protest that would soon spill through her lips, he added, “And I am fully authorized to keep you here by force if necessary. But that, of course, would mean another message to your grandmother. And I’m quite sure Queen Maia has enough on her mind already, no?”

“I’m sure she does,” Astra replied thinly, shooting Grace a pointed look. “And we’d be honoured to have you as an escort, Sir Charis.”

Dimitri kept his thoughts to himself during this exchange. On the one hand, he was glad that any further threat of Grace running off into the woods after dark out of spite had been taken out of his hand, but on the other he wished it didn’t have to be at the expense of making both his wife and mother-in-law grumpy.

“So,” he said briskly, hoping they could reclaim at least a fragment the good mood they’d managed to achieve, “Should we fetch our horses, or do you fancy a walk? It’s a lovely morning, but obviously if you don’t want to wear yourselves out walking all the way into town, that’s perfectly understandable.”

“Let’s walk,” Grace said far too chipperly. “Hopefully Sir Charis can keep up in all that armour, hm?”

Sir Charis could, indeed, keep up, the knight clad in full Ascension livery trailing the group like a stray dog chasing after the poor beleaguered bloke who’d made the grave error of feeding it a scrap. As Dimitri had guessed over breakfast, the city center was a veritable ghost town, the denizens of Medieville all sufficiently hungover and committed to their beds. Even the marketplace proved sparsely filled, but Astra’s own assessment, too, was correct: most of the booths and shops remained open, even if they were thin on customers.

“I think we should have no trouble haggling over prices today,” the lady of Ecliptus remarked. Focus drifting toward a small tea shop to the left, she added, “I think I’ll pop in there and sit for a cup, if you two want to run ahead and browse? I can join you again later.” With a smirk, she finished, “And I’m sure Sir Charis can you keep you company enough.”

“I’m sure,” Dimitri replied dryly. Turning to Grace he said, “So what do you want to do first? We could see about something for Rhea and Catia, or we could just poke around and see what all is here.” Glancing up and around he added, “...There’s an awful lot of noise coming from that sculpture store though, perhaps we shouldn’t go in there.”

“I doubt your brother would appreciate a sculpture, anyhow. Nor would the girls,” Grace replied, as with a short smile and wave, Astra disappeared into the tea shop. Eyes trailing up the lane, she went on, “... I don’t think they’d like a lock and key, either. Not that it looks open anyway.” She pointed to a small shop up ahead on the right. “What about that? Looks like they’ve got leather goods hanging in the window. Do you think your brother would like some gloves, maybe? Or a belt?”

“I don’t know about gloves or a belt, but we could get him a new wand holster- his has been fraying a bit at the seams, but he insists he doesn’t want to waste money on a new one when it’s holding together at least. Nevermind the heir of House Escalus shouldn’t have a fraying wand holster, it makes the house look bad,” Dimitri added, putting on an affectation to his voice similar to his father Olander at this last. With a grin he added, “We could put in a comission for one with orange and blue stitching for him, and pick it up before we leave the city.”

Grace nodded. “And it should please your father, anyway. That we’re not wasting House money on pure frivolities, as he might say.” As she and Dimitri started toward the shop, though, she frowned and added, “... Do we have to get him something, too, though?”

“No,” Dimitri said bluntly, his expression hard. “Father will manage just fine.” In a lighter tone he went on, “If he wants presents from me, he might take some time getting to know me so I might guess what he’d like. As it stands, I’d as soon just get something extra nice for Rhea. I do miss her, much though I trust Fill and Bella to keep a close eye on-”

As the walked into the leather workers shop, Dimitri’s mouth snapped shut. There were two people in the shop when the walked in; an older gentleman sitting a at a desk across the room, and a very, frighteningly familiar young girl in a frayed dress sweeping the floor.

“...On her,” he finished, though his voice was strained and had nothing of the easygoing affection it had previously held while he spoke of his daughter.

Grace looked up sharply, following her husband’s gaze, and instantly wished she hadn’t. Daring not to visibly betray the unease the knocked into her like a large wave crashing over the shore, she reached an automatic hand toward Dimitri and clasped it over his arm, her fingers tight as vises.

“Welcome, welcome,” the older man called with a genial smile, standing up from the desk. If he noticed the stricken look on Grace’s face, or the way Dimitri had so suddenly frozen, he commented nothing of it, his demeanour one of pure professional warmth as, with a glance toward Sir Charis, he went on, “How many I help you today, Lord… Ascension, I would guess?”

“Ah, no,” Dimitri replied with a cough, trying to ignore the fact that the girl had looked up from her sweeping and was giving them a very dead-eyed stare. “I’m… Escalus. Dimitri Escalus.”

Calm down, Dimitri, you’re not alone in the woods with this girl and two of her friends- she can’t do anything to you here even if she were inclined, especially with Maia’s knight watching!

“I was wondering if you can make wand holsters?” he said, forcing himself to look away from the staring girl and at the shop owner. He approached the desk, keeping a hand on Grace as he went on, “I was hoping to commission a new one for my brother- his wand is a bit longer than the average, thirteen inches, and his old holster is fraying.”

“I don’t make them often, but I’m certainly capable, yes,” the merchant agreed. Once again looking toward Sir Charis, he added, “And any friend of House Ascension is a most esteemed customer of mine.” Turning toward the girl, he ordered, “Get my sketchbook from the back room, Essa. And my inkpot and quill. So that the fine lord and I can go over details of his commission.”

“Of course, Master Meine,” she replied with every evidence of cheer. She trotted out of the room, returning a moment later and fixing the two nobles with a very doll like smile as she set the requested materials on the leatherworker’s desk. Trying to ignore the expression, Dimitri turned his attention back to the man.

“It needs to fit a wand thirteen inches- and my brother is a war mage so he holsters his wand opposite the side one normally does so he can carry a sword as well, so it should be a left-handed design instead of right handed,” taking a deep breath and exhaling, he went on, “And if you could do the stitching of it in as close as possible to these shades of orange and blue-” he handed the man a small kerchief with the Escalus house crest embroidered on it, “I would be grateful to you.”

Turning the kerchief over in his hands, Meine sat back down at the desk and uncapped the inkpot Essa had set upon it. “That sounds very doable, yes,” the man said, flipping open the sketchbook to a fresh page. After he’d dipped his quill into the ink, he began working on the parchment with short, expert strokes, chattering lightly to Grace and Dimitri as he did. “A war mage, is it?” he said. “Very impressive. I take it you’re not from around here then, hm? Just visiting for the funeral and coronation?”

“Yes,” Grace said, her throat dry. Still clinging to Dimitri, she tried her best not to look in Essa’s direction, but her eyes kept listing back toward the girl, anyway, as if drawn there by magnets. “We’re from Corvus. S-southern Corvus.”

“That’s pretty far,” Essa remarked, positively beaming. It was the exact same thing she’d said the night before in the woods when they told the three peasants where they were from. Dimitri glanced at her, keeping an arm around Grace’s shoulder.

“Yes,” he remarked softly. “I suppose it is. We live along the border with Courdon, so the city where I’m from trains a lot of war mages to defend against incursions.”

“How brave,” Essa remarked casually, still smiling.

“Don’t you have floors to sweep, Essa?” Meine said pointedly, with his free hand gesturing toward the broom she’d set aside to fetch his sketching tools. Then, to the nobles: “Here, come take a look. This is the most basic design-- I can sew in your House seal if you’d like for an extra fee, however. Or add metal hardware.”

Essa bobbed her head politely, scurrying back to the broom and resuming where she’d left off. Dimitri smiled with nervous politeness at the leatherworker. “Thank you for the offer, but I think the basic design will be perfect- my brother isn’t very vain about house pride, so just the colors in the stitching will do very nicely.”

“Very well, Lord Escalus. I can have it finished for you by the morning before the coronation, if that would be agreeable?” He stood again from the desk. “The base fee is ten runestones, but since I’ll have to purchase the coloured thread, that’ll be an extra three.” Sparing another glance at Sir Charis, he added with a polite bow, “Although for a friend of House Ascension, I suppose I could give a discount. Say, ten percent off the final price?”

“That will be excellent, thank you,” Dimitri replied briskly. “Shall we give you a down payment now of say, eight runestones now, the rest to be had upon completion?”

“That would be splendid, my lord.” Meine reached out his hand toward Dimitri to shake it. “Essa can collect the payment while I double-check the back to ensure I’ve got the pigskin leather I think would work best in stock.”

“Of course,” Dimitri replied, taking the offered hand briefly before letting the man vanish into the back of the shop. He turned to Essa, who was still staring at him with an empty, doll like smile. Reaching into his money pouch, he produced the eight runestones he’d promised and offered them to the young girl.

“Thank you for your patronage, Lord Escalus,” she said brightly, accepting the money. “Have a wonderful day!”

Dimitri gave no reply, only frowning briefly before looking away pointedly and guiding Grace back out of the shop. They hadn’t made it ten feet down the road before Sir Charis frowned and, watching the way Grace still clutched to her husband as if she were afraid he’d otherwise disappear into thin air, cocked his head.

“Never gone shopping before?” he asked lightly. “Daresay that’s the first time I’ve ever seen someone of your status frightened of a merchant and his serving girl. Normally it’s the other way around.”

Dimitri’s frown deepened. “We… encountered the girl once before now. She didn’t do anything overtly, but she was asking us a lot of very searching questions about who we were and where we were from- and gave us the parting words that we should stick close to protectors because the city is ‘dangerous if you don’t know your way around.’ It could be paranoia, but she unnerved me.” Glancing at Grace he amended, “I think she unnerved us both.”

Sir Charis’s expression darkened considerably. “And where, precisely, did this exchange take place, my lord?”

At this, Grace instantly tightened her hold on Dimitri even further, passing him a desperate look, clearly begging him not to betray the truth. In his place, she replied to the Ascension knight, “In the city the first day. Before we visited with my grandmother.”

“And she just approached you out of nowhere?” Charis pressed on. “That’s very… bold. And I don’t think the queen mother would much like it if she heard that the peasantry was haranguing her relatives. Especially not with, well-- never mind about that.” Whatever he’d failed to say, the threat in his tone was implicit.

“I don’t imagine she would either,” Dimitri replied, his expression grim. He was sorely tempted to take the unspoken offer of reporting the issue to Maia, but… well for all they knew it was nothing but a few outspoken dissidents. Besides, even if they arrested this single girl, her friends were still out in the city somewhere. They might very well take it into their heads to retaliate, and there was no doubt now they would be able to figure out who Dimitri and Grace were- if Essa didn’t run straight to her friends with the name “Escalus” she was a fool.

“If it becomes a recurrent problem, certainly we should look into it,” he said finally. “But for now I would not wish to stress her majesty too much. She has enough on her plate as it is.” Glancing at Charis he added, “And you and your fellows shadowing us should do well to dissuade any such boldness in the future in any case.”

Sir Charis nodded, but he didn’t seem altogether convinced-- to the point where Grace, finally daring to let go of Dimitri, felt the need to add, “Please, Sir Charis. Don’t worry my grandmother over some silly peasant. I’m certain it’s nothing, and she’d only fret.”

“As you wish, my lady,” Charis replied. “But if I see that girl again, I shall have to act over your head.” And with that, the Ascension knight gestured toward the shops that stretched ahead. “So,” he said, “where to next?”

[Shinko]

This part features a special guest collaboration by PFA!

Once Upon Another Time: Part Five

SPOILER: Click to show

A few days later, just an hour or so after dawn, Astra, Dimitri, and Grace once again sat on the back patio of the lake-house nibbling on breakfast. This morning, however, they had a fourth member of their party: Lord Basil, who’d asked, begged, and then finally whined his way into being admitted to the Ascensions’ cottage for a visit and was now trying valiantly not to itch at the flea bites stippling his arms as he buttered a flaky scone.

“I’ve had better,” he commented snidely after a bite, glancing with scorn across the lake, where the Midsummer’s Festival was already starting to get under way. Still quiet because of the early hour, Basil knew that by mid-morning it would be a veritable zoo, and at this thought, he clucked his tongue. “So crass,” he went on. “To hold a festival while the kingdom’s in morning? Unholy heathens, the whole capital.”

“What else are they supposed to do, Basil?” Astra snapped. “Sit quietly in their homes for the next week until the new queen’s crowned?”

“That’s exactly what they should do,” Basil retorted. “No one in this ‘Pit-cursed city has any respect.”

Dimitri had to refrain from rolling his eyes. He drizzled some honey on a roll before taking a bite out of it, glancing at his wife to see how she was holding up. The rest of their trip to the market had been uneventful and they’d found a cute set of dolls to bring home to Rhea and Catia- but the day after that they’d heard nasty rumors about a violent ruckus somewhere in town, and something about a breakout… Suffice it to say, the young nobleman was feeling the weight of the stress from the last several days catching up to him. Next to him, Grace looked no more pleased by her father’s whining, biting down on her tongue to keep from sniping at him as she gnawed on a scone of her own.

“Just because you want to be miserable, Basil, doesn’t mean everybody else ought to be,” Astra said flatly. “Now, are you going to be pleasant company, or ought I have the servants show you back to the gate-- and the Brettony?”

“Are you threatening me?” Basil spat. Then: “What’s gotten into you, Astra?”

“Mum wasn’t threatening you.” Finally Grace mustered the courage to speak. “She just wants you to act civilly--”

“Stay out of this, Gracie,” Basil cut in, before with a dramatic flourish tossing the half-eaten scone back onto his plate and standing sharply. “That’s it,” he announced. “I’ve had it with this city. We’re going back to Ecliptus. Today.”

Dimitri was hard put not to bring his hand up to his face. “And you’re planning to explain to her majesty why Lady Astra is not at the rising queen’s coronation, how exactly?”

“Astra is my wife,” Basil growled, pointing an almost accusing finger at his son-in-law. “The queen mother hardly controls her. If I wish to take her home to Ecliptus, then I can, and I will.”

“I’m hardly a suitcase, Basil,” Astra said. “You can’t just drag me along. I’m staying here for Destiney’s coronation, end of story. If you want to leave, then be my guest. But I am staying.”

Dimitri could see by the vein popping in Basil’s forehead that he wasn’t about to back down from this. Suddenly, the young Escalus was thoroughly through with the conversation- if the Cressidas wanted to have yet another fight, they could bloody well do it without him bearing witness to it. Standing abruptly, he bowed to both of them and muttered, “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go inside for a bit.”

Turning on his heel, he stalked into the cottage, moving into the living room. However he was still too keyed up to sit on one of the couches, and found himself pacing back and forth across the room like a wild animal in a cage. A few minutes later, footsteps sounded down the hall, and in a moment Grace, too, had arrived to the living room, pausing in the doorway to stare at her anxious husband.

“Sorry about them,” she said, her own face still etched with tension. “But good news-- you won’t have to deal with my father for any longer. He’s leaving. And Mum’s not coming with him.”

“Well that at least is a relief,” he replied, running a hand through his hair as he turned to face her. “Frankly I’m impressed he stuck around this long. But it isn’t just Lord Basil, Gracie, it’s… this city, and everything that’s happened. The talk with her majesty, those people in the woods, and then again at the shop, and now these rumors about murders and prison breaks… I am going to go insane before the coronation has time to roll around. It just never lets up!”

“I’m sorry, Dimitri,” Grace said. “I know it’s been a lot.” She took a step forward, toward him. “But… I’m really thankful, you know. That you let me come here, and that you came with me. Woo, can you imagine if it had been just my parents and me? I would’ve gone mad by now.”

He gave a slightly breathless laugh. “Woo, that would’ve been a mess, yes. I’m glad you and Astra are at least enjoying yourselves and she’s getting to see relatives she’s not seen in a while but… no offense Gracie, I think I need a vacation from this vacation.”

Turning his head to the side, his ears caught a warble of music from somewhere in the distance. Suddenly, he grinned. “Say,” he said, “if you father isn’t going to be here to be scandalized by it anyway, what do you say we have some fun today?”

Grace quirked a brow. “What kind of fun?” she asked. “Hopefully something we could persuade the knights to let us do? After that fight, I’m in no mood to be figuring out a way to slip my escort.”

He flapped a hand dismissively. “Nothing illicit by any means. I was just thinking- if the peasants are going to set up a festival we can see just across the lake, why not go check it out? I can’t imagine the knights will object, though I am inclined to ask if they can try to keep a discreet distance. The full formal Ascension livery is very attention-getty and people staring at us is not conducive to having a good time.”

“Sir Charis seems to like us well enough by now,” Grace said. “I imagine he’ll agree so long as I promise not to do anything dangerous.” She chuckled before adding, “Suppose I’ll have to stay away from the firebreathers, though.”

“I suppose you will,” he replied with a smile. “We’ll manage that tragic deficit somehow. Is Basil still outside or has he left? If he’s still hanging around we might just leave a note for Astra but if he’s left I can go tell her myself while you get changed into something comfortable for walking around.”

“He stormed out just before I came in,” Grace said brightly. “If you want to go tell my mum, I’ll meet you at the front door in ten minutes?”

Upstairs, Grace considered pulling on the light linen dress she’d worn into the woods… before her eyes fell on what rested beneath it in the dresser drawer, and with a mischievous smile, she changed her mind.

“Not a word, Dems,” she said as she flounced back down the staircase afterward, clad not in a dress at all, but a simple tunic and trousers. “My father’s not here to comment on me bringing shame to the House, and so I might as well be comfortable, right?”

Dimitri glanced around, and felt a slight flush crawl across the bridge of his nose when he saw how his wife was dressed. He always felt an odd sort of thrill when she wore trousers instead of skirts around him- he couldn’t really explain what it was, but he found the look on her very flattering. He grinned crookedly.

“You minx,” he remarked. “How did I know.”

He was himself dressed fairly nondescriptly, in a tunic and trousers that, while good quality were not in the Escalus blue and orange, but a much quieter baby blue and silver that would draw a bit less attention in a crowd. Still fairly obviously wealthy, if not a nobleman, but not screaming it and his house affiliation to the world.

The young man shrugged, looking more amused than anything. “Your decision, Gracie, not mine. Let’s just hope our escort isn’t the judgey type.”

At the gate, Sir Charis certainly raised a brow at Grace’s attire, but he made no comment of it, seeming to know what was-- and wasn’t-- a matter that needed his intervention. He also obliged Dimitri and Grace’s request to stay back from them, although with the caveat that “you’ve only one strike, my lady, before I’m your sewn-on shadow again.”

The trio walked to the other side of the lake rather than take the horses, enjoying the balmy morning air, and by the time they arrived, the festival was in full swing. Musicians played along the shores of Lake Plume, and vendors stood hawking their wares, their calls mingling together like parts of a symphony.

“I’ll stay out of your way, but always in sight,” Sir Charis said. “Just gesture if you need me. And of course if anybody bothers you, I’ll be at your side in a moment.” He patted the sword holstered at his hip.

Grace nodded. “Thank you, Sir Charis.” She looked to Dimitri. “So. You’re the one who wanted to come here. What should we do first?”

Dimitri looked around for a moment, his eyes finally lighting on a fenced off paddock. “It looks like they’re doing some trick riding competitions over there- would you like to go watch?”

“Sure,” Grace said. With a devilish grin, she added, “Perhaps we could even bet on the winner. Really revel in the fact that my father’s gone back to Corvus by embracing this heathenous festival full and right, hm?”

Dimitri shook his head with a bemused expression as they began to walk towards the horse show. “You forget, our money comes from my father, not yours. And I don’t think he’ll terribly appreciate it if we spend it gambling!”

They spent about an hour watching the horse show, eventually tiring of it and moving off to look at some of the merchant displays. Fortunately the leatherworker was not out at the festival, nor was his unnerving young assistant. They were able to browse relatively unimpeded, their Ascension shadow staying within sight but discretely distant. They eventually stopped at one table to buy little rock candies on wood rods. They had just finished these, and were sitting on a makeshift bench just off the main road discussing what to see next, when suddenly, the sound of approaching voices caught their attention. Listening closely, they noticed that the voices sounded somewhat familiar.

“...simply have no taste for music!”

“We have more important matters to attend to, Joffery. Not only do we still need to find the girl, now we need to find Jeniver and Helena, as well.”

“And who says we have to do that without singing?” A young man dressed in House Jade colors emerged from the crowd, a pouting frown on his face. But the frown quickly faded, replaced by a grin. “In fact, I can do both at once!”

“Joffery, don’t you dare--”

On the bench beside her husband, Grace froze as the two men came into view, her stomach plunging like a heavy stone as they drifted quickly in she and Dimitri’s direction. Oh, Woo. Of everybody at this festival-- there had to be thousands of people here!-- it almost seemed like a taunting sign from the heavens that two representatives from House Jade should end up heading directly toward she and her husband. Lord Woo, she thought. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done since I’ve been here. But please, please, can you have them turn the other way before they see us?

Beside her, Dimitri went equally tense, but he was determinedly not looking in the direction of the duo in green and gold. Maybe if they kept quiet and didn’t draw attention to themselves the Jades would keep walking…

Unfortunately, they had no such luck. Mere moments later, Lord Joffery Jade had noticed them, marching confidently up to them and broke out into one of his famous spontaneous songs.

“A friendly face! So good to see!
I hope you feel as good as me~?”

“I told you to be quiet,” the other Jade man growled, pulling Joffery away from the couple. Casting them a side glance, he added, “My apologies. I hope we’re not interrupting anything.”

“Ah, no it’s quite alright, Lord Jade,” Dimitri replied with a tired smile, feeling rather defeated. Glancing at Joffery with a polite nod of his head he added, “I suppose I’m a bit flattered you recognized us. It’s been at least what, a year since last you visited Heleos? And it was my brother and father you spoke to at length. You honor us, Lord Joffery.”

“...Heleos?” The older Jade man blinked, glancing between Dimitri and Grace quizzically. “You must be from House Escalus, then?”

“Yes, my lord,” Grace said, a polite smile frozen on her face. For a moment she dared wonder what Basil would say if he could see her now, facing down the heir to the province whilst clad in mens’ clothes, but then swiftly the woman pushed this thought away; horror would hardly help her now. “Lady Grace Escalus,” she continued, before gesturing to Dimitri. “And my husband, Lord Dimitri.”

Dimitri glanced in the direction of their Ascension shadow briefly, wondering what he was making of all this, before he added, “Lord Olander is my father- my brother Filipe is his heir. You might have met one of them? I’m afraid we don’t get to visit Solis very often.”

“Yes, I’ve met them! Your brother is a good man,” Joffery said with a nod. Then, indicating himself, he added, “As for introductions, I’m Lord Joffery--”

“They already knew that, Joffery,” the other Jade pointed out.

Joffery ignored the remark. “And this is my uncle, Lord Charles.”

“Well met,” Lord Charles said. “My apologies for not recognizing you earlier, with your…” He gave what might have been a pointed glance toward Grace. “...Unusual attire.”

“Yes, well the Escalus blue and orange does get a bit loud sometimes,” Dimitri replied rather tightly, putting an arm around Grace’s shoulder. “This isn’t a formal function, so we thought perhaps we would enjoy it without drawing undue attention to ourselves.”

Something your house could stand to learn a lesson from, he thought rather irately. Given how Joffery conducted himself at the funeral and the feast, the Jades are the last people I want a lecture on propriety from!

“I see! It’s not really my style to blend in with the crowd, but if that’s what you want to do,” Joffery remarked obliviously. “I hope you’re enjoying yourselves, at least!” Breaking into song again, he added, “For festivals are full of joy and cheer, and they only happen once a year!”

Charles rolled his eyes. “There are plenty of festivals throughout the year. Your lyrics are flawed.”

“I have to make a rhyme somehow,” Joffery retorted. And then, he snapped his fingers, as if suddenly remembering what they had been doing before. “Oh! That reminds me, we’re looking for someone. I don’t suppose you could help us?”

“Looking for someone?” Grace managed, her voice thin. She rather wished she could melt into the bench right now and disappear from sight; Lord Charles’s comment about her unusual attire echoed in her ears like a ringing bell. “Who… who are you looking for, my lord?”

“If it’s someone from your House, we’ve seen no other Jades today save the two of you,” Dimitri added.

“Oh. Well, that’s alright,” Joffery said, “because we’re also looking for a fugiti--”

Charles cleared his throat, interrupting. “We’re looking for a young woman, with dark hair and complexion. I don’t suppose you’ve seen anyone of the sort?”

Dimitri tensed. Had Joffery started to say they were looking for a fugitive? Oh Woo…

“I… don’t recall if I’ve seen anyone like that, at least not and made note of it,” he said, his back ramrod straight. “Though um…” he glanced at Joffery, quirking an eyebrow. “What makes you certain that a person of… that persuasion would be out in the open in the middle of a festival? Seems awfully bold.”

Charles glared briefly at Joffery, before letting out an aggravated sigh. “We can’t be certain whether she is here or not. But… we decided it’s best to check, just in case.” He shifted his weight slightly at these words. “Either way, if you haven’t seen her, I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

As the conversation had progressed, Sir Charis had begun to drift closer and closer to his charges, his lips pursed as he listened in on Charles and Joffery’s words. At first he said nothing, clearly better trained than to butt in on an exchange that didn’t involve him, but at the mention of a fugitive…

“Lords of House Jade, right?” he asked, pausing briefly to bow toward Joffery and Charles, his mail audibly clanking as he did. “Might I venture to ask why it is yourselves searching for this… fugitive, as you’ve called her? Certainly men such as you have no reason to involve yourselves in what ought be the work of the city guard, correct? If there’s a criminal about, I’m certain they’re conducting their own careful searches for her.”

“I…” Charles frowned, examining the man thoughtfully. After a moment, he continued carefully, “We’re working on orders from Lord Everett. ...She was a prisoner of House Jade.”

“A prisoner of the House?” Charis matched the lord’s frown. “Is she one of your subjects, then? From Corvus?”

“...Yes,” Charles replied slowly. “She was a servant of the House, but she seems to have run off. We should be able to find her on our own.”

Sir Charis’ frown still didn’t evaporate outright, but at least he seemed satisfied enough by the lord’s answer not to press it any further. “Very well,” he said, his gaze drifting toward Dimitri and Grace. Clearly sensing their tenseness at the situation, he added lightly, “I’m sure the Escaluses will be quick to alert you if they see your renegade servant. Isn’t that right?”

Dimitri forced a smile, “Certainly we’ll keep our eyes open, and let you know just as soon as we see or hear anything. Though I’m certain your house is plenty competent enough that you should find the girl long before we would, Lord Jades.”

“Thank you,” Charles said with a sigh. “Well, we’d best keep looking, then. Let’s go, Joffery.”

Joffery, however, lingered behind, smiling at Sir Charis. “Wait, you must be from the castle, right?”

“I am,” he confirmed shortly, smiling at the young lord as one might grin toward a particularly daft cat. “Why do you ask, Lord Jade?”

“Do you get to speak with the Queen?” Joffery asked, his grin broadening. “Because I want to tell her--”

Before he could finish, however, Charles roughly grabbed his nephew by the arm, pulling him away. “Let’s go, Joffery.”

“Ow! Hey! But this is about my Destiney!” Joffery whined as he was dragged away. “Don’t you want me to impress Destiney?!”

Dimitri watched as the two Jades trudged off into the crowed, and after a moment he sighed and rubbed his face. “Woo watch over us all if that man doesn’t mature a bit before he takes over Corvus,” glancing up at the Ascension guard he added, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Sir Charis watched as the Jades disappeared around a corner. “Not much patience for that House right now, given their… antics. And Woo knows I hardly believe a word of their story about that so-called ‘fugitive’, but I suppose it’s not any of my business. So long as they’re not dragging you into it, Lady Grace.”

“I don’t see how they’d expect us to find her anyway.” Grace shrugged. “This city isn’t exactly short on dark-haired, dark-skinned girls, is it?”

Charis snorted. “If only that were their worst plan of the week.”

Dimitri rolled his eyes. “We could only wish. I didn’t expect to see them here at all. I would have thought they’d be spending as much time a the Keep as possible… Ugh, that was not good for my nerves, and I was already keyed up today.”

“And I agree with Sir Charis,” Grace said. “That story about her being a servant of theirs…” She sighed, leaning her head against Dimitri’s shoulder. “There’s so much going on in this city that’s just passing right over our heads. And I don’t like it one bit, Dimitri.”

The nobleman sighed heavily, giving her a light squeeze with the arm that was still draped over her shoulder. “Nor do I. When the major houses lock swords, all we can really do is scramble out of the way. In Heleos we have power, but here we’re not much different than a pair of merchants.”

He looked out over the crowd, which had suddenly taken on the air of an oppressive, threatening force. He bit his lip briefly, then said, “If the Jades are going to be about looking for this girl, I don’t really want to be in a position to be stopped and interrogated by anymore of them.” He looked down at his wife. “We were going to take the day off today- I remember the first night we were here you wanted to swim in the lake. What do you say we do that? Back at the house, where it’s quiet.”

“Probably a good idea,” Grace conceded. “Especially given my choice of apparel. I didn’t think of running into lords of House Jade when I picked it out. Woo, the way he stared at me-- it was like I’d shown up to this darned festival naked or something.”

“At least Lord Joffery is affable, if not altogether bright,” Dimitri said wryly. “But yes, the other fellow was every bit the conservative stereotype Corvids are held up to. Come on, let’s head back.” He slowly stood up, offering his arm to help Grace stand.

Grace accepted her husband’s hand, and the two of them started back then toward the lake-house, Charis trailing behind them. As they waded through the masses, Grace decided it was probably a good thing they were leaving sooner than later; it had grown almost oppressively crowded, and hot, to boot, the sun overhead gleaming a brilliant white.

“The water will sure feel nice after this,” Grace commented as they neared the cottage, wiping a band of sweat from her brow. “And just think-- while we’re swimming, my father’s stuck atop a horse somewhere along the Ash Road, baking like a pot pie.”

Dimitri chuckled, “At least it’s not hot and humid like it would be in Heleos about this time of year. But yes, the water will feel lovely. And we’ll have it to ourselves, with all the children and other tourists on the opposite shore closer to the festival.”

“And no swamp beasts lurking beneath just waiting to snatch us up,” Grace said. “I’d say that’s always a boon, right?”

Her husband chuckled, “Indeed. You can never have too few alligators.”

They finally arrived back at the lakehouse, and went up to their room to change into some older, shabbier clothes that they didn’t mind getting wet. Astra caught them in the hall, brow raised as she watched them step into their chamber.

“No fun at the festival?” she asked, stifling a yawning; it seemed as if their premature reentry into the cottage had awoken her from a very pleasant nap. “I didn’t expect you back for hours.”

Grace exchanged a look with Dimitri. “Um, it was…” She faltered.

“The Jades are out in some force,” he explained. With a wince he added, “Including Lord Joffery. We didn’t really fancy running into them.”

“You ran into the Jades?” Astra asked, as she looked her daughter-- still clad in the tunic and breeches-- up and down. Grace’s heart skipped a beat, her voice strangled in her throat as she attempted to think up a retort, but before she could, Astra let out a small snort. “Hope they didn’t trouble you any, sweetheart,” she said. “Who was it that you saw?”

Dimitri’s muscles had tensed when Astra guessed immediately that they’d actually met the Jades instead of just seeing them from afar, but he relaxed again when she seemed to dismiss it. “Lord Joffery, as I mentioned. He was… about what you’d expect given how he behaved at the funeral and the feast. And he was with his uncle, um… Lord Charles was it?”

“Charles?” Astra echoed. “That would have to be Charles Curys, I do remember him marrying some Jade or another.” She tutted and shook her head. “His mum and your father were siblings, Gracie. Last I saw of that boy, he must have only reached my knee. But already had the sense of humour you’d sooner expect in a half-dead monk. I do hope he was pleasant enough?”

“Um... “ Grace considered. “Well. He was certainly… lordly.”

Astra practically guffawed. “I’m sure he was.” She turned back toward her chamber. “Well, don’t let me keep you from whatever you were planning next. I’ll just return to my nap. I’ll see you at supper?”

Dimitri and Grace agreed, and Astra vanished back into her room. Once they’d changed clothes, they went out the back patio and down to the shore of the lake. The festival was still visible on the opposite bank, with music and the distant murmur of hundreds of excited voices carried across the water, but it was mercifully distant enough that they could at least enjoy a relative illusion of privacy and quiet.

Dimitri glanced at the guards stationed at the gate, quirking an eyebrow. In a low voice he muttered, “You don’t suppose they’re going to kick up a fuss about this, do you? We’re both Corvids reared in the flooded southlands, so it’s not like we’re in danger of drowning.”

“If they do, I’m sure we can outswim them,” Grace said brightly, setting a toe into the water. “That mail’s got to be awfully heavy.”

Dimitri laughed outright at that. “You are impossible sometimes, Gracie. But hopefully they won’t care. This cottage is supposed to be a summer resort for the royals, presumably swimming in the lake is part of that.”

The young nobleman strode out into the water until it was up to his calves. Glancing at the guards, he saw that though they glanced in his direction at the sounds of splashing they immediately turned their attention back to the road. Good, so they weren’t going to intervene. Without any further hesitation, he turned towards Grace and flopped backwards so he was lying almost horizontal in the water.

“Woo,” he called with a laugh. “That’s cold!”

“You should try it in autumn,” Grace replied, pausing for a moment to dip her head beneath the small whitecaps. Surfacing again with her hair dripping, she went on, “I must have been five or six when King Falcon summoned Mum for some reason or another, and she thought she might as well bring Aileen and me with her. We were staying at the Keep, but all I wanted to do the whole Woo-cursed time we were here was swim, and Mum promised me that so long as I was good, she’d let me at the end. And she kept her word; one of the knights took me… and of course I regretted it the moment I waded in. It was frigid. But I certainly wasn’t going to flee back out after I’d begged for so long.” She chuckled. “By the time I came back out, my toes were turning blue. King Falcon was livid at my escort, I’ve never seen a man so angry.”

Dimitri shuddered. “I feel bad for the man. The king’s anger is not something I should like to tempt.” He kicked further out into the water, likewise plunging his head under the surface and coming up dripping. “That’s never really a problem in Heleos, but I did anger Father once when I was… I don’t know, fifteen maybe? I snuck off during a particularly sweltering summer and went swimming in the lake near the city. Of course when I got back I was given a nasty lecture about running off on my own, which in retrospect I rather deserved given how close we are to the border. But at the time I was just annoyed because Father only ever paid me any mind when it was to shout at me.”

He laughed, gently splashing some water in Grace’s direction. “At least now if I want to swim I have the authority to order an escort. Being of-age is so convenient sometimes.”

“Just be careful of the swimming hole. Wouldn’t want you become dinner, Dems,” she teased, before her voice turned suddenly thoughtful as she sighed and added, “Promise me we’ll never be like them, Dimitri. Olander or Falcon or… any of them.”

He swam closer to her, his expression sad and serious. “We won’t, I promise. Rhea will be loved, and appreciated for exactly who she is and wants to be. If we yell at her it’ll only be because she’s done something that’s a danger to herself or someone else, and only if reasoning with her doesn’t work. Same for any other kids we might have.”

The nobleman’s expression became a bit wistful. “I wonder what she’s up to now- Rhea. Probably playing dress-up with her Auntie Bella, if I know that girl.”

“We’ll have to bring her sometime,” Grace said. “To the capital. Once she’s older, I mean.” She brushed a strand of wet, heavy hair out from before her eyes. “Not in autumn or winter, though. I don’t want my wee Corvid girl’s limbs nearly freezing off like mine did.”

Dimitri winced a bit. “Hopefully the city is not the veritable zoo on that trip it’s been on this one,” he remarked. “But I can see why you’d want her to meet her family, even if they’re lukewarm towards me personally.”

He rolled over so that he was floating on his back, looking up at the blue sky overhead. “It’s still so strange sometimes, to think of myself as being a father. But Rhea… I wouldn’t trade her for the world. And I don’t understand how my father could possibly be so indifferent to his children just because they lacked magic.”

“I’d hardly call the Ascensions lukewarm on you,” Grace said, leaning back in the water. “I mean, Grandmum’s let you stay at her cottage and swill her booze, hasn’t she? No, my father I’d say the royal family is lukewarm on. The ‘warm’ part coming from the fact that all these years after he married my mum, he’s still got his head attached to his shoulders. That takes a lot of self-control on the queen mother’s part, you know. Especially since Falcon’s been gone to stop her.” She grinned darkly and splashed at her husband.

“You’re right, though,” she continued after a moment. “I don’t understand how your father treats you like he does. Or how mine treats me like he does. The idea of making Rhea’s life miserable… of making her feel like she’s not good enough…”

“I couldn’t do it,” Dimitri agreed. “It would kill me to wreck her self-esteem like that. Honestly I don’t think Father ever even really thought about how his attitude hurt. Even after Anders left Heleos. I guess because I never tried to run away, he just assumed Anders was a bad egg somehow.” He smiled thinly. “Rhea’s tastes seem mostly in line with what your father would want from a proper lady at least, or as much as we can tell considering she’s all of two. Except for the fact that we don’t make her wear a veil or do her hair up if she doesn’t want, but Basil can bloody well deal. Even as conservative as Corvus is, wearing veils is considered old fashioned.”

“Oh, my, Dimitri, are you arguing against the pious word of the Lord of House Cressida?” Grace gasped in mock surprise. “Don’t make me start quoting out of context scripture at you.” She paddled lazily toward him, her voice singsong as she called out, “‘Modesty is thy sacred--’”

The nobleman splashed her again. “Right, which is why so many priestesses in Solis of all places wear their hair uncovered. Insofar as I know, only nuns are required to practice absolute modesty, and that’s because they’re supposed to be chaste and celibate. Rhea is plenty evidence that we are neither, so there goes any point of that.”

“Blasphemy!” Grace crooned, dodging away from him. “Careful, Lord Dimitri, or I shall have to call a priest to exorcise the ‘Pit from your withered soul!”

“The priest will have to catch me first, and in all of his heavy raiments of modesty I should like to see how well he outswims me,” Dimitri retorted. He plunged beneath the surface of the lake again, coming up behind Grace to grab her shoulders and dunk her below the water. The conversation came to an abrupt halt as the two of them engaged in an enthusiastic splashing war, more in line with what one would expect from a pair of excitable children than stuffy conservative Corvid nobles.

But without Basil or the Jades or anyone else trying to pass judgement on them for it, Grace and Dimitri were content to act as immaturely as they pleased. They would dawn the trappings of politics and courtly discipline again soon enough.

[Avery]

Once Upon Another Time: Part Six

SPOILER: Click to show

Rather than attend the second day of the festival the next morning and risk once again running into someone they’d rather not, Dimitri and Grace stayed to the solace of the lake-house, taking a lazy, restful day that Basil Cressida most certainly would have decried as “slothful”. They had plans to go for a ride in the fields outside town set for the day after, but upon awakening to stormclouds and rain slashing from the sky, decided against it, once again sticking to the grounds of the Ascensions’ cottage.

“Tomorrow,” Grace said to Dimitri before turning in that night. “We have to get out tomorrow, before I go mad, alright?”

“No arguments here,” Dimitri replied. “I’m perilously close to going stir-crazy myself. And I don’t imagine your mother is enjoying the extended isolation much either.”

“I don’t know.” Grace quirked a grin as she climbed into bed. “After all those years married to my father, with him breathing down her neck like a shadow…” The woman shrugged. “I think she’s having the time of her life, really.”

“If you say so,” Dimitri replied. “I know I am not.”

They went to bed that night, determined to head into town and get some proper stimulation the following day. However, when the three minor nobles finally rose from a late sleep, finished breakfast, and headed out to the front gate of the lakehouse, they found the guards looking extremely tense and muttering amongst themselves. Looking around Dimitri could see nothing nearby that should’ve been upsetting them, so he quietly cleared his throat to catch their attention.

“We were hoping to head into town today, since the weather has finally improved,” he said briskly.

“Of course,” Sir Charis said. Although his shift had started only a few hours ago, the man looked exhausted, as if he’d slept very, very little the night before. Stifling a yawn, he added, “I… might advise caution, however, my lord.”

“Caution?” Astra asked, furrowing her brow. “Why?”

“The capital has some… visitors,” Charis replied. “From Courdon. Their intentions are rather unclear, but the royal family has some concerns.”

“From Courdon?” Dimitri echoed, surprised. “That’s… sudden. And if the royals are worried I’d guess this isn’t just a visit to see their relative be coronated… Wait, wasn’t there already a Courdonian in attendance? At the feast, some younger prince or something?”

“There was,” Charis agreed. “But a young, drunken princeling is quite different than those who’ve arrived now.” He hesitated before filling in, “King Malik. Several of his older sons, including his heir. And a few major lords, as well.”

“Major lords?” Grace asked, exchanging a suddenly uneasy look with her mother. “Which major lords?”

“I believe, ah-- Lord… Duval, it is? And one other-- something with a ‘P’-- maybe… ah, sorry, my lady, my knowledge of Courdonian nobility isn’t quite comprehensive. But I think it might have been Pick or…”

“Pipp?” Astra finished. “Lord Victor Pipp?”

Sir Charis nodded. “Yes, that’s it, my lady.”

“Oh, Woo.” Grace grimaced, another obscure look passing between her and Astra. “As if things weren’t complicated enough already.”

“Um,” Dimitri said, frowning at the two women and folding his arms. “Care to fill me in on what’s so special about Lord Pipp that he concerns you more than the Courdonian king? I’m a bit confused.”

“Aside from being lord of the Northlands, he’s my nephew,” Astra said reluctantly, sounding as if she quite regretted this fact. “My sister Luna’s eldest boy. I haven’t seen him in at least ten or fifteen years, but...” She shook her head.

Dimitri winced. “Oh… That’s um… Woo, is there anybody you aren’t related to? Got cousins among the Langean tsars I should know about?”

“I hardly think Tsar Kasimir would think to show up at Destiney’s coronation. It would be a disaster,” Astra replied-- hardly a denial.

Grace couldn’t help but snicker. “Oh, don’t tease him, Mum,” she said. “Although you’re right: if the Langean side of the family dared show their faces, I should think cousin Victor would be the least of our worries.”

Dimitri gaped. “Wha- I was asking rhetorically! You’re actually…” He shakily made the sign of the triple-feather, shaking his head. “Gracie, where’d you put that key to the liquor cabinet?”

“We’re not related to anybody in Mzia, at least,” she said brightly. “... I think.” And with that, she looked back toward Sir Charis. “We’d still like to go. I mean, I hardly think the Courdonians would hassle us. And it’s a big city, isn’t it? Chances are, we won’t even see them.”

“Very well, my lady.” Charis shifted his attention expectantly toward Dimitri, as if waiting for his final approval. “My lord?” he prompted.

Dimitri nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted again in spite of the late sleep and the enforced rest of the last few days. The three of them left the cottage, heading into the merchant’s district again. After poking around a bit, they agreed to stop by the tea shop where Astra had rested a few days prior to get some refreshments.

“Sit, Sir Charis,” Astra prompted, as the group took a table in the back corner of the shop. “You’ve been a very patient and gracious escort-- you deserve a cup to relax.”

Charis smiled wanly. “I am flattered, my lady, but I must decline.”

“Afraid it’s a trap?” Grace teased. “That we’ll tell my grandmum you’ve been unprofessional?”

“Perhaps I just don’t like tea,” Charis replied lightly, before glancing around the storefront.

It was, given the swell of visitors in the city, relatively quiet, with only a few other customers milling about: a young couple clad in the colours of a minor Kinean House sharing a pot of steaming tea; an older merchant woman grilling the shopkeeper over varieties of black tea; a tall, dark-haired man who sat facing the wall, sipping on a mug of chai and seemingly lost in his own thoughts…

“Shall I wait outside?” Charis continued. “I should hardly think you in danger in here, although of course if anyone threatening comes in, I shall be at your side in a moment.”

“Certainly,” Dimitri replied, relieved that the Ascension knight wasn’t insisting on sticking with them- as always he was rather good for drawing stares, and a few curious customers in the shop kept glancing at him and the Corvids out of the corners of their eyes. “I can go to the counter and get the tea if you ladies want to sit down. What do you want?”

“Something herbal,” Astra said, as she watched Charis stride swiftly from the shop, the bell over the door jangling as it swung shut behind him. “I’m not picky.”

“You know what I like.” Grace smiled. “Surprise me.”

With a smile, Dimitri went up to the counter, and after a bit of haggling with the shop owner, returned with a tray sporting three cups of tea.

“Here’s an orange, lavender and sage herbal for you, Lady Astra,” he said, setting it down in front of her. “Some green tea, generously flavored with lemon for you,” he put the tea in question in front of Gracie. “And some white tea with raspberry extracts for me.” He sat down at the table with a grin and held up his cup. “Cheers! In two more days our rising queen will be crowned and the worst of the crush will finally start to filter out of the city- and hopefully the Stallions and Jades will stop making such a fuss.”

“Speaking of relatives,” Grace said with a devilish grin, as she took a small sip of the scorching tea. “We’re related to the Stallions, too-- did you know that, Dems?”

“Now who’s the one poking fun?” Astra chided, although she, too, was struggling to hold back a smile.

“Aw.” Grace pouted. “I’m just giving my poor, overwhelmed husband a lesson on my lineage, Mum.”

Thoroughly distracted by good-natured jeering and conversation-- and explaining to Dimitri how, in just a few generations, Grace’s blood could be traced back to nearly every major House in Kyth-- the group did not notice the actions of the dark-haired man sitting a few tables over from them. When first they’d arrived, he’d sat facing the wall, but had since then shifted subtly around, turning so as to study the party of Corvids. If Sir Charis had looked tired, this man looked outright drained: his pale, scrutinizing eyes limned by heavy bags; his dark hair not just tousled, but greasy and limp; his clothes of fine material and well-cut but heavily wrinkled, as if he’d been wearing his outfit for much too long.

Dimitri, despite the not insignificant distraction of knowing just how many people his wife was related to, eventually became aware of the fact that the man had been looking at them for rather longer than was comfortable. He glanced around a few times without turning his head, to make sure it wasn’t just his imagination, before finally turning to look at the man directly. The cut of his clothes… those weren’t Kythian styles…

If Dimitri had expected the man to look sheepishly away, he’d been mistaken; instead, once it was clear that his not-quite-subtle spying had been ferreted out, the dark-haired man nodded at Dimitri in acknowledgement. Conversation at the Corvids’ table fell silent as both Astra and Grace turned to see what had caught Dimitri’s attention, and as Astra saw the other customer’s face for the first time, a sharp whoosh of air escaped her lungs.

“Auntie,” the man said, staring Astra dead on. Although he spoke in Kythian, his accent was anything but, the southern inflection to his speech apparent in that one word alone. He went on, “I thought that was you, but I didn’t want to be rude.”

“Victor.” Astra’s voice was thin. “I’d heard you were in town. With your king.”

At this, the man forced a short, nearly grim nod and rose to his feet, silent as he padded over from his table to the Corvids’. Eye falling conspicuously on the empty chair Astra had initially intended for Charis, he replied, “It was quite a long journey. Although I suppose yours from Corvus was not much swifter.” He looked back toward Dimitri, extending his hand toward the Escalus lord. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said. “I’m Lord Victor Pipp, of the Northlands in Courdon.”

Dimitri’s stomach swooped, but he forced himself to smile politely. Returning the handshake, he replied, “Dimitri Escalus- my father is Olander Escalus, western neighbor to Lady Astra’s territory along the southern border in Corvus. I’m your aunt’s son-in-law, Grace is my wife.”

“A pleasure to meet you.” Pipp let go of Dimitri’s hand and gestured at the empty chair. “Might I sit?”

“Of course,” Astra said, but her voice was hollow. Unconvincing. She watched with a tight frown as her nephew slipped into the chair, bristling as he promptly turned his attention toward Grace, who sat directly to his left.

“Cousin,” Pipp said. “It’s been far too long. Not since… gods, when was it even?”

“Wynn’s wedding.” Grace’s throat was dry. “I was very small.”

“So you were.” Pipp smiled. “But now you’re all grown and married yourself. And in town for the queen’s coronation!” He said this with mock cheer, but there was a bitter note underlying his words. Something dark, desperate, and unsaid. Turning back toward Dimitri, Pipp continued, “That is, if you’re staying for the coronation at all? I don’t wish to be presumptuous.”

“Of course,” he replied lightly. “We would never be so rude as to leave town before it happened. You’re all related to Destiney too, after all, and I shouldn’t think my wife and her mother would miss their cousin’s coronation.”

“Indeed, it should be a happy event,” Pipp said, his words not at all matching his jovial tone. “Will Lord Basil be there as well, Auntie? I can’t imagine he’s let you come to the city all on your lonesome?”

“Basil had to return home to Ecliptus,” Astra said. Staring deliberately at Dimitri and Grace, she added, “But I’m hardly on my lonesome.”

“Indeed, you’re not.” Pipp set out his hands, as if trying to ward off any offense he’d caused. But his voice remained strained, his demeanour one of saccharine nerves, as he continued, “I did not think I would run into you here. Why, it never even crossed my mind.”

“I suppose that makes both of us,” Dimitri replied levelly. “Lady Astra and Grace seem a bit surprised to see you as well. I don’t suppose your retinue is here to witness the coronation as well, Lord Pipp?”

That definitely wasn’t it. The man had the air of someone who was hiding something, but Dimitri couldn’t begin to guess what. Whatever it was though, it was setting off alarm bells in the young nobleman’s brain.

“King Malik has come to visit his sister,” Pipp said. “He’s been meaning to see her for some time and thought it would be a true delight to witness the rising queen’s coronation, as well. Two birds with one stone, you know.” He smiled nervously, his skin closer to white than its usual bronze. “So, where are you staying? Someplace nice, I do hope?”

“My grandmother’s given us use of the Ascensions’ lake-house,” Grace said. “It’s very nice, indeed.”

“Ah.” Pipp glanced toward the door. “And I suppose that’s where the knight came from then, hm?”

“Yes,” Astra said. “Just a safety precaution, you know.”

Pipp nodded, and only barely kept his voice from cracking as he replied, “Of course. You ought never be too careful.”

Dimitri was extremely unnerved. He’d never seen a Courdonian noble looking this out of sorts. It was usually more their style to swagger and ooze cool arrogance. He wished there was something he could do or say, but once again he was dreadfully out of place in a conversation.

“So then,” he said cheerfully. “If his majesty is here to visit the queen mother, what brings you along? If you don’t mind my curiosity, that is, I certainly don’t mean to pry.”

At first, Pipp said nothing, his face drawn tight as he seemingly racked his mind for a justifiable excuse to feed the Escalus lord. But when after a few moments he’d not come up with a feasible answer, the lord of the Northlands merely swallowed hard and said, “I can’t claim I’ve not asked myself the same question, Lord Dimitri. But it is hardly my place to question my king.”

And with that, his skin still white and his expression still highly unsettled, Pipp rose, dusting off his wrinkled trousers as he did. Taking a deep breath, he forced a leaden smile down at Grace and Astra before setting a hand first on his aunt’s shoulder, then on his cousin’s.

“It was very nice to see you,” he said, giving Grace’s shoulder a squeeze. “But I had probably best be going-- I should hardly think my king will be pleased if he finds out I’ve wasted my entire day sipping tea.”

“I should think not,” Grace agreed, grimacing beneath her cousin’s too-genial touch.

Dimitri watched as Pipp strode out of the teashop, waiting until he was sure the man was out of earshot even from outside before turning to his wife and mother in law. In an undertone he hissed, “What in the name of all the feathers on Lord ‘Woo’s holy wings was that about? He acted like he expected a wing of phoenixes to rain down from the sky and set the building on fire!”

“I don’t remember him being like that,” Grace whispered, fiddling anxiously with her mug of tea, now starting to grow cold. “At Wynn’s wedding--”

“He’s not like that,” Astra cut in. “Never. I can’t pretend to know him well, but… well enough to know that is not Victor’s usual personality.”

“So if he’s not usually a haggard, twitchy bundle of nerves,” Dimitri replied darkly, “Why was he acting like that now? He knows something we don’t, and it scared him. Question is, does that bode well for us, or ill? We have no idea why the Courdonians are actually here- you saw how cagey he was when I pressed that story about being here to see the queen mother.”

“Maybe he just didn’t want to come,” Grace suggested hesitantly. “I mean-- he didn’t seem very enthusiastic about it, did he? So perhaps he’s merely tired and didn’t want to deal with random relatives he’s not seen in over ten years. Maybe he just wanted a nice cup of tea, alone, and then we came in and…”

“That could be,” Astra said. “And in any case, I don’t think we ought worry overmuch. Whatever has Victor addled is likely of no concern to us. We hardly need to get involved in foreign disagreements or broodings.”

“No we shouldn’t,” Dimitri agreed slowly. The question was, would they have a choice?

“...So,” he said, changing the subject briskly. “We can probably pick up the wand case for my brother tomorrow morning. We never did go for that ride yesterday, Gracie, would you like to try again after we finish up at the leatherworkers? Tomorrow is the last off-day we’ll have before the coronation.”

“Sure,” Grace said. “That sounds lovely.” As long, she added in her head, as we don’t run in to that Essa girl again.

Forcing his muscles to relax, Dimitri smiled. “Alright then. Shall we go pick up Sir Charis before he decides to check if someone’s drowned us in our teacups?”

**

The following morning, Dimitri was getting ready to head out to the Merchant’s Market and pick up the wand holster for his brother. He wasn’t especially looking forward to going back to the shop with the eerie acting young girl, and from what he could tell Grace seemed equally unenthusiastic to make the trip. She made a slow show of dressing herself, brooding between her outfit choices as if she’d ever cared before about clothes, and twice she clad herself completely before promptly storming back to the wardrobe and undressing, whereupon the process repeated itself yet again.

Finally, the young nobleman sighed and turned to her. “Gracie? Do you really want to come with me? I can go out alone if you prefer.”

“I’m just worried,” she admitted. “I kept dreaming about that girl last night. Essa. Woo, I don’t know why unnerves me so much, Dems, but…”

“It’s fine, Grace,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “She made me nervous too. Even Sir Charis was put off when we explained what she’d said to us in the forest. I don’t blame you for not being enthusiastic about seeing her again. But the question’s still there- would you rather I went alone? I can meet back up with you here for that ride I promised after.”

Grace nodded. “If you don’t mind. Maybe while you’re gone, I can talk to the stablemaster. Get his opinion on which route would serve us best for a relaxing countryside ride.”

“Alright,” Dimitri said with a smile. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll be back before you know it.”

He turned and headed out the front gate, meeting Sir Charis there.

“Change of plans,” he explained. “It’s just going to be me going out to the leatherworkers this morning. You coming along on this adventure, or is your priority Lady Grace and Lady Astra?”

“Would you like my company?” Charis asked. “My orders are focused on your wife and mother-in-law, so you’re hardly required to take me along, but if you’d like my escort, I can well come with you, my lord.”

Dimitri folded his arms, considering this for a moment, before he sighed. “Perhaps given what’s been going on in town, it would be best if I wasn’t unescorted. Certainly a lone nobleman is a prime target for pickpockets at the very least, and…” His jaw tightened. “There was that lippy kid at the leatherworkers. I still don’t really know if she was just being mouthy or not, but there’s no sense taking chances.”

“Of course, my lord.” With a smile, he patted his sword. “Shan’t be anyone getting lippy with you today, I will assure you of that.”

“No, I don’t imagine there will,” he remarked with a smile of his own. The two of them headed out to the merchant’s market, Dimitri unable to avoid noticing an air of tension about the city. Not excited tension for the upcoming coronation either. Just… nervousness. It didn’t do anything for the young nobleman’s own unease.

They walked into the leatherworker’s shop, and to his surprise he found that the man was alone in the building. No sign of Essa- was she off work?

“Ah, hello,” he said. “I’m Lord Escalus- here to pick up my wand holster commission?”

“Of course, of course!” The shopkeeper greeted him with a warm smile and bow. Hurrying over to a messy shelf pressed against the far wall, he swiped from it a leather case trimmed in orange-and-blue. “Just finished it last night,” he prattled on, holding the holster out toward Dimitri. “I hope it’s to your liking?

Dimitri couldn’t help but note that the shopkeeper was looking significantly more disheveled than he’d been earlier in the week. Looking over the holster in question, he smiled and nodded. “It looks excellent thank you. I believe I owed you five more runestones?”

“Yes, that sounds right.” He fumbled about his pockets to withdraw a small leather purse. Tugging open the drawstrings, he held it out toward Dimitri. “Right in here, if you will, my lord.”

The nobleman counted out five runestones, and added an extra two to the purse for the man, “As a gratuity for your fine craftsmanship,” he explained with a smile. “It seems you’ve gotten quite busy since I was here last, but I appreciate your finishing my commission promptly regardless.”

“Ah, yes, things have been a bit… chaotic lately, admittedly. Normally I’ve my assistant, Essa, to help out, but she’s, ah…” He paused for a moment, his voice very careful as he finished, “She’s away. So it’s all on me.”

Away? Dimitri had to resist the urge to glance in Charis’ direction to see how he took that bit of information. “I see. Well you’ve done commendable work for having to manage on your own. I hope your assistant returns soon.”

“As do I, my lord,” the merchant said with a sigh. “Thank you for your business, and I hope your brother enjoys the wand holster.”

Dimitri nodded politely, tucking the wand holster into a small bag he’d brought along for the purpose and heading out of the shop. As they were walking down the street, he glanced at Charis with a quirk of his eyebrow. Charis returned the look with a silent shrug, clearly dismissing the topic of Essa out of hand, as if he knew that nothing good could come out of speculating.

Instead, he said to his charge, “Anywhere else you’d like to go, my lord?”

“No,” he replied. “Let’s head back- I’ve promised Lady Grace a ride today.” With a crooked smile he added, “I would imagine you have some sort of horse in the stables for that eventuality? I wonder if she’s thinking this might be somewhere she can go where we aren’t shadowed.”

“Unfortunately, I’m fairly sure I’d quite literally lose my head if I let the charming Lady Grace ride off into the countryside without an escort.” Charis quirked a dark, rueful smile. “The queen mother was very explicit about her instructions.”

“Of course,” Dimitri replied. “Hopefully she’s not gotten her hopes too high on that score.”

The two of them eventually arrived back at the cottage, the muscles in Dimitri’s back finally unknotting as he looked forward to the ride he and his wife had agreed to take. But if Dimitri had expected Grace to greet him at the gate clad in her riding breeches and smiling broadly, he was badly mistaken; instead, he found her in the cottage’s foyer, still wearing the bright blue dress she’d finally settled on before he’d taken off for the leathercrafter’s. Even without a word to her, it was clear that something was wrong: her face was pale, almost stricken, her jaw trembling as she stared at him.

“Gracie?” he said, his blue eyes bright with concern. Tentatively, he put a hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong, did something happen?”

She melted into her husband’s hold, resting her cheek against him and taking an almost clinging grip to his arm. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “I-- well--” She froze as a servant hurried by with an armful of laundry. “Can we talk upstairs, Dimitri? In private?”

Dimitri hugged her in reply, fear and confusion jolting through him. “Of course, come on.” Keeping an arm around her shoulder so that she could stay close to him for comfort, he guided her up the stairs and to the room they’d been sharing. Locking the door behind them, he sat Grace down on the edge of the bed and sat beside her. “Alright- what’s wrong?”

“My cousin Victor came by,” she said, her voice sticking in her throat. “Just a few minutes after you left, he showed up at the gate. Insisting that he had to talk to my mother. But since she’s out meeting with-- Woo, I don’t even remember which relative at this point-- the guards told Victor she wasn’t here. So then he said it was alright, h-he’d meet with me instead. And I could have said no, I guess, but…” She shook her head. “But I thought that’d be rude, you know? He’s family and…”

Dimitri had to suppress a sigh. Of course- when she had backup or it was just him she was defiant enough for ten women. But on her own against a stranger, particularly one who oozed the air of a man used to being listened to like a Courdonian High Lord, she’d be fairly easy to cow. A spike of annoyance shot through Dimitri at the idea of a Courdonian cornering his wife that way, but he pushed it aside. “I understand. What did he do?”

“Not much,” Grace said. “That’s why I feel so stupid for being all put off like I am. But…” She hesitated. “It was weird, Dimitri. We sat down in the parlour, and a servant brought him tea, and he… didn’t touch it. Just stirred and stirred it like he simply needed to get out the nervous energy. And…” Her throat quavered. “He’d only speak in Courdonian. I didn’t think much of it, not until he left. But then… I realized…” She leaned against her husband. “There were guards posted at the doors. Before we sat down, Victor said something to them-- in Courdonian. And they smiled politely and bowed and told him they didn’t speak it. He knew they didn’t speak it, Dimitri. He knew the only one who’d understand him was me.”

The nobleman bit his lip. “So he wanted to make sure your conversation wasn’t overheard and reported to anyone. Except that move was stupid because he made himself look suspicious and ensured that everyone will be on high alert about him when they hear about this. But that makes no sense if he didn’t do or say anything… Are you sure there was nothing weird?”

“He just kept going on about how surprised he was to see Mum and I in the capital,” Grace said. “How he’d not expected us here. He seemed… upset, honestly. Not in his words, but just his tone.” She rested her cheek against her husband’s sleeve. “He told me I look a lot like his sister. That if you put us together, no one would ever guess we’re only cousins.”

Dimitri reached up a hand to Grace’s arm, gently rubbing it in an effort to calm her. “I don’t quite know what to make of that myself. He’s surprised to see you here, and he thinks you look like his sister… but he’s upset about that? Why, does he not like Astra? From what little my father told me about my grandmother Courdonians place a very high value on blood relations, so I don’t understand why he would harp that point so much…”

“He didn’t seem angry about that,” Grace said. “Just… sad. Maybe wistful, or even desperate.” She paused. “And he kept asking me if I was looking forward to the coronation. He… didn’t seem very excited about it. I mean, he didn’t say as much, but I got the impression he’s only going because his king is making him.”

Dimitri nibbled his lip. “If he was asking questions and making implications without saying anything directly, that sounds like a typical politician’s game of trying to convey a message without implicating himself as having done so. I guess he must not have totally trusted the guards that they don’t speak Courdonian.”

He sighed. “Circles within circles… If he wanted to talk to Astra about it, do you suppose she might be able to shed some light if we asked?”

“Maybe,” Grace said. “She certainly knows him better than I do.” She sighed. “Hopefully she’ll tell me I’m just overreacting. Or that Victor’s just horrible at small talk. She should be home soon, I think. And… we could still go for a ride afterward.”

“I think we could both use the stress relief,” he replied dryly. “Could even gallop a bit if you need, I’m sure Chase and Dazzle have been bored even if the grooms are keeping them exercised.” He rubbed his face. “Any idea how long after the coronation Lady Astra is planning for us to stay in town? I for one am looking forward to getting back to the simplicity of life in Heleos.”

“Not long, I hope,” Grace said. “Woo knows, I’m already very tired of this city. Now come, let’s go wait downstairs. Maybe we can have a snack while we wait.”

In the parlour where Grace had met with Victor Pipp not long before, the woman and her husband picked over a plate of cheese and fruit as they waited for Astra’s return. When they heard the front door open about half an hour later, Grace smiled thinly at Dimitri.

“Hopefully that’s her,” she said, standing. “Let me check.”

It was, indeed, Astra, and the woman immediately picked up on her daughter’s tense mood, her lips turned into a frown and her eyes flicking anxiously between Dimitri and Grace as she followed her daughter into the parlour and took a seat.

“What’s the matter?” she asked them, skipping the preamble.

The nobleman crumbled a bit of cheese between his fingers, his expression dark. “While I was out earlier picking up the wand holster I ordered for Filipe, your nephew Lord Pipp came calling. I don’t entirely know how he knew to find us here, but he bullied his way in and said some things that unnerved Gracie. Reiterating that he wasn’t expecting to find you or her here, asking if we were looking forward to the coronation, implying he wasn’t wild about the idea of being there.” He looked up, meeting Astra’s eyes. “I didn’t know what to make of it, so I wanted your input since you know him best.”

Astra’s face fell instantly. “Victor… is not the sort to just come by for a social visit,” the woman said. “If he came to talk, he had a reason.”

Dimitri glanced at his wife. “That’s about what I figured. Grace also told me he tried talking to the guards in Courdonian, and after he determined they couldn’t speak it, he made a point to only use it for the entire conversation.”

“That wouldn’t be an accident.” Astra’s forehead was knit in concern. “I… I can’t say I know what he wanted, based on what you’ve said. But there has to be something. There…” She reached out and set a hesitant hand on Grace’s arm. “Did he tell you to do anything, Grace? To go anywhere or…?”

Grace shook her head. “No. Nothing like that at all.”

Astra frowned. “I’m not sure then. I wish I had an idea, but…”

Dimitri gave up on the cheese crumble, setting it back on the plate. “He knows something we don’t- that much is obvious. What I can’t guess, but… I worry we’re going to find out, and we’re not going to like whatever it is. Whatever King Malik says, I seriously doubt the Courdonians are here for a social call.”

“They… wouldn’t do anything,” Astra said, although from the hitch of her words, it was clear that the woman had hardly even convinced herself of such a fact. “I’ve no more love for the Courdonians than you do, Dimitri, but… Victor’s family. He wouldn’t… he wouldn’t hurt us. I’m sure of that.”

“It’s not him I’m worried about,” the young nobleman replied.

“King Malik… he’s…” Astra hesitated. “You know how strongly Courdonians value kinship, right?

“Yes.” Grace nodded.

“The royal family-- Destiney, Maia, all of them-- are kin of Malik’s. I can’t say I’m convinced the Courdonians are here for good things, but… I don’t think it’s anything dangerous, either.” She finally let go of Grace’s arm, rather tucking her hands in her lap. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it all. Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s of no concern to us. That whatever reason Victor had to stop by, he would have told you, Gracie, if you were in danger because of it.”

Dimitri was not convinced. And it was probably fairly obvious from his expression he wasn’t convinced. But he knew better than to keep arguing. After all, what could they do? Run home to Corvus and offend the royals? Because Victor Pipp was asking contextless questions in Courdonian?

“I still don’t like this,” Dimitri said softly. “But at this point I don’t know what we can even do about it.” He looked up at Grace, his expression twisting into a grimace. “I don’t know about you, but I could definitely use a good gallop.”

She nodded. “Maybe we ought not tell Sir Charis about the visit, though. I wouldn’t want him… overthinking it. I mean, the other guards might tell him anyway, but on the chance that they don’t...”

Dimitri rubbed his face. He didn’t like that suggestion at all, and it wasn’t the first time Grace had made it. On the one hand he could understand that she didn’t want Maia giving orders for their movement to be restricted or something equally paranoid, but on the other he’d feel a lot more confident if their guard knew what to be on watch for.

“I highly doubt the other guards wouldn’t tell him,” he said. “But fine, if that’s really what you want. But Gracie, please promise me you’ll keep your guard up. I meant what I said before. You’re my family- it would kill me if something bad happened to you.”

“Don’t worry about me, Dems.” She stood up from the table. “Nothing will happen to us. My mum’s probably right-- the Courdonians aren’t a threat. We have nothing to fret over. Nothing at all.”

[Shinko]

Once Upon Another Time: Part Seven

SPOILER: Click to show

“Woo, it’s hot,” Grace murmured the next day, as she sat beneath the beating sun in the main courtyard of the Raven’s Keep.

With just a half hour or so to go before the coronation of Destiney Raven Ascension began, the carefully arranged seating area was starting to grow quite crowded, the massive sea of close-packed bodies doing little to help with the blistering heat.

“You’d think we were back in Corvus,” Grace added after a moment, as she watched the party from House Ophid take a seat a few rows in front of her, her husband, and her mother. There was a large, docile snake draped around Lord Travis’s neck, worn as a normal person might a necklace, and Grace instantly stiffened; you didn’t grow up in the swamps of Corvus without developing a serious aversion to anything that slithered.

“Mm,” Dimitri agreed, trying not to look to hard at the Elacsite party. “Hopefully the heat will at least keep Lord Stallion in his seat. I can’t imagine a northern lord wanting to go to the exertion of dancing in this weather, let alone in full formal court gear.”

He was on edge despite the lightness of the conversation. Everything that had happened in the past few weeks- the bizarre behavior of the peasants, the hushed plotting of the high nobles, the bizarre sudden arrival of the Courdonians- if it was going to come to a head, this was the place where that would happen. The Keep knights were certainly doing nothing to dispel such feelings of unease, security so tight as to fringe the line of over-the-top, seemingly every guard in the royal family’s employment out in full force. Even Sir Charis had been called into duty, parting from Grace, Dimitri, and Astra at the top of the steps with a polite bow and smile; now he was but one more knight amongst a practical battalion of others, all of them clad in mail and armour trimmed with the royal family’s purple-and-grey.

“The Courdonians look happy,” Grace said, eye falling to where they sat in the front row, minded by guards of their own. “That’s the king, right? The one with the silver hair?”

“Yes.” Astra, sitting to her daughter’s left, nodded her head. “That’s him.”

“Have you ever met him before?” Grace asked.

“Only once,” Astra replied. “But I grew up hearing stories of him. From Maia.”

“Good stories?”

But Astra only smiled thinly and shook her head. Dimitri shifted nervously, though he didn’t comment. If King Malik’s own sister, raised Courdonian herself, didn’t have fond memories of the man…

He sighed, trying hard not to fidget. It wasn’t as if he had never been involved in a long, boring ceremony before. That was part of being noble. But boring wasn’t so bad in and of itself. The tension was what was eating him alive. He’d not been this wound up since his own wedding, and then the nerves had mostly been because he was worried he’d mess something up, and because he had no idea how one went about being a husband. This, though, this was an aimless, confused animal terror of the unknown and unseen.

At length the ceremony finally started, with Cardinal Chet reading the oaths to Destiney and the rising queen repeating them back solemnly. The occasional distraction was presented in the form of unexpected movement in the stands- two of the Stallion party went over to talk to a Jade mage at the refreshments table at one point, a knight in a plain navy gambeson rather than the Ascension purple and grey slipped in through the main entrance to hem the edge of the courtyard, and a raven- that couldn’t be Master Aines?- dropped on Malik’s head, which was admittedly rather funny…

On and on it went, with the sun steadily crawling across the sky. Dimitri wondered idly if he ought to get some of the drinks that the Jade and Stallions had been partaking of, but decided against it. This would be over with soon enough.

“Now, my queen,” drawled Cardinal Chet at last, as they reached the final-- and most important-- of the vows, “we shall begin with your vow. Please, repeat exactly after me, everything that I say. ‘I, Destiney Raven, first of her name, of the noble House Ascension, daughter of Starmey Eagle, second of his name--”

Grace yawned, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. “Finally,” she murmured, shifting uncomfortably in her cumbersome court dress. “Maybe we’ll get to go inside for the feast before we all black out from heat stroke.”

“Shh.” Astra elbowed her daughter in the ribs, a stern look on her face.

… And then, from somewhere within the crowd, a scream rent through the air. Shrill and high, like a banshee’s screech. All around, the sound of armor clanking echoed through the shimmering heat, as the Keep’s knights jumped instantly to attention. Grace, grimacing over Astra’s reproach, paused and shot a look of confusion over toward her husband. Dimitri looked equally baffled, his eyes darting around for the source of the noise. It seemed to be coming from the standing room area set aside for the peasant lottery. But what-

Then, suddenly dozens of people in the ragged clothes of the lower class were flooding the courtyard. They were screaming, bashing into people. Dimitri barely saw the brawny form of a man in a blacksmith’s smock before he was elbowed sharply in the jaw, and sent tumbling into Grace seated at his side.

“Dimitri.” Grace darted her eyes frantically about as the knights began calling to each other and breaking away from their previous posts, moving in such a quick, fluid way as to suggest that they’d practiced this before. Grace’s stomach flopped, and her voice cracked as she set a hand on her husband’s back and stammered, “Are you… are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” he rasped, his jaw aching where it had been struck but otherwise no noteworthy pain. He pushed himself up onto his knees, rubbing the side of his face where a nasty bruise was starting to form. A moment later he spat out a globule of blood, causing Grace to flinch, but he put up a hand to forestall any panic and muttered, “Bit my tongue, it’s fine. What is going-”

He was interrupted by the sound of a horrific, horribly familiar screech. He could tell that most of the assembly didn’t recognize the noise, but he’d grown up on the border, and it made his heart drop straight down into his shoes. Sweet merciful feathered Lord, no-

“That can’t be,” Astra murmured. “That…” Standing sharply, she peered through the chaotic crowd up toward the Courdonian party… and, as she noted the suddenly lecherous grin curled between the king of Courdon’s lips, the older woman whipped back toward her daughter and son-in-law and practically snarled to them: “Run. We need to run!”

Dimitri was already lunging to his feet, and a quick glance confirmed his worst fears- gryphons, dozens of them, streaking through the air towards the Keep. They must have been travelling nonstop to get here so fast, and through Elacs to evade the Corvid fireknight patrols…

Tearing his eyes away from the sky, he nodded, “Right- into the Keep, there must be somewhere sheltered.”

But as he grasped Grace’s hand in his, he could see that this was going to be far from easy. The crowd had descended into chaos, with people running every which way. Amidst the din he could still see some of the peasants who’d interrupted the ceremony before, apparently oblivious to the danger in the sky, screeching like banshees and aiming for the entrance to the Keep.

As the first gryphon landed, coasting onto the cobblestones with a predator’s poise, Grace balked, roughly yanking her hand out of Dimitri’s grasp. “I-- I--” she started, taking a step back from him. “I’m not moving. I’m not--”

“Gracie,” Astra cut in. “Dimitri’s right. We need to get inside.”


“No.” A second gryphon landed, then a third, and then… Woo, in seconds there were half a dozen, the riders swiftly dismounting with weapons at the ready. “I want to stay here, I--”

“Gracie, you are bloody well outvoted,” Dimitri snapped. “If we stay out here we are going to die!”

Making good on his words, he grasped his wife around the middle and pulled, dragging her in the direction of Raven’s Keep. Fortunately she was small and very light, but he wasn’t exactly in the height of physical fitness so he had to settle for dragging rather than carrying her outright. Pulled toward the castle, Grace gritted her teeth and thrashed sharply against her husband, digging her feet into the ground beneath.

“Let go of me,” she half-begged, half-snarled, her eyes widening to saucers as, but ten paces away, a Courdonian soldier dispatched a shabbily dressed peasant boy with one fluid slash of his sword. “I-- I’d rather stay here and--”

“I know you’re scared, Grace,” Astra interrupted, “but it doesn’t matter. We have to move. Now.”

Dimitri hauled his wife bodily towards the entrance to the keep, but between her thrashing, the chairs strewn everywhere, and the general chaos, he lost his balance and stumbled, very nearly sending them both toppling over again. “Please, if we stay out here we’re going to be killed!” He looked around, and noticed that some of the knights seemed to be trying to funnel civilians into the Keep. “There, quickly, we need-”

He cried out in pain, his grip on Grace slackening as a wicked set of talons raked across his scalp. A moment later a Courdonian dropped from the gryphon, a mace in his hands and a sneer on his face. Grace, previously fighting against her husband’s grip, went limp as a ragdoll, her skin paling as her eyes latched on to the Courdonian’s; next to her, Astra swore, taking a sharp step back. The man charged at them, swinging his mace back to deliver a blow that would no doubt be fatal if it struck in the right place. Shoving Grace’s limp form hurriedly towards her mother, Dimitri flung himself between the women and the Courdonian, trying to tackle the man away. He was able to check the soldier’s momentum, but the blow fell anyway. There was a loud, horrendous crack, and Dimitri was sent skidding along the ground, crying out raggedly with agony as blood began to stain the blue sleeve of his shirt, turning it an ugly shade of purple.

“Dimitri!” Tears pricked at Grace’s eyes as she pulled free from Astra’s hold. Falling to her knees at his side, she glanced up at the still-looming Courdonian soldier, her entire body trembling. “Please,” she gasped to him. “Please--”

“You freaking idiot, run!” Dimitri snarled, his voice high and raspy with pain. Tears streamed from his eyes, and the arm that had taken the blow from the mace was bent at an unnatural angle. He tried to push himself upright with his good arm, but slipped in his own blood and hit the cobblestones again with a yelp. “Astra, get her out of here!”

But before Astra could grab back onto her daughter, the Courdonian soldier again raised his mace; Grace, her eyes still latched onto his, let out another pitiful moan, grimacing in advance of the blow.

But no blow came, the mace roughly wrenched from the soldier’s grip before it could fall as someone charged the man from behind. Metal scraped against metal as a knight-- a Kythian knight, based on his livery-- ploughed into the Escaluses’ would-be executioner. The two of them grappled with each other, the Kythian trying to get enough distance between them to get in some leverage with his sword while the now unarmed Courdonian scrabbled at his adversary’s wrists in an attempt to wrest the weapon away.

Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, Dimitri finally managed to shove himself so he was sitting upright, though it brought a fresh gush of tears to his eyes as his broken arm was jostled. He shook Grace roughly to get her attention, snapping, “Come on, move! Let’s go!”

The Kythian finally managed to get a good enough angle with his sword to jam the point into the gap in the Courdonian’s armor on the inside of his elbow. The enemy soldier screamed, lurching away. Quickly following up on his advantage, the Kythian grabbed the blade with one hand and shoved the point into the opening of the Courdonian’s helm. The enemy went down, landing in a heap just inches from where Grace still crouched-- causing the woman to finally blink and scamper up to her feet.

“Get inside, my lord,” the knight commanded down to Dimitri, as he pulled his bloodied blade out from the fallen Courdonian’s corpse. “We’ve men in charge of evacuating civilians, we--” His voice abruptly fell away as he spun toward the sound of another Keep knight screaming in agony nearby, as a Courdonian swordsman caught a gap in his armour. “Inside,” the knight repeated, and then he was gone, off to stop the Courdonian soldier before the man cut his comrade’s throat.

“Are you… are you okay, Dimitri?” Astra murmured, a shocked hand pressed over her mouth. “Your arm…”

“Of course he’s not okay,” Grace blubbered, unable to look away from the fallen body of the soldier who’d nearly killed she and her husband both. “None of this is okay-- we’re going to die, this--”

“No, we’re not,” Dimitri snapped through gritted teeth. “Not if we do what the knight said and get into the Keep.” He leaned on his good arm, pushing himself until he was finally able to stagger upright, Astra hurrying to his side to help ensure he didn’t tumble right back down, as she placed a firm, steadying hand on the small of his back. He breathed shakily, whining involuntarily with each exhale, but he clenched his jaw and nodded quickly to Astra. “My arm… I think it’s broken, but that won’t kill me. Come on, we need to get inside.”

He didn’t say anything about the rate at which blood was saturating his sleeve and dripping in rivulets down his arm and hand- that was distressing, but saying as much would only panic Grace more. If they could get inside to safety, they could hopefully find someone to treat the wound.

“What’s better about inside?” Grace stuttered, her eyes still latched on the dead Courdonian. “They’re inside, too-- I bet they’re inside, too, they’re everywhere and--”

“Grace.” Astra let go of Dimitri to face her daughter. “Enough. We’re going in, now, and you need to stop this foolishness before it gets all of us killed.”

“I… I’d rather go toward the steps,” Grace blathered on, either not hearing her mother or simply not caring for Astra’s words. “Away from the palace altogether--”

“Grace!” Astra snarled, and without another word, the woman had smacked her daughter across the face-- not hard, but sharply enough for Grace to flinch and gasp, her eyes finally dancing away from the Courdonian soldier’s body as Astra went on, “We are going inside. Now. Do you understand me?”


“I… I…” She looked to Dimitri. “I don’t want to die, Dimitri-- please, I don’t want us to die--”

“We won’t die,” he insisted, still gritting his teeth against the pain in his limp arm. “We’re going to survive this and we’re going to go home and give Rhea the biggest hug of her life, but to do that we need to get somewhere sheltered. Now let’s go.”

He reached out with his undamaged arm- the left one- and grasped Grace’s hand in his. Turning towards the Keep, he began to run, though his pace was checked by the two women and the agony shooting up his broken limb with every tiny jostle. At the entrance to the Keep, a knight waved them hurriedly through, commanding them to start down the corridor to the left, with promises that more of his brethren were posted there directing civilians into safe rooms.

As the three of them obliged, Grace held tight to her husband’s hand, tears flowing freely down her stinging cheek. Every time a scream sounded distantly-- or, sometimes, not-so-distantly-- she winced, and as she realized just how thoroughly her husband’s sleeve was soaked in blood, her bottom lip trembled.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, as another Kythian knight ordered them down a secondary hall, this one narrower than the last but just as chaotic. “I’m sorry, Dems-- I shouldn’t have fought you, I-- I almost got you killed, I--”

“You were scared,” he replied tiredly, “I understand. And I’m the stupid idiot that threw myself at a soldier unarmed.” He gave her a wan grin, though his expression was tight with pain and under the freckles and dusky bronze part-Courdonian complexion his face was starting to pale from the blood loss. “We’ll be okay.”

“I hope so,” Grace murmured-- but she’d hardly even finished speaking before, as the three of them rounded a corner, they nearly tripped over a battling Courdonian soldier and Kythian knight.

The Courdonian was clearly winning: he had the point of his sword dug into the soft flesh of the disarmed Kythian’s stomach, the bedraggled knight’s armor knocked badly askew. As Grace, Dimitri, and Astra practically skidded to a halt, Astra taking a firm hold of Grace’s sleeve as though to nip any ideas of fleeing in the bud, the knight plunged to his knees, blood leaking from his gut. He gave the knight a final slash across the neck, killing him. Dimitri tensed, a bolt of panic shooting through him. There was no way they could escape the man in the narrow hallway, and of the three of them Grace was the only one liable to be fast enough to flee given Dimitri’s injury and Astra’s age. The Courdonian spotted them, and with a vicious smirk hefted his sword.

“Leave them alone!” Dimitri snapped, stepping in front of the two women in spite of his injury.

“Good inflection,” the Courdonian leered in return, menacing forward. “But your accent is off, lordling.”

Almost lazily then, he pointed the sword out toward them, its blade glossy and wet with the dead knight’s blood. Grace let out an audible squeak, struggling against her mother’s iron hold, but Astra just clamped down tighter, hissing at her daughter: “Gracie, no.”

“No weapon, lordling?” the Courdonian went on. “Hardly makes for an exciting battle, does it? A pity. Uneven matches feel so unpleasant, afterward. Ah well. You’re already bled, I might as well put you out of your misery, no?”

“You know, my aunts always told me that my grandmother tried to impress upon them that her people weren’t all bloodthirsty sociopaths,” Dimitri growled, trying to keep from shaking. “You’re not doing a good job of living up to her word. Is this really what the Courdonian military does with it’s time? Slaughters unarmed civilians?”

“It is not, no.”

A new speaker’s voice, in the high tongue, made the sneering soldier freeze up as if he’d been struck. His sword still leveled toward Dimitri, he craned his neck back as a well-clad man practically stomped to his heel, the newcomer’s armour a grade above that of the others’, the handle of his sword trimmed with tiny, winking jewels that instantly belied his superior status.

“L-Lord Pipp.” The Courdonian inclined his head. “I-- I hope you’re faring well--”

“Shut up.” Victor Pipp glowered at his man. “I see,” he went on, gesturing to the knight’s bloodied corpse, “that you can make bodies out of combatants, soldier. So why is it, then, that instead of finding more of them, you’re tormenting crippled men and unarmed ladies?”

“I-- well.” The soldier faltered, lowering his sword. “They were… in my way, so I was just, um--”

“In your way? That’s your justification for wasting time and energy on them?” Pipp outright laughed. Gaze latching on to Dimitri’s, he said to the man, “Step aside. Move your women, too.”

Dimitri swallowed hard, unsure what the Courdonian lord was playing at. He was… helping them?

Then it struck him- of course. Astra was his aunt, and Grace his cousin. If Pipp stood by and allowed his close relatives to be put to the sword for no reason he was betraying the Courdonian’s ideals about honor and kinship. Not that Malik seemed to care about that, launching an attack on the palace where his sister, nieces, and great-nieces were, but Pipp had seemed unenthusiastic about being in Medieville from the beginning. And this explained why he had been so very upset about discovering Astra and Grace in the city.

Wordlessly, Dimitri put out his uninjured left arm to Astra and Grace, pushing them sideways to clear the hallway.

Shamefaced, the soldier hustled by them, disappearing into the distance without another word. Once he was gone, Pipp exhaled deeply, his fingers white around the hilt of his sword.

“Thought I’d have to kill the idiot,” he grumbled beneath his breath, in Kythian, before taking a moment to survey his aunt, cousin, and cousin’s husband. His gaze lingering only briefly on Dimitri’s dangling arm, he asked Astra and Grace, “Are you hurt?”

Astra shook her head. “No. But Victor-- you’re attacking us at our own queen’s coronation? You’re--”

“I know.” Victor swallowed hard. “It wasn’t my idea.”

“You knew,” Grace said hoarsely. “When you came by the lakehouse-- Woo, even at the tea shop--”

“I wanted to tell you, cousin. In the parlour, I nearly went and said it. But if the king had found out…” He shook his head and refocused back on Dimitri. “Get them somewhere safe,” he said, the repentant note to his voice replaced by something far more authoritative. “And if any more of my countrymen heckle you…”

Resheathing his sword, Pipp tugged off one of his leather gloves, revealing a sweaty, wrinkled hand beneath. Dimitri frowned, tense, his mouth feeling painfully dry and his heartbeat fluttering in his chest. But he had nothing to worry about: all Pipp did before replacing the glove was pull a thick gold ring off his finger. Without bothering to consult her wounded husband, Pipp took a firm hold of Grace’s hand and slipped the ring over her thumb, adjusting it so that the stamped face was front and center.

“Do you know what this is?” he asked her.

Grace shook her head. “No.”

“My sigil,” Pipp said, pointing to the intricate embossing of a mountain lion. “House Pipp’s sigil. In Courdon, your jewelry helps to show your blood. Your identity. Any Courdonian commoner who saw this-- soldier or otherwise…” Pipp let go of Grace, and he turned to address Dimitri. “If there’s anyone else aggressive, have Grace show the ring. She should speak to them in the high tongue. Tell them she and my aunt are blood of the enki of House Pipp, and that if they’re hurt, I will make the person who did it pay. It ought stop anyone in his tracks.” He hesitated. “Beyond, of course, the king and his sons, but-- well, they should be… otherwise occupied.”

Dimitri didn’t like this at all, but he didn’t have the time nor the concentration to argue. The needed to get away from Pipp before they could try to get somewhere else safe. He gave a sharp nod, trying to ignore the cold sweat dampening his skin.

Sensing they were already on borrowed time, Pipp redrew his sword, his fingers wrapping back around the ornate handle. “Get them to safety,” he repeated. “And… don’t worry too much, Lord Dimitri. No matter what happens here today, I’ll look out for your wife. I promise you, on my honour.”

Dimitri watched the Courdonian go, his lips compressed. “Nice implication,” he rasped. “You’ll look out for her, because clearly you don’t expect me to be around to do it.”

However, the young nobleman slumped against the nearby wall, making it plain that veiled threats or not the danger of his not being able to protect Grace was a real one. He was shaking badly now, his skin ashen despite his dark complexion. Grace, clenching her hand into a tight fist as the edges of the heavy ring ate into the base of her thumb, stared at him with a deep frown, the panic she’d felt earlier replaced by something far more broody and contemplative.

“You’ll be around, Dimitri,” she murmured. “We… we must be almost to safety, right? We just need to keep walking. We just…” Her voice drifted off.

“Right,” he said, forcing himself upright. He felt like his mind was swirling, but he forced himself to focus. “L-let’s go. The safe zone has to be… has to be nearby.”

He moved forwards, his steps slightly staggering and his breathing shallow. Rather than him clinging to Grace, it was Grace who now held tight to him, her arm hooked through his good one as they continued down the corridor that had nearly seen them all dead on the blood-smeared floor. A few minutes ahead-- after just narrowly missing a bitter battle between a Courdonian soldier and a bloodied lord dressed in the colours of House Brachyura-- they came across a pair of palace knights standing at arms before a heavy wooden door.

“Inside,” one of them ordered, as he unlocked the door with a brass key and then pulled it open just wide enough to let the three Corvids through. “Stay low-- away from the windows. And be quiet as all hell.”

Dimitri grunted his acknowledgement, stumbling into the room with Grace and Astra. They found themselves in a crowded area that might have been intended as a servant’s mess of some sort, though all the tables had been pushed back to make room for refugees. Once they were safely inside and the door had shut behind them, Dimitri’s knees buckled and he fell to the ground with a very soft gasp. “S-spinning…”

“You’re okay,” Grace said softly, kneeling in front of him, and her hand trembling as she moved to brush a lock of hair-- bloodied from the gryphon’s buzz early on-- out from before his eyes. “Just take a deep breath, okay?”

“There have to be healers around,” Astra said, frowning as she surveyed the haggard assortment of other refugees locked within the room. It was a ragtag bunch indeed: a mixture of major lords and minor lords, peasants and merchants, all of them quiet, most of them injured, and not a soul didn’t look absolutely shocked and bewildered to the core. “There,” she said, eye falling to a woman in the corner who was leaning over a small peasant boy with an arrow sticking out from his knee. “She must be a healer. I’ll fetch her for us.”

Dimitri sagged, his head hanging between his knees and his eyelids fluttering. “I’ll be okay, it doesn’t even hurt anymore. There are probably people worse off. They should be healed first.”

“Dimitri Escalus.” Astra scowled. “Ought I smack some sense into you, too? That healer’s looking at you whether you like it or not.”

And with that, the lady of House Cressida strode off toward the other side of the room, threading around the mess of dazed, bleeding people who were littered about the floor. As Grace watched her mother speak quietly with the healer, she placed a hand on her husband’s uninjured shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze.

“Just focus on your breathing, Dems,” she murmured. “You’re doing fine.”

He glanced up at her, his blue eyes glazed with fatigue and confusion. “I’m sorry. I wanted to protect you, but I just made it worse.”

“You made it worse?” She couldn’t help but quirk a dark smile. “I’m the one who froze up and thought the best idea was to stand in the open courtyard whining. You did your best, Dimitri. Don’t apologize.”

The healer, after finishing up with the boy’s knee, approached the Escaluses with Astra in tow. “What injuries am I dealing with? Anything besides the arm?”

“A gryphon scraped his scalp,” Grace said. “We haven’t looked how deep it is yet.” Her fingers still dangling over her husband’s shoulder, she noticed as the healer’s eye fell to the glimmering gold ring her cousin had slipped onto her thumb, and abruptly, Grace dropped her hand down, hurrying on before the healer could ask about it, “Mostly just the arm, though. It was hit by a mace.”

If the woman had noted the sigil on the ring or knew what it meant, she gave no indication of it, instead kneeling next to Dimitri. “Can you look at me, Lord-?”

“Escalus,” he rasped, lifting his head shakily. “Dimitri Escalus.”

She pressed the back of her hand against his forehead, frowning. “Can you tell me how badly you hurt, Lord Escalus?”

“I don’t,” he answered dazedly. “It hurt bad earlier, but it’s mostly gone now.”

She tsked softly, pulling a small knife out of her belt and cutting off the bloodied sleeve. “Compound fracture- what I thought. I need to save my energy for the other refugees so I can’t mend the bone, but I need to at least set it in place and repair the gash. You’re shocky, Lord Escalus, I need to stop you losing blood, and fast.”

She set about her work, glancing at Grace as she did so. “When I’m done with him, you need to sit close. Shock is dangerous, especially if he gets too cold.” She indicated the way the nobleman was shivering.

“I won’t let him out of my sight,” Grace promised. “But… he’s going to be okay, right?”

“Provided we’re not all Courdonian hostages by the end of the day,” the healer replied softly. “Then I can’t account for anyone’s survival. But this injury in itself shouldn’t kill him. I’ll stabilize him for now, and once I have access to better resources I can give him a potion to replenish some of the lost blood. But for now you’ll need to keep him warm and don’t let him move too much. Above all he needs to be kept calm.”

Dimitri, who was looking pointedly away from his arm, grunted softly. “Calm’s the last thing I’ve been for the past hour or so.”

“No doubt,” the woman replied. “Alright, Lord Escalus, I’m going to put you to sleep for a while so I can set your arm without paining you too much. Do you understand?”

“Do what you have to,” he said tiredly. The healer had him lay down on the floor, drew her wand. She muttered an incantation, and the young lord’s eyes rolled back in his head as every muscle instantly went limp with sleep.

“You might not want to watch this part,” she advised to Grace and Astra. She focused her attention on the arm, gently guiding the bone into place and fusing the skin back together. Once she was sure the immediate threat to his life had been dealt with, the healer splinted the arm, set it in a sling, and then turned to Grace and Astra. She was sweating, and looked very fatigued, but nodded. “He’ll live, for the time being. I’d normally let him sleep, but since we might need to move at a moment’s notice I’ll have to rouse him. Keep an eye on him, and keep him warm. Reparifors!”

At the incantation, Dimitri’s eyes fluttered open, and he gasped in pain. Grace immediately reached out toward him and gently cupped his cheek in her hand, smiling soothingly down at him before she said to the healer, “T-thank you. We appreciate your assistance.”

The healer nodded briskly, pushing herself up and turning to look for the next person who needed her help. Dimitri looked up at Grace, his blue eyes dull with agony. “Is the battle still going?”

“It is,” Grace confirmed. “You were only out for a few minutes. But… don’t worry about it too much, alright, Dems? Just rest. The knights… they know what they’re doing. We’ll just sit in here-- and pray like we’ve never prayed before-- and I’m sure it’ll be over soon.”

[Avery]

Once Upon Another Time: Epilogue

SPOILER: Click to show

For the next few hours, Dimitri was in and out of consciousness. Between the pain and the blood loss, he was hard put to keep his eyes open even despite the violent noises from outside. Beside him, Astra and Grace sat in a heavy silence, both women flinching whenever the din of the fighting grew too near. At length, however, the sounds of battle faded. One of the Keep’s knights eventually opened the door, telling the amassed people that the battle was over, and it was safe for them to emerge.

The Escaluses weren’t quite sure how to take this news. Safe? It was safe? The Courdonians were really gone?

The uninjured civilians were guided out of the Keep, to clear the area of excess people and ease the cleanup. However, one look at Dimitri’s arm and the way he had to lean heavily on the two women with him to stay standing got the Escaluses directed to an area that had been set aside as a triage. At first he was merely sat down on a makeshift cot of crumpled up sheets and blankets in a corner of the room and left there. His injuries were not life threatening enough for the healers to bother with when he and his company were clearly minor nobles and not anyone of authority who needed to be at peak to deal with the fallout of the battle. Too tired to protest, Dimitri instead leaned his head on Grace’s shoulder, his pale, chill, sweaty hand in hers.

“Aunt Astra?”

A woman’s voice snapped the Corvids’ attention, all of them swiveling their heads toward a slight blonde woman who’d been sweeping by, a bloody gash on her forehead and a dark-haired girl of perhaps fourteen clinging to her side.

“Sunney,” Astra replied, gaping at the wound. “What happened?”

“I just got... bumped,” the woman, one Sunney Ascension, daughter of Falcon and Maia, replied as she paused to stare at her relatives. Tenderly stroking the young girl’s cheek, she added, “Antonia would have taken it had I had not stepped in front of her. They’re savages, those Courdonians. With Bittern and Destiney…” Her voice cracked, and she had to take a deep breath to regain her composure before she gestured toward Dimitri. “Is he with you?”

“My husband,” Grace said softly. “Took a mace to the arm.”

“He looks pale.” Sunney frowned, her voice leveled at Dimitri as she demanded, “Have the healers given you anything for the blood loss?”

“No,” he replied wearily, his voice low and his eyes having a hard time bringing the woman’s face into focus, though he bowed his head at her regardless. “They’ve only so much blood replenishing potion onhand, and they said they wanted to keep it back for those in immediate danger of dying or people of rank who are needed to oversee the cleanup.” His eyelids fluttered, and he shook his head a bit to rouse himself.

“Well, that won’t do.” Sunney turned toward a passing healer and gestured for him to stop; the man paused in place instantly, dipping into a respectful bow. “A blood loss potion,” Sunney commanded him. “For my cousin’s husband. And something for the pain, too.”

Dimitri was caught by surprise, and meekly said, “I-I wouldn’t want someone else to die on my account…”

“Nonsense.” Sunney forced a smile at him as the healer scampered off to oblige the princess’s request. “You’ll take whatever the healer brings you.” She sighed. “I should probably go, though. Find my husband and son-- they’re somewhere in this chaos, and they’re probably worried sick; I swear, Manuel almost passed out when I got this scrape.” She laughed grimly.

“Take care of yourself, sweetheart,” Astra said.

“I will.” Sunney looked back down at Dimitri. “And take the potions. That’s an order, my lord.”

He bowed his head, too exhausted to protest further. Sunney walked away with her daughter, and a few moments later the healer returned with a pair of vials. One had a deep crimson potion, the other an orange one. The healer knelt next to Dimitri, pulling the stopper out of the red potion first and ordering him to tilt his head back. He obeyed, and drank the stuff when it was put to his lips. It was slightly foamy, but a few seconds after he’d completely swallowed it warmth flowed from his chest out to the rest of his body, and his face went from white to an almost pink flush as blood flowed back into his veins. He took the orange potion next, a pain reliever, and a blessed numbness seemed to cushion his entire body, blocking out not only the pain in his arm but also from his bruised chin and slashed scalp.

This done, the healer went back to the work he’d been at before Sunney got his attention, and a much relieved Dimitri slumped against the wall. He glanced at Grace, his face still rosey, and smiled wanly. “It feels almost like the other night when we drank too much- so weirdly warm. I didn’t even realize how cold I was.”

“You scared the ‘Pit out of me, Dimitri,” Grace murmured, reaching out to touch his flushed cheeks, which were still spattered with blood from his scalp. “I-- Woo… I just can’t believe this still. Any of this.”

He reached up with his undamaged arm, pulling Grace gently into a one-armed hug. “Me neither. I still don’t really understand what even happened. It feels so surreal. But we’re okay. You, me, Astra, we’re all okay. And I’m not letting you out of my sight, you hear?”

Grace sighed and leaned against him. “I just want to go home,” she said softly. “Woo, I miss Rhea. I--”

Her voice fell away as she noticed everyone nearby suddenly stiffening, the healers pausing where they stood as an older, silver-haired woman started into the bustling triage. Maia. Grace’s heart skipped a beat as she briefly wondered if the queen mother had been somehow hurt in the calamity, but on second assessment her grandmother seemed fine: she looked exhausted but otherwise unharmed, her simple outfit-- far from Grace, Astra, and Dimitri’s now-tarnished court dress-- free of blood, and with no wounds visible on her body.

She moved slowly but with purpose, her blue eyes narrowed as she surveyed the bedraggled assortment of injured victims and their families who filled the infirmary. When her stare reached the Corvids, she took but one brief gape at the amount of blood covering Dimitri-- and, from touching him, Grace-- before dramatically picking up her pace to stride over toward them.

“What’s happened?” she demanded as she reached them, holding out an arm toward Astra as she pulled the woman into a nearly protective hug. Looking at Dimitri’s bared, bloodied arm, she added, “Have they looked at it yet, Dimitri?”

“One of the enemy soldiers was coming at us with a mace,” Dimitri explained, bowing his head politely. “I wasn’t armed, but I tried to stop him by tackling him.” With grim humor he went on, “Not very bright, perhaps, but at least I was the only one of the three of us too badly hurt. It’s been set, and Princess Sunney had someone give me potions for the pain and the blood loss. I need to remember to thank her if I see her again.”

“A mace?” Maia cringed, still holding Astra close. “But-- you’ve seen Sunney? Aurora tells me she’s only mildly injured, is that true?”

Grace nodded. “Only a little cut. And Antonia looked fine. Not a scratch on her.”

“Thank the gods.” Maia sighed and gestured toward the blood stippling Grace. “Any of that yours, honey?”

“No, Grandmother. I’m okay.” She forced a leaden smile.

“Good.” But then Maia’s eye fell on the ornate ring on Grace’s thumb, and an instant, the look on the queen mother’s face had darkened considerably. Brow furrowed, she sharply motioned for Grace to stand. “Where did you get that?”

Grace waffled, not moving from the floor as she leaned even closer against Dimitri. “It’s nothing, Grandmother,” she murmured.

Dimitri gave his wife’s shoulder a comforting squeeze, and looked up at the queen mother tiredly. “It was forced onto her hand by Lord Pipp of the Northlands. After I was already hurt we were cornered by another soldier in the corridors, but Pipp stepped in and called him off. Gave Grace the ring and told her to use it if anyone else troubled her or Astra.”

“He gave you his House ring?” Maia’s frown didn’t dissipate. She again gestured for Grace to stand, and this time the woman reluctantly obliged, her lips drawn tight as the queen mother let go of Astra to hold an open palm out toward Grace. “Give it to me, Gracie.”

“Why?” Grace murmured.

“Most people here will not know what it means,” Maia said. “But given all that’s happened here today, you do not want anyone who does understand to see that on your finger.”

Grace, swallowing hardly, nodded and pulled the ring off her thumb before dropping it into Maia’s outstretched palm. As the queen mother quickly shifted the jewelry into one of the pockets of her dress, Grace said, “What… what are you doing here, anyhow, Grandmother? Shouldn’t you be resting or…”

“I had business to attend to,” Maia replied. “With my son.”

Dimitri blinked, befuddled. Her son? But Starmey was dead, wasn’t he? That was what started this entire chain of events. The young nobleman looked up at Astra in askance, but the older woman looked just as perplexed.

“Your son?” she asked softly. “What son?”

“You haven’t heard?” Maia dared a small, wistful smile. “He’s back, Astra. Galateo.”

Astra looked as if she’d been slapped. “What do you mean, he’s back?”

“I was right,” Maia said simply. “This whole time, I’ve been right.”

But Astra just shook her head. “Are you… are you sure? I mean, it’s been forty years, Maia, and Falcon always said--”

“I am very sure,” Maia cut in, a note of warning to her tone. “And once you see him, you’ll be sure, too.” The topic clearly closed, she looked back down toward Dimitri. “You’re not well to travel, are you?”

Dimitri had no idea what the two women were talking about, but clearly Maia was in no mood to discuss it further. At her question, he looked down at his arm and winced. “Probably not. I’m alright just now, but that’s only because of the potions. And… even despite the potions, frankly I think if I closed my eyes I’d be asleep for the next week.”

“You’ll stay here, then,” Maia said firmly. “At the Keep. Until you head back to Corvus.”

“Maia, that’s really not necessary--” Astra started.

“I didn’t say it was a choice, Astra,” Maia cut in over her. “And I won’t hear any arguments over it.” To Dimitri she added, “I’ll get you moved out of the triage as soon as it’s possible. It’s too chaotic in here-- not good for healing. The palace guest quarters ought be quieter.”

Dimitri was surprised, but when he thought of making the long ride back down to the lakehouse with his wounded arm, he found himself in agreement with Maia. Bowing as best he could from a sitting position with his arm in a sling, he replied, “Thank you, your majesty. I appreciate your generosity.”

“Hardly generosity.” Maia smiled thinly. “You’re family, Lord Dimitri. Now, I probably ought go see who else in that family is withering in this miserable infirmary. I’m sure I’ll see you later.” To Astra, she added, “And you’ll have to meet Galateo, honey.”

“Of course,” Astra said, but a hitch remained to her tone, and her forehead was creased with something uneasy and unsaid as she watched Maia stride away, the queen mother soon lost amidst the chaotic tangle of humanity around them.

Dimitri was somewhat overwhelmed to hear Maia refer to him as “family” and as she walked away he was hard pressed not to gape. Shaking his head somewhat in bemusement, he glanced at Grace and asked softly, “Who’s Galateo?”

“Galateo Owl Ascension,” Astra said. “Maia and Falcon’s firstborn.”

“Galateo,” Grace echoed. “Oh, Woo-- the one who--?”

Astra nodded. “He was three when he was abducted from the palace by dissidents. Presumed dead.” She hesitated. “At least, Falcon thought he was dead. Maia…” She shook her head. “It was ugly business. I was fifteen, and quite honestly, living through the aftermath of it still remains one of the worst times of my life.” Bitterly, she added, “At least, until this.”

Dimitri frowned, vaguely recalling his father mentioning the incident in question. It had happened long before Dimitri was born, and he’d never given the story much thought. So Falcon and Maia’s long lost firstborn was… back? Just like that?

“This whole day has just been one stroke of insanity after another,” he said ruefully. “I’m still trying to figure out what all even happened. I’m-” his voice cracked, and his eyes stung. “I’m just glad you’re both alive. Woo I’m so glad you’re both still alive…”

“There you are.”

All head turned toward a deep, masculine voice, and Grace couldn’t help but smile as she saw to whom it belonged: Sir Charis. The Ascension knight wore a frankenstein meld of armour and underclothes, his left eye swelled shut and a bloodied bandage bound around his stomach. He still had his sword sheathed at his side, although it was clear he’d be making no use of it any time soon, with his dominant hand swollen, splinted, and most definitely broken.

“Sir Charis.” Astra gaped at him, and as she realized the breadth of his injuries, she went on, “Why in the ‘Pit’s name are you walking around?”

“Oh, these are merely bumps and bruises.” The knight smiled darkly. “Healers were having a tizzy when I told them I had business to tend to before I let them do anything other than staunch the bleeding, but I’d hear none of it. I wanted to make sure you three were okay. I got a brief glimpse of you at the outset of the fighting, but then I never saw you again, and well--” He sighed as he cut himself off, the unsaid words left implicit.

“It’s good to see you again,” Dimitri said. “We did come ‘Pit cursed close a time or two, but we’ll live to give bodyguards headaches keeping up with us for some time to come, I think. Though thanks to my arm her majesty is confining us to the Keep, so we should be easier to keep track of for the foreseeable future.”

“No nighttime jaunts through the woods, my lord?” Charis teased.

Grace snorted. “After this, we’ll be lucky if my grandmother doesn’t force us to have a contingent of guards escort us the entire trek home.” She paused, returning the knight’s rueful grin. “You like the swamp, Sir Charis?”

“Stop poking fun and let him rest, Gracie,” Astra chided. To the knight, she added, “You can see we’re all well. But you are not. Go find a healer and a cot, Sir Charis. That’s an order.”

“Of course, my lady.” He bowed his head before starting away, intercepted within moments by a frazzled healer who instantly grabbed his arm and practically frog-marched him toward an empty cot, her scolding tone apparent even if her individual words were swallowed by the din of the infirmary.

“If your grandmother does assign us guards, I’m fairly certain he will not be among them,” Dimitri remarked ruefully. “Clearly the battle was not kind to him. But I’m glad to see he’s still alive.” He sighed, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his forehead on them. “So what happens now? We go home? Go back to our normal lives like nothing happened? Woo, will we even be able to?”

“It does seem weird,” Grace agreed. “Just going home as if everything’s okay…” She sighed. “But we’ll get to see Rhea. And… bring her the gift we bought.” Woo, it seemed like ages ago that she and Dimitri had gone shopping in the marketplace. “I think she’ll like it,” the woman added softly. “Don’t you?”

“I think she will,” he agreed with a wan smile, glancing up at his wife with one eye despite the fact that his head was still resting on his knees. “And little Catia, I bet she’ll love her toy too… And we can give Fill the wand holster, though I think he’ll be a bit too busy fretting over us at first to appreciate it.”

The young nobleman’s shoulders shook a bit, and he looked away again. “I definitely think you’ll get to hold Rhea first though- I’ll need to talk to a healer before I can pick up our little girl again.”

“Knowing Grandmother, you’ll have the best healers in the kingdom harassing you by tomorrow morning. By the time we get back to Heleos, I’m guessing your arm will be even better than it was before it got broken.” Despite the edge of sarcasm to her voice, Grace didn’t seem particularly broken up about this. “Woo, I hope she lets us go home sooner than later. I never thought I’d say I miss the mosquitos and the swamps, but…”

“But Corvus is home,” Dimitri put in. “Maybe not always the best home, but it’s our home. And I certainly cannot wait to go back.”

[Shinko]

Another collab with Avery! This takes place the summer of 1320.

Virtue and Trust: Part One

SPOILER: Click to show

It was, by most accounts, the hottest day Corvus had seen yet this summer, and Lord Wynn of the venerable House Cressida would not let anybody forget it.

Sweat dripped down his brow as his sextet of horses thundered past the city gates of Heleos, glimmering from his tan skin as might a glaze atop a pastry, and his stiff grey travel garb clung to his body as though cloth and skin had fused into one.

“Woo curse this sun,” he growled as his retinue banked a hard right toward Escalus Manor, which rested at the northern edge of the sprawling city. “Hotter than the ‘Pit, I tell you.”

The five knights who accompanied the lord of Ecliptus seemed to have long ago given up on responding to his comments, and stayed silent in turn... but the small blonde boy sitting directly behind his father on the saddle, arms draped loosely around Wynn’s waist, was either much more patient or much more foolish.

“But in the ‘Pit, it’s hot enough to cook you, Papa,” he said. “That’s what you’ve always said--”

“Have you never heard of figurative speech, Linden?” Wynn snapped.

“I…” The child waffled, his voice growing thin as he murmured, “I’m sorry, Papa.”

Wynn merely grunted in return, focusing on the road ahead as he and his knights nimbly maneuvered their mounts through the bustling city streets, threading steadily toward the Escalus estate.

Eventually the Cressida party reached the gates of the manor, where their hosts were waiting to receive them. At the head of the group was the Escalus patriarch, Filipe, with his younger brother Dimitri standing at his right. Dimitri’s wife Grace was standing on his other side, and between both her parents stood an eight-year-old, blue-eyed brunette named Rhea.

On Filipe’s other side, a small army of groomsmen were waiting to take charge of the Cressida horses. As soon as Wynn and his escort were within earshot, Filipe beckoned the servants forwards and stepped up to greet them, spreading his arms wide with welcome.

“Lord Wynn, I bid you and your young one welcome to Heleos,” he said. “Please, let us get you out of the sunlight, we have refreshments waiting inside the manor.”

“Thank you for receiving us, Lord Filipe,” Wynn said, forcing a serene smile as he dismounted from the horse. His knights echoed their lord’s movement, leaving only Wynn’s small son still atop the saddle; Wynn’s voice was sharp as he turned back toward the boy and demanded, “Get off now-- what, are you daydreaming again, Linden?”

“No, Papa,” the boy murmured, his voice nothing more than a wisp, as he went about clumsily descending to the ground; his father only stood and watched, without offering a hand of assistance. As Linden landed with a graceless thump, the child added, “I’m sorry.”

Filipe was startled by the sharpness, and by Wynn’s attitude, but he did his best to conceal it. “So this is your son,” he said amiably. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, young Lord Linden.” He gestured towards his brother’s family, adding, “I thought you might like to meet your Aunt Grace and Uncle Dimitri while you were here- and your cousin Rhea.”

Dimitri gave the young boy an encouraging smile, and from her place clinging to Grace’s side Rhea waved cheerfully. In turn, Linden politely bowed his head, his eyes cast squarely on his shoes as he said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you all. Thank you for letting us stay here.”

If Wynn was at pleased by the child’s diplomatic greeting, one never would have guessed it; the lord’s ice blue eyes stayed critical as he reached out a hand and locked his fingers over his son’s wrist, pulling the boy forward with a sharp, “Are you greeting the dirt or the Escaluses, Linden?” Then, with a too-placid smile leveled at Filipe, Wynn tacked on, “I apologize for the boy, Lord Filipe. He’s… meek. There’s a reason I’ve brought him to undergo the archmage testing, after all.”

“It’s perfectly fine, I don’t mind,” Filipe insisted, a bit alarmed. “I remember I was rather timid myself, at that age. Time and experience helped me to grow out of it. Though if he is blocked that would no doubt be a strain for the poor child.”

Rhea, watching his looked between Wynn and her mother, an expression of confusion and concern on her face. Her fingers tightened with anxiety in Grace’s hand, and the woman spared her daughter a reassuring smile, pulling the girl in closer to her.

“We can continue our introductions inside,” Filipe continued. “It’s like a forge out here. You and Linden must both be parched.” To the guards in Cressida livery he added, “Follow the groomsmen and they’ll show you to the quarters where you will be staying; there are refreshments waiting for you all there as well.”

As the Cressida knights bowed and parted with the groomsmen, Wynn-- his fingers still clamped like vises over Linden-- nodded shortly. “Of course, inside would be much better,” he agreed. His eyes falling from Filipe toward Grace, Dimitri, and Rhea, he added, “Gracie. Lord Dimitri. It’s nice to see you again. It’s been what… a year?”

“Two,” Grace said thinly. “Not since Grandmother Maia’s funeral.”

“Of course.” Wynn’s grip on Linden tightened further as the boy, sweat-drenched and exhausted, began to fidget. “I’m sure we have much to catch up on. I look forward to it.”

Filipe gestured to the group, and began to lead the way inside. “I’m afraid that you must excuse Lady Annabelle for her absence- she’s become quite heavy with child, and the doctors have her on strict bedrest. But she sends her greetings all the same, and wishes your young one the best of luck with the testing.”

Once they had entered the shade of the building, Filipe guided them to a formal reception room. Soft, squashy chairs in Escalus blue ringed the room, and in the center was a table loaded with water, wine, juice, and iced tea, as well as an assortment of chilled finger foods. There were fruits, cold cuts, cheeses, and palm sized cold meat pies.

“Help yourselves, everyone,” Filipe said cheerfully. “I’m certain the journey has been exhausting, but hopefully this will help to cool you and tide you over until supper.”

“What a gracious assortment,” Wynn said coolly, finally letting go of Linden so that he could pluck a vine of grapes from the tabletop. Settling in one of the chairs, he kept an eye trained on his son as the boy pondered over the spread of food, but commented nothing to the child, instead shifting the bulk of his attention back to Grace and Dimitri as he said, “So, last time we met, you weren’t even pregnant with your second yet. But I hear you’ve since had twins as well, Gracie.”

Grace nodded, sitting opposite of her brother and gently drawing Rhea into her lap as she did. “A boy and a girl,” she said, smoothing her daughter’s hair.

Dimitri, who had poured himself some of the juice, added, “We’ve named the little boy Odin; his sister is Juliet. Grace chose Juliet’s name in honor of your older brother- Julius I believe?”

“Julius, yes,” Wynn agreed. “How thoughtful of you both.” Grimacing as, still hovering over the food table, Linden moved to pour himself a cup of tea and nearly spilled the entire pitcher in the process, the man added, “Children are always such blessings.”

“It’s a shame I’ve hardly met most of yours,” Grace said. “Your youngest is what now-- five?”

“Just turned it.” His eye fell to Rhea. “And you, dear, you’re much larger than the last time I saw you. Are you enjoying being a big sister?”

“Yup!” she replied chirpily. “I’m helping Lilah learn her colors. She likes saying ‘yellow’ but it kinda comes out as ‘lellow’ sometimes.”


“And everything under the clouds is ‘lellow’ when she’s in an obstinate mood,” Filipe remarked with amusement, having kept his eye on Linden at the table for most of the conversation up to that point. “Even if it’s purple, or blue, or black.”

“She’ll get it, Uncle Fill,” Rhea insisted. “I’ll teach her.”

“I’m sure you will,” Wynn said, finishing off the last of his grapes. “You seem like a very good big sister, indeed.” Sighing then as Linden stepped back from the table with a heel of cheese in one hand and a sweating cup of iced tea in the other, the lord of Ecliptus patted his knee. “Come here, Linden. So that you can talk with your aunt, uncle, and cousin.”

The boy said nothing, padding over to his father with the same sort of reluctance one might generally use to approach a venomous snake; sitting hesitantly in Wynn’s lap, he took an almost desperate sip of the iced tea, as if he hoped that by occupying himself with the drink, he might prolong his entry into the strained conversation with these near strangers.

But he had no such luck; Wynn’s voice was firm but leading as he said, “So, why don’t you tell them about your magic studies, Linden?”

“I… I’m starting to study spells,” the boy supplied. “Lots of them.”

Dimitri, his voice gentle and coaxing, inquired, “Do you like learning magic? I bet it’s fun- that’s very impressive that you can do magic, I’ve never been able to.”

“It’s okay,” Linden said, taking another long sip of the tea. “Bay likes it more than I do.”

“His older brother,” Wynn clarified. “He’s nearly ten.”

“I wish he was the one who had to take the tests, not me,” Linden muttered.

Wynn tensed. “The Escaluses don’t wish to hear your complaints, Linden,” he chided. “And you’re very lucky to be able to take the archmage tests. Most mages wouldn’t have the means nor access.”


“But I’m tired.” Linden finished off the tea with another long gulp. “And I--”

“Linden.” The lord’s tone was a warning.

“The archmage tests are nothing to be afraid of,” Filipe said smoothly. “I had them when I was a little younger than you are. You’ll be sleepy a lot, but that’s perfectly fine. We have rooms we’ve prepared for you, and you may use them as much and as long as you like.”

“If the youngster is already tired,” Dimitri put in, “Perhaps it’s best if we let him rest now. It’ll be better when the testing starts if he’s at full stamina.”

“An excellent notion,” Filipe agreed. “Grace, perhaps you could show your brother and nephew to the chambers that have been prepared for them? Feel free to take along as much of the food as you like if you’re still hungry, there are plates at the end of the table.”

“Of course.” Gently easing Rhea up from her lap, Grace said to her daughter, “Stay here with Papa, honey. I’ll be back soon.” Then, to Wynn and Linden: “The guest quarters aren’t far. Just up the stairs.”

“Thank you again for your hospitality, Lord Filipe,” Wynn said, clutching to Linden’s arm as the two of them stood from the well-worn chair. “Hopefully a nap will do him good. Woo knows, I’d like him in a good state for the testing come tomorrow morning.”

“With hope,” Filipe replied neutrally. “We’ll send a servant along to call you to supper if you’ve not emerged from your rest before then.”

“I hope you sleep good, Lord Linden,” Rhea put in cheerfully. “I’ll see you at supper!”

* * *

Later that night, Dimitri was sitting down on the edge of the bed he shared with Grace. In the present heat wave he’d taken to sleeping shirtless, with only an old, loose fitting pair of trousers for modesty. When he heard the door open and saw his wife enter the room after having tucked Delilah and Rhea into bed in their suite, he smiled thinly. “All well with the girls?”

“Delilah demanded three stories,” Grace said, stifling a yawn. Moving to the wardrobe in the far corner of the room, she riffled through it for her lightest nightdress, adding as she changed, “I thought she’d never fall asleep. Not that I don’t appreciate her enthusiasm, but Woo, I can only think of so many fairytales in one night.”

The nobleman chuckled. “I’ll take the story shift tomorrow. Give your poor brain a break.”

He shifted so that he was lying back against the headboard of the bed, though he made no move to pull up the blanket. “Our nephew seems like a sweet kid. A bit skittish, though- was it just the heat or is Wynn usually that grouchy?”

Grace froze, her back still turned to Dimitri. “I… he’s…” The airiness was gone from her tone, she finished hesitantly, “Wynn’s got a bit of a… temper, yes.”

Dimitri frowned, propping himself up on his elbows. “What’s the matter? I thought you were excited to see him and introduce him to the kids.”

“I am.” Still she didn’t shift to face him. “I just… I think sometimes, my memories of people… they soften as I spent time away from them. I’d forgotten quite how Wynn could be. Watching him with Linden…”

“Ah, I see.” He stood up, walking over to her, and put a hand on her shoulder. “It made me a little nervous, I won’t lie. And I definitely feel for the boy. But I’m sorry your brother caught you off guard with it. That can’t have been fun to watch if you weren’t expecting it.”

“I should have expected it, though,” Grace said softly, neither shrinking from her husband’s touch nor easing into it. “I don’t know why I’d convinced myself otherwise. People like him… they don’t change.” She swallowed hard. “I just hope he wasn’t too hard on that poor boy, once they were alone together.”

Dimitri put his arms around Grace, resting his chin on her shoulder so that their cheeks were touching. “Me too. There isn’t much we can do about it, but at least if young Linden is so exhausted from the archmage testing that he’s asleep most of the time, he won’t need to play the perfect little courtier all through this visit. At least he was pleasant enough to Rhea.”

“That’s true,” Grace murmured. “And… maybe once he’s rested some, and he’s spent more time out of that heat, his spirits will improve.” She bit her lip. “Perhaps tomorrow, after he’s dropped Linden off for the first of the tests, we can have tea with him? We could have Delilah and the twins brought from the nursery, so that he can meet them, and…” Grace sighed, sounding almost defeated as she finished, “And maybe he’ll be tolerable the rest of his stay.”

“Here’s hoping,” Dimitri replied, squeezing his arms a little tighter for a moment. “If he’s not, we can send Lilah and the twins right back to the nursery.”

Letting his wife go, he put a hand out to her. “Come to bed, Gracie. I think Linden isn’t the only one who could use some rest.”

Wordlessly, she took his hand, her lip still bit as they padded back over to the bed. “Part of me hopes he is an archmage,” she whispered finally, sitting down atop the mattress without bothering to peel back the blankets that dressed it. “Because that might account for his timid demeanour, right?”

“Maybe,” Dimitri said softly, coming around to settle on the other side of the bed. “I don’t really know him or Wynn well enough to say. When we visited Ecliptus while Astra was still alive I almost never saw Wynn, and at your father’s funeral… I assumed he was just angry because he was grieving.”

“Well, I suppose we’ll see,” Grace said. “After he’s all tested. And if his meekness is just a product of his blocks, well… that’s good. Because otherwise… I just… I...” She couldn’t bring herself to fill in the rest of the statement. Not aloud, not to Dimitri.

Fortunately, her husband knew her well enough by now to know better than to press it. Instead he reached out and gave her hand a squeeze. He couldn’t find the words to really give her comfort, but he hoped at least the sympathy would mean something.

“Let’s get some sleep,” he said. With a crooked smile he asked, “Would you like a story?”

She couldn’t help but chuckle beneath her breath. “Only if it has fairies in it,” she said. “And a dragon. And a good magician.” She paused before adding, “And an elf. That’s her newest requirement, you know.”

Dimitri grinned in reply. “I think Rhea’s been showing her pictures out of one of the lore books her tutors gave her again. Very well then- let’s see if my imagination is still good.”

Virtue And Trust: Part Two

SPOILER: Click to show

“Mama, up!” the blue-eyed, blonde toddler chirped, reaching up to her mother’s knees.

“Delilah, what do we say?” Dimitri chided gently.

The three year old froze momentarily, then amended “Up, please, Mama?”

Grace obliged, scooping the small girl up and settling her into her lap, hushing the child so that she didn’t fidget… and hoping that Delilah couldn’t feel the heavy thump of her heart as it beat against her ribcage. Grace knew she had nothing to be nervous about, but still the woman couldn’t shake the feeling, an anxious fog clinging to her like a coat of sticky tar, so possessing her to the point where she’d even dressed differently than she might have on any other day-- choosing not her ordinary summer garb, with short sleeves that bared her arms in full, but a pale orange dress with decorative lace sleeves that dipped down to her elbows. It was hardly the veil and conservative outfits of her youth, but at least it was some nod of respect toward Wynn and his ideals.

Or at least, that’s what she told herself as Delilah went about stroking the intricate lace of her mother’s sleeve.

It was midmorning, and fortunately a breeze outside was lessening some of the oppressive weight of the heat wave. In one of the small public sitting rooms of Escalus Manor, Dimitri and Grace had asked the servants to set up a table with some tea and miniature meat pies. All of the windows in the room had been opened to let the breeze in and keep the air circulating. For now, it was just Grace, Dimitri, and their second daughter Delilah in occupancy, but Wynn would no doubt arrive from dropping off Linden at the Iphicles Institute any moment.

They heard the lord of Ecliptus before they saw him, the man’s footsteps clicking loudly against the wooden floor as a servant showed him through the doorway. He wore lighter clothes than he had yesterday, although his all-grey ensemble was still long of leg and sleeve, better suited for a balmy autumn day than the dead heat of a Corvid summer. Consequently, Wynn’s forehead was already sweat-drenched, his cheeks hot and flushed.

“Lord Wynn, it’s good to see you,” Dimitri said politely, standing up to bow his head to the man. “Please, sit down- I understand you were eager to meet your new nieces and nephew? Odin and Juliet are napping presently, but we managed to corral this little scamp so that she could greet you.”

With a nod and gracious smile, Wynn sat; Dimitri turned to his daughter. “Delilah, can you say hello to your Uncle Wynn?”

The blonde beamed. “Hullo, Unca Wynn!”

“Hello.” He reached across the table for the teapot, hands steady as he poured himself a cup. “It’s nice to meet you, Delilah.” Wynn looked to Grace. “She’s your little miniature, isn’t she? But for the hair.”

“She is,” Grace agreed, planting a kiss atop her daughter’s head. “I think it might get darker once she’s older. I was blonde when I was small, wasn’t I?”

“Pale as a dandelion.” Still Wynn’s smile didn’t waver. To Dimitri, he added, “You’d have thought we plucked her from the hills of the north, fair as she was in skin and hair both.”

“I can believe it,” Dimitri said. Plucking a bit at his own hair he added, “Though certainly there is no shortage of blonde in my bloodline, so it wouldn’t surprise me either way if Lilah’s hair got darker or stayed as it is.”

Delilah, meanwhile, had started to bounce a bit on Grace’s knee. “Eat the pie, Mama?”

“Shh, not so loud, sweetheart.” Grace gave her daughter another kiss as she went about cutting off toddler-sized bites of the meat pie. As she did, she went on to Wynn, “I hope Linden was feeling better this morning? He seemed quite anxious about the testing.”

“He’ll be fine,” Wynn said by way of answer. “Although I can’t say the same of my budget.”

Grace tried not to falter, her voice a perfect measure of diplomacy as she responded, “Well, at least you know he’s being tested by the best there are, hm?”

“I suppose,” he conceded, taking a sip of his tea. “But they’ve sure ratcheted up the prices since I had to take Linden’s sister, Beth. I thought it was a scribing error when they sent the pigeon with the proposed invoice.”

“Well since the coronation, a lot more parents have been going forward with the testing,” Dimitri said, his gaze distant and his voice absolutely neutral. “The reveal of the fact that the Jades had an archmage in their employ and the sight of a dragon chasing Courdonian war gryphons through the sky inspired quite a revival in public enthusiasm for the potential of having an archmage child.”

“And it’s worth it, isn’t it?” Grace added. “To ensure that if Linden is an archmage, he’ll have the proper resources to deal with the blocks?”

This Wynn couldn’t deny, the Cressida lord giving a low grunt of acknowledgement as he took another long sip of his tea.

There was a knock at the door, and a moment later a woman in orange and blue servant’s livery poked her head through. “M’lord, m’lady, you asked for someone to let you know when the twins woke from their nap?”

“Ah, yes, thank you,” Dimitri said with a smile. “Will you take Delilah back to the nursery while you’re headed that way? She seems to be rather full of energy so she might as well take it out someplace where adults aren’t talking about things that will bore her silly.”

“Of course, Lord Escalus,” the servant replied, coming into the room and holding her arms out for the toddler. With a ruffle of her daughter’s pale hair, Grace handed the child over, Delilah fussing a bit as she whined about “pie!”, but the servant whisked her away before she could properly get her protests going.

“Seems you’ll get to meet the twins sooner rather than later,” Dimitri said with a polite smile.

“What a blessing,” Wynn said. “A healthy mother and children both. When I heard of the pregnancy, I prayed often for you, Gracie.”

Dimitri couldn’t help but wince a bit at that, glancing in Grace’s direction. Giving birth to the twins had almost cost his wife both her life and the lives of the children. It had been very touch and go for several days, and she’d been bedridden for more than a week afterward.

“I’m sure your prayers were well-heard,” Grace said, meeting her husband’s knowing look. “Thank you for them, Wynn.”

The knock sounded at the door again, and this time not one but two servants entered. The first, the one who had taken Delilah away, was holding a one-year-old boy with his mother’s chestnut hair and blue eyes. She passed the child to Grace, while the second servant handed the twin girl to Dimitri. The little one, named for her mother’s brother, had a bright sprig of curly copper hair, unlike either parent, and she was as pale as if she’d been born in the northern mountains instead of Corvus.

As the servants left, Dimitri smiled to Wynn. “These are the twins- Grace has Odin, and I have Juliet.”

For a moment, Wynn said nothing, assessing the chubby-cheeked Odin for only a fraction of a moment before his gaze settled firmly on Juliet, instead. He looked at the infant not as an uncle tenderly meeting his niece, but rather like a man staring down a mangy, rabid dog. The previously placid look on his face crept to something much darker, his sunburnt lips curling into a tight, acid frown.

“Juliet,” he said finally, toying over the name like a cat wondering over a beam of light. “After… after Julius. Our brother Julius.”

Dimitri frowned in reply. “Is something the matter, Lord Wynn?”

“No,” he replied. Then: “Yes. I…” He furrowed his brow, his eyes still trained on the infant in his brother-in-law’s lap. “Is this a joke, Gracie? You’ve taken one of Lady Annabelle’s babes from the nursery to pull a silly prank on me?”

Grace gawped. “Of course not.” She gripped harder to Odin. “Why would I do such a wretched thing, Wynn?”

Dimitri could see where this was going. When Juliet had first been born there had been no end of gossip amongst the servants. But with time it had mostly died down, and he’d certainly never expected such from Grace’s brother.

“She’s definitely ours,” he said, emphasizing the plural. “I’m afraid my sister-in-law has had no luck with children since Willow- though we’ve high hopes for the current pregnancy. But Juliet was born to Gracie.”

“Born to Gracie, yes,” Wynn echoed hollowly. His tea abandoned, he finally wrested his eyes from the redhaired baby on Dimitri’s lap and flicked them back toward his sister. His voice, however, was directed only at his brother-in-law as he said, “Might I have a private word with my sister, Lord Dimitri? If we could step out to the lovely patio”-- he gestured to the french doors on the far side of the room-- “while you finish your tea and pie.”

Dimitri could feel his hackles going up. “This is rather sudden, Lord Wynn. The room is not intended to accommodate a one-year old crawling around in it and I’ve only so much lap.”

“She could take the boy with us,” Wynn suggested.

But Grace immediately balked. “No. That’s…” She glanced up as a servant padded over with a fresh pot of tea, bowing politely as he set it on the table. “If you could fetch their nursemaid?” Grace murmured to the man.

“Yes, my lady,” he replied.

“Gracie,” Dimitri growled, his muscles tense and his expression pleading. To the Cressida he said, “I’m still confused, Lord Wynn. You’ve days yet to talk to your sister- I thought you wanted to meet your nieces and nephew today.”

“It should merely take a few minutes,” Wynn said. A non-answer. “She’ll be back to finish her tea in no time.”

“It’s… fine, Dimitri,” Grace murmured, but her wavering tone suggested otherwise. Gently handing Odin to his nursemaid as the woman strode back into the room, Grace added to her husband, “Pour me another cup while I’m outside?”

His expression made it plain he was in no way onboard with this plan. He remembered the previous day how aggressive Wynn had been with his own son, and that was over petty offenses. He was silent for a while, before finally muttering, “Don’t take too long- wouldn’t want to waste the tea by letting it go tepid.”

“Don’t worry, Lord Dimitri-- I can always heat it right back up.” With a nearly indolent smile, Wynn patted the holstered wand at his hip, before standing and starting toward the french doors.

Grace followed him without a word, merely shooting Dimitri one last reassuring look before she disappeared outside, Wynn letting the doors thud shut behind them.

As the nursemaid left with Odin, Dimitri turned his attention to the little redhead still sitting in his lap. She looked back up at him, patting him on the chin with a chubby hand and smiling. “Papa,” she babbled.

“That’s right, Juliet,” he murmured to her, drawing the little girl into a hug. “I am your Papa. No matter what anyone else thinks. Maybe there’s no red hair in my family history, but I know your Mama and I know she’d never be unfaithful.”

“Papa!” the child repeated, squirming happily in his arms and tugging on his hair. He continued to play with her until eventually there was a soft click, followed by the groan of the door hinges as Wynn and Grace returned.

Neither brother nor sister said anything as they drifted back to the table, but they each wore expressions so tight as to verge the line of impenetrable. Seated again, Wynn instantly finished off the dregs of his tea-- indeed gone lukewarm-- and refused to look at either Grace or her husband; Grace, in turn, pushed her half-eaten pie about her plate but ate nothing more of it.

“The nursemaid took Odin all the way back to the nursery?” she said finally. “Because… he looked a bit pale, didn’t he? And he felt warm. I… maybe I should go check on him. To make sure he doesn’t have a fever.”

“A fever?” Dimitri repeated, his own expression darkening. It couldn’t have been more obvious Grace was fishing for an excuse to leave the room. Hesitantly, bouncing Juliet on his knee a bit as the little girl giggled, he said, “If he’s sick, maybe I should come with you?”

“If you want,” Grace said, pretending not to notice the way Wynn’s eyes had listed suddenly back toward her, hooking over hers like knives eating into flesh. “It was… nice speaking with you, Wynn,” she said to her brother. “I do hope all of Linden’s testing today goes well.”

“As do I,” Wynn replied coolly, his lips pursed as he watched his sister stand.

Dimitri stood as well, balancing Juliet on one hip. Casting a very icy look at Wynn, he led the way out into the hallway, stopping to be sure Grace was following before he continued. Once he was certain they were out of earshot, he muttered, “Odin wasn’t really feverish, was he? What did Wynn say about Jules? More of the usual tripe?”

“Yes,” she replied shortly, as if she knew there was no use in lying. “He doesn’t think she’s yours. And Odin, as well, in turn.”

“Then he’s an idiot,” Dimitri retorted coldly. “You’ve never been anything but faithful, even… even if I wasn’t always at first.” Cuddling the little girl in his arms closer he added, “I think her hair is beautiful.”

“I know,” Grace said, blinking hard. “We know. He’s just…” She shook her head. “He likes to hear his own voice. And he thinks that his opinion is always the right one, even when it’s not.”

Dimitri looked in Grace’s direction sadly. He knew that as painful as it was for him to constantly have to weather people asserting that his own daughter wasn’t his, the situation was even worse for Gracie. At most he got the sort of condescending pity one would give an innocent fool when he stuck up for her. She had to deal with thinly veiled scorn and rumors that called her honor into question.

Hefting up Juliet slightly higher he pointed to his wife and cooed, “Jules, who’s that?”

She beamed, looking in Grace’s direction. “Mama!”

Grace couldn’t help but smile-- softly, sadly. As she and Dimitri finally reached the nursery, she reached out toward the infant and ran a tender finger through her rusty curls, studying the smiling face that, to her, looked so very much like Dimitri’s.

“I just don’t understand,” Grace whispered to her husband, “why no one else sees. It’s like they look at her hair, and then don’t bother to examine the rest of her.’

“People see what they want to see,” he said bitterly. “I wish it was different, but…”

He shook his head, passing the child on to the nursemaid when she came forward to receive her. As the nursery door closed behind them and the Escaluses turned to head towards their own suite of rooms, he reached out and hooked his hand on Grace’s arm, meaning to pull her into a hug.

But at his touch, she flinched, jerking away from him as a hiss of pain escaped through her teeth. She realized what she’d done immediately, and attempted to backtrack by reaching out toward him, but it was too late; there was no way he’d missed what she’d done.

“Grace, what’s wrong?” Dimitri asked, his voice sharp with alarm. “Is your arm hurt?”

“I…” She waffled, her jaw suddenly quaking in spite of herself. “It’s nothing, Dimitri. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Please don’t lie to me, Gracie,” he said, gently but firmly. “What’s the matter? And why are you trying to hide it?”

“I’m not trying to hide anything,” Grace murmured. “I just don’t want to make a fuss. Because if I tell you… I’m afraid you’ll overreact, and…” Her gaze fell to the floor, as if she could no longer bring herself to meet her husband’s eyes. “The House needs him, Dimitri,” she said finally. “After Heather… after everything… we can’t afford to lose my brother’s support.”

Dimitri frowned. “Your brother? What does…” His eyes widened. “He didn’t…”

“He didn’t mean to,” Grace said. Almost pleaded. “He was just… snarling at me over Juliet, asking me why I dared name my illegitimate child after Julius-- accusing me of forgetting my honour, my virtue, all of it, and I…” She forced a deep breath. “He was still talking, and I turned away from him. Tried to walk away, and…”

“Gracie, let me see your arm,” Dimitri said, his voice soft, but the look in his eyes absolutely murderous.

“Please,” Grace whispered, her stare still settled firmly on the ground. “It’s nothing, Dimitri. I’m okay, I promise you.”

He shook his head. “You’re my wife, Grace. What sort of husband would I be if I just ignored this? What did he do to you? What’s wrong with your arm?”

“He grabbed me,” Grace said. “When I went to leave. Just… to stop me, I guess, because he wasn’t done with what he had to say.” She paused. “I don’t think he meant to hurt me, Dimitri. It all happened very fast, and… I shouldn’t have tried to storm away from him. It was rude of me. It was…” Her voice died as she rubbed gingerly at her lacy sleeve.

“Rude of you? He was accusing you of adultery, insulting your honor, and calling the legitimacy of our child into question, and you were being rude?” He put out a hand, coaxingly. “Let me see.”

Trembling fully now, Grace held her arm out toward him, refusing to look as he gently rolled up her sleeve. It’s probably nothing, Grace, she said to herself, and Woo, how she hoped that this was true. That indeed Dimitri found nothing on her skin-- no marks, no bruises, no signs that Wynn had so roughly grabbed onto her at all. Because she’d meant what she said: House Escalus needed the Cressidas. Only a year had passed since the wickedness with Heather, and her brother’s support through that-- the alliance that had not crumbled in spite of the sordid affair-- was invaluable to her adopted House.

But she knew Dimitri… and Filipe. And she knew just as well that if Wynn had marked her…

She didn’t even want to think about it. About what they might do-- and risk ruining-- on her behalf.

“It’s nothing, right?” she whispered to her husband. “I’m just overreacting, aren’t I?”

Dimitri was silent at first. His hands, holding up her sleeve, were trembling with fury. On Grace’s upper arm there was a very obvious, swollen red welt in the shape of a human hand. This wasn’t the accidental mark left by a man trying to stop someone from walking away from a conversation. This was the rough, angry bruise that came from someone who was used to grabbing people, in such a way as to be deliberately painful.

Letting go of Grace’s shirt sleeve, he pulled his wife into a hug. His voice hoarse with barely suppressed rage, he snarled, “That pompous, ham-handed brute...”

“Please, Dimitri,” Grace said. “Don’t do anything rash. We can’t afford to lose his favour over something like this. He just twisted my arm, it’s not as if he hit me. And… he’ll be back off to Ecliptus once Linden’s done at the Institute, so we just have to make nice for a few more days, and--”

“And I wonder how many marks like this Linden has under those conservative Cressida sleeves,” Dimitri growled.

“I don’t know if we’d want the answer to that,” Grace whispered miserably. “But… I should have known better than to go outside alone with him, let alone walk away while he was in the middle of a rant. I mean, I knew what he was insinuating even before I went out with him-- I just thought I could deal with it myself, and not get you involved in all that madness… because he’s my brother, after all, not yours, and…” She sighed deeply. “He won’t do it again, Dimitri. I won’t give him an opportunity to do it again. I promise.”

The nobleman was quiet for a bit, thinking. At length, he sighed. “Filipe needs to know. If for no other reason than he’s House Patriarch and responsible for all of our safety, so if Wynn is going to be laying violent hands on his housemates he needs to know to be on guard. But he’s not stupid, and he knows we need Wynn as an ally. So… I don’t think he’ll overreact. He’ll have his guard up, but he won’t do anything rash.” His mouth tightening, Dimitri added, “Though I for one think Wynn has forfeit his uncle visitation privileges. I don’t want our daughters anywhere near him, not even the older ones.”

“That’s probably best,” Grace agreed. “The way he looked at Juliet… as if she were a piece of trash…” The woman clenched her jaw. “I know I shouldn’t have expected any different, really. Wynn’s always been… well, Wynn. I should have known what he would think when he saw her. I shouldn’t have let myself get my hopes up, that he’d be different, that he’d be loving, that he’d be…” She sighed again. “I’m sorry, Dimitri. My family always has to make our lives complicated, don’t they?”

“I always liked Astra,” he said. “Except that one time she scarpered off after the Bloody Coronation with Basil and left us there with Maia for weeks. That kind of ticked me off. But besides that she was usually good to us. And Malenna, when we met her at Maia’s funeral. She was decent.”

“I know,” Grace said. “It’s just… Wynn. And he’s the only one who really matters now, isn’t he? Being lord of the House and all.” She finally dared let her eyes fall to her bared arm, hardly able to suppress a grimace as she noted the bruising mark. “Never thought he’d do that to me again,” she murmured, her voice so quiet it was nearly inaudible.

Dimitri’s frown deepened at that. Again? Woo, just how often had Wynn done this before? And how in Woo’s name had he gotten away with it? Basil was many things but abusive was not one of them. Dimitri could not imagine the former house patriarch of Cressida allowing his son to bruise a younger sister.

With a frustrated headshake, he said, “Come on- we need to talk to Filipe. Then you and I are making a detour to the healer. You’re not suffering the mark of Wynn’s hand on you any longer than necessary.”

“What if they gossip, though, Dimitri?” she said. “I… I don’t want the entire manor to know about it.”

“The healer is paid a sizable sum for his contract,” Dimitri said tartly. “And part of that contract is confidentiality. Otherwise the entire manor would’ve known Bella was pregnant weeks before we actually found out. Compromise is a two-way street, my dear- if I agree not to make a fuss with Wynn about this, you agree to let me fuss over you instead. It’s in the husband rules.”

Reluctantly, Grace nodded. “Okay,” she said. “Deal.”

“Good,” he said. “C’mon, Filipe should be in his office this time of day.”

Turning back towards the public area of the manor, Dimitri led Grace to what was certain to be an interesting interview with his brother.

Virtue and Trust: Part Three

SPOILER: Click to show

When he was a much younger man, Filipe Escalus had been a very shy, skittish individual. Most people who met him shook their heads in pity for Olander, that this weak-willed boy would one day inherit the powerful legacy of the renowned magical warriors of House Escalus. Most of Corvus still held that opinion of him- the reputation for being weak of character was part of what had made it so easy for most to believe him complicit in his sister’s plan to coerce Cyril Oberon.

But the fallout of Heather’s betrayal had been like a flame to the raw ore of Filipe’s spirit. Far from breaking him, it had refined him, tempering his will and strengthening his resolve. Certainly no one who saw the anger that flashed in his eyes when he heard what Wynn Cressida had done to Grace would have mistaken him for the weak willed boy of the rumor mills.

“Such gall,” he hissed, pacing behind his desk. “To waltz into our domain and manhandle members of House Escalus? Would he have dared such when this manor still belonged to Father?”

“He might have,” Grace murmured, not meeting her brother-in-law’s stare. “As I said to Dimitri, I should have known that acting as I did would have incited him. But it won’t happen again, Filipe. I won’t give him the chance.”

“Grace, this isn’t your fault, and please don’t talk like it is,” Filipe replied gently, pausing in his pacing to fully face his brother’s wife. “You had every right to walk away from that conversation.”

Dimitri gave his wife a one-armed hug around her shoulders, holding her close. “She’s worried that if we call Wynn out for it we’ll lose his favor- and Cressida is the only house other than Accipiter and Jade who still trusts us.”

The Escalus lord huffed softly, folding his arms. “He trusts us, does he? The better question here is if we can trust him. We need allies to give us support with the rest of the region, not an idiot ruled by his temper who will drag our names further through the mud.”

“He only dared do such a thing because I’m his sister,” Grace said. “It wasn’t about politics to him, it was…” She shook her head. “He’s a valuable ally for the House. I’m sure of that. And so I don’t think this is worth making a big deal out of. It’s just a bruise-- hardly like I’ve never had one before.” She paused before adding, “I know it’s wrong. I’m not trying to justify what he did, or claim that he was right to do it. But I’m afraid that if he’s confronted over it, the political consequences for House Escalus could be… well, more than we can afford right now. After Heather.”

Filipe ran a hand across his forehead with an annoyed sigh. “All the curses of the ‘Pit upon Heather for backing us into a corner like this… Woo, who am I kidding, this is my fault. I introduced her to the Oberon boy and assigned her to him as a guide while he was in the city. If I knew my own bloody sister a little bit better maybe this could’ve all been avoided.” He said down in his chair abruptly, rubbing his temples. “I’m sorry, Grace. I’m no better a brother than Wynn.”

“Fill, that’s not true,” Dimitri objected softly, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“Neither of us is responsible for our unreasonable siblings, Filipe,” Grace said. “What Heather did isn’t your fault. And Wynn being… Wynn isn’t mine, even if the voice in my head screams at me that I ought to have taken better measures to prevent him from being able to do what he did to me.” She sighed heavily. “He’ll be gone soon. We just have to make nice until then. And the next time he comes to Ecliptus, he can stay at a ‘Pit-cursed inn.”

Filipe snorted softly. “Something I can agree with. But I also agree with Dimitri- our children are staying the ‘Pit away from him. Not just your four- Caty and Will too. Maybe he only went for you because you were his sister, but I’m not going to test his temper around children who are too little to defend themselves or to understand that his actions aren’t their fault.”

Dimitri sighed. “He’s going to take it out on Linden though.”

“There’s not much we can do about that,” Filipe pointed out gently. “Linden is his son- unless we catch him doing something truly horrific worthy of reporting to House Jade, there isn’t a lot to be said or done for Linden. All we can do is keep our own children out of his firing line. And on the subject, Grace I do agree with what you mentioned before- don’t let Wynn get you alone again either.”

“I won’t,” Grace promised. “And he won’t set so much as another eye on my children.” She frowned. “And hopefully Linden will be so tired from the testing that Wynn won’t be so cruel as to take out his frustration on the poor kid.”

“We can only hope,” the Escalus lord agreed. His younger brother looked unconvinced, but he said nothing. Instead, after a moment’s silence, Dimitri put a hand on his wife’s shoulder.

“Come on, let’s have the healer clear that up. Thank you for your time, Fill.”

Filipe smiled sadly. “Of course- what kind of big brother would I be if I ignored my sister-in-law being hurt by a visiting lord? Relative of hers or not, seeing to Grace’s wellbeing is my obligation as lord as well as my pleasure as family. You can always come to me with your concerns, both of you.”

Grace nodded. “Thank you, Filipe. I might not say it enough, but I really do appreciate all you do for this House. This family. No matter what happened with Heather… you are a much better lord than Wynn could ever dream of being. Don’t doubt yourself so much, okay?”

Filipe’s smile became a bit more sincere, and he bowed his head gratefully to his sister-in-law before giving a wave to indicate that they should go. Dimitri gently took Grace’s hand in his and led her from the room.

***

“What interesting soup,” Wynn Cressida said three days later, gazing down at a bowl of thick, brownish broth as he sat at the small, round table in one of Escalus Manor’s more intimate dining rooms. “What is that spicing it-- cinnamon?”

“Ginger,” Grace replied thinly. “It’s very refreshing.”

“I’ve never liked cold soup,” her brother returned.

“Well, perhaps you’ll be pleasantly surprised.” Grace forced a smile as she spooned up a bite from her own bowl, but the grin hardly met her lips, let alone her eyes.

In the past few days, things between Grace and her brother had been decidedly… tense. Wynn was brash but he was no fool, and it hadn’t taken him long to glean the fact that Dimitri and Grace’s children were suddenly being kept away from him. He seemed to know better than to openly comment on it, but such a thing had most certainly soured his already-testy mood. That still the miserable heat wave persisted did nothing to help matters-- nor did the fact that, with Linden’s testing at the Institute winding steadily toward a close, it was becoming more and more apparent that Wynn’s young son likely was not an archmage, after all. That after all the money Wynn had flung at the examination, he would have nothing to show for it but a tired, cranky son who was still as shy and awkward as ever.

Needless to say, the lord of House Cressida was not in a very pleasant mood.

“Forgive me, Lord Wynn,” Filipe put in with a note of determined cheer. “As hot as it’s been, hot food did not seem like a desirable thing to have at the table. Perhaps if you don’t care for the soup the meat course will be more to your taste. Roast mutton in pear sauce- the sauce is made with pears harvested in Nid’aigle, and the elven forest produces some of the most flavorful pears in all of Kyth.”

“It sounds resplendent,” Wynn said neutrally, before reaching toward his wine goblet and taking a long, hard sip. “It’s a pity the children aren’t here to enjoy it.”

“They’re having a perfectly adequate dinner of their own,” Grace said quickly, sharing a knowing look with Dimitri. Moving on before her brother could rejoinder, she added, “Speaking of children-- I hope Linden’s doing well? He looked exhausted when I caught a glimpse of him earlier.”

“Oh yes, the boy’s doing very well.” Wynn’s voice was practically a growl. “Whining to me that he’s sick of all the tests, begging me not to make him go back tomorrow for the last of them-- entitled little brat, he is.” He took another gulp of the wine.

Dimitri gave a very toothy smile. “Well we can hardly blame the poor boy. I mean I’m certainly no mage but if I were doing something that left me exhausted by the end of every day, I would look forward to when that thing was over and done with.”

“At least all that’s needed of him is to cast a few spells with the charged keystones, so he shouldn’t be too tired out,” Filipe put in, pausing to take a sip of his soup before continuing. “The rest is the work of the testers, running examinations on the other keystones he’s charged. Seeing how his magic reacts to various stimuli and such. The hard part is over, for him at any rate.”

“Elisabeth never complained,” Wynn grumbled simply. “Not during her tests. And Linden ought know better, too.”

“I doubt he means any malice, Wynn,” Grace replied. Vaguely, she knew that perhaps she should stay silent on the matter-- let Wynn scowl and stew without making any comment of it. But it was hard sitting silently by as he whined and lamented as if his exhausted seven-year-old was acting to deliberately defy him. Hurriedly, she added, “Even adults can act poorly when they’re tired. I’m sure once he’s had more rest, his behaviour will improve.”

“It had better,” Wynn said darkly.

“So,” Dimitri said rather pointedly. “How is Bella faring, Fill? She still on bed rest?”

“Yes, and probably will remain that way until the birth, much though it galls her,” Filipe confirmed. “She hates it, says she misses sword practice, but of course the last thing she needs when she’s that far along is to be straining herself so much. Her previous pregnancies have been hard enough.”

Dimitri smiled thinly, though it was a forced cheer. “I wager Bella just wants to knock Fill on his arse a few times to make sure he’s keeping humble. What do you say Gracie?”

But Grace hadn’t even a chance to open her lips, let alone respond, before Wynn glowered and practically demanded, “Swords? You let your wife train with swords, Lord Filipe?” His gaze fell on his sister, hard as granite. “I should hope you don’t partake in such an inappropriate activity, Gracie. Although I suppose that wouldn’t be the only of your uncouth hobbies, now, would it?”

Filipe tensed visibly. “All the mages of House Escalus are permitted to train as war mages, Lord Wynn. Including the women. This is how it has been for generations. My daughters, should they choose, will be allowed to learn the arts as well.”

“As for Grace,” Dimitri put in with an icy smile. “My father gave consent for her to learn basic self defense after she, myself, and your mother were all nearly killed at Princess Destiney’s coronation. There is no shame in a woman being able to defend herself and her family.”

“War magic is one thing,” Wynn said coolly. “But swords?” He tutted, his motion almost toying as he reached for his wine goblet and knocked back another long swill. Swallowing it down, he added, “But then, I shouldn’t be surprised, given what else is apparently condoned in this manor.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Grace asked flatly.

“You know exactly what it means, Grace,” her brother spat, leaning sharply forward as though daring his sister to challenge him again.

Dimitri’s hands clenched into fists, and he started to rise, but Filipe caught his shoulder sharply, leveling a glare at his fellow lord.

“With all due respect, Lord Wynn, this conduct ill becomes you,” Filipe said, his voice low and icy. “Learning swordsmanship has been the purview of a war mage since the inception of the college almost a thousand years ago. Or is it simply that you aren’t aware of this? I am fairly certain members of your house have trained there.”

“No women of my House,” Wynn snapped. “In Ecliptus, we are much more concerned with our women being pious than in seeking combat glory.” Seething, he was practically hunched over the table, his body angled toward Grace, as he hissed, “It’s a shame when those raised with such values nevertheless flout them.”

“Flout them?” If Wynn’s voice was a blade, Grace’s was a dandelion-- so fragile it might disperse into nothingness at any moment. Her jaw trembling, she murmured, “Is this about Juliet and Odin still? Even after I assured you--”

“Lying,” Wynn cut in, “is another great sin, Gracie. Or have you forgotten that, too?”

“Lord Wynn!” Filipe snarled. “You will stay your tongue from this course now or so help me I will cleave it from your jaw. This is my manor and Grace and all of her children are my housemates and you will not subject them nor their honor to your abuses.”

“Your housemates?” Wynn laughed, a sound so dark and strangled it could have been a death knell. “Those children are no members of your House, Lord Filipe. I’d guess they’re closer related to your valet or your stablehand than they are to either you or your brother. I’d bet--”

“Wynn.” Grace’s voice shook. “Those children are my husband’s. That you would think such a thing of me-- that you’d dare accuse me--”

“I do not accuse,” Wynn snarled. “I merely observe. I--”

“Odin and Juliet are my son and daughter,” Dimitri snapped, pushing himself up in spite of Filipe’s hand still on his shoulder. “And I will hear not a word to suggest otherwise, nor to implicate my Gracie’s honor. She is my wife, my best friend, and she is a member of House Escalus. Her doings are no concern of yours, Wynn Cressida.”

“To the contrary, what she does reflects on my House,” Wynn replied, too rocketing to his feet. “Then again, I suppose it’s clear that she learned such impropriety here, not back in Ecliptus. That bad behaviour is merely the status quo in Heleos, and goes perpetually unpunished.” Practically quivering with rage, his voice dropped to something near a leaden whisper as he finished “She wouldn’t be the first woman of House Escalus to act in sin as the House turned a blind eye, would she?”

There was a beat of dead silence. Then, his voice utterly without emotion, Filipe spoke.

“Wynn, Dimitri, sit down at once. You are nobles, not young boys on a schoolyard,” turning his gaze to Wynn he added through clenched teeth. “And if you are so very concerned about things that reflect ill upon your house, perhaps you should first look upon your own conduct. What does it say about the Cressida name when their lord openly manhandles his child within minutes of a diplomatic greeting, and lays violent hands upon members of the house that has offered him their hospitality? Grace is nothing but faithful- you are nothing but an abusive tyrant. Stay your tongue or I will have you out of this manor by morning.”

Wynn did not sit, his jaw clenched in fury. “Linden is mine to discipline as I see fit. And I’ve hardly laid violent hands on any of your House, Lord Filipe.” Turning toward Grace, he demanded, “What did you tell them? Are you slandering me--”

“It’s not slander, Wynn,” Grace said. “Dimitri saw the bruise you gave me. That’s all. I’ve done nothing wrong. You’re the one who’s acting dishonourably, not me.”

“Ah yes, because I’m the one with a ginger-haired mongrel in my nursery,” Wynn snarled. “Perhaps you’ve convinced your husband and his brother of your maintained honor, but do not lie to me, Grace!”

“This conversation stopped being with Grace a long time ago,” Filipe said coldly. “And I will thank you to stop dragging her into it. You are calling the honor of one of my housemates into question, and as the lord of this house I will address the issue. And if you think I will not have my guards haul you from the table and pitch you out of the gates if your conduct continues you are sorely mistaken, Lord Cressida. I, unlike you, have not forgotten my duty to protect my housemates, not just to tout them around like badges of my own reputation.”

“You wish to protect Grace’s honor?” Wynn asked. “You wish to call into question my own? Fine. Go ahead. But let’s dispense with these mere words, Lord Filipe, and settle it as true men ought to.”

“Wynn,” Grace begged, desperation now eclipsing her previous shock and horror. “Please, stop--”

Dimitri was gawking at Wynn, astonished at the man’s gall. Wynn had been giving insult, and yet he was acting like the injured party here? Filipe, however, only quirked an eyebrow, smiling serenely.

“Sword, spell, or both?” he asked calmly. “And what are your terms?”

“Both,” Wynn said. “Since you are so very fond of each here.” He paused, considering. “When I win, I demand an apology. And one-thousand runestones.” Almost grinning now, he added, “If you don’t recall, that’s the ridiculous asking price for the archmage tests at your bloody Institute these days.”

“Which has so very much to do with the matter at hand, clearly,” Filipe replied dryly. “Fine. If I win, you will recant this obscene accusation on your sister’s honor, levy an apology to both her and her husband, and speak no further on the issue of Juliet and Odin Escalus’ legitimacy. Since I am the challenged, I may set the time and place- tomorrow, ten in the morning, at the Institute's practice courts.”

“So it shall be,” Wynn said, before taking a sharp step back from the table. “I wouldn’t wish, now, to continue to cast my abuse about this treasured family dinner, so I think I’ll be heading back to mine and Linden’s chambers.”

“Be kind to that boy, Wynn,” Grace said softly. “No matter your rage, just remember that you’re not mad at him.”

“Thanks, Grace, I’ll keep that in mind,” Wynn returned flatly, before stalking off toward the door, so that soon all that was left of him was the sound of his footsteps stabbing against the corridor floor.

Dimitri, who had still be standing in front of his seat, slumped back down with a groan. “That conceited, self-righteous, loathsome pig.”

“Pigs are intelligent, Dems,” Filipe remarked airily. “It’s hardly fair to compare him to a pig.”

For a long moment, Grace said nothing-- only stared at the empty chair formerly inhabited by her brother, the woman’s throat still quavering as she replayed the dinner’s events over and over again in her head. A duel. Dear Woo, had Wynn truly challenged Filipe to a duel over her? And, more concerningly, had Filipe really accepted?

“You… you don’t need to fight him,” she said finally. “If you don’t want to, Filipe. I… wouldn’t want you to get hurt, and…”

“You think I don’t want to?” Filipe replied, frowning. “After all the venom he was letting drip from his tongue, at our table no less? He’s overconfident, Gracie. He rules his own little roost back in Ecliptus with an iron fist, but this is not Ecliptus. He needs to learn respect, or he’s going to get himself into trouble he can’t get out of.” More gently he added, “And you’re family, Gracie. You’ve been good to my brother, and a friend to me and Bella. What kind of selfish coward would I be if it wasn’t my pleasure to defend your honor?”

“I only regret that I can’t,” Dimitri muttered. “Maybe I should’ve learned to fight after the Coronation. I hate it, but…”

Grace nodded, although still she shook slightly. “I just hope you win, Filipe,” she said softly. “... And Woo, I hope he doesn’t stomp back into his chambers and hurt Linden. That boy deserves a better father than Wynn is to him.”

Filipe gave a thin smile. “I do think my reputation precedes me- my reputation for not being all that strong a mage. But I’ve trained at the Institute- Wynn has not. I don’t think he has any idea what he’s getting into.”

“As to Linden, there isn’t a lot we can do there,” Dimitri remarked softly. “But if the servants hear anything untoward, they’ll certainly report it. We can’t stop him from being rough with the boy, but if he lashes out at him, then we’ll be able to do something.” He shook his head. “But I hope it won’t come to that.”

“Me too,” Grace whispered, sighing deeply. “Just… be careful tomorrow, Filipe. I know you’ve trained at the Institute and he hasn’t, but he’s a very powerful mage, and nearly as good with the sword. And if you got hurt because of me…” She locked her eyes on his. “Beat him flat on his butt, okay?”

Filipe gave a grim smile. “With pleasure- I’ll make sure you and Dems get that apology, Grace. There’s more than one way to get respect back for House Escalus- the shy, quiet second son of Olander knocking Wynn Cressida on his rear ought to do nicely.”

Virtue and Trust: Part Four

SPOILER: Click to show

The practice yard at the Iphicles Institute was a wide, long arena of plain dirt with a starting line on either end in white paint. Stones sat in each corner with the runes for a shield spell upon them. When activated those stones would form a shield around the entire field, keeping any stray spells from flying out and hitting the spectators or the school building.

The entire campus of the Institute was walled off, though the wall was not nearly as high as the one around the city and functioned more as a stone privacy fence than a true fortification. As such, the word of a duel between Lord Escalus and the visiting Lord Cressida had drawn a tremendous crowd not only from among the students of the school, but also from the nearby areas of town.

“City’s gonna be talking about this for a while,” Dimitri remarked to his brother, who was stretching his legs and tying his long brown hair into a tight knot at the base of his skull. Filipe shrugged.

“Give them something to gossip about besides how hot it’s been- I’d be glad for a change of subject. And maybe a public shaming will teach Wynn to hold his tongue and his temper a little better.”

“I doubt it,” Dimitri said dryly. “He doesn’t strike me as the sort who learns lessons.”

Standing nearby, Grace sighed, her arms crossed leadenly at her chest. “I still can’t believe it’s come to this,” she muttered, before locking eyes with Filipe. Her voice nearly a whisper so as to ensure that no one but her brother-in-law and husband could hear it, she added, “And… I still mean what I said, if you don’t want to do this, if you don’t want to risk getting hurt… I won’t be offended. You don’t need to feel obligated on my behalf, Fil.”

Filipe shook his head, “At this stage, even if I wanted to back out- which I do not- I couldn’t without losing significant face. Which is the last thing we need. Refusing to duel would be more detrimental than dueling and losing.”

“I’d fight him myself if I had a clue what to do with a sword,” Dimitri muttered crossly. “I hate fighting, but not being able to defend my own wife’s honor…”

“I understand, Dems,” Filipe said, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“It’s okay, Dimitri,” Grace said with a sigh. “Wynn’s the only one who has anything to apologize for, not you.”

As though his ears were burning, it was at that moment that the lord of Ecliptus arrived to the training yards, clad in light leather mail over a dark grey gambeson and trailed by a small collective of the House Cressida knights, one of whom he’d selected as his witness and referee. By some small mercy Linden was still occupied by the last of his archmage tests, and so at least he’d not been dragged along to play spectator; Grace thought that having to comfort the small, sullen child throughout would have made the situation even worse than it already was. She only wished that she’d had some convenient excuse to keep her from attending, but given that this whole spectacle had come to be over her, she didn’t feel right hiding in her chambers as her brother and Filipe fought. If the lord of the House was willing to duel her insufferable brother over her honour, then at the very least she could stand by and root him on.

“Good luck, Filipe,” the woman murmured, although her eyes were still hooked on her swaggering brother. He looked… confident, even cheerful, his long, pale hair tied beneath his helmet with a leather cord and his blue eyes twinkling like tiny gems. Woo, how glad she’d be if-- when-- Filipe knocked him flat on his arse.

Unlike his adversary, Filipe was not wearing any leather over his gambeson- a dark royal blue with orange stitching. He did however have a helm in blue leather, and gloves with a specially designed material along the palms and fingers so he was less likely to lose his grip on his wand mid-battle. He flashed Grace and Dimitri one last fleeting smile before gesturing to the mage whom he’d asked to act as his witness to the duel, who had been standing off to the side during his conversation with Grace and Dimitri. With the man flanking him Filipe strode over to Wynn with helm under his arm.

“Lord Filipe.” So dramatically as to verge the line of flagrant mockery, Wynn dipped into a bow. “According to the laws of honour and chivalry, in response to the great offence you’ve caused me, I challenge you to this duel, by which we will settle our quarrel using sword and spell, to end at the point of knock out. Do you agree to these terms?”

“I do,” Filipe replied briskly, bowing in reply. “As agreed, if you are victorious I shall apologize for my remarks, and pay you damages in the amount of one-thousand runestones. If I am victorious you shall apologize for the damaging statements you made against my housemates, retract your statements, and speak no further slander against them. Are we agreed?”

“We are.” Wynn’s voice was so heavy it might have been stone. With a short gaze toward the onlooking crowd, he prompted the Escalus lord, “Now shall we begin? We wouldn’t want to disappoint our audience.” He gestured to his chosen witness. “To your place, Sir Renard.”

The mage who was to be Filipe’s witness went to his corner of the field without prompting. Filipe moved to the starting line, drawing his arming sword in one hand and wand in the other. He assumed a guard position, and the mage who was acting as witness muttered a few words to activate the shields around the perimeter of the field. Moving to his own start point, Wynn busied himself with his own weapons, drawing his jewel-studded wand in one hand and his sword in the other, the Cressida lord balancing each so lightly he might have been holding mere willowy branches stripped from a tree, not weapons. Standing stiffly beside her husband, Grace gritted her teeth and shot Dimitri a dark look.

“Could Wynn at least not look like he’s enjoying it?” she whispered, threading her arm through his. “He looks like a kid on Woomas morning.”

Dimitri rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe what he’s done to his wand. That doesn’t look like an impressive weapon, it looks gaudy.”

“On your guards!” The mage called. After a few seconds, he bellowed, “Begin!”

Filipe was balanced lightly on the balls of his feet, ready to spring if the Cressida lord decided to act brashly and charge headlong into the fight. When it seemed he was too busy smirking and posturing to make the first move, Filipe narrowed his eyes.

“Lumos Maxima!” he snapped, swinging his wand sharply forwards. From the single sapphire on the tip, a brilliant emerald light flared, bright as a young sun.

Wynn blinked sharply as the light bloomed, the vibrant flash clearly not what he’d been expecting Filipe to use. Spots pricking his vision, he snapped his wand back vaguely in his opponent’s direction, his voice guttural as he growled in return, “Stupify!”

Filipe quirked an eyebrow. Though usually mages would have protective enchantments against such basic spells as “stupify,” for the purposes of the duel those spells were inert- the only one allowed in place was the one against Expelliarmus, the disarming charm. But Wynn’s aim was off, and Filipe was able to dart sideways out of the path of the stunner-- but after only a few seconds, Wynn, his vision clearing again, took several sharp steps forward and flung another stunning spell in his opponent’s direction. Light arced from his wand, his aim this time much more accurate as the spell went hurtling toward Filipe.

Gritting his teeth, Filipe made a hard slashing motion with his wand, deflecting the stunner. Pointing at the ground in front of Wynn’s feet he snapped, “Expulso!” There was a miniature explosion less than a yard in front of the Cressida lord, and Filipe didn’t wait to see how he’d react to this development before bringing his sword up and darting forwards.

Light-footed, Wynn danced out of the way of the blast, veering sharply to the left. As Filipe began to close the distance between the two men, the lord of Cressida defensively brought up his sword; but before his opponent could reach him, he banked severely back to the right, so that unless Filipe changed tacks, he’d barrell right by Wynn and into the empty space beyond. Seeing this, Filipe made a hard slashing motion with his wand at the space Wynn was moving towards, hissing a soft spell under his breath.

As the spell hit him, Wynn swore, the curse-- dwoofindo, he realized with a start-- opening a gash at the front of his calf. Stopping sharply, he spun toward Filipe, moving his focus from his sword back to his wand as he snarled a curse of his own, leveling it toward Filipe’s wand hand. Without the time to block the curse magically with the distance between them no much less, the Escalus lord shifted to take the spell with his sword arm instead of his wand arm. He hissed in pain as the limb was immediately overtaken with the sensation of prickling, jabbing pain- a stinging hex. He almost dropped his sword entirely, but managed to cling to it by pure stubbornness- though he knew he’d not be able to use it effectively until the spell wore off.

“Silencio!” he snarled, pointing his wand towards Wynn.

Wynn dodged the spell, although only barely. Blood dripping down his leg, he took a leaden step to the left, his voice raspy with pain as he flicked his wand toward Filipe again and forced out, “Woofundo!”

A confounding charm, oh Woo. Filipe nipped out of the spell’s way just barely in time, pointing his wand at Wynn’s legs and hissing “Carpe Wootractum!” A lasso of green energy shot from the tip of his wand towards the Cressida lord’s legs, wrapping around them before he could dart out of the way.

Letting out a hiss of pain, Wynn turned his wand down toward his own feet, slashing frantically to cut through the magic binding. But Filipe’s spell had already begun to take effect, and even as Wynn quickly dissolved the green loop, it was not in time to wholly combat the spell: dragged forward, he stumbled, only just managing to catch himself before he toppled over outright. Filipe shoved his wand into the holster, shifting his sword over to his now free, unhexed hand and sprinting forwards. Gripping the weapon by the blade, he swung the heavy crossguard towards Wynn’s head.

Only barely managing to reholster his wand as the Escalus lord charged toward him, Wynn ducked as the weapon came hurtling toward his head. Gripping his own sword with both hands now, he danced to the right and swung back toward Filipe, aiming not with his crossguard, but the painstakingly polished blade. Filipe ducked, just barely managing to keep the blade from hitting something vital so that instead it clattered against the leather of his helm. He stumbled from the force of the blow, but with Wynn off-balance it wasn’t as strong as it might’ve otherwise been.

As Filipe staggered, Wynn arced his sword again, the Cressida lord steadier on his feet this time and so the strike far heavier than the last one had been. Filipe shifted his grip on his own sword, spinning slightly as he stumbled backwards and barely bringing it up in time to block Wynn’s blow. With no time for finesse and certainly not the breath for it, Filipe took advantage of his own poor balance and the weight of his adversary’s blow to fling himself sideways, barging into Wynn’s chest with his shoulder.

Wynn grunted, groping back for his wand, but he didn’t have the time nor coordination to draw it. Instead, he dug his heels into the dirt beneath, knowing that if he let Filipe knock him over, the witnesses might as well call the duel now. Filipe backed up just enough to swing his sword around again, aiming the hilt at the shoulder of Wynn’s wand arm. But the Cressida lord dodged easily, taking a few quick steps back from his opponent as, finally, he managed to redraw his wand.

“Everte statum!” he gasped, pointing it toward his adversary. Filipe, with no wand to block the spell and too close to dodge it, took it full force. He was sent flying backwards several yards, to land hard on his side and tumble backwards several more feet. He lurched into a sitting position as fast as he could manage, yanking his wand out of its holder before Wynn could come upon him.

“Fumos,” he snapped, and instantly a thick blanket of grey smoke flooded from Filipe’s wand, obscuring him and the battlefield. In the open space it would clear quickly, but all he needed was a minute to get upright. Scrambling to his feet, he managed to staggeringly get back his balance.

For a moment, Wynn merely gaped, as though debating with himself how to react. He took a staggering step forward, the entire bottom half of his pant leg now coated through with blood, and pointed his wand out toward the fug, although he couldn’t see clearly enough through it to even begin to think about casting a spell. From within the haze, Filipe whispered a spell to call a gust of wind, gradually clearing the smoke from around him. As soon as he could make out the vague shadow against sunlight that was Wynn, he pointed his wand and muttered, “Dwoofindo!”

Wynn tried to hop out of the way, but with one calf already slashed, he was much too slow; the curse bowled into his other leg, cleaving through his skin just above the knee. The Cressida lord faltered on his feet, pain flashing over his face as he wildly aimed his wand back toward Filipe and-- as though he could think of nothing else-- returned his opponent’s slashing curse with a matching one of his own. Filipe jumped aside, the spell grazing his cheek and left ear but only barely. Pointing his wand not at Wynn, but instead at one of the thick chunks of earth that had been blasted free by his Expulso spell earlier, Filipe cast the hover charm, and with a tremendous wrench, flung the missile sideways towards Wynn.

Wynn dodged, but lost his footing in the process, as though his mangled legs could no longer support him. Stumbling to the ground, he went to brace himself, his wand skidding from his hands in the process. For a moment, he seemed to consider surging forward and grappling for it, but then he shot a sidelong look toward Filipe, who was snapping the incantation for a shield charm, creating a dome of green energy between Wynn and his wand. Swearing, the Cressida lord changed tactics, abandoning his wand as he lurched back up to his feet, both hands now clenched around the hilt of his only remaining weapon: his sword.

Grimacing now with each step, he started toward Filipe again, his sword leveled before him. At this point, Filipe knew all he really had to do was fire off a stunning spell. With both of his legs gashed Wynn wouldn’t be able to dodge it, and without his wand he couldn’t shield against it. But the Escalus lord instead holstered his wand, leveling his own sword in a defensive stance. He’d agreed to this duel to prove himself to Wynn, and force the man to respect his laws and his word. He’d already proven himself a superior duelist with magic- he would do the same with the sword, so that there would be no chance of Wynn later claiming he’d cheated in some way.

With a pained look down at his bleeding legs, Wynn took a deep breath, steeled himself, and then charged forward. His gait was unsteady as he swung out his sword, lofting the blade toward Filipe’s middle. Filipe caught the blow on his own sword, swinging the blade in a full circle to knock Wynn’s sword aside. Wynn flinched, unable to wholly parry the blow, and only barely managed to keep himself from toppling back over again. The Cressida lord had suddenly gone deathly pale, sweat pooling at his blonde brow, and his blue eyes no longer glimmered brightly; rather, he looked as if he was beginning to have trouble focusing them at all.

“Yield, Wynn,” Filipe murmured. “You’re losing blood fast. We both know you can’t hold out much longer.”

But Wynn just shook his head, pausing to regain his bearings for only a fraction of a moment before, lowering his sword, he shouldered forward, bearing the full of his unsteady bodyweight into Filipe’s chest. The Escalus lord was caught by surprise, and stumbled a little, but he managed to turn himself sideways, rolling with the tackle and using Wynn’s own momentum to keep him moving forwards. Fogged by blood loss, Wynn was unable to counteract the shift in motion, and like a sack of bricks, he once more tumbled to the ground, his sword skittering out of his hands as he landed gracelessly on all fours.

For the briefest of moments, the Cressida lord groped forward, as though he sought to take a hold of his weapon again. But then, abruptly, his eyes fluttered; he fell forward onto his elbows, the blood that gushed from the wound over his knee soaking into the thirsty ground.

“I…” he started, his voice nothing more than a wisp. “Yield-- I--”

The lord of Ecliptus had no chance to finish his announcement of forfeiture before, with one final flicker, his eyes drooped shut, and he fell the rest of the way over, unconscious.

Immediately both of the witnesses gave an almost simultaneous sharp whistle, signifying that the duel was over. There was a beat of silence, followed by a roar from the crowd around the dueling field. As the mage took down the shield around the field, Filipe knelt next to Wynn and yanked his wand out of its holster. In spite of the fact that he could feel an uncomfortable tugging sensation in the tips of his fingers, the Escalus lord pointed at the wound above Wynn’s knee. By some bizarre stroke of luck it had cut into a fair sized artery, which explained how Wynn had suddenly taken a dramatic turn for the worse.

“Vulnera Sanwootur,” Filipe murmured, tracing his wand along the laceration. The skin knitted together, and the blood flowing from it trickled to a halt. Before he could start working on the other wound, however, the mage managed to get to him.

“You let me handle that, Lord Escalus, I have some blood replenishing potion as well,” he said. “You take a moment to rest.”

In spite of his inclination to argue, the pull was now halfway up his hands and Filipe was disinclined to worsen it for the sake of Wynn Cressida when the mage was relatively fresh. Nodding, he pushed himself to his feet and walked over to the corner of the field where his Housemates were waiting.

Grace was at his side in an instant, her eyes teeming with something between shock and horror. “Fil.” Her voice trembled as she looked beyond the Escalus lord and toward Wynn, who still lay unmoving atop the dirt several dozen feet away. “Is he… is he…?”

“He’ll live,” Filipe rasped, his throat dry and sore from thirst and the smoke spell he’d used earlier. Dimitri wordlessly offered his brother a waterskin, which Filipe took a long pull from before continuing. “I told the fool to yield when it became obvious he was losing too much blood, but he was too stubborn. But I healed the worst wound and the mage is patching up the other one- a blood replenishing potion and he should be right as rain again, albeit probably woozy and fatigued for a while.”

“Speaking of wounds,” Dimitri remarked, drawing a hand across his cheek and ear, “Nice dramatic one you got going on there.”

“You need a healer.” Grace forced a deep breath, her eyes still trained on Wynn as she watched the mage continue to work on her brother. “Woo. When I saw him fall… when he just went out cold…” She shook her head before forcing herself to look back to her brother-in-law. “At least Linden wasn’t here to see that. Poor kid’s skittish enough.” She paused before murmuring, “I’m glad you’re okay, Filipe. Those spells he was trying to use on you…”

“He definitely wasn’t holding back,” Filipe remarked dryly. “Though admittedly, starting off with a stunner was not particularly creative. I’ll just count myself lucky I didn’t break any bones hitting the ground after that Everte statum.”

“Healer, brother,” Dimitri interrupted firmly.

“I’ll be fine for five minutes, it’s just a graze,” Filipe retorted.

In the middle of the training field, Wynn still lay unmoving, and despite Filipe’s assurance that he would be okay, the woman’s stomach gave another violent flip. “Can I… can I go to him?” she asked, her voice low as she fought the urge to take a step in his direction. “I just… he looks so still, and there’s so much blood, and…”

Filipe frowned. While he understood his sister-in-law’s concern for her brother, it would look very strange for a member of House Escalus to run out and kneel at the side of the Cressida lord and fuss over him. The crowd was still watching the proceedings with rapt attention, talking amongst themselves as first aid was administered to the Cressida lord. He couldn’t really afford the audience speculating about such a gesture when the entire point of this venture had been to prove his house was strong and its members loyal.

“Let the healer tend him and get him inside first,” he finally temporized. “In this heat we don’t want him being kept outside too long, and the rubberneckers probably won’t disperse until we’ve all left. You can wait for him to wake up at the healers- though Dimitri and I will be there as well, to ensure he doesn’t attempt anything untoward out of resentment.”

Grace frowned, clearly not altogether pleased by Filipe’s reply, but she nodded her head in deference nevertheless. “You should get inside, too,” she said. “Have a healer take a look at that ear.” She spared a glance toward the titillated crowd. “And maybe then they’ll find better things to do than munch on honeyed figs while there’s an unconscious man bleeding ten feet away from them.”

Dimitri sighed, his gaze distant as he looked out over the crowd. “One would hope. Bear in mind most of them haven’t seen real war- just tournaments. They don’t have the perspective.”

“No,” Grace said darkly. “They don’t.” Swallowing back the lump in her throat, she reached out and set a gentle hand on her husband’s arm, something unspoken passing between them, before the woman went on, “I want to be there when Wynn wakes up. Just in case he’s… disoriented, I guess. But… I don’t think he’ll be in any shape to gallivant about the city any time soon, do you? And Linden’s testing for the day should be over soon…” She frowned. “I know Wynn has his knights, but… I don’t know. Should one of us be there to pick him up? He doesn’t know us well, true, but we’re still family and…” Her voice trailed off as she gave another miserable sigh.

“I’ll get him,” Dimitri said. “Frankly I’m not interested in hearing Wynn’s insincere apologies. I’ll take Linden back to the manor and let him rest- you two can go with Wynn to the healers.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Filipe replied, flexing his fingers absently. The mage stood, summoning a stretcher with magic and levitating Wynn onto it before walking into the college with it. “Shall we go?”

Inside, Grace stood quietly by her brother’s unconscious form as a healer made quick work of Filipe’s graze wound. Though Wynn’s deep slashes had been knit back together, and his pant leg cut away, her brother looked so… wrong, so vulnerable, his skin ashy and his unconscious form occasionally twitching from deep within the throes of what might have been a nightmare. She didn’t know how long passed-- an hour, perhaps, although it felt like much longer-- but she was just about to burst from idle frustration when finally, suddenly, her brother blinked back awake.

Or perhaps wrenched was the better word for it; he sat bolt upright, his blue eyes hazy and unfocused. Taking a sharp scan of the room, his blonde hair-- loosed from its ponytail when the healer had pried off his helmet back on the training field-- whipped against his cheeks, and the Cressida lord let out an almost startled gasp.

“Wynn.” Grace’s voice cracked as she took a hesitant step closer to her brother. “Calm down, you’re okay, you--”

“Grace, it’s alright,” Filipe interrupted. Turning his attention to the Cressida lord, Filipe lifted a small bottle of a crimson liquid that, when he pulled the stopper out of it, foamed slightly. “You lost a lot of blood, Lord Cressida. The healers left this for you to replenish it.”

Filipe poured a measured dose into a small clay mug and offered it to Wynn. The lord of Ecliptus accepted it shakily, most certainly still dazed but at least a bit of coherence seeming to creep back into him as he washed the potion quickly down. For a moment, he said nothing, only trembling slightly as color rushed back to his cheeks and the glassy film receded from his eyes.

Then, his throat dry, he said, “How long have I been out?”

“An hour,” Grace replied. “Maybe a little more.”

Wynn nodded shortly, pressing a hand to his temple as though to massage back a throbbing headache. “Linden. His test was supposed to end by late morning, I… he’s probably waiting for me, I…”

“You don’t have to fret about that,” Filipe replied lightly. “Lord Dimitri fetched his nephew after the conclusion of the tests and has taken him back to Escalus manor to recuperate.”

“Oh.” Wynn continued to rub at his forehead. “I see. I, ah… thank you.” Seeming to relax a little, and his posture no longer quite so rigid and panicked, the Cressida lord’s gaze listed toward his younger sister. “Have you been here the whole time?” he asked. “Since I blacked out?”

Grace nodded. “Of course I have, Wynn. You scared the living daylights out of me.”

“It was only a nick.” He shrugged. “Nothing worth the fright, Gracie.”

Filipe quirked an eyebrow. It certainly had not been a nick, not with how much the Cressida had been bleeding. But Filipe opted not to say anything on the subject. Let the man have his pride, if that was what it took for him to be civil.

“If you’ve a headache,” the Escalus lord said instead, noting how Wynn was rubbing his head. “I can ask the healers to administer something for it.”

“I’m fine.” Wynn waved a dismissive hand. “Can hardly take pain potions for every bump and bruise.”

“If you like,” Filipe replied with a shrug. “It’s certainly no trouble, but it’s your choice.”

Coming closer to the bed, his arms folded, the Escalus lord smiled politely. “Now, Lord Wynn, I believe, in accordance with your agreement that there is something you need to say to Lady Grace.”

“Indeed.” Wynn frowned, for a moment saying nothing more as he merely studied his sister. She looked almost as exhausted as he did, her lips drawn into a tight, flat line and her brow covered with sweat. There was a spot of blood on the sleeve of her dress-- whether it had come from Wynn or Filipe was not altogether clear-- and the tip of her nose was sunburned. “I’m sorry, Grace,” he said to her. “For any offense I’ve caused you.”

Filipe narrowed his eyes. “I seem to recall that our agreement dictated you would retract your accusations, Lord Wynn. I’d like a more specific apology, if you please.”

Wynn pursed his lips, as though he were a child being scolded by its parent over a shoddily completed chore. “I apologize for the statements I made regarding your youngest children, Grace,” he said, his eyes suddenly wandering anywhere in the room but on his sister’s expectant face. “They were neither appropriate nor accurate, and I regret to have made such baseless claims.”

“I would believe you more if you looked at me when you said it,” Grace replied flatly.

Something dark flared in Wynn’s eyes, but the lord of Ecliptus sharply blinked the look away. Forcing himself to meet his sister’s gaze, and shifting uncomfortably in the process, his voice was as thick as a Bernian snowbank in January as he said, “I apologize, Grace. I shouldn’t have said what I did, I fully retract my statements, and I’ll never speak of it again. Is that more believable, or shall I grovel on my knees?”

Grace took a step back from him, her jaw clenched. “Maybe Filipe should have just let you bleed from your nick, Wynn,” she said to him, before glancing toward her brother-in-law. “May I leave, please? If I stay much longer, I think I might say things I’ll regret.”

“Go ahead,” Filipe replied, his voice carefully neutral in spite of his desire to slap a glove across Wynn’s face. That arrogance and bad temper were going to make him a good many more enemies besides just House Escalus before his tenure as lord in Ecliptus was up.

With a short nod, Grace spared her brother one last scathing look before she started out the room, shutting the door behind her; moments later, her footsteps disappeared down the hall, leaving Filipe and Wynn alone together. As the fact that he was now by himself with the man who’d just nearly killed him in a duel seemed to dawn on the Cressida lord, he busied himself with rubbing at one of the many bloodstains on his tattered trousers, as if he thought through sheer willpower he might scrub it out-- and as though any activity was better than acknowledging the lord of Heleos’s continued presence.

“Events of yesterday evening and this morning notwithstanding,” Filipe said calmly. “I’d very much like it if relations between our houses could remain amicable. Lords Basil and Olander were good friends, and it grieves me that we’ve come to this at all. Rest assured that I’ve certainly no intentions of impinging upon your rights to do as you please within the bounds of your territory, nor to extend you any disrespect when you visit Heleos. However, I expect to be extended the same courtesy. My Housemates- all of them, former Cressida or not- are to be given respect. What you do with your family is your business, but the moment she became a member of House Escalus Grace ceased to be under your jurisdiction.”

“I understand, Lord Filipe,” Wynn said thinly. “Although I think,” he continued after a moment’s pause, “that your House needs the support of my House much more than the other way around, these days.” Finally slumping back on the cot, as if he couldn’t support himself any longer, the lord of Ecliptus finished, “You have your apology and retraction, Lord Filipe. If you’re expecting anything else from me…” Wynn’s voice trailed deliberately off as the man gave a heavy shrug.

“Perhaps you’re right about House Escalus,” Filipe said. Part of him wanted to point out that Wynn’s attitude would make him no friends, and it was entirely possible that the Cressida lord might find the situation reversed on him one day, but he had the distinct impression that such a remark would not be taken at all to heart. Instead he merely replied. “However I think I’ve shown today that when push comes to shove we can hold our own. I will not turn down an ally, but I also won’t keep my head down for the sake of an alliance at the expense of my family.”

He turned. “I leave you to your rest, Lord Wynn. We shall keep Linden at Escalus Manor and look after him until you are recovered. Is there anything in particular you would like done where he is concerned, or shall I go?”

“Don’t let him complain overmuch. He needs to get out of the habit.” Wynn pursed his lips. “And give your brother my thanks for fetching the boy from his testing. Linden’s anxious enough without thinking he’s been forgotten.”

“I’ll be certain to do that,” Filipe replied. “Dimitri is his uncle after all, I’m certain he doesn’t think it any trouble. Good day, Lord Wynn.”

And with that, Filipe left the Cressida to his brooding.

Virtue and Trust: Epilogue

SPOILER: Click to show

Two days later, beneath the haze of the early morning sun, the lord of Ecliptus and his retinue rode off the grounds of Escalus Manor and into the city that stretched beyond. Standing a few feet behind the open gates of the manor, Grace Escalus watched as her brother disappeared ahead, his party soon banking around a bend in the road so that only the thundering of the horses’ hoofbeats remained-- and soon even that was gone, as well.

“Thank Woo,” Grace murmured a few moments later, sighing as she turned toward Dimitri, who stood beside her. “Hopefully it’s years before he dares show his darned face in this city again. And like I said a few days ago, next time he can stay at a Woo-cursed inn.”

“Agreed,” Dimitri muttered crossly. “Though at least with any luck he won’t be spreading any baseless rumors about the twins.” Smirking nastily he added, “If he tries, we can respond with our own about how he got his trash handed to him by Filipe.”

Filipe, standing slightly off to the side, chuckled softly. “I’d prefer we not resort to a childish game such as that, but… reputation is everything among the nobility. So it’s a decent arrow to have in our quiver.”

“The best arrow is the one you never have to fire.” As the guards set about closing the gates, Grace turned back toward the manor-- and couldn’t help but smile as, up ahead on the pathway that led toward the main door, she made out the bounding figures out two small children, headed directly at her, Dimitri, and Filipe. “So much for having a relaxing morning,” she said, waving at the children. “Rhea and Caty look like they’ve more energy in them than pollen-drunk honeybees.”

The two men turned, each wearing an equally affectionate smile on their face as their respective daughters skidded to a stop along the path.

“Daddy,” chirped the auburn haired, brown eyed little girl called Catia. “Our dance tutors say it’s too hot today for lessons, so they let us have a free period.”

“Did they, now?” Filipe replied, kneeling down to pat his daughter on the head. “Well congratulations. I suppose you two had a reason for coming all the way down here to tell us this?”

“Well,” Rhea said, looking between her uncle and her parents hopefully. “Since it’s so hot, and you guys are done with Uncle Wynn now, we… we hoped maybe we could all go swimming? Please?”

Grace held a hand out to her daughter, drawing the girl gently in toward her. “Hmm,” she said, feigning at intense deliberation, as she ran a tender hand through Rhea’s hair. “Swimming? I don’t know, honey-- wouldn’t you rather read your scripture or practice your letters? I know you find those much more fun.” The woman quirked a teasing grin.

Rhea stuck out her lower lip. “I’m doing really good in those classes though, Mama! I am, I promise!”

“But you can never have too much scripture,” Dimitri put in, winking at his wife.

“Puh-leeeeeeease, Uncle Dems, Aunt Gracie?” Catia whined, bouncing a little in place. Looking up at Filipe she added, “Please, Daddy?”

“Oh, I suppose it might be okay,” Grace said, still smirking. “What do you say, Dimitri? Filipe?”

“Hmm,” Filipe adopted a dramatically pensive look. “Well I don’t see the harm. I’m afraid I have things to do this morning, but if Uncle Dems and Aunt Grace don’t mind, you can go along with them and Rhea, Caty.”

Dimitri smiled warmly at his niece. “Of course we don’t. After all, with both of us along that’s one lifeguard for each munchkin, hm?”

“Yay!” Rhea cheered, giving her mother an enthusiastic hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Catia, beaming hugely, gave her father a quick hug before scurrying over to Dimitri and Grace. Rhea still drawn closer to her, Grace slung her other arm around Catia’s shoulder, giving her niece a brief squeeze before the woman nudged her chin toward the manor.

“Go get proper clothes,” she said. “I don’t want either of you tromping to the lake in your nice dresses and getting them filthy. And don’t dawdle, okay? You need to get back here by your next lesson, after all.”

“Okay!” The girls cheered in chorus, turning and bolting back into the manor as fast as their little legs could carry them. Dimitri chuckled softly.

“I’m glad we can give them a better childhood than we ever had,” he remarked to his brother softly. Filipe nodded, his expression tinged with regret.

“And with a closer relationship to each other than we ever had,” the lord of Heleos agreed.

Glancing back toward the now-empty road beyond the closed gates, Grace sighed. “I only wish we could do something about that boy and his childhood.”

Dimitri followed the direction of her gaze, and put a hand around his wife’s shoulder. “So do I, Gracie. He’s in for… a rough time. I don’t imagine Wynn is going to be terribly happy with his defeat.”

“If he doesn’t learn to mind that temper, he’s going to spend a lot of time being chastised and unhappy about it,” Filipe said, his arms folded and his expression grim. “And I’m afraid his family is going to have to bear the brunt of his ill temper.”

“At least Linden might not be stuck there forever,” Grace said, as though searching for the smallest ray of light amid an otherwise black horizon. “Even if he’s not an archmage… well, he’s got magic. And that leads to opportunities. If he wants to get out of there eventually… maybe he can.” Leaning in to her husband’s hold, she added softly, “Just like I did. And I’m thankful for it every day.”

Dimitri smiled, giving Grace’s shoulders a squeeze. “Life has it’s ups and downs, for sure. I’m certain that sooner or later the Woo will give Linden a chance to find his own happiness. You and I certainly did. And if he’s anything like us, he’ll learn from his father’s mistakes and do better by the next generation.”

“One can only hope,” Grace said. “He’ll certainly be in my prayers, that’s for sure.”

Filipe pushed himself up, turning to walk back into the manor. “And mine as well- an entire family doesn’t deserve to suffer for the mistakes of one member of it. There isn’t much more we can do for Linden than that but,” He glanced around with a crooked smile. “Cheer up Grace. At least we managed to send your brother packing with his tail between his legs. He lost this round. I imagine that’s not something that is accomplished often.”

Dimitri chortled. “No, I imagine not. He’ll think twice before he tries throwing his weight around in Heleos again. And if he doesn’t, well you can always thrash him again, eh?”

“I aim to please,” Filipe replied, giving a teasing salute to his brother and sister-in-law before heading back towards the manor. “Have fun with the kids.”

[Shinko]

Another collab story between myself and Avery! This one takes place in early October of 1293, and focuses on some characters who haven't really gotten a fair shake in the stories they've featured in up until now. Olander Escalus, the father of Anders, Filipe, Dimitri and Heather, and older generation of Cressidas.

Enjoy!

The Things We Take for Granted: Part One

SPOILER: Click to show

Were it not for the Umbrelicium spell Olander Escalus was holding over himself, he’d have been soaked to the skin. As it stood, even despite the spell and his waterproof oiled cloak, the ambient moisture in the air had his hair, clothes, and skin damp as a sweating glass, and his horse’s hooves made an unpleasant squelch against a road that was more mud than dirt.

For the second year in a row Corvus, a region already somewhat renowned for copious rainfall, was absolutely saturated by an endless deluge from the sky. The previous year the Kingfisher River had burst its banks, and Lord Eduard Jade had died in the resulting flash flood. This year it was the Ibis River further to the east that had risen far beyond its normal level, making travel between Corvus and Elacs anywhere south of Accipiter territory impossible. This posed a significant problem for Olander’s longtime friend, Basil Cressida.

When the lord of Ecliptus had traveled to western Elacs several weeks previous to discuss a trade deal with one of the province’s minor lords, the roads had been soggy but passable, but since then his path of return had been summarily washed out. Unless he and his men fancied a swim through surging floodwaters, Basil would not be making it back to his estate anytime in the near future-- especially if the storms kept up as they had been, more days rainier than not.

Normally this would not have posed much of an issue beyond the headache and boredom of idle waiting in Elacs; Basil hardly left his lands without putting a competent acting lord in his place to run affairs in his absence. Once upon a time this task had fallen to Basil’s wife, Astra, but in the past year or so it had passed instead to Astra and Basil’s eldest son and heir, Julius. A bright, savvy boy of sixteen, Julius Cressida was far from a well-seasoned lord, but he was proficient enough to cover for bits and bursts here and there and govern with adequate wit and decorum to, at minimum, tide things over while Basil was gone.

But now, it seemed, it was Julius who was gone instead: The heir to Ecliptus, always healthy and vivacious, had gone out to the marketplace one morning and never come back, crushed beneath a stampeding horse’s hooves in the Ecliptus marketplace in what one could only call a bad stroke of timing and luck. Marooned on the wrong side of the Elacs border, the pigeon-delivered news had left Lord Basil reeling with equal parts devastation and helplessness. He desperately searched for some way-- any way-- to make haste back to Ecliptus, floodwaters be cursed.

But there was nothing. Or, at least, nothing that wouldn’t put himself at great peril, as well. “Floodwaters are not something to be trifled with, my lord,” one of his knights had soothed. “You hardly want to end up like Lord Eduard. It will not help your family if you drown yourself trying to return to them.”

Which was how, in his shattered, powerless grief, the lord of Ecliptus had found himself penning an almost desperate letter to one of his closest friends and allies, Lord Olander of Heleos, asking if the man might find it in himself to travel to Ecliptus to ensure the estate was held in check-- and Basil’s family reassured; Woo knew the devastated Astra was in no state to be left solely in charge whilst her eldest son was only freshly in the ground-- until Basil could return. It was, after all, only the northern and eastern roads that were washed out; travel between Heleos and Ecliptus was still feasible, if sodden.

Olander had been horrified by the news, and deeply sympathetic of the abominable timing of it all. He himself had no heirs capable of running Heleos in his absence, his eldest son Anders being ten and his heir Filipe five. But his wife Velvet, though not of the strongest constitution, was able to keep things afloat for short periods in his absence. He’d agreed to Basil’s request, and was now finally coming within sight of the walls of Ecliptus.

The city was subdued when he arrived. He was glad for the brown of his oiled raincloak , because even with the black mourning trim he’d ordered to be applied to his formal livery, the Escalus orange and blue still felt woefully loud amidst the gloom that seemed to have overtaken Ecliptus. As he passed the central market, Olander could still see scars of the accident that had ended Julius Cressida’s life: a smashed stall, several splintered shop signs, and at least three different piles of flowers where Julius and presumably others had been killed. It was a grim scene indeed.

Finally he came upon Ecliptus Castle itself and held up a hand to the retinue of knights he’d brought along to slow them. Not only knights had accompanied him, however. He also had two mages from his employ along. He pulled his horse’s reins as it drew upon the castle gates, which creaked open at his presence as the Cressida-liveried knights posted before them scrambled to admit the arriving lord.

Astra Cressida, clad in black mourning attire, stood in the small front courtyard with a look on her face that rather suggested she’d not slept in days. She wore a veil, as was obligate for female members of the family, but it was askew atop her head, with curls of chestnut brown hair poking through here and there, unbrushed and unruly. At her side stood a gangly, blonde-haired boy of twelve or thirteen, his black tunic and trousers too big on his willowy frame, and his lips pursed and pouted as he watched the Escalus envoy trot slowly into the castle grounds.

“Lord Olander,” Astra said with a tremulous cursty. “I am pleased that you’ve made it safely. I… do hope the roads weren’t too poor in state.”

“They were boggy, but that is only to be expected,” Olander replied, swinging down from his horse and standing beside the animal with reins in one hand. He bowed in reply, but as he straightened again he added, “You need not feel obligated to stand on ceremony with me, Lady Astra. I am here not as a visiting dignitary but to do a good turn for a friend. And I should hardly like to force you to adhere to courtly manners while your family is in mourning.”

“Thank you, Lord Olander.” Astra forced a deep breath, before reaching out and setting a hand on the pale-haired boy’s arm. “This is my son, Wynn. My girls would have received you, as well, but…”

But what? Malenna, who was eleven and had always idolized Julius, had been nearly hysterical since she’d heard; Astra had been so afraid of upsetting her youngest, five-year-old Aileen, that she’d not even fully told the girl what had happened yet, other than that Julius had gone someplace very, very far away.

“I… why don’t you come inside?” the woman finally went on. “Dry off from this rain and… and…”

“We’ve food and drink,” Wynn finished for his mother. “If you’d like.”

“That would be lovely, thank you Lady Astra, young Lord Wynn,” Olander said. “Where should my retinue present itself?”

Astra gestured vaguely toward several of the Cressida knights who lingered nearby, damp from the rain and dour-faced. “Sir Pryor will take lead of them and show them to their quarters.”

“There’s food and drink for them, as well,” Wynn added. “And a hot fire to dry them off.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the clay-brick castle that rose behind him, always a little squat and haggard-looking even in the best of times. Now, adorned with black banners and framed by a sky nearly as dark, it came across as manifestly sad in and of itself. “If you’d like to follow me, Lord Olander?” the boy asked, draping an arm around his bleary-eyed mother’s back.

“Quite the responsible young lad already, aren’t you?” Olander asked Wynn. “By all means, lead the way.”

Inside, Astra and Wynn led Olander to a small receiving room that had been laid out with an anemic mix of cheese, bread, and wine that had clearly been thrown together in haphazard haste. Astra paid no heed to the food, murmuring to Olander that he ought help himself as she plunked down into one of the faded chairs set around the table. Almost anachronistically, its wooden face gleamed as though it had recently been polished-- a stark contrast to the vague film of dust that clung to the rest of the surfaces in the room.

“The funeral was only yesterday,” Wynn said as he sat beside his mother. “Forgive us if the castle isn’t in the best state.”

“Perfectly understandable,” Olander replied with a sympathetic smile. “As I said, I’m here to help, not to make your lives harder or force you to play gracious host to me.” He put together a small slice of bread and a few cubes of cheese on a plate, poured a glass of wine, and sat down near to the two Cressidas, but with enough distance to give them space if they needed. “I hope there are no immediate crises in need of my attention? If so I can certainly attend to it, but if not you need not feel haste to burden yourself overmuch with settling me in. Everything will work itself out in due time and most ordinary matters of state will not perish for waiting an extra day.”

“There’s the merchant,” Astra said, sparing Wynn a soft, sad smile as he moved to pour her a glass of wine. “Whose horse well…” She gave a knowing shrug. “He’s been in the city jail. I don’t quite know what to do with him.”

“Four people died,” Wynn added. “Julius, an elderly cobbler, and then a mother with her baby in arms. A dozen more beyond that were injured.”

“The horse was only recently broken.” Astra sighed miserably. “It shouldn’t have been in such a crowded area. And certainly not while lugging a cart loaded down with clay.”

The Escalus lord gave a deep frown. “That definitely sounds like he was being extremely irresponsible. Certainly not a crime that he can be put in the stocks for and then released. I hesitate to advise capital punishment outside of my own lands, but… four people dead is not an insignificant number.” He bit into his bread, chewing thoughtfully. “I’ll have to speak with the local magistrate on the matter, before I offer any insight. And of course, Lady Astra, these are still your lands and you have the final say. If any action I advise is not to your preference or the preferences you perceive Basil might adhere, do not hesitate to speak out.”

Astra shrugged limply. “If I’d been acting with my heart, and not my head, he’d already be hanging,” she replied. “Basil asked you to come here because he trusts your judgment. I do, as well-- more than my own right now, to be honest. That boy… he…” Her voice cracked. “I’ve lost infants before. Several of them. I thought nothing could ever hurt worse. But this...”

“I can come with you, if you’d like, Lord Olander,” Wynn said, fidgeting in his chair as tears pricked in his mother’s eyes. “To speak with the magistrate. Mother’s in formal mourning, so she ought not be out in the city, but… I can go.” He sounded nearly shell-shocked as he added, “I… suppose that’s my duty now. With Julius… gone.”

Not dead. Even having seen his brother lowered into the ground not twenty-four hours before, Wynn Cressida couldn’t quite bring himself to say the word dead. It was Julius, after all. Bright, outgoing, and vibrant Julius. How could Julius truly be dead?

Olander seemed to guess something of the boy’s uncertainty, however, because he smiled and shook his head. “It’s quite alright, young lord. Your time will come, I assure you, but for now I think your mother needs you more than I do. I’ve been managing Heleos on my own for thirteen years, and I’m honored to offer my experience to Ecliptus in her time of need.” He glanced at Astra briefly, then looked back and Wynn and added, “Though if you would like more direct access to that experience, I certainly wouldn’t be averse to giving you some advice. I know you find yourself in the heirship very suddenly, but you don’t need to feel too intimidated by it. Your father is my friend, and I’d be glad to help his son in any way I might.”

“T-thank you, Lord Olander,” Wynn replied, before his eyes snapped toward the open door as the sound of approaching footsteps echoed into the chamber. Astra, too, turned her head just in time for a small waif of a girl to slink into the receiving room, bare of shoes and veil both, her dove-blonde hair hanging down to her chest in frizzy, unkempt waves.

“Aileen,” the lady of Ecliptus said, her voice equal parts reproach and anguish. “Where’s Henny?” This was the youngest Cressida daughter’s nursemaid.

“She put me in bed for a nap,” Aileen murmured, pausing across the room from her mother, brother, and the visiting Escalus lord. “But I didn’t want to take a nap. I’m not tired, Mama.” Her clear blue eyes listed toward Olander. “Who’s he?”

“Aileen!” Astra’s jaw fell open. “Don’t be rude.” Beckoning her daughter over and scooping the girl into her lap once she’d arrived, the woman said, “This is Lord Olander Escalus, of Heleos. Papa invited him here to come… help us, for a while.” Smoothing the child’s wild hair, Astra added to Olander, “I’m… sorry about her state. I… she doesn’t even have shoes, Woo, she’s going to catch a chill, she’s--”

“It’s quite alright, I don’t mind,” Olander replied, waving a hand and setting aside his plate. “I have children of my own, after all, I know sometimes they do as they please in defiance of all considerations of etiquette. My Filipe I think is just about of an age with this little one.” He turned his gaze on the child, his expression gentle. “With that much fire, you clearly take after your Ascension side. Your mama called you Aileen, right?”

Aileen nodded impassively, reaching a hand toward the plate of cheese on the table; Astra scowled and batted it down with a sharp, “Honey, please.” A beat. “And use your words to answer Lord Olander.”

“Okay,” the child murmured. “Yes, I’m Aileen.” She paused for a moment, considering. “Are you here to bring Jules back? Because Mama said he had to go away very far. And if you’re from Heleos, then that’s very far, right?”

Astra let out a noise that was barely human-- a strangled pitch halfway between a squawk and moan, with her blue eyes, which were mirrors of Aileen’s, instantly filling up with tears. Beside her, Wynn stiffened, incredulous, his stare suddenly burning into his baby sister as if he wished he could force the words she’d just spoken right back down her throat.

Olander was caught very much off guard by the question. After a moment’s hesitation, he shook his head regretfully. “I’m afraid that your brother has not come to Heleos. He’s gone even further still than that. Far beyond the boundaries of any Corvid’s territory. But if you keep him in your prayers, I… I’m sure the Lord Woo will watch over him, and that you’ll see him again one day.”

“But I don’t want anyone else to leave.” Aileen frowned, fidgeting in her mother’s lap. “Because first Papa went. And then Julius. And what if next--”

“Honey, no one else is leaving,” Astra cut in softly. “And Papa’s… not gone in the same way. Julius… he went far away, to be with the Lord Woo, as Lord Olander’s said. But Papa is just away on business. He’ll be back as soon as he can, okay?” Blinking back the tears-- as though willing herself to stay composed for the child’s sake-- Astra eased the girl back to her feet. “Wynn, why don’t you take Aileen back to her bedchambers? And see if you can’t find where Henny’s gone to. I don’t like your sister wandering the castle untended and barefoot in only her nightdress.”

“Yes, Mother.” Wynn stood, reaching out toward his sister and taking her hand into his. Before leading her toward the door, he bowed his head to Olander. “T-thank you for coming, Lord Olander,” he said. “My family appreciates your assistance in this… difficult time.”

“Of course, young Lord,” Olander replied with an encouraging smile. “Your father has been a good friend to me, and I would be a very poor man indeed if I turned away my help at a time like this.”

Once the youngsters were gone from the room, Olander waited just long enough to be certain they were out of earshot before giving Astra a consoling smile. “He’s trying, the poor lad. Woo bless him, he’s clearly trying his hardest.”

“He’s always been into magic,” Astra said. “Never politics. I… don’t think it’s hit him yet. Not really. Not what this means.” With a throaty sigh, she slumped in her chair, as if she could no longer keep up the diplomatic posture. “I’m just waiting for the moment he realizes he can’t very well scamper off to the Institute for four years. Basil would never allow it. Not… not now.”

Olander rubbed his knuckles absently, his expression sad. “Even if he just took a two year course, that’s still quite a long time to be without one’s heir, yes- and even if he did learn the arts, short of a war or a direct attack on Ecliptus he’d not be able to use them because it would be irresponsible for a lord to put himself in such danger. The Escalus heirs only really attend the college because of our traditional role as leaders of the warmage forces of Corvus- and because we’re close enough it isn’t that inconvenient.” The lord of Heleos hesitated a moment, then put a hand over Astra’s wrist. “I am deeply sorry that this has befallen you, Astra. I only saw Julius a handful of times, but even in those brief meetings his potential shone like a young star.”

“I shouldn’t have let him go, Olander,” Astra replied. “It wasn’t as if he was out doing anything useful-- he just wanted to buy… Woo, I can’t even remember-- it was only a week ago and I can’t even remember!” She let out a breathless, strangled laugh. “I should have told him to stay home. I should have told him to stay home.”

Olander gave the Cressida lady’s wrist a squeeze, shaking his head. “Much though we might wish it, parents can’t shelter their children from all of the world. My father, Lord Silas, was adamant that a noble should walk amongst his people and know their dispositions, that he might be a better ruler. Of course you’d never see such amongst the high lords, it is far below their dignity, but the minor nobility deals with common people far more directly and more frequently- this is our duty.” Olander sighed. “What happened to Julius was a disaster- but you mustn't blame yourself.”

“I suppose.” Astra didn’t sound convinced. “I… don’t want to drown you in my grief, Olander. You must be exhausted from the road. I can show you to the guest chambers, if you’d like. And get the information in order for you about meeting with the magistrate tomorrow.” With a dour glance out the window, she muttered, “Perhaps the Lord Woo will finally bless us with sun in the morning.”

“That would be wonderful,” Olander agreed. “The sooner the weather clears, the sooner the Ibis will return to its normal course, and the sooner young Aileen can have her father back.” He stood as well, making an inviting gesture. “Lead the way- I’ll certainly do my best by your family and your people, Astra.”

The Things We Take for Granted: Part Two

SPOILER: Click to show

The sun, indeed, made a rare appearance the next day, but in the depths of the city jail, one hardly would have known it. Its interior was decidedly dark and musty, and the city magistrate was grim-faced as he led Lord Olander and his escorts through a series of claustrophobic, curving halls, designed to disorient any prisoner who might manage to escape his cell.

“Pardon the smell,” the magistrate said as they finally drew to a halt in a surprisingly stately office, its wall painted a placid blue and its furniture old but meticulously maintained. “Sit, Lord Escalus, please.” He gestured to a half-moon of chairs in the center of the room, set about a weathered coffee table. “Wherever you’d like, if it pleases my lord.”

Olander took a seat in one of the chairs, the two knights who had accompanied him standing at ease just behind the chair on either side. He leaned forwards slightly, resting his elbow on one knee and his chin on his knuckle. “So I’ve heard the highlights- what can you tell me of what your investigations and questioning has pieced together of the more complete picture?”

“His name is Dalton,” the magistrate replied, taking a seat opposite the Escalus lord. “Gordon Dalton. And there’s no question of his guilt, my lord, at least not in the strict sense of things. It was his horse, his cart, and his carelessness that led to the madness in the market. He’s a young lad, not much older than poor Lord Julius, really. His father is a rather wealthy merchant about town-- he owns a clay-working business; it was the first time young Master Dalton was entrusted to transport the bricks. Rather than his father’s trusty old mare, he instead elected to use the family’s younger, newer mount, not long broken. And certainly not tame enough to handle the calamity that is the central marketplace on a Sunday. You might say Master Dalton grew cocky. When the horse spooked, he had no chance of stopping it.”

Olander made a soft tsking noise, his stormcloud grey eyes narrowing. “Lot of kids that age are dangerously overconfident and convinced of their own mortality- either they grow out of it or it bites them, eventually. It just usually doesn’t bite them and go for the jugular of four other people in the process.” He sighed, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. “Has there been any word from Master Dalton’s family? Or the families of those who lost loved ones in this catastrophe?”

“Master Dalton’s father has offered a hefty payment in exchange for the boy’s safe release and to cover the healer costs incurred by the injured victims. A tithe, they’ve called it, to cleanse his sins, although to be perfectly frank with you, I’m tempted to view it as closer to bribery. Money cannot stand in for the lives of four people.” The magistrate shrugged. “The elderly man who was killed was a widower with no living family. The young woman and her babe were peasants from the countryside, only come in to the city to visit a sickly aunt. Her husband was hurt, as well-- a broken clavicle and jaw, amongst other things. When he found out they were dead, he tried to jump out a third-floor window. A healer restrained him.”

Olander winced. He could certainly understand the man’s agony and despair, but suicide was against everything in the Books. He looked away, still thinking. “If the family has so much money to offer as a tithe, they can contribute a nice fine towards the medical expenses of the people who were hurt, and the damage to the city,” the Escalus lord said firmly. “As for the boy… Would it be an imposition if I spoke with him myself?” He looked back towards the magistrate, just for a moment letting a trace of something besides cool detachment flicker across his face. “I don’t like making life or death decisions of a man who is a faceless doll in my mind. It’s too easy.”

“Of course, Lord Escalus,” the magistrate agreed, rising. “Pray, if you’ll just wait here, I’ll bring him to you. It shouldn’t be more than a few minutes.” With a glance toward the knights who framed the lord, he added as she swept toward the door, “I shall make sure the accused remains in irons.”


Gordon Dalton didn’t seem to need the irons; as he was deposited in the room several minutes later by the magistrate and the jail’s warden, the latter of whom immediately departed once again with a deep bow to Olander, he looked about as dangerous as a kicked puppy. When he saw Olander and the knights, he wordlessly dropped to his knees and trained his eyes on the floor, his long, dark hair hanging like a curtain before his tanned face. His clothes might have once been fine, but the week in the city jail had seen them tarnished to tatters; his skin, too, was grimy, his fingernails black with filth. He did not look the son of a wealthy merchant but rather like a beggar wretch on the street.

“Gordon Dalton for you, my lord,” the magistrate said.

Olander nodded, standing and looking down at the boy. “Master Dalton, I am Lord Olander Escalus, ruler of the neighboring estates to the west. I stand in place of Lord Basil pro tem, and have his authorization to oversee the affairs of Ecliptus until he is able to return from Elacs. This, as I’m certain you may be able to surmise, includes seeing that his son’s blood is given due justice.” The lord kept his arms folded, resisting the urge to fiddle absently with his wand lest it be perceived as a threatening gesture. “What have you to say for yourself?”

“I… I didn’t mean it, my lord,” the boy murmured, trembling so heavily that the manacles clattered like windchimes. “It was an accident, what happened. And I… I tried to stop Pearly-- that’s… the horse, that’s his name, I-- well, that doesn’t matter, I just…” He forced a deep breath, ostensibly in an attempt to calm himself. “T-The Lord Woo says that if you repent, if you had no malice, you just… you just need to look f-for forgiveness in the heavens, and I… well-- I am very sorry, I--”

“You killed four people, Master Dalton.” The magistrate’s voice was sharp. “Including your lord’s eldest son and heir, and an infant whose milk teeth had yet to even grow in. I think you’ll need a little more than sorry.”

“Yes, of course, I-- I apologize, I know that, I…” Dalton brought his eyes up toward Olander. “We can pay a fine, my lord. I’m sure we could pay any fine you could levy-- my father would-- I--”

“Lives are not something that can be measured in coin,” Olander retorted coldly. “Shall I kill one of your younger sibs and offer you a pouch of silver as recompense?”

“But… no, of course not,” Dalton stammered. “It wasn’t o-on purpose, though, what I did-- I hardly slew anyone on purpose-- it was just… an accident, my lord. A horrible accident.” His tongue clearly working faster than his brain, he added, “And I’ve… suffered, too, I mean-- I had my ankle twisted going after Pearly, trying to stop him-- I was trying to stop him-- and I… I--”

“Quiet,” Olander said, his voice soft but the anger in it strong enough to slice through Dalton’s hysterical rambling like a blade. “Let me tell you a little something about sincere remorse, young man.” The nobleman put a hand on the sword that hung opposite his wand holster. “I’ve killed men before- by my own hand and by my orders. I know guilt, and remorse. So I know full well that what you are offering me is not remorse- it’s excuses. You are more afraid for your own life than you are guilty about the lives that were lost by your thoughtless actions. True remorse knows that an apology is never enough.”

“Of course I’m afraid,” Dalton sputtered. “A-anybody would be afraid-- but I… I’m also sorry, and I…” Staring straight up at Olander even as the rest of his body slumped in a blend of exhaustion and terror, the boy asked, “W-what would you want from me, my lord? To show that I’m r-remorseful? I… I swear that I am, but if I have to… prove it somehow, o-or… do something…”

Olander didn’t answer at first. He merely stared down at the boy, grey eyes hard and expression impassive. In turn, Dalton fidgeted like an anxious child, his mouth opening and then closing again several times but no coherent sounds escaping his lips. As if he knew better than to beg more before the lord had responded to his previous beseeching question.

Olander let the minutes stretch in silence. Finally, he spoke. “Let’s play ‘just suppose.’ Just suppose I agree to let you go. You scurry back to your family. Probably your parents will leave the city, take you somewhere else where no one has heard of what transpired here. You get to move on with your life, content and happy and far away from any consequences that might come of your actions. Meanwhile, here in Ecliptus, the people who have been hurt, who have had property destroyed that they may very well not be able to afford to repair, who have lost loved ones they can never replace, may well have to live with what you’ve done for the rest of their lives.” The nobleman’s eyes narrowed. “Is that your remorse, boy? Is that what you’re asking of me?”

“No,” Dalton choked out. Then: “I don’t know. I… I suppose if a fine alone isn’t adequate… I could… you could… put me in the stocks, or… keep me in this jail for a while, or…” He shook his head. “I don’t know, my lord. I don’t know what you want me to say, since clearly my apologies bear nothing on your opinion. No matter how much I mean them. No matter how much I regret what happened to all those people.”

The nobleman closed his eyes, saying nothing. Finally, he looked the boy square in the eye. “If true remorse motivates you, then I shall give you all the time you need to seek the Woo’s mercy. Perhaps, given sufficient time and prayer, he may absolve you of the sins on your soul. But for all we are men of the Woo, the earth must too have justice.” Olander turned to the magistrate. “Take him before the city, and have him flogged. Then--”

“No,” Dalton practically yelped. “Flogged? But-- it… this was an accident! It was an accident.” Rashly, he shifted as though to stand, but the magistrate caught him by the shoulder and shoved the boy back down. As his knees snapped against the stone floor beneath, he blathered on, “And… you… I don’t mean disrespect to you, of course, but you-- you’re not even from here, you’re not the lord of Ecliptus, so is it really under your authority to be making decisions like? Is it--”

“For your information,” Olander hissed. “If the Lady Cressida had her way, your neck would be in a noose, young Master Dalton. You should be bloody well thanking me. Blood for blood, boy. You’re lucky I am not offering your life.”

If anything, this snarl only further swelled the boy’s already-rising hysteria. “I just-- I… blood for blood if it’s deliberate, of course, but this wasn’t, you have to know it wasn’t. And if I’m flogged before the entire city, and brought to such shame-- t-think of how it will impact my family, to know that our name is being tarnished over an accident. An accident! Sentenced by a lord who has no legal right to mete such sentences at all!”

“Be silent!” Olander roared. “Do you have no notion of what you’ve done, you impudent brat? Julius Cressida was the king’s bloody grandson! If this had happened in Medieville you’d have been killed on the spot- if Lady Astra were any less shell-shocked you’d have been killed on the spot!” He looked at the magistrate, his expression hard. “Remove the boy. I’ll get nothing else from him.”

“Of course, my lord,” the magistrate replied, wrenching the blithering wreck who was Gordon Dalton up from the floor. The boy bucked against the hold, and the magistrate glowered, his fingers curling like manacles in and of themselves over Dalton’s arm. “What the bloody hell do you think that’s going to win you?” he snapped, hefting Dalton toward the door. “Be cooperative, or so help you I will sign a warrant of execution myself.” He looked to Olander. “I’ll be back momentarily, Lord Escalus. I… apologize for the boy’s disrespect, I assure you the citizens of Ecliptus are not normally so obtuse and flagrantly inflammatory.”

Olander watched the magistrate leave with the boy, his mouth thinning. It was difficult to say if the young man really did feel remorse, but if he did it was buried under the weight of Dalton’s selfish desire to squirm out of trouble. His demeanor reeked of a boy who’d spent his entire life coddled by his parents, disciplined only sparsely, and shielded from consequences. Certainly that impression was reinforced by the way his parents thought that they could buy the boy out of trouble after he’d killed their lord’s heir. The boy seemed to think he was somehow above justice, that his life… not even his life, his comfort was more important than the pain he’d put all of these families through. It made Olander feel sick.

When the magistrate returned several minutes later, it was with a heavy, almost awkward bow. “I once again issue my apologies, Lord Escalus,” he said. “Had I known he’d be so… volatile, shall we say… I’d have spared you the fury of finding out for yourself.”

“It’s hardly your fault,” Olander replied dismissively. “He was docile enough when you brought him in. I can’t believe he sincerely thought he would get off with no punishment- that he seemed to think he deserved to get off without punishment because he claimed to be sorry.” Olander’s hand gripped his sword, and a ghost of something between bitterness and regret flashed across his face for a split second. “True remorse is not just given lip service- it is willing to do anything to atone, because it knows that nothing can ever be enough.”

“He is young, brash, and spoiled,” the magistrate replied. “He knows no humility. He is used to getting his way in life.” The man drew himself up from the bow. “What are your orders, my lord? For his punishment? Lady Cressida has told me to submit to your wishes and judgment.”

Olander hated the whole situation. He had given this order before, but he never enjoyed it. Not even when the perpetrator had assassinated his father, Silas Escalus.

“He may be a brash teenager, but the fact that his arrogance got four people killed and he still refuses to be humbled is a very bad sign. Given liberty, he will make the same mistake or a similar one again. Any corporal punishment we mete out will be received only with resentment and a sense of martyrdom; it will teach him nothing.” The Escalus lord clenched his jaw, rage lashing at his chest more at himself for not being able to find a sound alternative than at Dalton. “There is no other option that I can make in good conscience. Tell him he has until mid afternoon to make his peace with the Woo- then hang him.”

The Things We Take For Granted: Part Three

SPOILER: Click to show

Olander gave the order for the boy’s family to be allowed one hour with him, to say their final goodbyes. Then, midafternoon, in an ironically sunny spurt amidst the general rainy gloom that had pervaded Corvus for so long, Gordon Dalton was hanged.

Olander watched- he would have felt cold and cowardly to do otherwise. Astra, still clad in her mourning dress and veil, stood impassively at the Escalus lord’s side, displaying no emotion or affect as Dalton’s neck snapped like a twig underfoot. Had Basil been in Ecliptus, she might have been persuaded to stay home-- attending public executions was hardly a part of the customary formal mourning process-- but with no one to stop her, the woman could not stand the idea of the person who’d gotten her son killed being punished as she sat idly in Ecliptus Castle but a few miles away. Julius was dead, violently and far too soon: Astra felt she owed it to her boy, to at least watch as the man who’d done it paid.

For Olander, however, the matter was far less personal. He’d known Julius of course, met him a few times, but it still felt to the Escalus lord that he was not really exacting justice- just killing an arrogant teenager who was too proud to realize the gravity of his actions, and too dangerous to let live.

As was always the case when he had to order an execution, Olander felt physically sick the rest of the day. He politely declined any dinner, and was up well into the night brooding before finally sleep claimed him. The following morning it was clear his mood was still distant. He had only a few wedges of orange to pass for a breakfast before slipping into what would normally be Basil’s office to attend some paperwork that had been neglected since Julius’ death.

Though the office ought to have been empty, in practice it was not: As Olander shut the door behind him, someone shifted audibly from behind the desk. Olander’s head snapped around, hand darting to his wand. “Who’s there?” he asked.

“I’m sorry.” The small girl seated behind the desk, propped up on her knees so that she was tall enough to reach its parchment-strewn surface, looked instantly close to tears. “I know I’m not supposed to be in here-- Mama’s going to be so mad, I--”

Olander was caught thoroughly by surprised. His hand fell from his wand holster and he walked towards the child. “Aileen?” he asked, bending down on his knees on the opposite side of the desk so he was on eye-level with her. “Woo, what are you doing in here? I’d not have fancied you the sort who prefers paperwork to playing, though I can’t imagine your Papa would be upset to have an assistant.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” She jutted her chin, at once sullen and defiant. “And Mama said it’s too rainy outside to play there. And I miss my papa, and I wanted to see his things.” Brushing a hand over the fan of parchment on the desk, she added almost ruefully, “I know my letters, you know. I can help. So that he hasn’t so many things to do when he comes home from far away.”

“That’s quite thoughtful of you,” Olander said with a smile. “I bet someday, once you’ve grown into a beautiful young woman, you’ll be a fine partner for your husband and help him an awful lot.” The lord winked at her. “I’ve heard it said that behind every strong man is an even stronger woman.”

He reached towards the five year old and gave the veil on her head a ruffle, mussing it slightly. “I came in here for the same reason, actually. Maybe we can both work together to get through this mountain?”

“You won’t tell Mama?” Aileen narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “She’d be cross if she knew I came in here. She says I’m not allowed.”

“I won’t,” he promised. “But if she finds out anyway she can be cross at me, because I told you it was okay.” He indicated the chair behind the desk that Aileen was presently occupying. “You mind sharing that? You can sit in my lap so that you can see over the desk without having to hurt your knees.”

Aileen obliged with a bright nod, rising to make room for Olander before perching atop his lap. “Jules sometimes lets me help, too,” she said. “As long as I don’t tell Mama. He’s teaching me how to write my name. I like him better than my tutors.”

Olander gave a sad smile at that. “Is that so? I’m glad to hear it- he sounds like a wonderful lad.” The Escalus lord set about sorting the papers on the desk into piles, adding, “My little boys don’t usually ask to help me while I’m working- I’m a little jealous!”

“Papa never says yes,” Aileen said. “He drags me out and says it’s not my place.” She paused to trace her finger over the lettering on one of the pages, the dried ink from her father’s quill meted in careful and even hand. “Are your sons far away, too? Like Julius?”

“No,” Olander said softly. “They’re in my home city, Heleos. They’re too little to make journeys yet. I think my heir is actually close to your age- how old are you?”

“Five,” Aileen said. “My birthday was in July. My papa bought me a dolly.” Perking up considerably, she added, “Do you want to see her? I’ve got ribbons for her hair.”

“Maybe in a little while,” he suggested. “For now there’s work to do, and if you go scampering across the castle to fetch your dolly your Mama or your nursemaid might find you. But hey- my little boy also just turned five in July! So you two are almost the exact same age.” Teasingly he added, “Maybe you two should have a joust to decide who gets to keep the birthday- we can’t have two July five year olds, that’s too many for just one month.”

Aileen giggled. “That’s not how birthdays work, silly,” she chided. “Jules is born in July, too, you know. You can have as many people born then as you want!”

The girl’s eyes snapped then from the parchment on the desk over toward the door as somebody turned the handle and it swung open with a groan. All note of cheer evaporated from Aileen’s face as a rather-flustered looking Wynn Cressida stepped into the room, clad in mourning black as he’d been the days before, but in considerably less polite of mood.

“There you are.” He glowered at his sister. “Mum’s been looking bloody everywhere for you! She’s about to have a panic attack, Aileen.” As though seeing Olander for the first time, the boy spared an awkward smile and bow. “Lord Olander. My apologies if she’s been disturbing you.”

“Not at all, though I’m sorry to hear Lady Astra has been fretting,” Olander replied, feeling a twinge of guilt. Of course right after she’d lost Julius Astra would overreact to one of her children slipping off. Suppressing a sigh, Olander took the small girl in his arms and stood. “I suppose we’d better go see your Mama so she doesn’t fret- where is the lady, Lord Wynn?”

As Aileen wilted in Olander’s arms, Wynn turned back toward the door. “She’s in the parlour by the garden. With our sister, Mal. About to call for a full-scale search of the castle.” Speaking only to Aileen now, the newly minted Cressida heir added acerbically, “Is that what you wanted, Aileen? For the the knights to waste their time scouring the place for you because you can’t stay put where you’re allowed to actually be?”

“No.” Her lip quivered. “But I… I miss Papa, and I wanted to see his things, and Lord Olander said--”

“Stop talking back to me, for Woo’s sake,” Wynn snapped. “I should think Mum will be sour enough with you as it is.”

Olander frowned. “Young lord, please do not be so harsh. I know the family is in mourning, but it doesn’t help the situation for you to take out your emotions on each other- I am the one at fault here for not insisting Aileen return to her nursemaid the moment I found her.”

“She’s always going where she’s not allowed,” Wynn grumbled by way of answer. Then: “I’ll show you to the parlour, Lord Olander. Hopefully Mum won’t have torn all her hair out by now.”

Lady Astra’s hair, although mostly hidden beneath the obligate veil, indeed seemed to be intact when Wynn and Olander, the latter still toting Aileen, arrived to the garden-side parlour a few minutes later. The woman had barely laid a glimpse on the small girl before tears of relief pricked in her eyes; she sharply blinked them back.

“See, Mum,” said the other, older girl sitting beside her on the high-backed settee, clad in the same black as her mother and siblings. “I told you she was fine.”

“Hush, Mal.” Astra stood. “Thank you for finding her, Wynn.” She nodded to the Escalus lord. “Olander. Where was she?”

“With me,” he replied, his voice sincerely apologetic as he offered the five year old to her mother; Astra accepted her readily, smoothing a tendril of pale hair that had escaped from the girl’s dark veil. “I went to Basil’s office to get some work done and found her there. Don’t be too cross with the child, it was my fault for not returning her immediately. Situations like yesterday always put me in an ill temper, so the innocence of a small child was a Woosend for the mood I was in- it was selfish of me, and I apologize.”

He bowed his head, adding gesture to the verbal admission of guilt.

“You’re hardly the one who made her creep in there,” Astra replied. “There is no need for apologies, Olander.” She glanced down at Aileen, who had gone decidedly sullen in her mother’s arms. “Why did you go in there, honey? You’ve been told a dozen times not to.”

“I wanted to help.” Aileen’s voice cracked. “Everyone’s so sad, and no one will tell me why, and I miss Papa, and Julius is gone, and I just wanted to help.”

“You’ve been told why, Aileen.” This bitter comment came from Malenna, still seated on the couch. “So can’t you just stop being a terror for a few bloody days so everyone can mourn in peace without you causing problems?”

“Malenna!” Astra rounded on the older girl. “I don’t care if you’re upset: You don’t speak to your sister like that, let alone in the presence of a visiting lord!”

“But she doesn’t get it!” Malenna growled. “I’m tired of her-- and everyone else, for that matter!-- talking about how Julius is gone, like he’s just taking a vacation!” Jabbing a finger at her sister-- and, in turn, her mother-- the girl hissed, “He’s not gone, Aileen. He is dead. A horse stepped on his Woo-cursed head, and he’s dead, and Mum wouldn’t even let me go to watch them hang the person who caused it!”

Olander was taken extremely aback by the unabashed bluntness. Softly, looking directly at Malenna, he said, “Execution is not a spectator sport. It is awful, and had I any other recourse, I’d never have ordered it.” Shaking his head, he added, “And lashing out at your sister isn’t going to bring Julius back.” Glancing at Wynn he added, “No amount of lashing out is going to help.”

He turned to Astra, murmuring, “Maybe you should take Aileen back to her nursemaids? I think the situation here is only going to escalate unless everyone has time to calm down.”

Astra nodded shortly. “I… apologize for their behaviour,” she said, stepping toward the door. “And Malenna, if you ever speak to someone in this family like that again, so help me I will scrub your tongue raw with soap.” She paused. “And I want you to apologize to Lord Olander directly. He hardly needs to hear you snarling like a drunkard on the street.”

With that, the lady of House Cressida strode from the parlour, Aileen now close to tears in her arms and murmuring into her mother’s ear about what, exactly, it meant for Julius to be dead. Wynn, still standing awkwardly in between his sister and the Escalus lord, murmured something beneath his breath about needing to get a drink before he promptly fled after his mother, leaving Olander and Malenna in the room alone.

Olander turned to Malenna, his grey eyes troubled. “I know you’re grieving,” he said softly. “And I know that as an outsider it isn’t really my business to meddle with your family. But lashing out like that is only going to make things worse.” He spread his arms. “Despite what your mother said, I’m not really the one owed an apology here, I don’t think.”

“I’m not going to apologize to Aileen,” Malenna said, obstinate. “Or to Mum. They’re both in denial. I meant what I said.” Her blue eyes now glazed with tears, she added, “Julius was the only one who was actually always nice to me. Instead of scolding me or bothering me or… or… whatever else they all do. He’s the one who taught me how to hold a sword, even though Papa would have killed him if he knew. And he’s the one who let me cry on his shoulder when my parents told me I couldn’t ever go work as a mage somewhere cool and far away because I have to marry Roderick Jade instead.” As if Olander had never heard of her betrothed before, she added darkly, “He’s almost twenty, you know. By the time we get married, he’ll be old.”

Olander scowled a little, “I’m familiar with Patrick Jade’s plotting to wed all the viable mage children in Corvus to his descendants. My sister Eleanor was married to Roderick’s father Eduard until he died last year.” The Escalus opted not to mention that he’d not spoken to his sister in over a decade, nor that their estrangement was over an argument about Roderick.

...Nor that he agreed with Patrick’s efforts in theory, but in practice found it irksome that the man insisted on snapping up all of the Corvid nobility’s mage children for his cadet line descendants, so that the remaining houses had to pick over his rejects for their heirs.

None of these political complications were important just now. Instead he gave the young girl a sympathetic look. “It sounds like Julius was a good man. I got that impression as well, the few times I met him. But Aileen is too young to understand what death really means, and your mother is hurting too much to try and explain it in a way that she’ll understand. Neither of them is intentionally trying to hurt you.”

“That doesn’t mean they aren’t doing it, anyway,” Malenna retorted. “I hate them. I hate all of them. Except for Julius.” She laughed darkly-- miserably-- before, with a sharp flick of her wrist, she reached up and yanked off her stiff black mourning veil, sending a cascade of loose blonde curls falling over her shoulders. “He would find all of this stupid. That’s the ironic thing. The mourning garb. The giant funeral. Mum unable to even say the word dead.”

Olander felt thoroughly out of his depth in this conversation. This was the sort of talk that should have been happening between Malenna and a close family friend- someone who knew Julius, but wasn’t so close to him to be as gutted as his family was. Olander was good friends with Basil, but the rest of the Cressidas were mostly just acquaintances, if not strangers outright.

“I can’t pretend to know if what you’re saying is the truth or not,” he said, “Though from what Aileen told me of Julius I surmise it is.” He tilted his head. “What do you imagine he’d have done instead, then?”

“I don’t know.” Malenna shrugged, dropping the veil onto the empty seat beside her. “Had a quiet, private funeral. Told everyone to be sad that he’s gone, but not… ridiculous. He would have told Mum to be honest with Aileen. To not beat around the truth with her instead of spinning vague tales of him being gone, like he’s just off on business with Papa.” The girl’s fingers dancing toward the wand holster at her hip, she added, “Mum hasn’t slept in days, I don’t think. Not really. She must have peeked into my room five times throughout last night alone. Part of me just wants to… I don’t know, find a spell to knock her out. She says she’s fine, but she’s not. No one is. No one.”

“I’d advise against attempting to use any magic on your mother,” Olander said dryly. “She will no doubt be warded, like any Corvid noble. And I seriously doubt raising your wand against your mother is something Julius would want.” He sighed. “She’s just trying to be strong for you. All three of you. But it’s hard, because she’s grieving too, and she has to bottle it. This… overprotectiveness, overcompensation, it’ll pass.”

Her lip bit and veil still crumpled on the couch, Malenna stood and angled her body toward the door. “I’m not wearing the stupid mourning veil anymore,” she said. “And I’m changing out of these awful clothes. If Mum wants to harp on me, then she can harp on me. But I’m done with this. I’m done.”

Olander crossed his arms, irritation spiking in him somewhat. He knew the girl was just acting out because she was upset, but he also knew this sort of behavior was not something Basil would ever have tolerated from his daughter. Part of Basil’s request had been for Olander to look after the family as well as the estate, but… Olander wasn’t an idiot. He knew this girl, especially given the mood she was in, wasn’t going to take scolding from a stranger very well. Bracing himself for backlash, but feeling he had an obligation to try for his friend’s sake- the last thing he wanted as for Basil to return to his children running riot.

“I’m fairly well certain your father would have some things to say about that,” he said cooly. “I understand you’re grieving, and you’re angry, but I’ve already told you lashing out isn’t going to help. Being flagrantly defiant just because you think you can isn’t going to help either. It’s just going to make everyone else miserable, and make you look like a spoiled little girl who thinks she’s above tradition and decorum.” He picked up the veil, smoothing it out and holding it out to the girl. His voice very much like ice, he added, “If you need someone to rage at, you may rage at me. However, I would advise you listen to me and stop taking out your grievances on your family. I’ve been sympathetic so far, but I think you’ll find me far less sympathetic to someone who thinks acting out for the sake of acting out is an acceptable outlet for her grief.”

“I… I…” Malenna waffled, staring the proffered veil for a moment before reluctantly accepting it into her own hand. “I didn’t mean to rage at you. I just… I…” She blinked sharply. “I’m sorry. Please don’t tell my mother what I said. A-about her. I know she’s trying, I know. It’s just hard, okay? Papa’s not here, and Mum’s gone nearly catatonic, and Aileen’s a mess, and even Wynn is broody, and… I don’t know what to do. I feel like everyone’s drowning, and there’s nothing I can do to stop them. Nothing I can do but watch them all disappear under the waves.”

Olander’s expression eased somewhat, becoming sympathetic again. “I understand. I’m fairly sure that out in Elacs your father is tearing his hair out with frustration knowing how much you’re all hurting and that the can’t do anything about it. That’s why he asked me here- to do what I can to help. I know I didn’t know your brother all that well, and that I’m a stranger to you, but your father is my friend and I certainly don’t want to see his family sunken in despair any more than you do. Just give them some time. Something like this, they’re not going to bounce back from it right away.”

“H-how long are you staying, anyhow?” Malenna asked. “I mean… Papa’s coming back soon, isn’t he? Mum says it’s just until the rain lets up, and I mean, it can’t rain forever.” She paused, and her tone almost pleading as she added a moment later, “Right?”

“It won’t be forever,” Olander assured her. “Certainly I can’t leave Heleos unsupervised for that long. I can’t say for certain how long it’ll be exactly- the rain needs to stop, and then the floodwaters recede, and then there is still the not insignificant distance between here and Elacs. Probably two weeks at minimum? But I can’t give you more than that.”

“Two weeks.” Malenna sighed. “I… suppose that’s not the end of the world. As long as Mum starts sleeping again. I’m afraid she’s going to collapse.” Taking a hesitant step toward the door, she dipped her head into a shallow bow. “Thank you for listening to me, Lord Olander. Even if I said things that I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry I spoke like that. I… I understand if you wish to tell my mother. N-not exactly exactly what I said, of course, about her, but just that I was… rude, as my father would put it.”

The Escalus lord gave a dismissive hand wave. “So long as there are no further issues with your behavior, I am content to leave things as they are. As for your mother, if it becomes clear she’s endangering her health, I’ll speak to a healer. The last thing I want is to have to explain to Basil when he gets back is why his wife has made herself ill from sleep deprivation.” He gave her a small smile. “You may go, dear. I suppose I’ll see you at supper.”

Malenna nodded. “Of course. I should… probably go and pin my hair back up so I can get this veil back on, anyway. I… thank you again, Lord Olander. I appreciate your understanding and kindness.”

And with that, the girl began toward the door, leaving it open behind her as she then turned and started down the narrow, winding hall. Olander watched her go wordlessly, waiting until he was sure she was gone before giving a gusty sigh. This really wasn’t his strong suit. But he owed it to Basil to at least try his best. Hopefully things would improve as time passed and the Cressidas found things to distract from their grief.

In the meantime, Olander had paperwork to do.

The Things We Take for Granted: Part Four

SPOILER: Click to show

A few days later the rain finally slackened, eliciting some cautious optimism from the residents of Ecliptus. By the time a week had passed since Olander and Malenna’s conversation, their hope was rewarded with a pigeon from Basil- the water level of the Ibis River was finally going down. It wasn’t safe to cross yet, but things were improving.

Olander decided to take advantage of the improved weather to get out of Ecliptus Castle for a bit. He ordered his horse saddled for a ride through the countryside out of the city boundaries. He also approached Astra about bringing her or one of her older children along as well, noting that getting out in the sunlight and away from the gloomy mood that had pervaded the city might afford them some good.

Astra declined on her own behalf, with bags beneath her eyes informing Olander that she didn’t yet feel up to such an excursion, but Wynn, after some hesitation, accepted the offer. Clearly the most composed of any Cressida currently in Ecliptus, he’d been putting on a brave face for his mother and sisters’ sakes, but such a burden was clearly beginning to take its toll on him. He was pale-- almost sallow-- and antsy as all be, with nervous, suppressed energy humming beneath his skin like the rumble of a cicada’s wings. The castle was beginning to feel smothering to him, a tangible weight, and even if part of him felt he ought stay behind to look after his mother, Astra assured him she’d be okay without him for the day.

His sister, Malenna, accepted with far less reluctance: She was rarely allowed out on such excursions, and if Astra’s grief had impelled Wynn into acting the dutiful, comforting son, Malenna couldn’t agree fast enough to something that would get her away from her mother’s haze of despondency for the afternoon.

Olander ordered an escort of half Escalus knights, half Cressida. He knew his own men would instinctively prioritize his safety in a fix, but that the Cressida men would immediately protect Basil’s children- and it kept either side from feeling snubbed. Once all the niceties had been seen to, he mounted his placid palomino gelding and led the party out of the castle gates and towards the road that led out of the city.

“It was good to finally hear from your father,” he remarked briskly. “Hopefully within another few days the river will recede enough that he can begin to make his way back home.”

“Mother certainly hopes so,” Wynn replied from atop his chestnut mare. “She’s never missed him before when he travels, but I half-expect her to fall into his arms when he reaches the castle this time.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised if she did,” Olander agreed. “I’ve done what I can to lighten the burden, but I’m sure having the true lord of Ecliptus back in his proper place will be a tremendous load off of her mind. Given the way she’s been hovering over everyone I imagine she’s probably worried about him, though loath to admit it.”

Wynn nodded. “Thank you for all you’ve done for us, Lord Olander,” he said. “And I’m sure your family should be pleased to have you back as well.”

Malenna, side-saddle on her own horse-- a dapple gelding which Wynn had deemed the most docile of the Cressida’s lot, and thus the most suitable for his young sister-- gave a nod of her own. “Mum’s been too dour to say much of anything to anyone, but I know she appreciates it as well.” The girl hesitated. “Especially what you did about, well… the boy.”

Olander looked up at the blue sky, his expression difficult to read. “I appreciate her gratitude, but I can never feel any pride or satisfaction for it. It was a decision I made only after careful weighing, and it was not with revenge but a deep unease that I gave the order.” He shook his head, looking down at them again and smiling. “But certainly you are very welcome- I’m glad to have been able to do you all a good turn in this time of need. The Woo instructs us to be generous and loving towards our neighbors, after all.”

“He does,” Wynn agreed with a soft, sad smile, flicking his gaze forward as the retinue neared the city gates. “Was there anyplace in particular you wanted to go, Lord Olander?” the boy asked. “I know a number of decent trails, but if you’ve any one you’d prefer, then it’s your choice.”

“You know this countryside far better than I,” Olander noted with a smile. He glanced at the Cressida knights in attendance. “As long as our escort has no problems with the path you choose, I am content to follow your lead. I should hardly like to pretend to better knowledge of the terrain than I actually have and lead us all right into a bog!”

“We can take the northerly route around the dry lakebed?” Wynn suggested, glancing over his shoulder toward the closest Cressida knight.

“It’s no longer quite so dry, Lord Wynn,” the man pointed out with a bemused smirk. “But so long as we’re careful, it ought not be too dangerous.” He looked to Olander, as if seeking final approval. “It’s not the easiest path-- it’s a bit narrow at points. If we take it, I might recommend that Lady Malenna keeps to your and Lord Wynn’s rear. She is not the most experienced rider.”

“That sounds reasonable to me,” Olander agreed. “If it seems too dangerous or looks like the rain has washed it out too much we can turn back- better to play safe. But with any luck we should be fine.” He gave Wynn a theatrical bow from astride his horse. “Lead the way, Lord Cressida.”

Wynn obliged, the party settling into a brisk, steady pace as it threaded out from the tangled morass that was Ecliptus proper into the surrounding, swampy countryside. The ground was still saturated, but the sun overhead was bright, with starbursts of white, dandelion-puff clouds dangling overhead.

“I think I could never see anything but sun and be okay with it,” Wynn said after a while, the Cressida heir’s voice rueful. “I’d forgotten what sunshine feels like.”

Riding beside her brother, as the group had yet to reach the narrow, curving lakeside path, Malenna snorted. “You’re so dramatic, Wynn,” she said. “You’d think you’d just survived a winter in Bern, not a stormy spell in Corvus.”

“Some healers think that a long time not seeing the sun can actually have an effect on your mood,” Olander put in. “The college in Heleos is focused more on war magic, healing is a minor point of study, but I’ve spoken to healers who studied at St. Nephrite’s Academy of Sorcery in Solis and there has been some evidence to suggest a connection.” With a wry grin he added, “Not to mention the simple fact that being cooped up inside makes one go just a little bit stir-crazy after a while.”

“I’ve never much liked it,” Wynn said. “Healing. But my father and I have discussed my studying at the Institute in your city once I’m older. A four-year course.”

Olander was long accustomed to diplomacy, and his expression didn’t falter in spite of the pang of pity he felt towards the young boy. He knew that there was no way now Wynn could come to the Institute, but Olander did not want to be the one to have that conversation with him- it was absolutely something he needed his father to discuss with him.

Certainly I’ve not proven myself adept at breaking bad news to children, what with the way Anders is still sulking about not being the heir no matter how many times I’ve tried to explain, he reflected ruefully.

“What about you, Malenna?” Olander asked. “I imagine you might be able to talk the Jades into letting you take a few courses at St. Nephrites once you’re there.”

“I haven’t really thought about it.” The girl frowned. “I’ve never even met any of them. I have no idea what they’ll let me do.” Almost bitterly, she added, “I used to sometimes think I’d be able to go to the Institute, too. When I was little. Then I was betrothed to Roderick.”

“You couldn’t have gone no matter,” Wynn pointed out. If he’d caught on to his sister’s disappointment, he hardly seemed to care to soothe her. “Father wouldn’t have ever paid to send you.”

“You don’t know that,” Malenna said. A wicked bite slipping into her voice, she continued, “And what makes you think you’re going to be able to go now, anyway? Sure, I have to go off to Solis whether I like it or not. But without Julius, what does that mean for you?”

“Let’s not bicker, we’re trying to have a nice day,” Olander cut in crisply. “I’ll not have you two antagonizing each other.” In a tone that brooked no argument he added, “Arranged marriages are something almost all nobles have to endure, Malenna. It’s our duty, for the sake of the lands we govern. Perhaps Lord Roderick does not want to marry a sullen teenager who resents him for something he had no part in- he has to anyway.”

Opting to steer the conversation away from magic- apparently that was something of a hot button in this family- Olander turned to Wynn. “So what other hobbies do you have? I presume I’ve not seen you much at your usual leisure given the circumstances. I’m partial to hunting and falconry myself.”

“My father takes Julius and me hunting a lot,” Wynn said with a knowing nod. “Although Julius never much liked it. Father’s partial to hounds, and in July his prized dam whelped a big litter. I’ve already got my eye on one of the pups. The kennelmaster has high hopes for him.”

“He’s cute,” Malenna added, as if this had any bearing on the dog’s viability as a hunter. “He has rings around his eye. Like a coon’s mask.”

“Hound coursing isn’t as direct as I usually prefer, but I dabble,” Olander admitted. “I imagine you mostly take rabbits and birds? You’re a little young yet for a full stag hunt and a fox hunt would likely be more tedium than someone inexperienced would care for, especially in this climate.”

“Largely birds and rabbits, yes,” Wynn agreed. “But Father has some grand scheme of training the new litter on boar. I don’t think the kennelmaster is particularly enthused. And I doubt I’d be allowed to come with, anyway.”

Olander seemed taken aback. “That is… certainly ambitious. I imagine hounds would probably only be useful against boar as bay dogs, an average boar is twice a hound’s height and a hundred times its weight. Using them as catch dogs would be futile.” He frowned a bit, but then shrugged. “It is upon Basil what he wants to do with his own beasts. I usually don’t hunt boar myself, unless one has been terrorizing a local village.”

The lord turned to Malenna, “Do you spend much time with the hounds then? My hunt master tells me that playing with humans from the time they’re pups helps them to imprint more on humans and makes them more obedient.”

Malenna spared a reluctant glance at her brother before answering. “I’m not really supposed to,” she said. “But Aileen begs me to take her. Especially when we have puppies. With the litter before this, she smuggled one into the castle; it chewed a hole through Father’s dress cloak. I thought he was going to kill her.” As the girl seemed to realize the bad timing of her last turn of phrase, she froze. “I mean-- not kill, I just… I…”

“I can certainly see that having gone poorly,” Olander said smoothly, with only an internal wince for the poor girl. “Still the girl can’t have suffered too badly from it, since by all accounts she’s still a young bundle of mischief. Whoever she marries when she’s older will have his hands-”

It all happened very fast: One moment Malenna’s horse was trotting alongside the others, and the next the girl was struggling with its reins as the animal’s eye fell on something ahead on the path-- a snake, large and brown, basking beneath the rare slice of sun-- and it instantly reacted by starting to buck back, letting out a whicker as it did. Olander’s head snapped around, his jaw going tight as he realized the horse was spooking. One of the Escalus knights accompanying them started to shout a warning as Olander’s hand darted for his wand holster.

“Easy,” Malenna breathed, a last ditch effort, but her voice was tremulous and it was to no avail, the girl just barely managing to keep a hold of the reins as the animal thrashed again.

Olander drew his wand, elm wood gleaming in the sunlight and the poppy topaz affixed to the tip flaring with light as he muttered an incantation. The spell hit Malenna’s horse, instantly seizing it with a dull, leaden drowsiness. Not a fully fledged sleep spell, at least not one something as big as a horse- if used on an average human it would’ve had them out cold instantly- but hopefully enough…

The horse froze. Or, at the very least, stopped trying to throw its rider. Gripping to the reins with white knuckles, Malenna out a soft, almost strangled moan and drooped down on the saddle. Ahead of her, one of the Cressida knights stared at the cause of the near-disaster-- the basking snake-- with a wary eye, as though he wished to dispatch it but knew better than to try.

“Are you alright, my lady?” he asked instead.

“Yes,” she murmured. Then: “No.” Tears pricked in her pale eyes, but the girl sharply blinked them back.

“Of all the times,” Olander muttered darkly, glaring at the snake. He pointed his wand at it and snapped, “Imobulus! There, that’ll keep it paralyzed for a while.” He dismounted and walked over to Malenna, putting a hand up to her gelding and stroking it to reinforce the calm of the drowsiness spell that had been cast on it.

“Are you hurt, Malenna?” he asked gently.

“I don’t think so,” she said, her eye trained on the Cressida knight as, with the snake immobilized, he dismounted and capitalized on his previous idea to slay it. “My shoulder’s a little jostled, but I-- I just… I…”

“He’s normally so calm,” Wynn said, frowning. “I’ve never seen him spook like that, and I’ve ridden hundreds of miles on him.”

Olander sighed. “Most people would panic if they realized they were about to step on a snake.” He reached towards Malenna, flicking his wand and muttering another spell. After a moment, he shook his head. “Doesn’t look like you’re injured any, thanks be to the Woo. Perhaps some bruising if your back thumped the saddle, but I can fix that in an eyeblink if so.” He put a hand on the girl’s wrist, where she still had a death grip on the gelding’s reins. “It’s alright, you’re safe.”

Malenna, however, did not seem convinced. Her lips pursed, she pulled back from Olander’s grip and dismounted sharply from the saddle, landing on the ground beneath with a graceless thump. “I don’t like horses,” she announced, as if she were a philosopher suddenly coming to a grand revelation.

Olander bit his lip. He had guessed this might happen but had rather hoped it wouldn’t. Malenna had already proven she was stubborn and given to acts of irrational defiance.

“I can certainly understand why the events of the last few days would lead you to that opinion,” he said. “But horses are an essential means of travel- be it on their backs directly or riding in carriages and wagons. Even if you don’t like them, you have to be able to deal with them.”

“It’d be easier if I didn’t have to ride side-saddle,” she said sullenly. “It gives me less control.”

“Well you can’t very well ride astride in skirts like that without damaging them,” Olander pointed out. He walked back over to his own horse, unhooked a waterskin from his saddlebags and offered it to Malenna. “Would you like a drink, dear?”

“I don’t care about my skirts,” Malenna murmured, but she nevertheless accepted the canteen from Olander, pressing it against her lips and taking a healthy swig. Afterward, as she passed the skin back to the Escalus lord, she glanced over her shoulder at the now-docile gelding. “I don’t want to ride him again,” she said. “I don’t trust him anymore.”

“You’re being ridiculous, Mal.” This was Wynn, the boy having never dismounted from his own mare. “He’s calm now. He’ll hardly spook again.”

“That spell I used on him will see him placid enough that you could spur him until he bled and he’d still not go faster than a brisk walk,” Olander agreed. “Malenna, if you’d been the one walking and almost stepped on a snake, how would you have reacted? You’d have been scared wouldn’t you, and tried to back away as quickly as you could. It’s the same with your horse.”

“And I’m sure it was the same with the horse that killed Julius, too,” the girl said hotly, turning away from Olander. “But he’s still dead, isn’t he? It doesn’t matter why.”

“What else do you bloody propose then, Mal?” Wynn snapped down at his sister. “You can hardly switch to one of our saddles.”

“Why not?” she demanded. “I’ll muss my skirts: So what? Who cares? They’re just clothes!”

“The horse that killed your brother was a young, skittish, barely broken in foal that was being mishandled by an overconfident driver,” Olander said, his patience wearing. He understood the girl’s refusal to be rational, given the circumstances it made sense, but he was so tired of these same arguments with the Cressida children over and over. “Young lady, you talk about wanting to be a war mage, but when it comes to a testing you let one bad experience rule you. In war- in life- bad things are going to happen, randomly and unfairly. You cannot chose to wall yourself away and refuse to face these setbacks. Please get back up- we can’t very well have you walking all the way back to the city.”

“Well, I’m not very well going to be a war mage, am I?” she returned. As though it were the only thing she could think to say. “My only setback will be how many magic babies I can make for Roderick Jade.”

Olander’s temper had been frayed by over a week spent surrounded by people wallowing in dismal moods, by trying to be understanding, comforting, and accommodating while also working an estate he was not familiar with and lacking any recourse to someone he knew or trusted to sooth his frustrations. Now it snapped, and with jaw clenched the Escalus lord boxed Malenna on the ear.

“I have known Basil Cressida for over a decade, and I can say with utter certainty that he would not suffer his daughter to be so surly. I am trying to be as patient and accommodating as I can be; I do not appreciate being returned with such brazen cheek! Are you going to mount up or am I going to have to put you up?”

At first, the girl merely brought up a stunned hand to rub at her ear, although he’d not cuffed her hard enough to do anything more than vaguely sting. Then, her lips pressed into a tight pout, she turned back around toward the horse. “I don’t want to ride any further. Please,” she said starkly as she climbed back onto the saddle. “I just want to go home. Can we please go home?”

“That is probably wise,” Olander agreed. He returned to his own horse, mounting up and pulling the reins to bring the gelding around back the way they’d come. “Wynn, if you would like to take the head on bringing us back to the city?”

“Of course.” Wynn scowled, glaring daggers at his sister. “Follow me, Lord Olander.”

The Things We Take For Granted: Part Five

SPOILER: Click to show

It was three days later that a pigeon arrived to Ecliptus Castle carrying updated news from Lord Basil: Finally the floodwaters had receded off the road, and the lord of the estate estimated he’d be back home within the week. He once again profusely thanked Olander for keeping the shuddering ship upright in his absence, signing off with a promise that House Escalus’s kindness in such a time of turmoil would not soon be forgotten.

Relieved to have good news at last, Olander took the letter in hand and, after a bit of a hunt not a little asking around, managed to find Astra in the castle solar, the woman sitting on a weathered sofa with a half-completed needlepoint project, her nimble fingers making quick work of the peach-coloured yarn as she looped it into the shape of a phoenix in flight. Olander cleared his throat to get her attention, smiling broadly.

“I think I’ve some news that will be a tremendous burden off of you, Astra,” he said, offering the paper to her.

Setting the canvas aside, she took the parchment into hand and skimmed it quickly; as she did, a warm flush lit her cheeks, and a smile crept between her pale, chapped lips. “Oh, thank Woo,” she breathed. “I was starting to think the road would stay a river forevermore.”

“It seems that the Feathered Lord has finally decided to grant us a boon,” Olander replied. “I’m sure your little ones will be pleased to hear the news as well- I think they’ve missed their father.”

Patting the empty cushion beside her to offer Olander a seat, Astra sighed contritely. “I’m sorry again about Malenna.” She’d not pleased with the Escalus lord’s report on her daughter’s ill behaviour during what had been intended as a relaxing countryside ride. “She got a tongue lashing, that’s for sure. I don’t know what’s gotten into her. If Basil were here, she’d not have dared act that way.”

“I can’t pretend to know her well enough to hazard a guess,” Olander replied, taking the proffered seat. “But it’s not your fault. I can certainly understand her not wanting to take orders from a stranger. Ordinarily I’d be willing to let it pass. But after that initial outburst with Aileen, I thought I’d established an authority with her. When it turned out I was wrong, I couldn’t simply allow her to traipse all over me at her leisure.”

“You’ve no need to defend yourself to me, Olander,” Astra said. “You are a visiting lord who is due respect, and she is a child. I just thank you for all that you’ve done since you’ve been here. When Basil first told me he’d sent for you, I must admit I was upset. How many times in the past had I run Ecliptus without issue while he was gone, and yet he didn’t trust me now?” She frowned. “But I don’t know what I’d have done without your assistance, truly. Julius being gone… I… I still wake up in the morning now, and there’s a brief taunt of a moment where I forget that he’s gone, and then I remember all over again, and it punches me just as hard as it did the first time. I’m in no state to be running these lands. Your assistance to this House-- to me-- has been invaluable.”

The Escalus lord gave a gentle smile. “It’s been my pleasure, Astra. I met Basil on a diplomatic hunting trip between our houses when I was seventeen, and he’s been an excellent friend to me ever since. I’m always willing to do what I can for your family.” More softly he added, “And I do understand. When… when my father was assassinated, I’d have given just about anything to have someone to help me in dealing with the aftermath and cleaning up of that, as well as trying to take over his place. Granted, the Jades help me put down the rebellion, but… trying to settle back to normal, it felt like the work I was doing was his work, and I kept wondering if he would've done it differently. It just made me miss him all over again.”

Astra nodded in sympathy, hesitating for a moment before reaching out a hand and draping it over Olander’s wrist. “Loss is never easy,” she agreed. “I wish I were more of a stranger to it. Or that each time you lost someone new, it stung a little less than the last time. It never does. The difficult part is not letting it defeat you. In knowing that you have to go on, even if sometimes you’d rather lay down and let the blackness take you.”

Olander smiled sympathetically, in that moment looking at Astra not as a lord to lady but as one human being to another. “I suppose if there is any solace to be found, it is in that no farewell is really forever for the children of the Woo. That doesn’t negate the pain but… it does grant a level of comfort, in a roundabout way.” He sighed. “But until then, we have to go on, with the ache of that absence. And it never really goes away, it just… becomes distant.”

“At least the flooding kept the queen away,” Astra said wryly. “I swear, in the first few days after it happened, she sent me a dozen pigeons asking if I wanted her to find a way down in spite of it. I love the woman, but dear Woo, I think this castle’s off-kilter enough without her trying to take charge.” She spared a small, wistful smirk. “If I do say so myself, Olander, you are a far more palatable alternative.”

Olander gave a dry laugh. “I can only imagine. Though certainly if she had been here it might’ve been interesting to see if that miserable brat was still trying to assert that she ‘doesn’t have the legal authority to mete out punishments’ or if he’d just have wet himself as is proper.”

“Oh, she could have begun snarling at him in Courdonian.” Astra let out a short laugh of her own-- perhaps the first genuine one she’d given anybody since she’d first heard the news about Julius. “If you ever thought the high lords of Corvus were frightening, Olander, then you’ve never met a Courdonian-born royal when they’re displeased. Whenever she started in it with me when I was a girl, I knew I was done for. And in my vast juvenile wisdom, of course I always thought the best response was to play dumb, as though I couldn’t understand a word she was saying. It always ended just as well as you might imagine.”

“Oh I’m sure,” Olander remarked with a grin. “I was raised by a Courdonian woman too, don’t forget, though obviously not a royal and she passed when I was quite young. But I still remember Mother’s temper, and the look of incredulity my older sisters leveled at me when I thought to do anything other than grovelling with my belly in the air like a scolded dog.”

“It seems we have much in common, Lord Olander.” Astra finally drew her hand away from his wrist. “When I first came to Corvus all those years ago, I thought that I’d be a rabbit amongst wolves. Or perhaps a wolf amidst rabbits. But in the end, no matter where you’re from, no one is all that much different from anybody else.”

“I suppose not,” Olander agreed. “You would certainly know, having travelled much further in your life so far than I likely ever will.” He sighed wistfully. “Well there is still a week yet until Basil’s return, and until then there is still work to be done. Is there anything you need from me while I’m here?”

Astra shook her head. “If you wanted to relax some, Lord Olander, I would take no grief of it. My pride aside, I know I’m still in no state to run things in full, but I’m happy to at least give you more assistance than I have been until Basil returns.” She pursed her lips. “And if any of my children-- not just Mal-- give you any more issue, you’ve my full permission to tweak their ear. I know they’re grieving, but I can’t have them acting like ill-bred wretches. Forget about my own preferences: They are bloody lucky the queen’s not shown up, or they’d be much more potently regretting their sullen choices.”

Olander burst out laughing. “I don’t doubt that. If there’s something I’d like help with I’ll let you know.” He stood, and just before he left glanced around, “Speaking of the youngsters, would you like me to carry the good news to them or do you want to?”

Standing as well, Astra smiled again. “Shall we both, Lord Olander?” she asked. “I’ll lead the way.”

**

Lord Basil arrived back to Ecliptus with his retinue in the dead of night five days later, slipping through the castle gates while its inhabitants slept inside. He sought not to make a scene, nor to rouse the children, but to no avail: The grief-stricken Cressidas could not wait for morning to reunite with him, and by sunrise all five of them were sprawled together in the same bed, as though the children and Astra never wanted to let Basil out of their sight again, and vice versa for the lord with his family.

Or at least, what was left of his family, with the gaping hole torn by Julius’s death starkly apparent to Basil from the moment he’d stepped back into his home and found its outer walls still dressed by battered black mourning banners, gone faded and limpid from the Corvid rain as though they too could hardly bear the weight of the Cressida heir’s untimely passing.

It was at breakfast the follow morning that the lord of Ecliptus met with Olander, giving the Escalus lord both a smile and a bow as he strode into the small dining room where Olander already sat eating. “Lord Escalus,” he greeted warmly. “How much gratitude I have to send your way.”

Olander was surprised to see the Cressida lord, but stood immediately and held out a hand, smiling broadly. “And ‘Lord’ to you too. It’s good to see you, Basil, I hope that your trip west wasn’t stymied by too many washed out roads.”

“My horses ought now have a reasonable future in aquatic sport, at least,” Basil returned, clasping Olander’s wrist. “But I’ve arrived home safely, and that’s all a man can truly pray for, no?” He sighed, gesturing for Olander to sit again and taking the seat across from the Escalus lord for himself. “I cannot express how grateful I am for your aid in this trying time, Olander. I could give you a whole speech of how much it means as a sign of faith between our Houses, but that would be inadequate. Whatever it means for our Houses as a whole, it matters a lot to me, as Basil the grieving father who found himself stranded so far away from home at the worst possible moment.”

“I am only glad I was able to help you at all, old friend,” Olander replied, sitting down as well. “I just wish there were more I could do for you at such an awful time than shuffling papers. Astra and the children have been beside themselves waiting for your return.” With a crooked smile he added, “Young Wynn has certainly proved himself to have initiative, even if I don’t quite think it’s hit him yet what all is expected of him. But he’s been doing his utmost for his mother the entire time I’ve been here.”

“It will take a while for him to truly understand, I think,” Basil agreed. “I do hope the others gave you no headache? Aileen can certainly be a… handful, at times. She means well, but…”

“Aileen wasn’t any trouble really, aside from a bit of wanderlust that gave Astra a panic attack or two,” Olander replied. He hesitated, then added, “I think… her brother’s death hit Malenna hardest of the children.”

“Oh?” Basil reached for an orange and set it on his plate. “She and Julius were always very close. Last night she clung to me like she thought I was going to disappear again if she let go. Had to peel her slumbering self off me just to come down and have this conversation with you at all.” He sighed. “It feels strange, still. That he’s gone. This castle may be bedecked in mourning livery, but I don’t think it’s entirely hit me yet that it’s for him.” A pause. “You… had him hanged, correct? The lad responsible for it?”

“Aye,” Olander replied softly. “A ‘Pit-Cursed waste, the whole thing. He was just some spoiled, puffed up peacock of a teenager who was too accustomed to his mistakes having no consequences to feel any real remorse for what he’d done. His parents tried to buy him out of punishment after four people were killed and more seriously hurt.” The Escalus lord shook his head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to unload that on you. You… you know how I am about ordering executions.”

“An execution should never bear lightly on one’s conscience, Olander.” Basil smiled grimly. “I’d be more worried if it weren’t plaguing you some. Even if, admittedly, I’m bloody glad the blighter’s dead.”

“Papa.”

Basil’s eyes snapped to the door at the sound of a young girl’s voice, the lord of Ecliptus silently cursing himself as he found there Malenna, bare of her veil and clad in rumpled clothing more suitable for the bedchamber than the dining room. Woo, he hoped she’d not overheard his bitter, final comment. Revenge, after all, was hardly the sort of thing he wanted to impress upon his children as laudable.

“Mal,” he said to her. “What are you doing awake? I thought after your late night, you’d want to sleep in some, sweetheart.”

Frowning, the girl took a further step into the room. “I woke up, and you were gone,” she said simply. “I wanted to see where you were.” Taking another step, she spared a look toward Olander. “Lord Escalus,” she said, dipping her head. “I hope you slept well.”

Olander raised an eyebrow at the girl’s careful politeness. Clearly with Basil’s return the child knew that she’d be getting away with no further outbursts of temper. “Quite well, thank you,” he replied. “Well enough to have evidently not noticed the family reunion, though certainly I’d have never dreamed of interrupting. After the way you’ve all been waiting for your father’s return you deserved to enjoy the reunion without my turning it into a decorous diplomatic occasion.”

“Sit, Mal.” Basil patted the empty chair beside him. Then, to Olander: “Pardon her state. Normally I’d not have my daughter at the table with a visiting lord bare-haired and disheveled, but blood aside, I should like to think of you as akin to family, Olander. After what you’ve done for us.”

“Thank you, Basil,” he said with a warm smile. “And it’s quite alright. Given the circumstances, I think a certain laxness is called for.” He glanced at Malenna. “I suppose your siblings are still abed?”

“Yes, Lord Olander,” she said, sitting next to her father. Far from the surly girl in the countryside, she continued, “My mother, as well. If I’d known you would be here, I’d have dressed myself more properly. I apologize.”


“He already said it’s alright, Malenna.” Basil waved a hand before turning his attention back to Olander. “You are our welcomed guest as long as you wish to stay,” the man said, “but of course I’ve already imposed on your generosity long enough, so I’d hardly beseech you to linger any longer if you feel you cannot afford to. Whenabouts do you plan to go home to Heleos, Olander?”

“Perhaps in two days time?” Olander suggested. “I do need to be getting back but I hardly need to light out as if my tail is on fire. I should prefer to give you some time to settle back into your post and grieve with your family.”

Basil nodded. “Well, until then, think of yourself as this House’s treasured guest,” the man said. “Whatever you should think need of, don’t hesitate to ask.” After a moment, he added, “And once things have grown a bit more… settled... then I think I shall be sponsoring the next hunting trip between our Houses, Olander. I know it’s hardly enough, but then”-- a small smirk ticked at the lord of Ecliptus’s lips--“I’ve never known you to be one to turn down the chance of a stag, no?”

The Escalus lord chuckled. “You know me too well. I’ll certainly look forward to that.” His expression sobering, he added, “I truly am sorry about what happened, Basil. I know nothing I can say will take it away but…” he glanced at Malenna before meeting the Cressida lord’s eyes again, “I know your family at least is glad to have you back.”

“And I am glad to have them back,” Basil concurred. His gaze falling toward his daughter, he added firmly, “And one day, we will all be together again. I haven’t any doubt. Things will not be this way forever.”

[Shinko]

Collabed with Avery, this is the direct sequel to Once Upon Another Time

Presenting~

A Funeral Fit for a Queen: Part One

SPOILER: Click to show

It was early February, and in a small but well maintained inn just off the Ash Road in Iscaria, Dimitri Escalus was freezing.

They were still too far south for there to be any of the snow that was common in the northern reaches of the kingdom, but the temperatures were still distinctly unpleasant for a man born and bred in the south of Corvus. Along the Courdonian border the weather seldom got cold enough even to freeze the dew overnight. Given the option, Dimitri would certainly not have chosen to be in a city so close to the border of Rindfell this time of the year.

And he wasn’t the only one.

“Mama!” whined his five year old daughter Rhea, her chestnut hair somewhat disheveled from being stuffed under both a scarf and a woolen hat. She was worrying her mother’s skirts with gloved hands, her cheeks rosy as she shivered. “Mama, it’s cold! Can we go downstairs and sit by the fire?”

“Sweetheart,” replied the girl’s mother and Dimitri’s wife, Grace, with a humoring smile. “If you’re so cold already, then how are you going to make it in Medieville?” Wrapping an arm around the girl to draw her close, the woman shot a glance toward her husband. “You, too,” she added balefully. “I overheard some traders talking in the lobby when you were getting our key, you know. Apparently it’s snowing in the capital, Dems.”

Dimitri shrugged, giving a sigh that emerged from his mouth in a thick puff of silvery fog. “I’ll manage somehow. Just don’t expect me to take a dip in Lake Plume with you this time around. We’re not having a repeat of the guardsman Falcon got livid with when you went as a child.” He quirked an eyebrow, grinning crookedly. “But what do you mean by ‘you too’ exactly? You’re as much a native to South Corvus as I am, resistance to the cold isn’t inherited you know.”

Grace smirked, sitting down at the edge of the inn room’s sole bed and pulling Rhea down into her lap as she did. “Yes, but I’ve been to the capital in wintertime before, Dimitri,” she said. “I know for a fact that you haven’t.” Adjusting her daughter’s orange-and-blue striped scarf, she added to the child, “Maybe you and your cousins can make snowmen, honey. When we’re not all busy with… everything.”

Everything was a rather benignly abstract way of classing the event that had drawn the Escalus contingent to Medieville in one of the coldest months of the year at all: The queen regent, Maia, who’d been battling a litany of illnesses over the past several years, had finally been claimed by the latest of them. The funeral of a former monarch’s consort was hardly so grand nor as much of a kingdom-wide draw as was that of a reigning king or queen, but to Grace, this mattered little. To her, Maia had not been merely the queen mother, but grandmother, with Grace’s late mother, Astra, raised from a young age as an adopted ward of the king and queen. So when Grace had heard of Maia’s death, there had been no question in her mind as to whether or not she wanted to attend.

Dimitri had been slightly more difficult to win over, and for this Grace couldn’t blame him. After all, the last time they’d traveled north for a royal funeral, it had ended in calamity; she wouldn’t forget the carnage of the Bloody Coronation for as long as she lived, and she suspected that neither would Dimitri. He had especially balked at the idea of bringing their daughter Rhea along, remembering all too well how stressful the city had been even without the Courdonian assault to top it off.

But he’d reluctantly conceded, in part because he knew that the venture was incredibly important to Grace, and in part because on some level he felt like he owed something to Maia as well. After all she had come to accept him as Grace’s husband and an extension of her family in her own way- even if that meant being smotheringly overprotective and keeping him at the capital after the Bloody Coronation until his wound could be healed.

And, though he’d not said as much to Grace, he absolutely didn’t want her in the capital alone. He knew his wife- she was stubborn and fractious, and if he refused to come along she’d go by herself just to spite him.

“What’s snowmen, Mama?” Rhea asked, looking up at her mother quizzically.

“You roll up snow and stack it so it looks like a person,” Grace said. “When I was little and went to the capital, your auntie Aileen and I made one.” A smile tugged at the corners of her lips at the thought of her older sister, whom she hadn’t seen in years. “You’re going to like Aileen, Rhea,” she went on. “I’m excited for you to meet all of my siblings. And your cousins, too.”

“Cousins?” She repeated. “Like Caty ‘n Will?”

“Exactly like,” Dimitri replied. “But these cousins are the kids of your Mama’s brother and sisters. Caty and Will are my brother’s kids.”

“Oooooh,” the girl said, nodding. Looking up at her mother she said, “But Aunt Bella told me there’s one thing we’re not allowed to do on the trip, and she said to make sure I tell you!”

His mouth quirking into a smile, Dimitri tilted his head. “And what aren’t we allowed to do?”

Rhea bounced a little. “She said ‘Tell your Mama and Papa that this time they better not booze like a pair of Bernians!’”

Grace let out a noise that was partway between a choke and a snort, her already cold-flushed cheeks going red as roses. “Well, aren’t you a good little messenger, Rhea?” she said, giving her daughter’s nose an affectionate tweak. “Don’t you worry, Papa and I will make very sure.”

As will Wynn, she thought, but did not say; Grace hardly wanted to bring up any of the vague feelings of hesitancy that swirled in her at the fact that her brother would be staying at the same inn as would she and her family. She hadn’t seen Wynn, now lord of House Cressida’s estate since Basil’s passing not long after the Bloody Coronation, since their mother’s funeral the year before, and the experience had been decidedly… unpleasant, with Wynn skulking about Ecliptus Castle like a kicked, furious dog: snapping at his siblings, huffing over the most trivial of hitches, and in general carrying on as though he was the only one who’d just lost somebody. Part of Grace had tried to write it off as Wynn merely mishandling his grief, but there was another part of her-- a remote but all-too-existent part-- that whispered there was more to it than that. Something darker. Deeper.

Suddenly all too aware of the room’s unpleasant chill, Grace swallowed hard and shoved the idea away.

“We should get some sleep, I think,” the woman said instead. Shifting Rhea in her lap, she patted the weathered but thick quilt that dressed the bed beneath. “We have a long travel day tomorrow, and then a long week to follow. And besides, if we all huddle close, I’m sure we’ll get some feeling back in our toes eventually, right?”

Dimitri, who’d had a similarly embarrassed reaction to Rhea’s proclamation, grinned ruefully and nodded. “Good idea. The earlier we can get on the road in the morning, the sooner we can check in at… The Fig and Gristle was it called?” He smiled thinly. “At least we didn’t get stuck at the Brettony.”

“What’s a Bret-knee?” Rhea asked, compliantly reaching up her arms as her father scooped her up and carried her around the bed so Grace could properly lie down.

“It’s just the name of an inn where we’ve stayed before, honey,” Grace replied, slipping beneath the quilt. “Mama and Papa weren’t very fond of it.” As Dimitri set Rhea back down at the bed’s other side, Grace held her arms out toward the child. “Now cuddle up close, okay? I’m trusting you with the very important job of keeping us all warm.”

“Okay!” Rhea chirped, snuggling up to her mother’s chest. She’d not gotten to crawl into bed with her parents in some years, and that was easily the part of this trip she’d been enjoying the most. Dimitri settled behind the child, putting an arm around her and Grace both.

“Sweet dreams, you two,” he said. As he closed his eyes he thought, Please, Woo, let Medieville be kinder to us this time around. Please?

**

“Wynn,” Grace said the next morning, as the Escalus party strode into the inn’s quaint lobby to grab a quick breakfast before hitting the road. Blinking rapidly as though she half-thought her eyes were playing deceptive tricks, she closed her hand more tightly over Rhea’s and continued, “I thought you were slated to reach Medieville the day before us?”

Her brother, Wynn, who was standing about a dozen paces away with his hands hovering over a blazing hearth, merely frowned. He was not just pale but pallid, with heavy black circles limning his eyes and his long blond hair hanging over his shoulder in a slovenly ponytail. His simple tunic and breeches, in washed out Cressida peach, were as disheveled as a peasant’s. The road had clearly not been kind to him, and if there was one thing Grace Escalus knew about her older brother, it was that if Wynn was upset, then Woo-cursed everybody was sure to soon know about it.

“We were slated to reach it yesterday,” he agreed, taking a step forward. “Then Elisabeth”-- he gestured to a small, veiled girl of perhaps ten or eleven, who was crouched over the hearth at her father’s flank--“slipped on ice yesterday morning in the middle of bloody nowhere and landed on her wrist. It took us half the day to find a competent healer. We didn’t even get here to Iscaria until after midnight.”

“Oh Woo,” Dimitri said, his blonde brow knitting with concern. “I’m sorry to hear that. Are you alright, dear?” He turned to Elisabeth as he asked this, a sympathetic smile forming beneath his mustache. “I don’t suppose you remember me?”

Elisabeth gave her a father a tentative look, as though seeking his permission to respond, and when Wynn nodded curtly at her in return, she dipped into a polite curtsy. “Yes, my lord,” she said softly. “I remember you. And thank you for asking; I’m okay.”

“Fractured it in three places.” Wynn almost sounded as if he were bragging. “But no matter. I suppose it works out; we can travel the rest of the way as one party. Once my sons drag their hides out of bed, anyhow. I swear to Woo, if I go in that room again and they’re still asleep…”

“We were going to get some food before leaving, anyway,” Grace said, swallowing the knot that corded in her throat at her brother’s almost lackadaisical threat. “But yes, I suppose we can travel together now.” She spared a pitying look toward Elisabeth. “And I’m glad to hear you’re okay, sweetie. That must have hurt.”

“Mama, Papa,” Rhea interrupted, “Who’s that?”

“Oh, sorry sweetie,” Dimitri said with a smile. Gesturing to the Cressidas he said, “This is your uncle, Lord Wynn, and your cousin Lady Elisabeth.” To Wynn and Elisabeth he added, “This is our daughter, Rhea.”

Rhea perked up slightly, smiling at her relatives and waving. “Hullo Uncle Wynn, Cousin ‘Lisabeth.”

Elisabeth stayed silent, but Wynn spared a grin so strained it bordered on saccharine, reaching behind him to set a hand on the back of his daughter’s shoulder as he said, “It’s nice to meet you, Rhea. Have you been enjoying the trip so far?”

“Uh-huh!” The girl replied, nodding brightly. “This is the first time Mama and Papa brought me on a trip! We’re going to the capital!” She frowned slightly. “It’s really cold though. I’m sorry ‘Lisabeth fell in the ice.”

“She’ll live,” Wynn said thinly, giving the girl’s shoulder what looked to be an uncomfortably firm squeeze. “Anyhow. I’d best be heading back to the room to make sure the boys are getting themselves ready. Shouldn’t be too long, I hope.” Trailing his hand down Elisabeth’s arm until he found her hand, whereupon he threaded his fingers through hers, he ordered his daughter: “Come, Beth.”

To Grace, it rather sounded as though he were talking to a dog, not a child, but she kept her assessment swallowed as she silently watched Wynn and Elisabeth set off toward the hall. Once they were gone, she let out a leaden sigh, not daring to spare a glance down at her own daughter, lest Rhea catch the suddenly dour look now etched across her mother’s face.

Dimitri was troubled, but he kept his mouth shut, instead sighing and turning to Grace, “So, what would you two like for breakfast?”

Eventually the party of nobles left the inn, now travelling as a rather sizable gaggle instead of two smaller groups. Rhea, full of boundless energy and enthusiasm, kept trying to draw her cousins into conversation, elated at the prospect of having someone around her own age to talk to. Elisabeth, sharing a horse with her father, stayed silent as a monk, but Wynn’s sons-- doubled up on a mare of their own-- proved more affable. The elder one, Jacob, a gangly-limbed boy of twelve, was humoring if cordial, responding to the much-younger child’s rambling with the sort of patience only cultivated from years of indulging younger siblings (a patience Wynn, it seemed, had never quite developed on his own behalf). His seven-year-old brother, Bay, had energy enough for two boys and could hardly sit still on the saddle, pointing out every landmark they passed with such an enthusiasm that by midday, Grace was halfway convinced her brother was about to stuff cotton in the child’s mouth to quiet him.

Eventually, as they drew further north, the landscape shifted, gradually acquiring a thick blanket of white snow over everything. Rhea’s eyes bulged to see it, and she plied the adults with questions about the mysterious white substance that was all over everything. Dimitri, never having seen snow either, was more subtle but no less fascinated, and listened with interest as Grace explained about snow and northern winters to their daughter. Wynn accepted the change in environment as he appeared to accept everything else in life: disinterest bordering on dislike, merely making a snide comment as they stopped to water the horses that Beth “ought be careful to not make a fool of herself by slipping again” (which, at least, the girl didn’t seem to hear, distracted as she was by rolling haphazard snowballs alongside her brothers and Rhea).

It was some hours after they first spotted the snow, late in the afternoon, when Dimitri suddenly grinned. “Hey kids,” he called to his daughter, niece, and nephews, “look over there- waaaaay up on the cliff. Do you see anything?”

“A mountain!” Bay was nearly breathless, leaning forward so heavily on the saddle that Jacob had to wrench him back to keep the younger child from tumbling. “A real mountain!” He jerked his head eagerly back toward Wynn, whose horse was several paces behind. “Papa, can we climb it?”

“Absolutely not,” Wynn said flatly. “And it’s not a mountain, Bay. Not exactly.”

“Mama,” Rhea said in an exaggeratedly loud stage whisper that was no doubt entirely audible to everyone. “I think there’s a castle on top of the mountain!”

“A keen observer we’ve got,” Grace agreed. “You’re right, Rhea. That’s a castle-- or a palace, really. The Raven’s Keep. It’s where the royal family lives.”

“Do you get to climb the mountain to get to the top?” Bay asked, his blue eyes latched on the distant figure. “Because I want to climb it--”

“There are stairs and ramps,” Wynn cut in. “Carved into the cliff-face. No climbing, Bay. That would be incredibly dangerous.”

“We can pretend to climb it!” Rhea suggested brightly. “When we’re going up the stairs! Like brave explorers! It’ll be fun.” She glanced around, her eyes suddenly uncertain. “Do we get to go up there? You said we’re going to the king’s mama’s funeral so they’d do stuff in the Raven’s Keep right?”

“The funeral itself will be in the royal cemetery, which is on the ground,” Dimitri explained. “But there will be a big feast in the palace.”

“Oooooh!” Rhea chirped, glancing at her cousins. “So see, we can do it that way!”

“The feast is a diplomatic event,” Wynn said curtly. “Hardly the time to pretend you’re climbing a mountain.” He nudged his horse into step alongside Jacob and Bay’s, his gaze snapping onto his youngest son’s like a snake taking hold of its meal. “I don’t want to hear it again from you, Bay,” the lord of Cressida continued. “I’ve already told you twice, and that’s one time too many. Don’t make me regret not leaving you back in Ecliptus with your mother and little brothers.”

“Yes, Papa.” Bay bit his lip. “I’m sorry.”

Rhea looked taken aback, and not a little hurt. She leaned into her father’s back, whimpering slightly. “I’m sorry, Uncle Wynn. I just… I play with my cousins at home so I thought…” she stifled a sob, prompting, Dimitri to let one hand fall from his horse’s reins as he hugged her, glancing at Wynn irritably.

“It’s okay, honey.” Grace’s voice was thin, but she forced herself to shoot the girl a reassuring smile. “You didn’t mean anything by it. And you can play with your cousins, I promise-- just not while we’re at formal events, alright?”

“I didn’t wanna play at the feast,” she explained softly, hugging around her father’s arm. “Just while we were riding up the stairs on the way. It looks like a long climb.”

“Don’t worry Rhea,” Dimitri said soothingly. “We’ll make sure you don’t get bored, I promise.”

They eventually reached the town of Medieville, Dimitri having to suppress a sigh of resignation at the sight of the city. His last time here was one of the worst few weeks of his life- he was not looking forward to round two.

Once they arrived at The Fig and Gristle, they passed their horses on to men who ran a stable across the street before entering the building. The lobby-- a cavernous room lit and warmed by the glow of a crackling fireplace in the backmost corner-- was bustling, filled with milling people every which way, and the party of Cressidas, Escaluses, and assorted knights hadn’t made it more than a few steps inside before being set upon by a slight woman with a spray of dove-blonde hair and clad in a well-tailored ice blue dress that complemented her creamy complexion.

“Gracie!” The woman had Grace enfolded in a squeezing hug in an instant. “You made it!”

“Woo, Aileen, are you trying to break my ribs?” Grace countered, but she couldn’t help but grin as she playfully batted her elder sister back. “How long have you been here?”

“Since yesterday.” Letting go of Grace, Aileen smiled broadly. “I can barely drag my kids in from the snow. Or my husband.” Her smile listed toward a smirk, before her eye fell beyond Grace to the rest of the party. “Wynn.” There was no joy behind her voice now. “And… you must be Lord Dimitri. Woo, I can’t believe we’ve never met.”

“You have me rightly, Lady… Aileen was it?” Dimitri replied with a smile. He inclined his head politely, offering the woman a hand to shake, which she quickly returned with a hand of her own. At his side, Rhea clung to her father’s legs and looked up at the energetic woman with something resembling awe. Feeling her hands tighten on his leg he smiled and added, “This little one is Rhea- Rhea say hello to your Aunt Aileen.”

“Hullo,” Rhea said, though some of the brightness was replaced by wariness after her last encounter with a new adult relative had been met with mostly grumpiness.

“Hello, hon,” Aileen said. “It’s very nice to meet you-- I’ve heard all about you in letters from your mama.” Her focus trailed to Wynn’s children, who all stood silent and ramrod straight with their father’s gaze eating acidly into their backs. “So you’re all Wynn’s, huh? It’s a pleasure to meet you as well.”

“Thank you, my lady.” Jacob, his voice soft but even, spoke for all of his siblings. “The pleasure is all ours.”

Grace had to take a deep breath to resist from smacking away the self-satisfied look that crossed Wynn’s face at his child’s almost too-poised greeting, and was quite relieved when her brother’s only spoken response was a leadenly formal: “Well, I suppose I ought leave you ladies to catch up while I get our keys.” A pause. “Although since you insisted on a separate reservation, Lord Dimitri, might you like to come with? I’m sure the ladies can tend the children on their own.”

Dimitri resisted the urge to frown at Wynn’s attitude. He was so… smug and it rankled. But he nodded, gently prying Rhea off of his leg. She was giving Aileen a tentative smile, hopeful again now that maybe she could make friends with this new relative. Confident that Grace could manage, he put a hand on her shoulder and smiled before following Wynn to the check-in counter.

The receiving desk was set around the corner from the rest of the chaotic lobby, but as Dimitri and Wynn went about turning it, something blocked their paths-- or, more accurately, someone. A slim boy of no more than six or seven stood with his arms crossed and his nose running, silent tears dripping down his tan cheeks. His clean and tailored clothing suggested a child of high status, but the rest of his appearance verged on unkempt: long, dark hair that had fallen partway out of the leather band that held it; his tunic only partially buttoned; one shoe that was untied and the other sodden as though he’d stepped into too deep of a snowbank.

Dimitri was caught off guard by the presence of the child, with no one in the immediate area looking to be in his company. Confused, and momentarily conflicted, he knelt down and tilted his head. “Young man, are you alright? Where are your parents?”

Using his sleeve to wipe clumsily at his eyes, the boy shrugged. “I want Papa,” he hiccupped-- and it was immediately clear that his words came out broken not only on account of his hysterical state. Dimitri’s eyes widened, and he recognized the timbre of the boy’s speech immediately.

“Do you understand me?” he asked, speaking this time not in Kythian but in High Courdonian- a language any noble child along the southern Corvid border needed at least moderate proficiency in.

The child paused in mid-snuffle to earnestly nod his head. “I can’t find him,” he murmured in quick, efficient Courdonian. “I fell asleep and he was in the room, and then I woke up and he wasn’t and neither is my brother, and n-now I don’t remember even what room number it is and--”

“Calm down.” Wynn, previously a silent observer, stared impassively down at the child. “I’m sure if you wait near the front door, your father will see you on his way back to your room.” As if he simply couldn’t pass up a chance to belittle a sobbing child, he added silkily, “And if you’d stayed put where he left you, then you wouldn’t have faced the issue of forgetting the room number, no?”

“For Woo’s sake Wynn, have some compassion,” Dimitri snapped. “If you don’t want to help you don’t have to- I’ll look after things here.” Turning his attention back to the boy he gave a wan smile. “I’m sorry, my brother-in-law didn’t get much sleep last night, he’s a bit grumpy. But I’d be happy to help you in a minute if you want.”

“Lauren.”

All three heads turned at the voice and accompanying footsteps that sounded from behind, as a well-built, dark-haired man hurried toward the men and sobbing child. Hardly sparing Dimitri and Wynn a first, let alone second, glance, he paused at the boy’s side and took a firm hold of his arm, pulling the child close. In turn, the boy whimpered again and leaned against the newcomer’s side, burying his face in the mint green silk of the man’s tunic.

“I’ve looked everywhere for you, Lauren; I was about to send our knights into the city to search,” the man chided, nevertheless letting out a sigh of relief as he rumpled the child’s hair.

“I’m sorry, Papa,” the boy, Lauren, murmured in reply.

Lauren’s father simply sighed, only then turning his focus toward Wynn and Dimitri. The Escalus nobleman inhaled sharply, his blue eyes widening with recognition.

“Lord Pipp,” he said, his voice shaking somewhat. Victor Pipp- lord of the Northlands in Courdon. Last time he’d seen this man, Dimitri had been hovering on the edge of death by blood loss, trying to find somewhere safe for himself, his wife, and his mother-in-law amidst an army of Courdonian soldiers. Granted, Pipp had saved all of their lives that day, but only because Grace and her mother Astra were his relatives. He’d made it abundantly clear that if Courdon had won the day, he wouldn’t have hesitated to kill Dimitri outright.

Dimitri bowed his head slightly, still kneeling from when he’d been speaking to Lauren before. “It’s been some time. I suppose you’re here with… Lady Luna, was it?”

A hand still clutching to his son, Pipp regarded Dimitri with a cool bow of his own. “Some time indeed, yes,” he agreed in heavily accented Kythian. “And that is correct. My mother was very fond of the queen regent. She insisted she come, and I, of course, wasn’t going to allow her to travel all this way on her own.” His focus listed toward Wynn. “It’s been years, cousin.”

“Yes.” Unlike Dimitri, Wynn didn’t seem surprised at all, sparing his Courdonian cousin a cordial smile and bow. “I’m glad to see you’ve made it safely, Victor. And ahead of myself, no less! Why, you must have left not long after you sent that pigeon to Ecliptus, hm?”

“We took gryphons to the border,” Pipp said. “It cut down on travel time.” He patted Lauren’s back. “It’s been a bit much for the children, though. This is the furthest either Lauren or his brother, Nicholas, has ever traveled.”

“No doubt,” Dimitri agreed. “Meeting lots of new people would be overwhelming, especially if you’re still mastering the language.” Addressing the child, Dimitri added, “I hope that you do enjoy your time here though, Lord Lauren. I’m sorry you had a scare, but I promise Kyth can be a fun and interesting place. Maybe if your father doesn’t mind you can meet some of your cousins.” He glanced at Pipp, a silent invitation for him to give or deny permission.

“Of course,” Pipp said, smoothly transitioning back into his native tongue. “He and Nicholas have already played some with Aileen’s small ones, hm, Lauren?”

Lauren nodded reluctantly. “We went in the snow.”

“Anyhow, I apologize for any disruption he’s caused you,” Pipp went on, switching back to Kythian. “And I shall be having a very stern chat with the knight who was supposed to be watching him. I suppose I shall probably be seeing you later, Lords Dimitri and Wynn. I look forward to it.”

And with that, Pipp turned and strode away, still holding firmly to his son’s arm as he did. Once he was gone, Wynn let out a disapproving snort, smoothing his greasy ponytail like a bird preening with its feathers.

“I thought they valued obedience in Courdon,” he sneered. “I guess not.”

Dimitri glanced at his brother-in-law with a frown. “I think that was a little uncalled for, Wynn. He’s a child, he’s in a city he doesn’t know and he barely speaks Kythian. Cut him a little slack. And remember we’re in public- there’s no telling who might overhear you.”

The Escalus lord turned away, heading towards the counter to get his keys. Wynn followed with a scowl, but for once in his life, the reigning lord of House Cressida wisely stayed silent.

A Funeral Fit for a Queen: Part Two

SPOILER: Click to show

In spite of her confident assurances to the contrary, that night when the Escaluses went to sleep Grace was huddled as closely to her husband as possible, shivering hard. Dimitri might’ve been amused if he wasn’t equally miserable in the weather. Between her two parents Rhea stayed fairly warm, and slept the most soundly. By morning she was wide awake and alert, begging to get out of the cramped room and play in the snow- something she’d not gotten much chance to do the day before, as late as they’d all arrived. Grace, however, seemed loath to drag herself back out into the cold, merely yawning and sparing Dimitri a sweet, pleading smile before she burrowed even deeper beneath the heavy quilt. So with tired indulgence Dimitri took his too-hyper child downstairs for a quick breakfast before permitting her to bundle up and head out into the cold.

The Fig and Gristle was situated near the fringe of the merchant’s market, in a bustling part of town that saw heavy foot and horse traffic both. However, there was a sizable open expanse to its rear, between the main building and its corresponding stables, that had been left otherwise untouched but for a small shoveled path in the center. A sheet of snow glistened beneath the early morning sun, white as alabaster, and from the snowmen and snow angels that studded it, it was clear that the inn’s guests had transformed the space into a play area of sorts. Even so early in the morning, several small groups had already assembled within its bounds, scattered adults overseeing throngs of squealing, delighted children.

Dimitri was just about to turn Rhea loose to play when he caught sight of a familiar fair-haired woman, though she was somewhat more difficult to recognize bundled in several layers of winter clothing. Gently tapping Rhea’s shoulder he pointed to the woman. “Hey sweetie, who’s that over there?”

Rhea followed his finger, and brightened. “It’s Aunt Aileen, right?” Raising her voice and waving enthusiastically she shouted, “Hi Aunt Aileen!”

The woman turned toward the Escaluses with a wave of her own. “Good morning,” she called, striding through the crystalline snow to reach her brother-in-law and niece. Once she had, she smiled down at Rhea. “Come to enjoy the snow, hon?”

“Uh-huh!” The girl replied with a bright grin. “Mama wanted to stay in the warm, but Papa woke up and helped me come play!” She looked around. “Only, I don’t know any games for playing in the snow… Papa?”

Dimitri smiled down at his daughter apologetically. “Sorry Rhea, I’m no more educated in the ways of snow than you are.”

“Your cousins are over there, sweetie.” Aileen pointed toward a cluster of children a few dozen paces away, the group of them halfway through building a rather robust snowman. “Here, come with me-- I’ll introduce you to my three. And I even persuaded Uncle Wynn to let Jacob, Bay, and Beth come out to play, too. I’m sure together you can all figure out some fun games.”

Rhea’s face split in a beaming smile, and she immediately set off after her aunt, Dimitri trailing just behind them with his hands stuffed under his armpits. As they neared the group, a boy of about twelve with Aileen’s fair hair looked around at them curiously, directing a question at Aileen in what could only be Lyellian- for Dimitri knew that Grace’s sister had been married to Lyell.

“Kythian, Alfonso,” she replied, gently but firmly. “You are in Kyth, and you know its language-- so use it.”

He frowned slightly. “I am not so good…” with a soft sigh, he said, “Mother, these two are called?”

“I’m Rhea!” the young girl put in. “And my Papa is called Dimitri!”

“This is Alfonso, but he goes by Fons,” Aileen said, reaching out to adjust the boy’s fur-trimmed hat. Next, she gestured to the two girls standing slightly behind him, one perhaps ten and the other somewhere about Rhea’s age, each of them sporting long, dark hair that must have resembled their father’s, for it certainly looked nothing like Aileen’s. “And these are Renata and Chiara. But they don’t speak much Kythian. As for your question, Fons-- this is your cousin Rhea, and your uncle, Lord Dimitri. Rhea’s mother is my sister, Grace, whom I’m hoping you’ll meet soon.”

“I already taught Chiara and Renata how to say ‘mountain’,” Wynn’s son Bay supplied brightly from where he crouched before the half-assembled snowman, teasing a tree branch foot into its bottom. “And ‘freezing’. And ‘cake’!”

Rhea giggled. “Good words. What’re you doing?”

“We are making a ‘snowman,’” Alfonso replied. “You play with us? You look same… same… years? As Chiara.”

“I think you’re looking for the word ‘age’,” Dimitri supplied. Alfonso nodded.

“Yes- she looks same age as Chiara.” He turned to his sister, apparently relaying the suggestion to her in Lyellian.

Chiara responded to her brother in their own tongue before she took a step toward Rhea. Smiling, she pantomimed for her cousin to come help her with smoothing the snow on the snowman’s side, so that it was rounded rather than lumpy.

“She wants it to look perfect,” Bay, still wrestling to place the stick-foot, said gravely. “I’unno what she’s saying, but she’s already gotten mad like, three times over where I’m putting the foot.”

“Because feet don’t point upward, Bay,” Jacob Cressida returned, smirking down at his kid brother. He gestured to Elisabeth, who stood in between them. “Maybe you should give Bethie a turn. She’ll probably be more careful.”

“I’ll help!” Rhea chirped enthusiastically, coming beside Chiara and gently brushing the lumps out of the snow. As the children set about their game again, Dimitri glanced sideways at Aileen.

“Shall we find somewhere to sit?” he offered with a smile. “I imagine they’ll be at this for a while yet and I don’t care for standing for hours at a time unless I’m at some sort of ball or fete and I have to.”

“Of course,” Aileen said, turning toward a stone bench that rested at the edge of the snowy span, only a few feet away from the inn’s exterior wall. “See him?” she asked, indicating the willowy man who sat upon it, bundled in so many layers of wool and fur that one could hardly make out his features beneath. “That’s my husband. Floriano. He got the same idea about, oh… an hour ago. After he took a snowball to the face.”

Dimitri chuckled. “You’ve been out here a while then. Makes me feel lazy.” He trudged after Aileen through the snow towards the bench, stopping as they neared it and giving Floriano a polite bow of his head. “Hello sir- I’m Lord Dimitri Escalus. Our wives are sisters.”

“Hello, me lord-- ah, no, no, forgive, my lord,” the man replied, inclining his fur-swathed head. His accent was thick and instantly obvious, the Kythian syllables uneven on his tongue. Moving aside to make room for his wife and brother-in-law, he gestured to himself. “Floriano Alesci.”

Aileen dropped onto the bench beside her husband, and at once he reached over to tug down the ear-flaps of her foxfur hat, at which she smirked and playfully batted his hand away. “I’m fine, Floriano,” she said, enunciating carefully.

“Fine?” he echoed blankly, frowning.

“Good,” she amended; still nothing. Giving up, she sighed and translated into Lyellian, and then looked back up at Dimitri. “He knows less Kythian than your average housecat,” she said brightly. “So just smile and nod, and he’ll assume you’re saying good things.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Dimitri replied with a smile, sitting down on the bench as well. “Sadly I probably know even less Lyellian than he knows Kythian- I’m fluent in Kythian and Courdonian but I wouldn’t even know how to say ‘hello’ in Lyell. Speaking of Courdonian, I notice Lord Pipp’s children aren’t among the early risers.”

“I saw Victor in the lobby early,” Aileen said. “He’s keeping the littler one, Lauren, in their room today. Apparently the boy wandered off yesterday, and Victor was none too pleased, and well…” She shrugged. “Courdonians, I guess.” Hesitating for a moment, she added, “You and Gracie didn’t know, did you? That he’d be here?”

Dimitri’s gaze flitted away momentarily. “We didn’t, no. I guess based on the fact that you’re asking that we were the only ones not told?”

“I got in a row with Wynn over it last night,” Aileen confirmed. “Because he certainly knew-- he’s the one who outright told Victor where the rest of us were letting rooms. That he didn’t inform me, alright, fine. But after what happened to you and Gracie and my mum at Destiney’s coronation…” The woman scowled. “He’s been nothing but polite. And his boys are sweet. But I would have appreciated an advanced warning, and Woo, I wasn’t even there at the Bloody Coronation. I can’t even imagine how you and Grace must feel.”

As Aileen had spoken, her voice had steadily taken on a furtive and bitter air, and even if Floriano couldn’t understand a single word out of his wife’s mouth, her tone alone was enough to make him frown. He reached out a hand and draped his gloved fingers over her wrist, murmuring to her in clipped Lyellian, but she quickly waved him off.

“He has every right to be here, I suppose,” Aileen went on, looking back to Dimitri. “And I can hardly fault Luna for wanting to come. But still…”

“I understand,” Dimitri replied. His mouth twisted into an expression one might have called a smile, though in practice it looked more like a grimace. “And of course as long as he’s cordial with us I’ll extend him the same courtesy. At least I know Gracie and Rhea are safe while he’s here. And hopefully King Rafael’s imminent disapproval will keep him from making veiled implications on my life this time around.” His expression became thoughtful as he added, “I would like to meet Lady Luna though, assuming she’d be amenable. Astra and I always got on well.”

“She’s a decent woman,” Aileen said. “A bit quiet, and a bit… Courdonian, after all these years, but pleasant enough.” She sighed. “I can’t, however, say the same thing for Wynn. And from your body language around him yesterday, might I guess you share the sentiment?”

Dimitri winced. “I had hoped his… unpleasant attitude all the times I’ve shared company with him was an unfortunate side-effect of us always meeting at funerals.” With a deep frown he added, “Though grief or not if he snaps at Rhea again like he did yesterday I can’t promise I won’t say something to him.”

“Wynn’s unpleasant attitude is a side effect of his unpleasant personality in general, which-- unfortunately-- has nothing to do with funerals.” Though her words were without a doubt negative, Aileen kept her voice deceivingly singsong, as though she didn’t want Floriano to know the very undiplomatic conversation she’d initiated. “I’m only glad my kids don’t know enough Kythian to be upset by his snide comments. Can’t say the same for myself, but…” She shrugged. “There’s a good reason, Lord Dimitri, that my sister Malenna’s staying at House Jade’s manor. She was well invited to lodge here with us. She was merely fortunate to have an easy excuse.”

“Given how… ah… tense things got between the two of them at Basil’s funeral, I can’t say I’m shocked.” Dimitri chuckled softly. “I ended up playing mediator for the majority of that event, if only because it upset Gracie so much to see Malenna and Wynn at each other’s throats. In part over how she’d showed up with no veil.”

“Malenna’s never put up with Wynn’s charms,” Aileen said. “It’s both a blessing and a curse. And as far as I’m concerned, he can choke on the Woo-cursed veils.” Almost leering now, she added conspiratorially, “Chiara normally likes to keep her hair braided and pinned. But I convinced her to wear it down today. And most certainly not because it gives me some level of delight to watch my brother twitch and bite down on his tongue. When you walked into the lobby yesterday and I saw Gracie’s short hair, it took everything in me not to beam over that alone. If Floriano knew what we were saying right now, I think my poor husband would keel over from the disgrace of it. And on a logical level, I’m aware that I hardly know you well enough to be saying such lurid things. But anyone who’s a friend of Gracie’s a friend of mine, Lord Dimitri. I like having someone who’s watching out for her interests above anything else.”

The Escalus was caught by surprise at this, and the look he gave Aileen was one of blank startlement. Then he laughed, his blue eyes dancing. “I owe Grace a lot. I was a very immature, lonely kid, and I made a lot of dumb decisions. But she became my best friend as well as my wife, and gave me a sense of belonging. So of course I want her to be happy and well looked after.” With a smirk he added, “Even if that meant scandalizing my own father by letting her ride horses astride in men’s breeches.”

Aileen outright snorted. “Oh, I’d love to see that.”

Beside his wife, Floriano called out sharply in Lyellian as Chiara, apparently still not pleased by the snowman’s craftsmanship, responded by using her arm to behead its top portion-- and sent a puff of snow flying directly into her older sister’s face. In response to her father’s chiding, the small girl pouted her bottom lip and muttered something beneath her breath, which seemed to be an apology, as Floriano nodded in satisfaction and looked away again. Within moments, Chiara had resumed play, a smile once more crossing her face as she set about reconstructing the snow figure’s head, her father’s scolding already forgotten.

“His kids,” Aileen said then, as she eyed at Wynn’s three children. “I haven’t spent much time with them yet. But when I went about convincing Wynn to let me bring them out here, I swear they were all silent as the grave. They so clearly wanted to come with me-- I could see it in their eyes-- but they didn’t dare ask. I tried to write it off as them merely being tired.” She hesitated. “You rode in together at least part of the way, Lord Dimitri, right? And you’ve met them before. At my mother and father’s funerals.” Aileen, heavily pregnant on the first occasion and with a small infant on the second, had been unable to attend either.

Dimitri sighed. “They’re always like that. Bay’s the most chatty of the bunch but even he wilts when Wynn gets stern. I don’t get it- yes noble kids need to be taught respect and diplomacy but they’re still children. They should get excited and play and… I don’t know, show some inkling of personality? My oldest brother Anders was a workaholic and had a serious complex about impressing our father and even he didn’t act like this.” He frowned. “We actually ran into the boy of Pipp’s that ran off yesterday. He was absolutely hysterical trying to find his father, but Wynn’s only response was to make snide commentary about him not being obedient enough.”

“When you’re criticizing Courdonians for not being strict enough with their children, you know you’ve gone wrong somewhere.” Aileen sighed heavily. “At least they’re playing now. And my brother’s skulking in the inn with the only company he deserves: his own.”

As Dimitri watched Rhea tap Jacob on the arm, shrieking, “You’re it!” before darting off into the snow, the Escalus chuckled, miming holding up a wineglass. “I can drink to that.”

**

The Escaluses first full day in the city passed in relative peace and quiet, but given the nature of their journey north, such a tranquility could not last: The next afternoon brought a feast in honor of the late queen mother at the Raven’s Keep palace, the grand hall of which was bedecked in the finest decor and set with a succulent spread of food and drink. Skilled musicians played in the wings, bathing the vast space in a pleasant harmony, and by the time the wining and dining edged towards its conclusion, the pale winter sun had been replaced by a silver crescent of moon, bright against the frigid black horizon.

Grace had largely expected her young daughter to be thoroughly overwhelmed by the sheer splendor and noise of the day and fall into a deep slumber the moment they arrived back to the Fig and Gristle. Wynn and Aileen’s children certainly seemed so spent, young Chiara so exhausted that she outright refused to walk from the horse to the inn and forced Floriano to carry her instead. Jacob, Bay, and Elisabeth seemed to know better than to demand such treatment from their father, but even they were decidedly sluggish as they entered the warm lobby of the Fig and Gristle, Bay stifling a yawn and Elisabeth with her veiled head slumped against her father’s snow-dusted sleeve.

Despite all anticipations, however, the same trend of exhaustion did not appear to apply to Rhea. The child positively glowed with excitement at all the things she’d seen, yammering incessantly about the extravagant foods served at the feast- including no few Courdonian dishes in honor of the queen mother’s country of birth- and squealing with glee at how pretty the snow looked in the moonlight. Dimitri was more exhausted than his daughter, having worn down a great deal of energy trying to keep himself warm as well as dealing with all the pomp and circumstance. His eyes were dull with fatigue and underscored by dark rings.

Still, he was nothing if not dutiful, and when Rhea objected to going up to their room for sleep, insisting it was too cold and she wanted to stay by the fire in the common room, he sighed.

“I can sit with her,” he offered to his wife. “At least until she… unwinds a bit.”

Her eyes trailing after Wynn and his children, and Aileen with her family, as both groups disappeared down the corridor toward their rooms, Grace shook her head. “You look spent, Dems,” she said. “And you already woke up early today so I could get some extra sleep. I’ll sit here with her. You go get some rest, okay?”

“You sure?” he asked, though the relief in his voice was palpable as he slumped slightly from fatigue. “I mean it certainly wouldn’t be the first time I’ve shorted on sleep for her or Lilah.”

“Positive,” Grace said, hooking her arm through Rhea’s and urging the girl toward the hearth the crackled on the far side of the room, fringed about by a tangle of chairs. “Just leave the room to the door unlocked. I’ll be up in a bit.”

“G’night,” Dimtiri called after them, before the sound of his footsteps retreating announced that he’d left.

Rhea looked up at her mother with a giggle. “Daddy’s lazy?”

“No, just tired.” Arriving to the hearthside, Grace settled into the first empty chair and pulled her daughter into her lap. The relief from the crackling fire was pronounced and instantaneous, and sighing contentedly, Grace moved to pull off her daughter’s lambskin mittens. “Wiggle your fingers,” she instructed. “Get them toasty before we slip these back on, okay?”

“Yes, Mama,” the girl replied, obediently holding out her hands and letting the warmth of the hearth bathe over her numb fingers. “Mama, you and Papa came to the capital before, right? Did you play in the snow that time?”

“No, sweetie-- it was summer then.” A chorus of footsteps sounded from behind as a new party approached the hearth, but Grace didn’t bother to glance back, merely sighing as she pulled off her own gloves. “It’s not always so cold here,” she went on. “Only in winter. In June, when Papa and I were here before, it was almost as warm as--”

Grace’s voice abruptly fell away as, through the corner of her eye, she watched the newcomers take their seats… and at the same moment realized precisely who those newcomers were. Her previously loose hold around Rhea went automatically tight, and she let out a soft, nearly reflexive gasp.

“Grace.” Victor Pipp, his son Lauren scooped into his own lap and his elder boy, Nicholas, seated upon the armchair to his father’s left, smiled pleasantly at his cousin. “I didn’t see much of you at the feast. I hope you enjoyed yourself?”

“Yes,” Grace forced out, willing her heart to stop beating quite so fast. She’d known her Courdonian cousin was in the capital, of course; Dimitri had told her as much, and she’d spied glimpses of him here and there throughout the lavish banquet at the Keep. But still, being so close to him now-- to the man who’d once growled to her as he’d shoved his signet ring over her thumb, who’d been part of the army slaughtering Kythian knights and citizens at what was meant to have been a celebratory occasion… “We had a lovely time,” she went on thinly. “I hope you did, as well. And your mother, too.”

“Mama, who’s that?” Rhea cut in, looking at the man curiously. “His voice is funny.”

The older of Pipp’s two boys stiffened slightly at this remark, frowning, and his father shot him a reproachful glare as Grace let out a wince of her own.

“Not funny, Rhea,” the woman said gently, her grip still iron over the child. “He’s just from a different kingdom than we are. Remember how Auntie Aileen’s daughters spoke another language? Well, my cousin Victor does, too. Courdonian. So when he speaks Kythian, he doesn’t sound like you or me.”

“Oh,” Rhea nodded, then turned to the Courdonian lord with a bright smile. “Hullo Cousin Victor. I’m Rhea. It’s nice to meet you!”

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Rhea. And what a lovely dress you’re wearing! I’m sure you were the prettiest girl at court tonight, hm?” Victor said with a warm smile, and although logically Grace knew she ought be relieved at her cousin’s tenderness with the child, if anything it only further raised her hackles. This was Pipp. Victor Pipp. The same man who’d once alluded that, had his countrymen won the battle at the Keep, he’d stand idly by as Grace’s husband-- Rhea’s father!-- was executed. He shouldn’t be gentle. He shouldn’t be kind. He shouldn’t, for Woo’s sake, be better with Rhea than her own brother was!

“Nuh-uhhh, Mama’s prettier,” Rhea replied firmly, oblivious to her mother’s discomfort. “And Aunt Aileen’s pretty too. I wish I had pretty yellow hair like that.” She looked down at the two boys. “And what’s your names?”

The older of the two boys glanced at his father, who gave his son a curt nod of permission. Nicholas then gave Rhea a polite smile and said, “I am Lord Nicholas Pipp. Good to meet you, Rhea.”

“And this is Lauren,” Victor said of the younger boy, who was nestled deeply in his father’s lap with his cheek tucked against the man’s ornate court tunic. “He doesn’t speak a lot of Kythian. Only bits and pieces.” He smoothed a tendril of the boy’s dark hair, which peeked out from beneath his deerskin cap. Listing his attention back to Grace, Victor added, “I’m surprised your little one’s still awake, Grace. After all that excitement.”

“She’s… energetic.” Grace swallowed hard. “Where’s your mother, Victor?”

“Retired to our rooms,” Victor replied. “The banquet wore her out. So many people she hadn’t seen in years.” He inclined his head. “And your husband, Grace?”

“Papa’s sleeping,” Rhea piped up cheerfully. “He played with me in the snow today and now he’s tired. Papa doesn’t like the cold.”

“You like it?” Nicholas asked the child. She shook her head.

“Nuh-uh, but I like the snow. Maybe you an’ Lauren an’ me can play in the snow tomorrow?”

The boy didn’t seem terribly enthusiastic at the idea of playing with a five year old. He glanced sideways at his father doubtfully, but Victor only shrugged, his face inscrutable.

“Not tomorrow,” he said. “Tomorrow’s the funeral. But perhaps sometime later, if you’d like. And if it’s okay with Lady Grace.”

The idea of her children playing alongside Victor Pipp’s made Grace want to scream, but she kept the sound smothered in her throat. “Sure, of course,” she found herself saying. “That would be lovely, Victor. I’m sure the children would all enjoy it.”

Rhea grinned broadly. “It’ll be fun! We can play tag and make snowmen and have a snow war a-a-and-”

The child was cut off by a huge yawn, though she promptly shook her head and rubbed her eye crossly once it ended. Nicholas smiled slightly. “Tired, Lady Rhea?”

“Noooooo,” the girl said, puffing out her cheeks in annoyance. However, the sharp way she blinked just a moment later made obvious the lie.

As she watched Victor watch Rhea fight back another yawn, Grace capitalized on the moment. Nudging the child off her lap, she drew them both into a standing position, her fingers threaded tightly through Rhea’s. “Well,” the woman said. “I think we’d best be calling it a night, before the little one nods off here and now.”

“Ah, yes-- she is a bit too big for you to carry, hm?” Victor mused pleasantly. “Rest well, Grace. And you too, Lady Rhea. It was very nice to meet you.”

Sullenly the girl muttered, “Not sleepy, Mama,” before turning to her Courdonian cousins with a wave. “G’night!”

Grace rather wanted to fling herself out the lobby and down the hall that led toward her family’s room, but instead she forced an even pace, her heart hammering in her ears. An Escalus knight leaned against the wall outside his lord’s room, likely since Dimitri had left the door unlocked as per Grace’s suggestion, and suddenly wishing she’d brought an escort of her own to the hearth, Grace could barely bring herself to spare him a polite smile before stepping inside. Behind her, she slid the deadbolt into place. Her hand was trembling in spite of herself, and even as she sought to still it, her stomach gave an anxious flip as all of the emotions she’d suppressed throughout the exchange with Victor came gushing to the surface.

“Mama,” Rhea said, tugging on the hand that she was still grasping. “Why’re you shaking? Are you cold?”

There was a slight creak from further in the room, and the dark shape of Dimitri pushed himself up on his elbows to look in their direction. “Hey you two,” he remarked drowsily. “You’re back sooner than I expected.”

“Yes, just cold,” Grace lied, letting go of the girl’s hand. But her voice cracked, and she knew that Dimitri would probably see right through her as she added to him, “Rhea’s tired, even if she thinks she’s not. I didn’t want her to fall asleep at the hearth.”

The bed creaked further, and there was the sound of the Escalus lord patting the sheets. “By all means come sleep then. Did something happen, Grace?”

Grace placed a hand on the small of Rhea’s back and guided her toward the bed, letting the girl climb in ahead of her. “No, everything’s alright.” In spite of her unease, she hardly wanted to worry Dimitri… or Rhea. “Just been a long day.”

“Uh-huh,” her husband replied, his tone making it obvious he wasn’t buying what she was saying for a minute. He let himself flop back down against the bed as Rhea snuggled against his body, already warmed by his time under the blanket. “Was Wynn being charming again?”

Grace gulped, watching as Rhea adhered herself to her father. Part of her wanted to lie again, but she knew there was no use. Instead, she debated with herself for a moment before she murmured in Courdonian, “We ran into Victor Pipp. With his sons.” It was a tongue Rhea had heard from time to time, and in which the child could bandy about a few shallow phrases, but the little girl was far from conversational, let alone fluent, and Grace knew she’d probably understand little of an adult exchange in the language.

Or at least, she hoped Rhea wouldn’t understand.

Though it was too dark for Grace to see Dimitri’s expression, there was a frown evident in his voice. “I see. No wonder you sound shaken. He didn’t say anything to upset you or Rhea did he?”

She shook her head. “No. He was the picture of gracious. Sweet with Rhea, even.” Grace sighed. “But I don’t like it, Dems. I don’t like him. Not at all, let alone talking with our daughter. Not when he… when he…” She clenched her jaw. “I know I shouldn’t let it… bother me. The things he said at the coronation. But sometimes, it still does. When I can’t sleep at night, and my mind wanders, and I start to wonder what he meant, exactly, when he said that he would take care of my mother and me. T-that we’d be okay if… well…”

“Yeah,” Dimitri replied softly. “The implication there was fairly clear to me too, even half-dead from blood loss as I was at the time. It’s awkward and aggravating having to play nice with him after what he put us through. Yeah he saved you and Astra, but only because he was nearby and he could. He flaked out of warning us not to go to the coronation in the first place, so clearly his loyalty to his mother’s family only-”

“Tired,” Rhea interrupted dismally. “No more funny words, please?”

“...The point is, I get where you’re coming from Gracie,” the nobleman concluded, before turning to his daughter and stroking her hair. “Sorry Sweetie, are we keeping you up?”

“I told him it would be okay if his children and Rhea played together. But I don’t want them to, Dimitri. I don’t,” Grace murmured. Then, seguing back into Kythian: “No more funny words, Rhea, sorry. We can all sleep now. We want to be rested up for the funeral, right?”

“Right!” Rhea said, though her voice was drowsy and it was clear she was already half-asleep. She pressed her forehead into her father’s chest, and he reached up a gentle hand to stroke her hair. While he understood Grace’s reservations about Pipp, his children were… children. When Dimitri had spoken to Lauren the day before the boy hadn’t seemed anything like the cruel, sneering Courdonians who’d tried to kill them at the coronation.

Still, Dimitri didn’t say anything, save a very soft, “I won’t let anything bad happen. I promise. Good night, Gracie. “

A Funeral Fit for a Queen: Part Three

SPOILER: Click to show

“What in the ‘Pit is wrong with you, Wynn?” Aileen Alesci nee Cressida demanded the next morning in the lobby of the Fig and Gristle, as the Alesci, Cressida, and Escalus parties convened in advance of the queen mother’s funeral (Victor Pipp and his retinue had, fortunately, not asked to join the group). “You look like you’ve been beaten against a laundry board.”

“Good morning to you as well,” Wynn snapped in return, but his voice was hoarse and his throat obviously raw. He was no longer merely pallid, but sallow, with a sickly yellow undercast to his skin. His eyes were bloodshot and his nose running. His voice rattled as he asserted, “It’s just the weather, that’s all. My body’s not used to the cold.”

“He’s been coughing all night,” Bay announced brightly, squirming in his stiff black funeral clothes. “He told one of our knights to find him honey, but they couldn’t. And--”

“Bay,” Wynn warned, as he attempted-- and failed-- to fight back a bone-crunching cough. “Quiet.”

“You can hardly march in a funeral procession like that.” Aileen frowned. “And I doubt anyone will be happy if you spend the entire service sputtering and moaning.”

“Nor I think will it do anybody much good if all our children catch whatever this is,” Dimitri remarked. “I’m sure you in particular don’t want to have to deal with sick kids on top of being sick yourself.” He glanced sideways at Grace. “We’ve only Rhea with us- I think we can chaperone a few more, wouldn’t you say?”

Grace nodded, unable to fight back a wince of her own as Wynn doubled over with another, more violent cough. “And maybe on our way back we can fetch a healer for him?” she said. “This city has to have a gamut of them.”

“I came all this way for the funeral,” Wynn groused. “I can’t just skip it.”

“Papa.” Jacob set a hesitant hand on his father’s arm. “You’re sick. You should sleep. No one would blame you for missing it. And I’m sure that Bay, Beth, and I will be okay with Lord Dimitri and Lady Grace watching us. It’s very kind of them to offer.”

“We’re already running a bit behind the planned schedule,” Aileen added. “Don’t make this a fight, Wynn. Go back to your room. Rest. The kids will be fine, and nobody will begrudge your absence.”

Wynn opened his lips as though to rebut again, but before he could, he let out yet another racking cough. It took him a good twenty seconds to recover and catch his breath this time, and once he had, the lord of Cressida clenched his jaw.

“Fine,” he grated. “I’ll stay. But my three-- you’d best behave yourselves.”

“Of course, Papa,” Jacob said.

“I mean it.” Wynn turned away. “If I hear a single word that says otherwise…”

“I’m sure they’ll be perfect cherubs,” Dimitri said, gesturing urgently to the rest of the group. Taking the hint, they moved towards the door before Wynn could change his mind at the last minute or deliver any more parting threats.

As Dimitri had predicted, the Cressida children were as well behaved as anyone might’ve hoped during Maia’s funeral procession. Bay fidgeted perhaps more than he might’ve under his father’s eye, but none of them caused any significant problems. Certainly there was no repeat of the disastrous spectacle that had been Starmey’s funeral. The only real similarity was the presence of bored peasants who had arrived for the free booze, but even then there were fewer of them and things were nowhere near so rowdy. Grace, for her part, seemed immensely relieved by the differences; she had a hard enough time wresting her emotions back without the added exhibition of lords dancing upon caskets or heirs to major houses jockeying for a mourning princess’s hand.

Eventually the ceremony drew to a close and the crowd dispersed. Most of the company split off to return to the inn or to seek entertainment elsewhere in the city. Grace reminded Dimitri of their promise to find some medicine for Wynn, and he agreed that they should look into that- also suggesting that they take their time going about the city and let the kids explore a bit, since Wynn wasn’t around to keep them leashed.

Automatically, Grace’s mind flashed back to what had happened the last time she and Dimitri had tried to explore Medieville, but she stubbornly willed this memory away. Things weren’t the same now as they had been four years ago; the starkly different funeral was proof enough of this. And the children-- Wynn’s in particular-- deserved a little fun.

“Let’s just keep the knights close,” she murmured to her husband. “But otherwise, sure. I don’t see the harm in wandering some.”

“I’d not suggest otherwise,” Dimitri agreed. “But the kids will get restless and stir-crazy if we keep them cooped up at the inn too long.” He took his wife’s hand. “I know. Believe me I do.”

“Papa!” Rhea squealed suddenly, pointing excitedly. “I think that store has candy! Can we go in, please!”

“Candy!” Bay echoed. Jacob had a firm grip on his little brother’s hand, and the elder boy scowled as Bay pulled against him, squirming like a puppy. “Jake,” the child whined. “Let go-- I want to see the candy!”

“It’s up to Lady Grace and Lord Dimitri whether we can go in, Bay,” Jacob chided gently. “Please, don’t give them anything to report back to Papa about.”

“I won’t be telling your father anything,” Grace replied, barely able to temper a sigh. “And please, sweetie, I’ve told you that you don’t need the titles. I’m your aunt, and Dimitri’s your uncle. You’re perfectly allowed to address us as such.”

“Sorry, Aunt Grace.” Jacob inclined his head.

“We can go inside,” Dimitri said. “But I don’t want all of you buzzed up when we take you back to the inn so you can each pick one kind of candy.” Glancing at Jacob with a smile he added, “And you don’t need to be so formal with us. I want to give you all a chance to have some fun, so you needn’t treat this like a diplomatic meeting.”

Jacob nodded mutely, still with a death grip on his brother’s hand, but as the group stepped inside the store, he dared turn the littler child free. As the shopkeeper called out a welcome, Bay at once made a beeline for a glass-fronted case on the far wall, which was brimming with more varieties of dried and sweetened fruit than Grace had ever seen before in her life. Jacob trailed behind his brother like a hound on a scent, while the third Cressida child, Elisabeth, hesitated, her lip bit as she hovered near to the shop’s door, only a few steps in front of the Escalus knights.

Rhea started into the shop, but noticing Elisabeth hanging back, she glanced around. “Don’t you want any candy?” she asked. Brightly she added, “I want some nougat! It’s really good, especially if you get one that has nuts and fruit at the same time!”

“I’m okay,” Elisabeth murmured, fidgeting uneasily with her black veil. “I don’t want anything. But you go ahead.”

Grace furrowed her brow, battling back the urge to reach out and still the anxious child’s hand. Watching Elisabeth… Woo, it was like observing an even more timid version of the girl that she, Grace, had been at that age. And Grace herself had been a long, long way from outgoing.

“Why don’t you want anything, Beth?” she prompted softly, gesturing for Rhea to go pore over the shelves and bins. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Yes,” Beth said. “I’m fine. I just…” She faltered, crossing her arms awkwardly at her chest. “Papa didn’t say it was okay for me to get candy, and I know you’re offering but I don’t want him to be cross with me f-for taking your money, and…”

Dimitri, who’d been supervising the boys with one ear cocked towards the conversation behind him, looked towards Grace sharply. What on earth?

“Sweetie, why would your Papa be mad at you? You’re not taking our money,” he said soothingly. “We’re family, of course we want to get you sweets. If it helps, you can say it’s a late Woomas present. Besides it wouldn’t be very fair for us to get something for Rhea and not for you three too.”

Beth hesitated for a moment more before giving a tiny nod. “Okay,” she said. “Thank you. I won’t pick out anything too big.”

Reserved as his sister was, young Bay seemed to have no such qualms. He was presently agonizing between a massive chunk of nut brittle and a bulging sachet of honeyed figs, pondering the merits of each aloud as Jacob just barely suppressed a snigger and eye roll. The older boy had selected a modest pouch of baked and sugared walnuts for himself, and taking after her brother’s lead, Elisabeth silently picked out a matching bag. Rhea, as promised, picked out a small bar of white nougat made with honey, almonds, hazlenuts, and candied lemon.

As they waited for Bay to make his decision, Dimitri smiled down at Jacob. “You seem like a good big brother- I can tell you care a lot about your siblings.”

“Thank you,” Jacob said, idly twirling the decorative ribbon that cinched shut his candy pouch. “I’m the oldest, so I guess it comes with the territory. I’ve never really not had little siblings-- Beth’s less than a year and a half younger than me, so…” He shrugged. “They drive me crazy sometimes, but I can’t imagine my life without them. Although to be perfectly frank, I’m a little glad my father decided the two smallest weren’t old enough to make the journey. If you think Bay’s got energy, imagine two of him put together, and that’s my baby brother Artemis.”

Dimitri laughed. “Last I saw of Artemis he was still just a tiny thing, so I’ll have to take your word for it. Though you can probably guess that Rhea keeps us plenty on our toes. She actually just became an older sister herself two years ago, but she’s always sort of played the part for my brother’s kid.” Tilting his head, Dimitri asked, “What about your other brother. What was his name again, Lindsey?”

“Linden,” Jacob said. “He’s turning five this summer.” The boy winced as Bay took a surreptitious bite of the nut brittle. “I saw that, and you’re buying it now, Bay,” he called. “Put the figs back. And don’t eat anymore until we pay, alright?”

“I just wanted to taste it,” Bay said soberly. “How am I supposed to know if I like it otherwise?”

“Is that how shopping works?” Jacob snorted.

“I’unno.” Bay clung steadfastly to the figs. “But it’s too salty. I’d rather have the figs.”

“Sorry Bay, they don’t do free samples here,” Dimitri said, crossing his arms and lifting an eyebrow. “And I already said only one thing. I have to pay for the brittle now, so that’s what you’re getting. Next time don’t try to be sly- that’s stealing and we could all get in big trouble for it.”

Bay pouted his lips but obediently set the figs back. “I didn’t mean to steal,” he said. “That’s a sin. And we’re not supposed to do sins, right?”

“Right,” Grace confirmed, the woman smirking as she added, “And let’s see, Bay, can you tell me what verse that comes from?”

“Um.” Bay quailed. “I’unno. Papa makes me memorize them, but I’m not really good at it.”

“I don’t remember which verse it is, but that’s from the Book of Strength, right Mama?” Rhea put in. “Do not steal, but do honest labor with your own hands, and share your excess with those in need?”

Grace quirked a brow, impressed. “That’s right, hon,” she said.

“It’s verse forty-seven,” Elisabeth murmured. “But there’s more on it a few verses later.” For the first time that Grace could recall, something near to a smile ticked at the girl’s lips as she added, “I thought you’d remember that, Bay. Didn’t you have to write it like, fifty times, after you went into the kitchens and stole the tart Mama had the cooks make for Jake’s birthday?”

“It was lime,” Bay replied cheerily. “With cream dollops.”

“You remember the snack but not the punishment,” Dimitri remarked dryly. “Well it’s obvious where your priorities are, isn’t it Bay?”

“What’s ‘priorities’?” Rhea put in.

“It means what things you care about most,” Jacob said. Reaching over toward his brother, he affectionately ruffled the littler boy’s sandy hair. “For Bay, that means always thinking with his belly first. And second. And third.”

Bay giggled. “Mama says it’s better to have a sweet tooth than a bitter tongue.”

“Just as long as you don’t make a habit of indulging that sweet tooth at the expense of other people,” Dimitri remarked, though it was obvious from his tone the rebuke was a light one. He turned towards the shopkeeper, fishing some runestones out of his pocket. “Now come on, there’s a lot more to see in Medieville than a candy store and we still need to get the medicine for your Papa.”

Once the group had left the candy store, they continued to meander about the market. Dimitri and Grace indulgently let the children look at just about anything that caught their fancy. Rhea was very loud and enthusiastic about the things she wanted to see, from a glazier selling colorful blown glass to a jeweler with gorgeous brooches, necklaces, and bracelets. Although Elisabeth and Jacob were far more reserved, Bay’s energy only amplified as the excursion went on-- to the point that eventually, after he tugged free from Jacob’s grip to bound up to a cart hocking sweet rolls, Grace sighed and wrested a hold of the child’s hand herself.

“Stay close, sweetie,” she scolded, her fingers tight around his. “This city’s too big for you to wander.” She looked to Dimitri. “You seen any apothecaries or healer’s shops yet?”

“According to the jeweler there should be one right around this next corner,” Dimitri replied. Glancing down at Bay he added, “If you’re that hungry why not eat your nut brittle? Didn’t you get a pretty good brick of it?”

“Oh, but I already ate that,” Bay said. “While everybody was looking at those glass jars. It was very salty. And I’m thirsty now.” A pause, before the child perked up. “But Papa told me snow’s just water. So I could just drink that, couldn’t I?”

With a glance down at the grey, trampled snow banked to either side of the carefully cleared road, Grace chuckled. “I’m going to advise against that, sweetheart,” she said.

Dimitri sighed, looking half exasperated and half amused. “If I remember right from our last visit, there should be a tea shop near here. We can get something to drink there on the way back once we pick up the medicine for your father. That sound fair?”

Rhea perked up. “Tea? Warm tea would be great to warm up after the snow!”

“And maybe we can get a brew for Wynn, too,” Grace agreed. “Something to soothe his throat.” She smiled at Bay, drawing the boy close to her. “But you’ll have to help me pick it out, okay, sweetie? It’ll be your very important job.”

“I wouldn’t trust Bay with that job,” Elisabeth stage whispered with a grin; Grace’s heart swelled at the sight of it, the child slowly shedding her shell at last. “He’d probably eat the tea leaves before we even get back to the inn.”

“Would not!” Bay gasped.

“Uh-huh,” Beth countered. “And the bag, too!”

“Ew, you don’t eat bags, Bay, that’s silly!” Rhea said, beaming at her cousin. Dimitri chuckled, pleased to see the kids enjoying themselves. Turning he gestured towards the apothecary.

“Come on gang- the sooner we get the medicine, the sooner we can get in out of the cold for a bit.”

A Funeral Fit for a Queen: Part Four

SPOILER: Click to show

“Are you sure he’ll be alright with all of them, Aileen?” Grace asked the next morning, with one eye on her sister and the other on Aileen’s husband, Floriano, as the group of them, plus assorted children, stood in the lobby of the Fig and Gristle. “I mean, I know Rhea’s just one more… but then with Bay and Jacob, too…”

“It’ll be just like at home,” Aileen replied, smirking. “We’ve two smaller ones back in Lyell whom we’ve left behind, you know. And Floriano’s brother has a gaggle of his own little ones who end up in our house more days than not.” She paused, her voice sobering as she added, “It’s just a shame Beth caught whatever Wynn’s got brewing. Poor little thing. Perhaps we can bring her something back.”

“Maybe.” But Grace sighed at the thought; she could only hope that no one else in the extended Cressida, Alesci, and Escalus parties would catch the sickness next. And that Beth and Wynn would recover soon. They only had today and tomorrow left in the city, after all, and Woo knew the journey back south would be arduous enough without the added compunction of a wracking chest cold.

“Aw, come on, Gracie.” Aileen set a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Don’t be so dour. This’ll be fun-- a nice, adults only conversation in a warm and cozy teahouse as Rhea plays with her cousins.” She looked to Dimitri. “Are you going to insist on an escort, Lord Escalus?” she asked. “I think it could be nice to explore some without the shadow. Especially since we’ve all dressed down enough, anyway.” She gestured to her plain dress and cloak, and then to Grace’s own, in a simple umber-brown instead of the usual glaring orange-and-blue of House Escalus. Even Dimitri was dressed down, in a cream and black ensemble that wouldn’t have been out of place in a merchant’s guildhall.

The lord sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Call me paranoid but I don’t have the same pleasant childhood memories of Medieville that you ladies do. I… don’t really trust this city. It wasn’t just the Courdonians, the peasants here were harassing us and making subtle threats as often as not.”

“Eh, alright. It’ll probably make Floriano feel better, anyway.” Aileen glanced over toward her husband, who presently had his daughter Chiara hooked in one arm as Bay Cressida stood beside him quite literally petting the fur lining of the Lyellian’s lush cloak. “Be good for your uncle, Bay,” she called to the boy.

“Fons says it’s made of wolf!” Bay breathed by way of reply. “Is it?”

Aileen laughed. “Sure. Why not?” After a quick exchange in Lyellian with her husband, the woman turned toward the door. “Shall we, then? There’s a cup of tea waiting with my name on it, and I’m eager to get my hands on it as soon as possible.”

The three adults- with an Escalus knight following at a discrete distance- made their way to the teahouse. Once inside Dimitri did a quick sweep of the place with his eyes, remembering how they’d found Pipp here shortly before Desinty’s coronation four years prior and not eager to spend more “quality time” with Grace’s cousin.

To his surprise, though Pipp was nowhere to be seen, he did spot someone else he recognized.

“...Is that Malenna?”

Aileen and Grace’s eyes both dashed at once to the far corner of the shop, where a blonde-haired woman sat alone at a table for four. Although distinctly older than both Aileen and Grace, her features were unmistakably similar to the two women’s: a wispy brow, clear blue eyes, skin that was milky pale. She was clad just as plainly as them, too, in a taupe dress and wool cloak that would have looked just as fitting on a peasant. No hat. Measly gloves.

No escort, Grace noticed, as beside her Aileen took a sharp step forward and swore under her breath.

“That is Mal,” the woman huffed, glaring at her oldest sister, who hadn’t yet noticed the mixed Escalus and Alesci party. “Nice to see her enjoying some tea when she hasn’t even taken five seconds out of her busy schedule to bid us hello.”

Dimitri folded his arms. “After the cataclysm of Basil’s funeral I imagine she’s been avoiding Wynn- but I do admit I’m shocked she hasn’t at least come to say hello to you two. It has to have been what, at least a decade since last you were in Kyth, Aileen?”

“Longer,” Aileen growled. “I married Floriano in 1304, and I haven’t been back since.”

“Aileen.” Grace swallowed hard. “Please don’t make a scene.”

“A scene? Never.” She took another, louder step toward Malenna, and only then did the older woman’s gaze finally find her sisters and brother-in-law-- at which point she went nearly as pale as the snow outside.

“Aileen,” she started, forcing a smile that did not at all match the look of dread in her eyes.

Without another word, Aileen stalked to her sister’s table and slipped down into one of the empty seats, beckoning behind her for Dimitri and Grace to follow. Grace did, albeit reluctantly, her cheeks going blaze red as she prayed desperately that Aileen would not cause a ruckus, Woo, please don’t cause a ruckus. Stifling a sigh, Dimitri followed both women, though he hovered without sitting, figuring he might as well wait since likely he’d be getting them all drinks in a few minutes- or leaving altogether.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Aileen rasped once they were all seated. “I’d have thought you were awfully busy, after all. Given that you’ve not even said hello to us through two complete diplomatic events.”

“I was going to come by this afternoon,” Malenna said, stiffening. “It’s been a whirlwind, Aileen-- this is the first time I’ve had a moment to myself in days--”

“Where’s your charming Jade husband?” Aileen demanded. “Can’t think he’d let you wander about without an escort.”

“Aileen.” Grace winced.

“I was just asking a question.”

“No, Aileen, you weren’t.” Malenna frowned, her eyes trailing up toward Dimitri, still standing. “Lord Escalus,” she greeted. “I apologize for my sister’s… impertinence. Please, sit.”

“I’m waiting for Aileen and Grace’s orders of tea,” he said with false cheer. Glancing at Aileen with a pleading expression, he added. “After all Wynn’s come down with a rather nasty chest cold so we were hoping to have a nice day and enjoy some peaceful quality time.” His eyes darted towards Grace meaningfully.

“I’ll take anything lemon,” Grace murmured, resisting the urge to glare knives at both of her sisters. “Thank you, Dimitri.”

“I’ll have the same,” Aileen said, her voice considerably softer, but there remained a terse edge to it still, and Grace could tell her sister was swallowing back more insults as she added, “My thanks, as well.”

Dimitri nodded, heading up to the counter to order tea for himself and the two women; he came back a few moments later with the steaming cups, finally taking a seat for himself. In his brief absence, the sisters had apparently made little headway in their conversation, Grace blathering desperately at both of them about the miserable weather as Aileen sat rigid and frowning, and Malenna stirred mindlessly at her tea. They hardly looked like a family reunited after several years apart; but for their physical resemblance, Malenna and Aileen could have been mistaken for strangers, and Grace for their awkward mutual friend.

“Does it snow in Solis ever, Mal?” Grace prattled, fidgeting with her newly placed teacup. “I know it’s further south than this, but I swear Father once told me it gets cold enough on occasion.”

“Rarely,” Malenna replied, dumping another splash of cream into her already-cloudy tea. “Mostly it rains.” She looked to Dimitri, not even acknowledging Aileen-- who sat between them-- as she did. “What sort of tea did you select for yourself, Lord Escalus?” she asked.

“Silver needle and tangerine,” he replied. “It’s a sort of white tea.” With a smile he added, “If you were planning to visit later perhaps you can meet the kids. Rhea’s been over the moon with so many playmates, though Wynn’s little girl caught whatever he has.”

“Of course,” Malenna said. “It’d be nice to meet your daughter.” Finally, she made herself look at Aileen. “And your children, as well, Aileen.”

Aileen pursed her lips. “I’d told them good things about you. They were disappointed when you didn’t come to see them.”

“I’m sorry.” Malenna sighed. “You… you know that I didn’t keep my distance because of you, Aileen, right? And I was going to come meet them. Today. I just… had to work myself up first. To go someplace I knew Wynn would be.”

“He’s your brother, Mal,” Grace murmured. “Not a monster you have to hide from.”


“I suppose.” She turned her attention back to Dimitri. “I hope you didn’t think I was avoiding you and Grace, Lord Escalus,” she said. “If so, I apologize. It wasn’t my intent.”

Dimitri sighed, looking Malenna directly in the eye. “You forget, I was at both of your parents’ funerals and I saw the fireworks display you and Wynn were putting on. I don’t blame you for wanting to avoid the drama- but he wasn’t at the queen mother’s funeral.”

“It was a funeral, Lord Escalus,” Malenna said. “I didn’t think it was the best place for reunite with a sister I’d not seen in nearly fifteen years, nor to meet her children.” She took a sip of her tea. “I noticed Victor Pipp was there. His was not a face I expected to see.”

Dimitri frowned slightly at the evasion and unsubtle change of the conversation topic. After a brief hesitation, he shrugged. “Probably should have guessed he’d come, considering Lady Luna was close to Queen Maia, but we weren’t either. Apparently the only one who did know was Wynn- he told Pipp where we were all staying.”

“Charming,” Malenna sneered. “Not like Pipp almost got Wynn’s helpless mother and sister killed.”

“I’m sitting right here, Mal,” Grace said, furrowing her brow. “Stop talking about me as if I’m not. Woo, it should not be this hard to have a normal conversation with you.”

“She has a point, though,” Aileen mused, for the first time showing an emotion toward Malenna that wasn’t only seething contempt; Grace wasn’t sure, however, if this newfound solidarity was any better. “Wynn had no business giving our lodging information out to Victor. Not after what happened.”

The Escalus lord took a sip of his tea, and as he set it down again he shrugged. “I’m more surprised that Pipp decided to stay in the same place. I’m not quite sure what he gets out of it. Besides stilted, awkwardly diplomatic conversations. I’d almost wonder if Lady Luna wanted to see her nieces and nephew but for the fact that I haven’t seen hide nor hair of her.”

“Courdonians are strange with their women,” Aileen said. “I’m surprised he even let her come.”

“Or maybe,” Malenna suggested dryly, “she wants to see everybody, but she has no idea how to broach the uncomfortable truth that her son nearly got Grace and Mother killed.”

“The Bloody Coronation wasn’t his idea, Malenna,” Grace said, before she realized how very stupid it was, that it should be she who was defending Victor Pipp, of all cursed people. Her cheeks went red, and she reached self-consciously for her tea, suddenly wishing that she were back at the Fig and Gristle with Floriano and the kids. “I don’t want to talk about Victor Pipp,” she murmured. “Can we please change the subject?”

Dimitri wasn’t really sure why Grace was getting so worked up about this. He knew she was just as angry about what Pipp had done as he was, if not more. He had no idea what to talk about that wouldn’t make Grace balk that wasn’t just inane forced small talk.

After a moment, he sighed softly. “We’re so bad at this. This family thing. I don’t think I’ve met any Corvid nobles except for Lord Everett’s family that aren’t… strained somehow.” He shook his head. “It makes me sad.”

At this, Malenna quirked a brow. “Trust me when I say, Lord Escalus, that Lord Everett’s family is far from perfect. I doubt any family’s perfect.” Longingly, her eye fell back to Aileen. “We in Corvus are just particularly good at the whole dysfunction thing.”

Aileen smirked. “Oh, you should see some of the families in Lyell, Mal. I’m fairly sure Floriano keeps a comprehensive list in his office of who’s-not-talking-to-whom and which-brothers-can’t-you-both-invite-to-a-party and, well…” She shook her head. “Families are the same everywhere. And hey, we’ve three of four children sharing a cup of tea without any bloodshed, so that’s pretty good, isn’t it?”

Dimitri glanced in Grace’s direction, and she returned his look with a soft, strained smile-- looking better than she had a few moments ago, at least, but there still remained a layer of anxiety to her, lurking beneath the neutral outer shell. He gave her a reassuring expression in return, before remarking, “At least all our children are getting along well enough. They’re even doing well with Pipp’s kids. Though it makes for an interesting dynamic, with nine to ten kids and three languages between them.”

“I wish Noelle could have come,” Malenna said. “But she’s pregnant, you know. Nearly six months along. I didn’t even bother asking her husband.”

“I’m sure the little ones would have bored her, anyway,” Grace said. “Watching Rhea and Aileen’s youngest paw at the older ones is worth the price of admission alone.” With a smirk of her own, she inclined her head toward Dimitri. “I do hope little Bay hasn’t stolen Floriano’s cloak. I’ve never seen a child so enraptured.”

Dimitri laughed. “If he has, we’ll just have to get Rhea to quote the Book of Strength verse forty-seven at him again. Or withhold dinner from him. As food motivated as the boy is, I imagine one missed meal is all it will take to make him cave. Or to encourage him to raid the inn kitchen and get sauce all over the nice coat.”

“Maybe I should bring some chocolate with me when I come by.” Malenna smiled. “Win all the kids over in one fell swoop.”

“I’m pretty sure bribery is another sin all on its own, Mal,” Aileen quipped.

“Oh, but who’s counting? You call it bribery; I call it ‘gifts for the nieces and nephews’. I suppose we’ll have to let the Woo decide, eh?”

Dimitri gave Malenna a mournful expression. “Alas, how in the world are the rest of us supposed to compete with that?” Quirking an eyebrow and grinning he added, “I think I have only had chocolate once- at Fill’s wedding. We can’t possibly compete with House Jade’s deep pockets.”

Malenna snorted. “Oh, if you think Jade’s got burgeoning pockets, Lord Escalus, then you didn’t see the extravagance at Aileen’s wedding. Tell Gracie’s esteemed husband what Floriano’s father brought Mum and Dad as a gift. Not the bride price, mind you: just a gift.”

“It was only seaglass,” Aileen said, blushing now.

“From Valzaim,” Malenna amended. “He got them each handcrafted seaglass woocifixes from Valzaim.”

Dimitri’s eyes bulged. “What? The import prices alone…” He moaned, putting his face down on his arm on the table. “Grace? I love you dearly but I will never stop feeling inadequate with your family.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Dimitri,” Grace replied. “Father nearly fainted when the Alescis’ translator explained what they were.” Brightening, she finished, “He owned his for about three hours before he dropped it on the floor. It broke. He tried to use a wooparo to fix it, but the shards had gone everywhere, and he was probably missing some, and well… magic never was Father’s strong point in the first place. The thing went from looking like a masterpiece to a child’s failed art project.”

Malenna guffawed. “I didn’t know that,” she said. “Woo, how can you even mess up a spell so simple?”

“Mum asked him the same thing.” Grace laughed, too. “He told her being a mage was very complicated and sometimes these things just happened.”

“Ah, Father.” Malenna sighed wistfully. “I would have loved to see the look on his face. Or the eye roll Mum gave him in return.”

Dimitri chuckled. “At least chocolate still tastes good even if you break it. Though I hope you brought enough money with you for one of those seaglass woocifixes- again, there are ten kids in that inn.” He smirked. “Come join the madness, it’ll be fun. You can get them hopped up on sugar all night.”

“I might have to stop back at the manor and sweetly ask Roderick for some extra runestones. After I put on my best apologetic face for slipping off alone without his knowledge or permission.” Malenna grinned. “But hey, that’s what aunts are for, right? Riling up the kids and letting their parents deal with the sugar crashes.”

“Four against one, Mal,” Aileen said. “Five if you count Wynn. And six if you get Victor Pipp involved. You are not leaving that inn until they’re all tucked safely into bed.” Conspiratorially, she looked to Dimitri. “You get her arms. I’ll take her legs. And Grace can go for the hair.”

Glancing at his wife with a crooked grin, Dimitri said, “Sounds like a plan.”

A Funeral Fit for a Queen: Part Five

SPOILER: Click to show

It was past midnight-- and Rhea and the rest of the children had long fallen from their sugar rushes-- when a knocking on Dimitri and Grace’s inn room door wrenched the pair from slumber. Her heart pounding in her ears, at first Grace thought she must be hearing things; then she glanced over to Dimitri, similarly roused, and knew that she’d not imagined it at all.

“What in the world?” she hissed, careful not to awaken Rhea, who Grace was fairly sure could sleep through the apocalypse.

“Don’t know,” Dimitri muttered. Hesitantly, he edged out of the bed and towards the door. Who’d be knocking at this hour? The knights with the Escalus party were in rooms on either side so a shout would be sufficient to bring them running if anything was wrong, but…

Hesitantly, the Escalus lord opened the door. “Hello?” he whispered.

“Sorry to bother you so late,” said the older woman who stood on the other side, her long silver hair falling to her shoulders in wispy waves. With a terse smile to Dimitri, she pointed to the young boy who squirmed in front of her, and who wore expression of immense regret (but, quite conspicuously, neither shoes nor socks, his bare feet pale against the inn’s weathered wooden floor). “I believe,” she went on, “that he might be one of yours? I’ve seen him with you, at least.”

Dimitri blinked, looking down at the boy. He recognized him instantly and sighed with exasperation. “Bay. Do you have any idea how late it is?” To the old woman he gave an apologetic smile. “He’s not mine, but he is my nephew- I’ll get him back to his father. I’m sorry if he woke you up.”

“Ah, no,” the woman replied, as the boy gnawed on his lip as though it were candy. “I’m a night owl myself. I was sitting near the hearth in the lobby when he wandered out. I thought he looked too little to be up this late. Not to mention his shoes. Or… lack of shoes.”

Behind her husband, Grace had straightened and stood from the bed, pacing quietly over to Dimitri’s side. When she saw Bay, she scowled, reaching around Dimitri to take a firm hold of his hand and lug him inside the room.

“What were you thinking?” she demanded of the child, before she spared a look toward the woman. Once she had, Grace quailed. “Aunt Luna,” she said. “I… don’t believe we’ve spoken yet this trip.”

“No.” Luna Pipp nee Ascension sighed. “We haven’t. And I’m sorry to make my greeting this way, Grace. After all these years. Woo, the last time I saw you, at your brother’s wedding, you hardly reached my hip.”

Dimitri started. So this was Victor Pipp’s mother? In the dark it was hard to see if she bore any resemblance to him, or to her late sister Astra whom Dimitri had also known. But if Grace recognized her…

The Escalus lord’s feelings were decidedly mixed. On the one hand, he knew this woman was, indirectly, responsible for saving Grace and Astra’s lives at the Bloody Coronation. It was her shared blood with Astra that had given Victor motivation to stop them from being killed. But it had been a very near miss- if Victor hadn’t happened upon them at just the right time, they’d have been killed anyway. And it wasn’t as if he couldn’t have warned them off, he’d spoken to all three of the Corvids in town and to Grace again later.

Keeping his expression pleasantly neutral, he bowed slightly to the aging woman. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Pipp. Thank you for bringing Bay back up to us.”

“You must be Lord Dimitri,” Luna said. “Victor told me it was you who found Lauren the other day. So I suppose fair’s only fair.” She faltered. “Well. I… don’t want to keep you up any further than I have already. My apologies for waking you.” Luna looked to Bay, who was fidgeting in Grace’s iron grip with a sullen pout on his face. “Goodnight to you as well, young lord. I’m glad we found someone from your family.”

Dimitri smiled nodding. “Of course, my lady. We’ll see Bay back to his father. Good night to you.”

Once the old woman had vanished down the hall, and Bay been given a stern dressing down and returned to his room, Dimitri settled back into the bed in his own room with a sigh.

“Well that was… interesting,” he remarked to Grace softly.

“Not exactly the reunion I expected to have with Aunt Luna,” Grace agreed with a sigh, slightly impressed by the fact that even through the din-- including Bay loudly whining that he hadn’t been wandering, he’d just been trying to find a nicer place to sleep where there “weren’t so many coughing people”-- still Rhea hadn’t roused from her slumber. In fact as Dimitri settled into the bed, she flinched away from his chilled body in her sleep and cuddled drowsily against her mother, all without waking.

“I suppose on some level I can’t blame her for feeling awkward,” Dimitri admitted. “Given what she has to know happened. I’d not be surprised if Astra sent her a rather sternly worded letter after the coronation. But…” he sighed. “I wonder if she was hoping I’d answer the door on my own and not recognize her.”

“I’d like to think not,” Grace said, “but I wouldn’t be surprised if so. At this point, it’s clear that she’s avoiding me. We’ve been staying at the same inn as each other for almost a week. She’s made nice with Aileen. And I think she might’ve talked to Wynn, too. But not me. Never me.” She ran a hand through her sleeping daughter’s chestnut hair. “It must be kind of difficult to deal with, when your son almost murders your niece.”

“Mmm. I’m sorry about all this, Grace,” Dimitri said, reaching towards his wife and giving her shoulder a squeeze- he couldn’t properly hug her with Rhea between them. “If it’d cheer you up a little, there is one thing about what just happened I actually do find kind of amusing.”

“Oh?” Grace asked. “And what’s that? Beyond, of course, the fact that Bay sounded like a squawking crow when I tweaked his ear.”

“You remember the first day we were here, how I told you I bumped into one of Pipp’s younger children in the lobby? At the time Wynn made a rather snide comment about how if he’d stayed in his room he wouldn’t have gotten lost, and gloated about how Courdon must’ve been more lax about obedience than he’d heard.” Dimitri’s eyebrow lifted, and a slight smile quirked at the corner of his mouth.

Grace snorted. “And I don’t suppose he offered you a retraction when you just delivered Bay to his door?”

“He did not deign to comment,” Dimitri replied cheerfully. “And hopefully that sullen silence will reign for the rest of the trip- it is infinitely preferable to condescension!”

***

The next day was to be the final one that the group would spend in Medieville. After this they would all go home again. A big dinner at one of the local establishments had been arranged for later that evening, but there were no explicit plans for the rest of the day- everyone agreed it was probably best to rest up in preparation for the long trip ahead.

Aileen and Floriano took the children out just after breakfast for one last long romp in the snow-- save for Bay, who was being kept to the Cressida’s room as punishment in the company of the dreaded coughing people (although at least both Beth and Wynn did seem on the upswing, and Wynn was very adamant that they’d be fine to travel the next morning). Grace and Dimitri, grateful for an opportunity for a bit of quiet after all the excitement, found places close to the fire in the common room.

“As much as Rhea enjoys it, I am looking forward to returning to the land without snow,” Dimitri said, flopping down into a chair. “And poor Fill and Bella must be thoroughly overwhelmed dealing with a two-year-old as fussy as Delilah on top of their own little firecrackers.”

“At least we only have to ride as far as Iscaria with Wynn,” Grace said. “Claim as he might, I can’t imagine that ride will be fun with him and Beth still coughing. Not to mention Bay. Woo, I don’t think that boy’s got a lick of common sense.”

Dimitri laughed. “All energy and enthusiasm, no outlet for it, that’s all. I’m sure he’ll sort himself out eventually. I’m just glad that’s not my headache to sort out.”

Grace nodded in concurrence, leaning over to fan her hands out over the crackling hearth, and only at the sound of approaching footsteps did she snap her head up again. As she did, her heart promptly leapt into her throat, and she swallowed sharply as Luna Pipp paused only a few steps away, the older woman glancing reluctantly between Grace and Dimitri.

“Hello,” Luna said, her voice soft-- almost hesitant.

“Hi,” Grace replied, her mouth dry.

“I do hope everything turned out alright last night?” the woman continued; the more she spoke, the more aware Grace became of the slight Courdonian affectation to her words, Luna’s largely Kythian accent woven throughout by a healthy dose of southern idiosyncrasies. “With the boy, I mean,” Luna clarified, as though she could be talking about anything else. “He’s a little spitfire, isn’t he?”

Dimitri, trying not to stiffen with nerves as the woman approached them gave a wan smile. “He’s enjoying the luxurious company of his ill relatives in their room today in lieu of playing with the other children. But he’s fine, just bored and sullen.” Glancing towards the window he added, “I hope your grandchildren weren’t too… fiery themselves after Lady Malenna’s treats yesterday?”

“Lauren informed me he didn’t even like it,” Luna said, returning the smile. “Little heathen, eh? What’s not to like about chocolate?” Wavering, she took a small step forward. “I… do mean what I said to you last night, though, Grace. About that not being how I wanted to greet you. Or meet you in the first place, Lord Dimitri. I’ve been meaning to work up the nerve to do it all week. I just…” She sighed. “Is it alright if I sit?”

Dimitri glanced in Grace’s direction, but gave a slight nod. “Go ahead, Lady Pipp.”

Luna obliged wordlessly, smoothing her skirts as she did. Grace, meanwhile, stared down at her own lap, knowing that it was probably rude but unable to bring herself to care. Her niece’s evasive body language certainly didn’t escape Luna. The woman gave another sigh, this one heavier, and knit her wrinkled fingers together.

“You can say it, Grace,” she murmured. “Whatever it is that you’re stifling back.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea, Aunt Luna,” Grace replied.

“I can take it,” Luna said firmly. Then, to Dimitri: “From you, as well. I can’t imagine I’m on the top of either of your lists of favorite relations. Nor is my son.”

Dimitri’s blue eyes flickered away from Luna, his expression momentarily taking on a somewhat haunted cast. “It’s not something either of us like thinking about, my lady. It took… Woo, close to a year for either of us to feel completely normal and safe again.”

“I understand,” Luna said. “When I heard what had happened… Woo, I thought I might faint. Living through that carnage? I can hardly imagine it. And knowing that my son was complicit in it…” She shuddered. “I told him not to come, you know. To this. I begged him to have one of his younger brothers serve as my escort instead. He refused. Said that if I wanted to come, it would be with him, or not at all.”

“What?” Grace’s eyes snapped up from her lap. “He wanted to come back here? Why?”

“He said he wanted to show that he wasn’t a monster,” she said. “To my family. To… you.”

Dimitri shifted in his chair uncomfortably. “The day of the coronation, he looked me in the eye and told me not to worry- he’d look after Astra and Grace.” The Escalus lord glanced at Luna for a split second before looking away. “I’d say the implication there was fairly clear. After I almost died saving those two that day even Queen Maia acknowledged me, but… Whatever his feelings about Grace, I’m not a consideration in his decision making process. So I’m not sure what my place is in all this.”

“In Courdon,” Luna said, “blood is everything. And it’s not that he would have wanted to hurt you, Lord Dimitri-- I… I truly don’t think he wanted to hurt anybody who was there; none of it was his plan, none of it was his choice--” She cut herself off and forced a deep breath. “I raised that boy. I know that boy. If he’d thought he could have saved you, too, he would have. I’m sure of it. But given the plans the king had…” Her voice trembled, and Luna didn’t bother to steady it. “Grace and my sister he could have managed. They were women, and his close kin. But you? It would have made him seem like a traitor. It would have--”

“Do you think I bloody care if he seemed like a traitor?” Grace snapped. “And that hardly fixes the fact that he knew before. That he saw us before. He could have warned us, Aunt Luna. He chose not to.”

“And if he had, Grace?” Luna countered. “If he’d told you what was to happen-- or you, Lord Dimitri-- then what would you have done? Certainly you wouldn’t have merely sat on your hands. It would have come back to him. He’d have died for it.”

“I wonder though,” Dimitri said softly. “Could he have gotten them to spare Astra and Grace? Could he really? Seems to me that King Malik wasn’t especially concerned about all of his blood relatives in Raven’s Keep.”

The Escalus put a hand up to his head, running his fingers through the blonde hair at the top of his scalp. He still had scars there, from where a gryphon had slashed him. Grace did not miss the gesture, although she didn’t let her stare linger on him for long, rather wresting it stiffly back toward the quivering Luna.

“I imagine he planned to spirit the girls away to Courdon, if he did get them a pass. But what about…” his voice cracked. “What about our daughter? What was his plan for her? My father and brother would never have parted with her willingly.”

“Victor insists King Malik never meant to kill most of the women. Only the ones who were problematic for him politically. Destiney. H-Hope.” She cringed. “Apparently he even had plans to take some of his own littler relatives back to Courdon with him, after they secured the Keep. Princess Karma. One of Aurora’s girls, Lark. So Grace and my sister… they’d have been no problem.”

“You didn’t answer the second part of his question,” Grace said flatly.

“Because I don’t know,” Luna admitted. “Not entirely. There’d have been a bloody war come to your family’s borders, Lord Dimitri. Would he have wanted her-- wanted to bring her to her mother and grandmother? Yes. But I don’t know what means he would have gone to in order to try.”

Dimitri looked away. “That’s what I figured. And he’d have had to slaughter every able bodied fighter in Heleos before House Escalus would’ve handed Rhea over to someone who’d see her father executed.” He sighed. “And what would he have done with Grace once he got her to Courdon? When whatever war broke out came to a standstill and terms were discussed, if my family still existed they would have petitioned to get her back.”

Here, Luna faltered. “I… I’m not sure if either of you really wants to know that, Lord Dimitri.”

“Oh?” Grace pursed her lips. “Try us.”

“Grace…” The woman set a wilted hand upon her forehead.

“You wanted us to get this out in the open,” Dimitri pointed out. “He doesn’t want us to think he’s a monster. The imagination will come up with a thousand nightmare scenarios more horrific than a frightening reality, Lady Pipp.”

“His younger brother,” Luna said simply. “Victor told me he would have wanted to make sure no one could contest Grace’s presence in Eveque during what was sure to be a bitterly fought war, and so he would have married her to his younger brother.”

“You can’t be serious.” Grace gaped. Then, more stridently, she repeated: “You can’t be serious.”

Dimitri clenched his jaw for a moment. It made sense- if Grace married a Courdonian she would legally become a citizen of Courdon- marrying an enki would make her an anki. No one would be able to object to her presence in the capital of the Northlands then, especially if she became pregnant with the man’s child quickly.

But that didn’t take away the sting of it. The infuriating reality of the fact that Pipp had put so much thought into this ploy to murder Dimitri, abduct and forcibly remarry his wife, and massacre his family to abduct his daughter.

“What does he want from us?” Dimitri asked softly, the tension going out of his body as he slumped over in exhausted defeat. “Forgiveness? Does he even feel any remorse over what happened?”

“He never meant to hurt anyone,” Luna merely murmured. “Please, believe me when I say: He never meant to hurt anyone.”

To Grace, it was an admission all on its own, and her hands were shaking as she abruptly stood. “Thank you for your honesty, Aunt Luna,” she forced out. “But I… I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t. Whether or not you want to believe it, and whether or not he meant it, your son participated in the wholesale slaughter of unarmed men, women, and children. He would have stood by as my husband had a sword put to his throat, and then dragged me blood-soaked and terrified back to Eveque so that he could forcibly marry me to his own brother. I don’t care if he means to show that he’s not a monster now. That means nothing to me. Not when I’ve seen his true colors already. Not when I know that if things had only gone a little differently that day, I’d probably be in Eveque with your son’s baby at my chest. My husband dead. My daughter in a warzone.” Blinking back tears, she looked to Dimitri. “I think we should go,” she said. “Check on Rhea. Make sure she’s having a fun time with Aileen.”

Dimitri closed his eyes, giving a soft sigh. He then looked at Luna with a deep sadness in his expression. “You seem a good person, my lady. And I know you had no part in this, so I don’t hold any of it against you. But it’s hard for me to look a man in the eye and smile at him knowing he planned to kill me in cold blood, and that he has no remorse over it.”

He stood putting a comforting hand around Grace’s shoulder. Still trembling, she leaned into her husband’s hold, turning away from Luna.

“I’m sorry, for what it’s worth,” Luna called miserably after them as the pair started away. “I’m so sorry for what my child put you through. Both of you. I am. Woo, I am.”

Dimitri felt a twinge of guilt at the raw anguish in Luna’s voice as they left the room. She clearly meant it- but he also couldn’t quite turn aside the way she’d persistently been trying to make excuses and justifications for Victor’s actions. She felt bad about what they’d went through, but clearly them forgiving her son was more important than apologizing.

I wanted to meet her, by Woo, I did! he thought dismally. Why, why, why did she have to open up that old wound right from the start?

In spite of Grace’s suggestion, they didn’t head around back to where the children were playing. Instead, once outside Dimitri stopped them at a small, sheltered alcove between the stable and the inn, and pulled his wife tight against his body. She stiffened for a moment before collapsing into his grip, pressing her head against the thick wool of his tunic. Tears once again threatened, and this time Grace didn’t bother to blink them back.

“Does Victor really think we can just forgive him?” she choked out, shuddering as a gust of wind kicked up a swirl of snow. “After everything? And k-knowing now what Luna told us, about what he’d planned for me?”

“He doesn’t care about my forgiveness,” Dimitri replied bitterly. “I’m not his blood.” He leaned down a bit so his forehead was resting in the pale brown hair on the crown of her head- in her haste to get outside she’d never pulled up her hood. “He saved yours and Astra’s life that day, and I owe him a debt for that. But that he wanted to make you into prisoners, that he wanted to abduct and raise our daughter as a slave lord...”

“And in his head, he probably thinks his plan was a noble one,” she murmured. “That it would have been the best he could do given the circumstances.” She let out a sad, strangled laugh. “I’ve spent nearly four years wondering, Dimitri. Plagued by what-ifs. Nightmares. And now that I know?” Pulling back from him, she shook her head. “I don’t think he’s worth a moment’s more thought, Dimitri,” Grace said. “Not now. Not ever. He clearly doesn’t care about us. Either of us. Not where it matters. And I’m done caring about him.”

Dimitri tilted Grace’s chin up and wiped away the tears from her face with the end of his sleeve. “I’m inclined to agree,” he remarked softly. “Whatever he had planned for us doesn't bloody well matter. Malik got himself killed and Maia convinced the Courdonian army to stand down. We don’t need Victor Pipp’s help or his protection. And whatever he thinks or feels, you know that I care about you, Gracie.”

The Escalus lord gently kissed his wife on the forehead, and with a deep sigh, she leaned back against him for a moment more. Savoring in his warmth. His touch. His familiarity.

“I suppose,” she said, “that we should probably follow through on that claim of seeing Rhea. Unless…” She glanced back over her shoulder, toward the street. “Unless you wanted to take a walk around the city-- just the two of us? For… old time’s sake.”

“No escort, no plan, and only a vague idea of how to get around. Years pass and some things never change- you still like to live dangerously and spontaneously,” Dimitri remarked, tweaking his wife’s nose. “But I guess that makes me twice the fool for going along with your whims. Sure- it’s a date.”

A Funeral Fit for a Queen: Epilogue

SPOILER: Click to show

The morning they were to depart from Medieville dawned leaden and overcast, a somewhat accurate reflection of Rhea’s mood. Unlike her parents, who were both immensely relieved to leave behind the city that had far too many unpleasant memories, she was profoundly unhappy to be heading home and leaving her new friends behind. She’d insisted on giving each and every one of her relatives a hug goodbye before she even considered consenting to mount up. As they were nearing the edge of the city, her broody silence finally broke.

“Mama can I play with my cousins again sometime?” she asked her mother from her place in front of Dimitri on the saddle.

“Of course, honey,” Grace replied. She knew it was unlikely the girl would see Aileen’s children again-- or Pipp’s-- any time soon, but Ecliptus at least wasn’t all that far. “And you can write them, too, if you want. You’re starting to learn your letters, after all, right? You can put them to good use.”

“I’m not so good yet though,” she muttered softly. “But I’ll try.” She looked towards Wynn’s children, who as on the trip up were riding alongside the Escalus party as far as Iscaria. “Will you write me if I write you? I’ll practice my letters really good, I promise!”

“Uh-huh,” Bay said. If he’d suffered any for his unsanctioned nighttime adventure, the boy had seemingly long since forgotten about it, bouncy as ever. “I’m not good at my letters, either, but Bethie can help me. Right, Bethie?” He spared a beseeching smile at his sister, who was once again sharing a horse with Wynn.

She only snorted at him in reply. “Or you could practice your own,” she said, an underlayer of rasp still to her voice. She and Wynn had at least ceased coughing up lungs, but their throats remained raw enough to make the ride a shade more unpleasant than it would have been otherwise. “I’ll write you, too, though, Rhea,” the girl added after a moment. “If you want.”

Rhea’s expression took on a more hopeful cast and she bounced slightly in the saddle. “I’ll write all of you! Don’t worry if it takes you a while Bay, I’m not so fast either. But I can wait! Patience is one of the virtues of the ‘Woo, right Papa?”

“That’s right sweetie,” Dimitri replied, ruffling her hood. Glancing towards Wynn’s children with a grin he added, “And can anyone tell me which of the virtues in the Book of Wisdom that is?”

“Fifteenth!” Bay announced brightly.

“What book have you been reading?” Beth smirked, glancing back over her shoulder toward Dimitri. “It’s second, Uncle Dimitri.”

“I think we know what lessons Bay will be getting a refresher on once we get home,” Wynn muttered beneath his breath.

Dimitri smiled. It was good to see Beth had come out of her shell. She’d been painfully shy upon their initial meeting in Iscaria, but the girl clearly had as much spirit as Bay in her own way, and a lively sense of humor.

“Theology is not your favorite subject, I’m gleaning,” Dimitri said to Bay with a grin. “Maybe instead of getting Beth to help you with your letters she should help you memorizing the Books.”

“I can help!” Rhea chirped. “Next time I visit I’ll quiz you Bay! Mama quizzes me all the time, it helps me ‘member. Right Mama?”

“Right,” Grace agreed, although based on her own childhood in Ecliptus, she strongly suspected that Bay’s lack of knowledge retention had little to do with how often he was quizzed.

Regardless, the boy didn’t seem all that concerned by any of it, his attention handily diverted as the party threaded closer to Lake Plume on its way toward the capital’s southern gate. The lake’s thin ice glaze winked like a rippled jewel beneath the morning sun, and Bay gawped at it with an expression of pure delight.

“It’s so pretty!” he breathed.

“Did you not see it on our way in?” Jacob chuckled.

“I was looking at the mountain then,” the littler boy retorted, deliberating for a moment before he added, “It’s a lake, right? But where’s all the water gone?”

“That’s Lake Plume, yes,” Dimitri replied. “The water is still there- it’s just hidden under the ice. Actually if you look reeeally hard to the opposite shore near the woods, you can just see a stone cottage- do you see it?”

“Uh-huh,” Bay said. Against the backdrop of bare-leafed trees, the house stood out like steel amidst wood. “It’s big. Is it a castle?”

Wynn spared a rare smile. “Buddy, I think we need to go over more than just your Book of Woo verses when we get home.”

Dimitri laughed. “That’s not a castle, Bay. It’s just a cottage. That’s the stone lake house owned by House Ascension.” He winked. “And last time we were here, your Aunt Grace and your grandma and I all stayed in it.”

“Oooh.” Bay squinted his eyes to study the house further. “Did they have good food?”

“Among other consumables, yes,” Grace said dryly, shooting a knowing look toward her husband. “And since it was summer, we got to go swimming in the lake. It was very nice.”

“Did you go exploring in the woods?” Rhea asked excitedly. “Bay, Beth, that would be fun wouldn’t it?”

Dimitri choked, his face going scarlet. But Grace, for her part, could only laugh. As the lake and cottage disappeared behind them, she nudged her horse closer to the one that held Dimitri and Rhea, and reached out to give her husband a playful bump on the arm.

“Oh,” she said, nodding, “so much fun. Lots of new friends to make, too.”

Wynn raised a brow. “Am I missing something here?”

“Of course not.” But Grace’s smirking gaze was still on Dimitri. “Wouldn’t dream of talking over your head, Wynn.”

Dimitri could only sigh, his expression a mixture of amusement and ruefulness. “That trip was definitely… ‘fun.’ This time has been a lot quieter. Not that I mind that. It’s nice to know the city has a gentler side as well as the chaotic one.”

“And maybe,” Bay said brightly, as the southern gate came into view ahead, “next time we’ll get to climb the mountain. Not using the steps!”

“Maybe,” Grace agreed before Wynn could object. “Exploring the woods, swimming in the lake, climbing up to the Raven’s Keep-- why, your next time in Medieville’s sure to be a jam-packed trip, huh?” The mischievous look on her face grew yet again, and although ostensibly she spoke to her nephew, her eyes were directed only at Dimitri as she added, “Perhaps there’ll even be a festival, Bay!”

Her husband smirked in reply. Sitting in front of him, Rhea bounced on the saddle again. “Medieville is fun isn’t it?”

Dimitri hugged his daughter. “There’s certainly never a dull moment.”