Adelai
Adelai knew that Ev would
find her. He always did after all (it did help that she'd sent for
him). In fact, she was almost certain if there had been any sort of
historical reference to the matter, her brother would have perhaps
been the best Prince to ever have played seek and find in this era—if
not all the eras. Ever.
Perhaps that was slightly biased, all things considered, but
Adelai couldn't exactly be bothered
with all things. She was far too busy reminiscing about when this
part of the castle had last been used—and waiting for Ev to come.
It
had been years upon years ago, she knew, sometime during a battle or
a war. She had been just over there,
sitting on the ledge-work that surrounded what was now an overgrown
mass of weeds, but had once been a carefully tended bed within which
a flowering tree had grown. Ev had stood half across the yard—they
were fighting at the time, yes, over what, she couldn't quite
recall—talking to what's-his-face of where-ever and Lord
something-with-a-Q. Never mind the details. Whatever it was that her
brother was being petty about at that moment had long since stopped
bothering her and her full attention had been placed on the newest
member of their family. And never mind
Tantara, while she was never-minding
people. Gods' only knew her sister had thrown this together for a bit
of attention. Attention that should have been at Adelai's feet, where
her niece gurgled in a very baby-ish (and not to mention un-queenly)
manner.
But
no one really liked to take note of small things like that until they
did something cute or smelly. The latter being taken care of out of
sight by some nurse maid or other while the former... Well, it was up
to Auntie to take care of that. She didn't mind in the least. Perhaps
one day, when her niece was old enough to walk and talk for herself
and all of the court
fawned over the young Princess, Aunt Adelai could tell them it was
nothing new and they had simply failed to notice thus far.
Surely,
though, there was one thing they would
notice, without a doubt, but most likely never mention in her
presence. Thank the Gods her hair is red.
It was such a blessing, to be sure, that the girl had not met the
same fate as the few of her bloodline... No, the girl's hair—even
in infancy—was a deep and vibrant
burgundy. She was not a Silver. The Flame had kissed her. She would
not end up like her Aunt...
Adelai
looked up then, hearing footsteps entering the silence of the
bay-side courtyard, and smiled. No matter their youthful bickering of
days long past, Evarin was her dearest brother—her smile became a
smirk—even if he was
copper-headed and herself marred with corn silk. It was their
brandy-wine eldest
sibling at the source of all the trouble—but that was what too much
of the Flame did to you. Rather than silently melding into the
background, you went mad.
“Adi?”
had white-lashed, blue eyes turning upward to meet ones nearly black.
Evarin was nice enough to remove his helm then, in case his younger
sister could not recognize him by the familial name.
She
returned from the past without much hindrance and offered him a
slight bow. “Sire,” addressed him in a joking manner. “Pleasant
weather, yes? Though I do hear the sea breeze does terrible things to
chainmaille.”
“Adi...”
rose again, but with a distinct note of exasperation. Plush lips
curved at the tone, breaking to show just a hint of teeth.
Yes, it was childish of her to pick on him, but if not him
then who?
“Yes,
dear brother,” she said, finally standing and brushing at the black
skirts of her gown. Admonished, “Of course,” her head dipped
again in his direction. Before those blue eyes could raise, however,
she was alerted to the presence of their audience by the clacks and
scrapes of metal-on-stone as sworn men took the knee in the
courtyard. “Sir Anders,” she directed to the first knight. “Sir
Rhys. You may leave us. Be assured we are safe nowhere if not here.”
The Aavartti men waited an appropriate amount of time before their
lead stood with a Sir and My Lady and dismissed
himself. Rhys Haele and, what she could only assume were the few and
far between men Lord Perquin had been willing to spare, took a bit
longer, though. They shuffled to their feet, more than anything—an
older gentleman requiring help to rise and Sir Haele, himself, doing
the aiding.
And
then grinning at her.
Of
all the things. It was the sort of grin only achievable by those
still doused in youth, as the young knight was. Surely he thought it
winsome and, surely, it was quite grand as far as maids of the
countryside were concerned. His, “Lady,” though, and the
bow that went with it only made her blink, despite.
Once
all of the men's backs had turned and vacated the space, she tilted
her face to the side and up to study that flat-line expression her
brother now wore. He was very good at that stiff, unsmiling-ness.
Without hesitation, she took up a line that would have belonged to
their father, under different circumstances, “Come, now, hug your
sister.” Adelai held out her arms in case he had forgotten how.
Evarin thankfully closed the space with no questions and hugged her
loosely—and briefly. It was only at her scowl—and patronizing
dusting of his attire—that he finally greeted her in earnest.
When
the embrace broke, “You summoned me?” was managed on his
end.
“I
may have exiled myself to be with Father, but I-” unlike
someone she knew, “-have retained my place here.” A Silver she
was, but as long as their ailing father drew breath, she was still of
the Blood. And she could still wield the Aavartti.
He
ignored the chance for argument she'd given him. “And how long
since you arrived? I've only had word of the King's untimely demise
for a week. We rode hard to get here.” She figured he had driven
them hard, most likely. If for no other reason than to give Sir Haele
the fewest opportunities to speak as possible. His voice quieted to
near a whisper, “Even if you had the Fleet at your disposal, Tenate
is three weeks off.”
“I
have been traveling since before then,” she answered simply, if
only for that hint of irritation that crossed his face and had
his brow furrowing ever so slightly.
His
next concern, of course, would not be her, but, “Father?”
“He
is fine,” she assured. “Tenate is an isle of priestesses. There
are plenty to keep him safe in my absence.” Rather than wait for
further questioning, she tacked on a quiet, “I missed my home. You
don't know what it's like... You've only seen him twice.” Ev didn't
reply. Still, she had missed her family—home. Not the way it
was now, but the way she remembered it.
In
the vision, her father stood tall. Nearly black hair—that seemed to
catch fire in the room's light—only just beginning to give way to
the grays at his temples. His right arm was outstretched, O'duren,
his sword, thrust at an imaginary foe. She and Ev watched with
nothing less than child-like enthrallment from their seats on the
floor, breaking into giggles as their father dropped the sword and
quickly fumbled to cover his hand with the white sleeve of his shirt.
Waving it in the air, he yelled. “And then the thing bit off my
hand!”
“But
Papa,” Evarin had objected, “you still have your hand.”
“Magical,
Kingly powers of regeneration,” was enough of an explanation, at
the time, for Adelai, but Ev had just shaken his head.
Nonetheless,
“Tell us about the good dragons, though,” was demanded.
Then,
Father had shaken his head, looking tired. “Not tonight, Adelai.”
“Please?”
they had chimed in unison. “The sand dragons!” Ev added, smiling.
“Yes,
papa, the sand dragons!” she called out, as if it was her idea,
jumping onto the bed with a bounce. “After that we'll sleep so
soundly you won't even know we're here,” she promised.
“Alright,
alright,” he had sighed. Both of them knew he would be telling the
short version, but there were no complaints even as their father's
voice picked up pace. “It is said that, long ago, the great dragons
of the world all converged in the wastes. It was a meeting, of
sorts—there were dragons that were Kings-”
“Like
you,” she grinned.
“-And
dragons that were councilors. Somme were old and wise, while others
were young and full of fire. They talked for several days on how to
bring peace to themselves and the world of man, but, all was not
well. Far, far off,
farther than you can think, there was darkness breeding—biding its
time and looking for a weak spot. And if found it here.
“Man
was young, then. We still relied on the old races and had yet to gain
the power to truly defend ourselves. Without the watchful eye of
dragon kind, we were helpless. No one will ever know what the
darkness had planned, but, instead of simply destroying the people,
it went after the minds of the good dragons—attacking mercilessly
for days and weeks and months until ever last one turned to stone—and
we could not help them.”
“And
then they became the sand?” Ev asked, getting a nod in reply.
“Dragons
all but vanished from the lands. But that's not the end of the story,
for, you see, the Wastes are growing. Some
say the dragons are still multiplying—living their lives even as
sand—and now the darkness is long gone. Occasionally, a lost
caravan will spot one trying to take shape and rise from the
desert—bringing them water or protection until they can safely be
on their way. The people claim that one day, a great inferno will
come to them. It will burn so long and so hot that the sand dragons
will all melt. And, what happens when you melt sand?”
“You
get glass!” Adelai could remember the awe in her voice—even if
she had heard the
story several times.
“Yes.
And then the glass will cool and the dragons will be whole again.
They say that on that day, magic will return.”
She
could fell her brother climb into the bed, then, before sleepily
asking, “Will I be able to use the magic?”
“I
don't doubt it. Magic has run in our family since long before we came
to this land.”
“As
long as it skipped Tara...” had been her drowsy whisper. Father had
simply shaken his head, at that, and kissed their foreheads, not
bothering to take Ev to his own room...
Blinking
back, she was almost startled by how much her brother had aged.
Nowadays, it didn't seem possible that he had ever been the
type to enjoy a bedtime story. Although, Adelai assumed, that had
been the last one they'd truly enjoyed—after all, she had long
since blocked out how that night had ended, but, on occasion, her
nose would still prickle with the scent of blood as she drifted to
sleep.
“You
should go back,” he said, unnoticing of the amount of time that had
passed for her since she'd last spoke. “It's not safe here,
you know.”
Though,
she noted, he would never say why. Adelai knew, of course, and
didn't even flinch at, “Because she killed him, you mean?” They
both knew their eldest sister was capable. “Because, even though
you can't step up without breaking your vows, I could still
technically produce a legitimate heir.” It wasn't as entirely
unheard of as was thought. There had been a few rare occasions in
which the child of a Silver had managed just enough of the
flame to sit the throne. “Maybe that's why I left Tenate. The only
man there is Father, after all...”
She
watched him blink at her for a few, quiet moments.
“The
King is dead,” words she had spoken before. “What do you think
she will do now?”
His
still gloved hands fell to her shoulders, griped them and gave her a
small shake. Adelai didn't fight it, though, she knew he was
stubborn. “I think it's all the more reason to go back!”
Send
her back to the Gods' Shore and Father, yes. There was a possibility
that he was right, but was she the only one who felt the sense of
imprisonment in it? It wasn't like he had spent the last five
years in a foreign land with a dieing man who didn't know anyone
anymore... “No,” she said, eyes set on his. “This time we
fight.”
