Fate and Destiny (The Fated Series, #2)

Chapter 65 - Branka - Father Issues

Five more minutes. Five more minutes, and then I can fall into one of these damn chairs.
I've been telling myself that for the past half hour, and I can feel as my body sniffs out the lie and threatens to have my knees give out. Rohana and my sisters have been pulling energy from me, using it to mist the Thralian children to wherever the other hidden Thralians are. Those who chose to take the Lord of Lander and Lady of Pright's refuge are being misted there now, and the rest will be misted into the castle after. Svenja and a few others will be among them, though the Queen Pirate was very verbal with her objections to doing so.
My mother has been asleep all day, and she'll likely sleep for a few more with how much of her power she drained. Usually, she's conservative in her energy, but I don't think there was any way to have been conservative without calling us to drain ours.
As High Lady of the Court, the bearer of every power of her successors, she has the ability to use any and all of her powers with less energy than us of the Ginerva can. As her daughter and her successor, I have shadows of each of her powers, which is why I can transfer my energy to my sisters. Of course, the transfer gives my energy to them, but the process of doing so also drains me, which makes standing here even harder when my eyelids are begging me to blink.
We've been in the throne room for hours.
There's the ever famous Court of Vandaria, Lance and his Jade Assassin trainers, Svenja and her merry band, and our very own five members of the Thralian Council. I wasn't surprised to see the entire council had survived. They're all survivors who have read any and all books that our library held. The counselors are all old and gray-haired, but they're all regal as ever in their white and gold gowns and kohl-lined, gold-glittered eyes. If anyone would know how to survive their kingdom being lit on fire, they would.
I'm here because my Mater is here. Despite my constant spoken objections, she has refused to be locked back up in any other room. I winced when she yelled that out loud, and then I tried apologizing for making her feel as if she was locked in a cell again, but she wouldn't listen. I felt like a completely insensitive idiot, and she brushed it off like it was lint which made me mad and - it was a whole thing that took up most of the morning.
In the end, I couldn't keep her in the bedroom Darius had given her that's directly across from his own chambers, and I felt too guilty from my earlier mistake to object when she said she wanted to join him for the meeting this morning. I'm beginning to regret that decision.
I'm tired. I want to sit and lay my head down before the headache turns worse. I could probably stand for another half an hour if I really focus, but it's hard to do so when I keep trying to listen to the conversation happening in front of me. I know that they started with introductions and reports that consisted of numbers I should be able to remember. Then came the debate about what to do next, and the question of how long it would take to summon the dispersed Vandarian army.
Then the topic of allying with the neighboring kingdoms for more numbers and what it would take to convince them. I was very, very tempted to throw a dagger at the Lord who suggested marrying Darius off. The Counselors of Thralia were just as angered, all saying the same thing I was in my head. Darius is the Pater Princeps, the elemental King, his hand in marriage is not something to be casually and nonchalantly given to whoever has the largest wealth. There was also the argument that Thralia would never accept a mortal woman as its ruler, but Thralia is gone, even if its people did survive.
The topic was dropped after Clarice silenced the Council. Everyone quieted so quickly that I shot my eyes wide open thinking my demonic father had popped in to rub his victory in our faces. Turns out that everyone was just surprised to have heard her speak, let alone yell at them. She didn't expect the reaction either and her cheeks went bright red as everyone waited for her to continue speaking.
"I just...I don't see why any of you should have an opinion on how someone chooses to live their life or who gets to be in it, especially that of a King," she mumbled, downcast with embarrassment.
She fell back into silence after that, taking a few steps back until her shoulder was touching my own. I stared down at anyone who looked at her too long, the last tendrils of my energy rising to have their hand pinned to the long table with a knife that appeared out of thin air. There were many mixed reactions, varying from melancholic expressions of the tough, outspoken girl the Jades lost, the grunted agreements from the Pirates, the pride in the Thralians, the shifted weight in her friends, and the slight shock of the Vandarian Court. Thankfully I didn't have to draw blood, as Darius quickly moved on and shifted his body so that he blocked the eye line of Clarice and the new Lady of Novak. She's easy enough to read, though her expressions confuse me. I couldn't tell if she was curiously looking at Clarice, or studying her for a planned murder.
The one they call Kat is the Lady's servant, and according to Lance, she has no idea what side the woman is on either. Tanith could easily find out, but the past few days have been rather busy for her to do so.
Kat, however, I like. She clearly wants to speak to Clarice, but she's refrained from doing so. That's not the reason I like her, just a fact I've come to recite every time I look at her. I'm sure that if she did approach Clarice that she'd be more surprised at how far Clarice is willing to go to keep everyone around her at ease. She tries her best to act normal, or as normal as she can come up with when she's around everyone. After last night she and Darius have fallen into an easy rhythm, carrying easy enough conversation that still holds awkwardness, but not the overwhelming kind that usually happens when she's talking to anyone else.
The Bhaltayr, however, is a group of confusing personalities.
Ethan, Gabe, Henry, Malen, and Alexander will talk nonstop so that she doesn't have to feel like she has to talk to them. Winston, Benny, Amel, and Osiris are the awkward ones who never seem to be able to continue small talk for more than a few minutes, and Garrison, Vladimir, and Alister are the ones who visibly relax her. They'll just sit or stand near her and let her choose whether or not to speak, always giving her the room to walk away or stay.
And this was all the information I've gathered just last night and this morning.
The men now form two lines parallel to the table and behind the attending members, mixed with a few Jade Assassins who now wear crimson lined cloaks rather than their blue ones. Their signature jade color is now represented on the handle of the twin blades at each of their hips.
How in Ker Lance got both cloaks and blades for all his men and women on short notice is a mystery to me, and he's refused to give more than a smirk when you ask. His own cloak is still black, though the inside is bloodred and his curved blades still mark him as the Sinister Fox. I'll be honest, the name is rather clever and cool.
Gods my head hurts.
I distract myself by identifying and counting everyone at the table. I've done it several times enough to have now memorized it, but there's not much else to do while I wait for this damn meeting to end.
Lance stands at the shoulder of Claritia, six of his advisors to her right and three pirates to her left. The seven-membered Court is across them to Darius's right, the Thralian Council made of five people - which would be six if my mother were here - sits across from them, and Aillard to Darius's left. Twenty-six people now sit at this table, soon to be shortened to the leaders of each group.
Six of the Bhaltayr and five assassins stand behind the pirates and Court, the other six and five behind the Jades and Counsel. Twenty guards stand in the throne room, ten more Jades in the shadows on the balconies. Víđarr is lying down at Darius's side, and a good ten are lying throughout the room wherever the sun shines in through the windows. They were already here when we arrived, and I argued to let them stay to keep everyone's temper in check and threats idle. It's worked for the most part, and every time someone did get a little too carried away, they'd quiet when all ten wolves heads perked up and stared them down. One of them is currently sitting beside me, acting as a solid form that I use to grip onto when I start to sway.
A few people have noticed it now, mainly the assassin advisors, but I kept eye contact and dared them to say something and see what happens. I may only be one of the Ginerva and a currently shaky one at that, but that doesn't mean I can't - and won't - kill anyone who gets too close. I don't even have to kill them, just stall for a few seconds until Rohana and the others pop in to finish the job.
I tune back into the conversation, hoping to find it wrapped up so I can sit the fuck down.
"...numbers in our army?"
"Ten thousand men have made camp in the elephant grass fields," Aillard reports. "That's half of our original count at the beginning of the year."
"And the other half?" Darius asks.
"On their way or unknown. Without a declaration calling all registered soldiers to fight, there's no guarantee our numbers will be restored in full."
"We can lend those we can, though I'm afraid it won't be much," Counselor Drazhan offers. As the Counselor in charge of managing Thralia's own force, he should know. Indeed, fifty men and women against whatever mass my father has stocked up in unknown places aren't more than a poke in the side.
"You'll need those numbers to continue your own population," Darius declines respectfully.
"We have another hundred and fifty beating hearts for that, Meus Rex, believe me when I say that those of us who can, will refuse to do anything less than join the fight."
"We'll need all the numbers we can get," Aillard adds, clearly stating his own stance on where he'll be standing when my father makes another move.
"Against what? I'm not declining your offer to increase our numbers, even by little means, I simply wonder what it is we are to be facing. Soldiers and men we can handle, but seeing as recent events have been that of magical attacks, I assume there's a reason as to why our number of ten thousand would be considered minor."
"To be honest, Lord Gregory, I wouldn't even know how to begin to describe the things we've seen," Darius admits, rubbing at his own head tiredly.
Víđarr stands the next second, making everyone fall silent as the other wolves move as well. They walk into a group and then right into each other, forming one whole mass of water that shifts and grows until a water replica of a Raver with golden eyes is standing in front of the dais.
"That is a Raver," I announce, taking the opportunity to distract my mind. "A creature capable of swallowing four men whole and killing another five with one swipe of its claws. Those spikes on its neck are tipped in a poison that kills within minutes, and if it opens its mouth and screams, not even filling your ears with wax will be able to keep your eardrums from bursting, and your brain cells will vibrate so quickly at the high pitch that they'll burst until you die. The range of their scream is about the distance from the northern wall of the castle to the southern end, so you can imagine just how many people even one of them can kill. Xaxias will have several."
"I believe those are reasons as to why no number of soldiers would be efficient enough," Duchess Evangeline muses with a smirk.
"Surely these things can be killed."
Lady Marrieta looks to me for the answer, which I know, but it's Counselor Hellӓ who answers. "You have to cut its heart or behead it. If you simply puncture the heart or slit its throat then the beast will only temporarily die for an average of a minute before it stands back up and screams louder. There is no other way to kill it, and it took at least five members of the Ginerva to kill one of them."
"Clarice and I can kill one on our own," Darius claims. Clarice shuffles at the mention of her name and the claim, but says nothing.
"And how much energy did that take?" Counselor Kavan asks. He's the scientist, always asking questions and finding and proving the answers if there isn't one.
Darius turns to Clarice, who can't seem to remember the occurrence. I roll my shoulders and stand up straighter, attempting to look somewhat normal when Rohana mists in from my mental call. She instantly notices the water Raver but doesn't give it more than a disgusted look before raising an eyebrow at me.
"When Clarice killed the Raver, how much did it drain her?"
"Not much of a dent," she addresses the others. "But then again, she was stocked up on the power that she stored within the water wolves for two months while in imprisonment. She drained quite a lot for two days straight, and only after flooding the dungeons and killing the Raver, did that amount of power nearly consume her. She nearly created a tsunami on the western coastline in order to drain the rest of it."
Counselor Hellӓ whistles a single high-pitched note, impressed. It sends Clarice into another blushing storm.
"On a current supply of power I'd say she could kill two, maybe three, but she'd have to start training now in order to get control over the elements and learn to conserve herself," Ro continues. "Darius may be able to kill ten to twenty efficiently, but he'd be sidelined until he restored to a full tank once more depending on what else he's using his power for."
And that's just right now.
"And we're just talking about one out of how many possible monsters?" Svenja asks, looking at the water Raver as if it's a prize to be won. Sometimes that woman really does scare me, and she's only a teenager.
"As far as we know, nine," Counselor Kestrel answers. She's my favorite, completely obsessed with the supernatural to the point that she could very well list all five and each of their strengths, weaknesses, and easiest ways to kill right now without blinking. She's also a crazed party thrower. "There's likely more, as Xaxias is never one to show all of his cards until he's launching his full attack."
"Our men should know how to kill such things, even if the survival rate is low," Aillard points out to Darius, looking pale.
Darius nods, then waves his hand dismissing Rohana back to her earlier duty. She gives me a wink before misting, thankfully not taking more energy that I can't spare. "Counselor Kestrel, if you could have a list of each creature and their characteristics made, our librarians can make copies for everyone to have and memorize. It may not be much, but it's something."
"Of course, Meus Rex, though I would recommend that you reassure your troops. Receiving information such as this will bring fear into their hearts, which will, in turn, make them hesitate to stand on the front lines when the time comes, not to mention that if the information gets out the other half of your army may not show."
"I will add it to my to-do list, thank - Branka?" he stops suddenly and turns to me in the same second that I draw in a silent gasp. I try to speak, but my throat aches as if I've been yelling all day and my voice scratches like sandpaper. My stomach drops, then spins, then drops again as if it's got an itch it can't get. I'm not in pain, just...
Oh shit.
My mother mists in beside me, eyes darting over everyone as her power unleashes in a wave not meant to harm, just to find the thing that's out of place.
"Branka, what's wrong?" Clarice asks her arm already under one of my own to keep me standing.
Gods and their Saints, being dizzy because I need a nap, and then getting even dizzier because my father has stepped foot on this continent again, is not a good way to keep my guts from spilling. My mother looks even more sickly, but she sure as hell isn't acting like it. I, on the other hand, look fatal.
"Something's wrong," my mother answers, still scanning the room.
"We got that much," Lance retorts, his blades out as he signals three Jades to guard Claritia while he walks to us.
"It's Xaxias," I explain, straightening before my body decides to collapse fully. "He's announcing himself."
"He's here?" And just like that The Bhaltayr are surrounding Darius and the Court, the Jades and their advisors have blades in their hands, the other guards step out from the pillars, and the assassins in the balconies knock their arrows. I roll my eyes as all of this happens and my mother drops her raised hands to her sides and stands from her defensive stance.
"He's not here, here, we'd know if he was. He's just on the continent."
"We'd know if he was in the castle," she continues.
Everyone relaxes, slowly returning to their seats while they try and slow down their heartbeats. The only ones who didn't react were the now individual wolves and the Counsel, which is expected, as they've become accustomed to mine and my mother's signs of when my father decides to let us know that he's moved another piece of his on the chessboard.
The day he killed Cleménce and ran my mother and I hunted him down until we tracked him to an old hut in the middle of nowhere. He hadn't yet come into his power fully, but he had enough to keep us from killing him, so we did what we had to do at the moment. We bound him to us. His life is his to live and lose, but so long as he does live we'll always know when he comes within a certain distance from us.
This is different. Whatever powers he's gained over time have enabled him to send signals over this bond, and he always sends pain or discomfort. Pain for a quick death, discomfort for a scheme he's cooked up that involves a near-always promised slow death.
"Then where is he?" Garrison asks.
"I believe that's what we're about to find out." We follow my mother's gaze to the double doors slowly opening just enough to let a young boy run through, a scroll in his hand.
He runs up to Darius and offers the rolled message. "News from Adaeric, My King."
Darius takes the paper and unrolls it, leaving us all in anxious silence as he reads it silently.
"It comes with this," the boy adds, pulling out a sealed envelope from his back pocket. Was he planning on pocketing the thing?
Darius opens that too, the wax of the seal still strong, meaning no one has read it yet. It's odd for a King to receive something that hasn't at least been even a little bit tampered with. He reads that too, and then both papers are encased in flames. I panic for a moment like everyone else, but then I notice that the paper isn't disappearing to ash, but that only makes me panic more. Summoning flames is easy, it's the focus on making sure it doesn't burn what it touches that's harder, which means he's trying to distract himself and his power that's rising with the anger that's taken over his face.
"Darius?" He doesn't answer Aillard, and when the man goes to grab the papers he pulls back and winces. Guess the fire's not entirely controlled.
Clarice moves before I can stop her and looks at Aillard's thankfully only red hand before turning to Darius herself. His eyes stare at his own flames as if it's taking all of his focus not to burn the papers or make the flames line the entire room. I wouldn't mind, as it would distract people while I fell to the ground and got a few seconds of sweet relief.
Instead, I watch as Clarice lifts her own hands towards the flames, only hers travel right through them. She pulls the papers from his hands, and the second they leave his touch the flames disappear.
"What do they say?" Lance asks.
"This one is an invitation," she answers, reading the envelope first.
"To what?"
"'You're invited to Cadorelin, the Crystal City, to attend the Winter's Ball and witness...and witness the deaths of King Cyrus and Queen Aria on the night of the next new moon. All rulers of all kingdoms must be in attendance,'" she recites.
Typical. It is so completely and utterly like my father to destroy one kingdom and then simply move on to the next. He never does the same thing twice, but he'll always do more damage than he says he will. All the Kings and Queens of Ker, thirteen kingdoms including the unknown kingdom of Andraste, all gathered in one place for my father to check off his list. Like ten hells we're going.
"What's the other one say?"
Fauna shuffles the papers in her hands, unrolling the scroll. "'Come, or the blood of the people whose rulers did attend, alongside your own, will be on your hands.'"
Yeah, we're not letting that happen, but we're only pirates, eleven immortal powerful women, an army of ten thousand, assassins, and untrained elementals. How in ten hells are we supposed to be the shield between him and the rest of the world?
"There's more," Clarice says, unraveling the last bit of the scroll. " 'Twelve lives have already been taken to deliver this message,' "
"Twelve? Who?"
No one answers the Lord of Lander, but my mother and I do the quick calculation and snap our heads to the runner. She moves first, snatching the boy's hands so quickly that he yelps. She turns his palms up and reveals a black mark in the center of his right hand.
"What is it?" Clarice asks, inspecting the mark too.
My mom ignores her and looks at the runner. "When did this happen?"
"I - I was holding the envelope and the seal burned my hand. It's nothing."
"You tried to open it."
"No - No, I was just - I was holding it, and it-"
"Nigrum maledictionem," Counselor Cathan diagnoses, still sitting in his seat. The Master of Remedies should know, after all, he's the one who heals and diagnoses without a lick of magic. If my mother can't remedy an illness or wound, he'll die trying - he nearly has.
"What - what does that mean?" The boy's panicked eyes bounce between him and my grim-faced mother.
"Nothing, dear. I'll take you to the Healer's Tower so they can rid of it." My mom gently turns him back towards the doors, and he casts a nervous glance over his shoulder to Darius as she leads him out. I would too if I had the Dark Curse.
We all stay silent as they leave, and I make a mental note to take both Darius and Clarice to the Healer's Tower with Counselor Cathan. They may not have gotten the curse, but their hands have touched the seal, which means that my father could very well activate it with a simple snap of his fingers. I'll also have to find a way to get word to the other kingdoms to have anyone who's touched the seal, cleaned.
"What's....whatever you said?" Duchess Evangeline swipes at the words she can't pronounce.
"The Dark Curse," Cathan answers. "Xaxias has used it multiple times on our people. It's a curse placed on an enclosed or locked object that will mark those who are not meant to open it, but attempt to."
"Why is it called the Dark Curse?" Claritia asks.
"Six days after the mark is received, the slow and painful process of the victim's death begins. In our past experiences, it lasts around a fortnight, and with each passing day, the pain worsens. The victims experience normal illness symptoms, as well as hallucinations of one's greatest fears. The hallucinations start around day three of the process. On day seven they start to forgo all pain and begin the attempt to end their lives."
"We had people restrained at this point when we first encountered it," Kavan adds. "But the victims would break their bones or tear skin without flinching in order break free of them."
"There's a reason why it's called the Black Curse. No matter how hard the victims would shove a blade in their hearts or how many times they slit their own throats, they wouldn't die. Their skin would instantly heal and leave them to continue suffering the hallucinations until their minds eventually combust from them."
"Any and all sedatives or elixirs or drugs we tried administering were run out of their system either through perspiration, urination, or involuntary, forceful expulsion of the contents of one's stomach through the mouth, and sometimes the nose."
"Is there a cure? Or a magical combatant?" one of the Jade advisors asks. I forgot their names in my process of trying to stay standing.
"No. There isn't."
Many look to where my mother disappeared with the messenger, Svenja speaking before they can. "So then why did Willa just take him to the Healer's Tower if there's nothing anyone can do for the sentenced lad?"
Both scientist and remedy master go to answer but don't find the right words, so I answer for them. "She's not taking him to the Healer's Tower. The only cure is a quick death before the curse has a chance to begin its work, and the body has to be...disposed of properly."
"She's going to kill a child?" Claritia practically yells.
"Would you prefer his death be quick and painless? Or would you rather watch as he screamed and begged to die for two cycles, only to do so at the climax of his terrors?" She doesn't answer, and I feel a slight pain of regret at being so vividly harsh.
I did watch as those people scratched their skin so hard that they drew blood and then kept tearing at the muscle beneath. I watched as the blood from their throats would flood and squirt onto the walls and floors and windows of the observatory rooms, and then their skin healed and they'd do it again, and again, and again. I remember the distinct smell of burning flesh and blood when King Hart burned every inch of those rooms, leaving nothing but the clean white walls that were there before, but would never be looked at the same way twice. I never went to those rooms again.
No, it's not right nor humane to kill a child, but it's mercy considering the boy's future, and I know that my mother will make him go in peace and not terror.
"I think we've had enough conversation for one day," Darius declares, running his hands through his hair. It stands on several ends now from him having done it too many times.
"Surely we should discuss what we are to do with this information," Duchess Pernella proposes desperately.
"As someone who has just last night watched eighty-five percent of their people be burned to death, I'd think the choice to attend has been already made," Counselor Drazhan answers.
The Lady goes to continue but Darius cuts her off. "And go we shall. Xaxias has made it clear twice now that he cares little for the innocent, which gives us no choice. Aillard, if you would locate Arden and have him meet with you and the Generals, I want our men ready to move when we leave for the ball."
"You plan on bringing your army with you?" Drazhan reiterates, clearly subject to argument.
"Not its entirety, no. I want a small faction with me, everyone else can be divided between the protection of the castle and hidden somewhere on Adaeric's border, ready to be called if needed."
"You should put most of your numbers on the border," Lance advises. "The Jades can stay and keep your numbers here full."
"As will the Thralian force," Darius agrees, then goes to address the Counsel's clear discontent. "Your numbers are few, and I'd prefer you stay somewhere Xaxias can't enter. Willa's wards will hold, and she'll stay behind as well, as I don't think it wise to test Xaxias's patience with her presence."
I nod in agreement to myself. My parents are...complicated, put simply. If you put them in a single room full of rulers and noblemen, things are going to get ugly fast. My father hates that he can't touch my mother without great risk, and getting close means that she'll have a better influence on pinning him in place while someone else beheads him and cuts his own heart out like a Raver's.
So he'll do the next best thing: start killing off innocents quicker than she can save them. That'll anger her, make her attack him without mercy for anyone who gets in her way because he killed her youngest daughter, and then they'd likely ruin the castle with their fight.
I don't bother asking if I'll go with them or stay behind. My father's reaction could go either way. He'd either be caught off guard long enough for the Ginerva to mist out the other twelve rulers, or he'd lash out at everyone but leave my heart still beating just so he could kill me later.
Just for the record, I'm perfectly fine being the secret weapon.
"In the meantime," Darius continues. "I want our soldiers being trained by both the Jade mentors and Thralian's own military officers. The Jades will physically train our men, and the Thralian's will educate them on what they'll be facing and how to win the fight. Figure out the schedules tonight, training starts at sunrise. Svenja, I'll have you returned to your fleet in the morning and leave come nightfall with five members of the Ginerva. You'll send five ships out headed to each continent, each bearing one of them and the explanations on what to expect. Who knows, we may even get a few allies on our side."
The Pirate throws her legs that had been strung over one of the arms of her chair back onto the floor, eager to return to the sea.
"My Lords and Ladies, I'll ask that you quietly inform your people to discreetly make their way to Shephard's Pass. They're only to bring anything they can carry, anything else is to be left behind. There's a mountain on the northern end of the pass that will be our temporary sanctuary, and when I leave for the ball, you'll leave to join them three days before then. I expect you all to be capable of working together to keep our people safe and hidden. If not, then I will send the Jade King to be the Regent, seeing as he's perfectly capable of keeping his people in line."
Lance looks like he's completely disgusted with the idea, but he still gives the Court a hungry stare to scare them into submission. If I were him, I'd hate to have to leave the fight and my sister behind to fight while I tighten the leashes of child adults.
"I won't send more soldiers than those of your own guard, and I'll see if Willa can't do something about having us notified if there is any attack attempt on the mountain. The peak itself is on the other side of our border with Cressida, so do be strong-worded in your letters that go out tonight. Now go, you all have less than ten hours to have your duties fulfilled."
Everyone stands as he does, the pirates being the first to leave with only a lazy salute from Svenja. Claritia leaves her son with a reassuring smile, then nods to the jade advisor's request for her to show them the training rooms. They leave after bowing at the waist and putting their left hands across their chest, footsteps as silent as ever save for the one man's cane he's clearly annoyed with.
The Court bows and curtsies and leaves in different directions as if desperate to be out of each other's presence. The Counsel salutes, the women dropping to a deep curtsy and men a bow before leaving as one, gowns sweeping the floor beneath them. Only Counselor Cathan stays behind, offering me a vile of a familiar scented liquid that I greedily take in one gulp.
Gods I could kiss the man if he didn't look like he could be my grandfather. His remedies are always carefully brewed and quickly working. This particular one is like an energy boost. It tastes Gods awful but it works, and it won't last more than an hour or two, so I pray to the Gods and their Saints that Clarice will bless me with a few hours of sitting down and not moving.
"You have no idea how much I've missed you, Cathan."
"Likewise, my young prodigy." I smile at the name. He has always called me that, and my heart leaps at his accent which makes the name even more attractive. My sisters like to joke about how much I smile when he says it, and not the normal swoon jokes, but the full-on dirty talk jokes. It's revolting.
"Is there something else, Counselor?" Darius asks, noticing his lingering.
"Indeed, Meus Rex. I figured you wouldn't have wanted me to say anything else with the others around - for fear purposes."
"Fear of what?" Clarice questions, looking like the last thing she needs is more bad news.
"It's nothing of great concern, I simply need to cleanse your hands."
She looks down at her visibly clean hands in question. "Cleanse our hands?"
"You both have touched the seal on the letter with the Black Curse and though the mark will never show on your hand because you were the ones meant to open it, we've found that it does leave traces of itself onto your skin. If Xaxias wishes, he could very well say a few words and the curse would take hold of you next. But I've managed to find a way to eliminate those traces so that he can't do such things. It's a rather short process, and I've been told it's quite relaxing as well."
"Very well," Darius sighs, and then the rest of us follow him out of the Throne Room and to the Healer's Tower.
The snow's back, though its layers are still thin and melt fast. Clarice is doing better with the heat illness, only needing Darius to drain her once every hour or two. It's still unsettling, knowing that Thralia still burns almost a day later.
I hate calling him my father, hate that it had to be him who turned so dark and greedy for things he shouldn't and couldn't have. I don't like saying "my father," but I can't call him anything else. Every time I look at him or picture him, red eyes and all, I still see the man I loved and looked up to.
He used to chase me and my sister around our front yard, build us playhouses, and let us get away with things while our mother was away. We'd stay up late to watch the stars, him telling us a tale that we'd fall asleep listening to, and when we woke up the next morning we'd be in our beds, tucked in. He'd make breakfast and buy us sweets from Bernadette who sold everything from pastries to hard and sour candy in her little cart.
I loved who my father was, and I can never come up with a single explanation as to how someone who was so happy and fulfilled could all of a sudden turn into the thing he is now.
The father I knew would've never burned down the land and people he loved. He would've never summoned demons or sacrificed his youngest daughter. The man I knew would've been on this side of things, fussing over my sister and me, telling us to be careful, to look out for each other, and never let the evil things pull us apart or let them blind our love for everything and everyone. He would've likely died jumping in front of us before something pierced our hearts.
That man is gone. He died the day he decided to make a deal with a demon, and despite that being a fact, despite every sign or scream that points that fact out, I still see his kind eyes and gentle smile. I still hope, even when there's no hope to be had.
I shake my head and focus on putting one foot in front of the other.
Darius leads us to one of the beds on the ground floor, waving over one of the healers. "Please get Counselor Cathan anything he needs, and see if you can find Siscilla."
The healer nods and then turns to Cathan who begins listing the ingredients. Darius and Fauna sit on one of the beds, and I lean up against the metal frames while Cathan starts working to clean their hands. It actually is oddly relaxing. You soak your hands in water mixed with whatever it is he puts in there - plants, oils, other things. I'm no healer, or at least, I wasn't. Before Hiraeth I've only known magical healing, and only a taste at that. I could only heal minor wounds, nothing more until I become High Lady of the Court, which won't be for a long time.
Getting the education that Hiraeth did, I can pick out the names and purposes of each thing the healer sets down. Lilac essence clears away the dead skin when it's mixed with the petals of the Blood Mary Gardenia. There are oils to relax the muscle, and more plants whose purposes confuse me with them being mixed together, but Cathan works quickly to chop roots and stems, pour the oils, and then mix it all in two bowls of water on a rolling table for Clarice and Darius to set their hands in.
They follow his instructions, not pausing their conversation as they do so. Darius has been answering all the questions she has, most of them having to do with how to work her power and the situation and its backstory.
I would've told her.
Okay, so maybe I would've kept most of the details from her, but I would've still told her. The thing is that I know how much she tries to hide her conflicts with her memory loss, and I only want to protect her, but maybe the way to protect her is to prepare her.
Our old teacher, Sir Lachester, should be here. Gods know that man would be the last person to die. He trained the Ginerva after Camp Daleka, both in physical battles and magical and then using both together to kill quicker once you've mastered the two individually. If anyone can train the elementals, it's him.
I wouldn't have been so worried about our tight time stamp if her fighting skills from being an assassin were still there, or if she had her muscle still packed on. Instead, she'll have to start from scratch, gaining strength and learning the crucial basics to quickly move on to more life-saving maneuvers. She'll be relying mostly on her power since it seems she has better control over the elements than I originally thought. Maybe she'll surprise us and remember a few things, or hopefully, her body still has some muscle memory. If that's the case, then we won't have too much to do.
"Why does it smell like that?" Clarice her nose scrunched and face turned away from where her hands sit in the murky water.
"Smell like what?" I ask her, taking my own whiff of the mixture. It smells fine - maybe a little too sweet and strong, but fine.
"I don't know, I just don't like it, and neither does my stomach." We all look at her with confused glances, but then the realization sets in and I ask the healer to fetch some cloth for Clarice to stick up her nose. Her vomiting, change in appetite, and sensitivity to certain smells are bound to not go unnoticed, especially by the healers and a man who was shortly educated by one. Tanith shared some information with us when we found out - or rather shared the knowledge that - she's pregnant.
The healer returns with both rolled cotton and Siscilla.
"Everything alright, dear?" The Anevay asks Clarice.
"My stomach doesn't like the smell."
Siscilla reacts more smoothly than the dozen hooligans who all clearly haven't yet been trained to hide the tension of an awkward situation. They've forced themselves into conversations about the Tower's decorations or commenting on a crack in the wall when only a second ago they were silent, just as tired as me and too lazy to do anything more.
"Oh, no worries, I'll just..." She drifts off as she leans down and places one hand on Clarice's stomach. We all wait for Clarice to relax, but she doesn't, and Siscilla pulls away as if she's solved everything. "I can't make you stop having your sense of smell, only rid of the queasiness."
Clarice nods, still scrunching her nose and turning away while Darius still squints between her and the bowls. Siscilla gives it a downward skeptical look on her own, Cathan giving her nothing more than a small, polite smile. When she turns back around she avoids my gaze and walks off. I follow subtly, familiar with the silent request thanks to my sisters who don't want to make it obvious that something's wrong. Nothing feels wrong, at least, nothing more than knowledge of my father planning more than one says.
She leads me around the corner, and then turns around to face me but doesn't say a word. When I go to ask her why it is I should be concerned, I stop before doing so at the widening of her eyes.
Right. Darius is listening, as he always is. I roll my eyes and bite down on my habit of tapping my foot and crossing my arms as I wait impatiently. Rohana pops in again, and I quickly send my voice down the mental bridge between us before she can speak.
Ears in the wind, care to help?
If you keep summoning me then we're never going to finish tonight, she retorts.
I roll my eyes. Just stop time, Ro.
"I just did, smartass," she snides aloud. I glance around and find everyone and everything at a perfect standstill. Gods I missed that. "What?"
"I think it's dying." Siscilla answers, rubbing at the hand she touched Clarice's stomach with.
"The baby? How?" I step closer.
"I-I don't know, but I'd bet little Roseia would have an idea."
"That tiny genius scares me sometimes," Rohana confesses.
"Wait-" I interrupt. "Roseia said that Visha's riddle said something about the baby."
"That it's small in size and would kill our Mater in childbirth?"
"No, that makes sense," Siscilla agrees, our eyes meeting in understanding.
"Get to the point, ladies, I don't have all day here."
"'Be what she may, her cavity will hold, so long as dies the mended bond and bond new mended to forever,' " I recite. "The first part is talking about Clarice and Darius's fating bond. So long as that dies - or breaks - then the baby will live."
"So does this mean that their fating bond is healing?"
"Mending, and no," Siscilla corrects. "The second part is the reason the baby is dying. 'The bond new' refers to the bond Xaxias most likely built between him and the child. He's the forever in the riddle."
"So that bond is breaking?"
"I don't think so - I don't think he ever finished building the bond, and the further away he is the weaker the bond..."
"The weaker the baby."
"But wouldn't it be bound to Willdred? Seeing as he's the biological father?" I ask with as much obvious disdain as possible.
"I don't know, there's a piece we're missing in the puzzle that is Willdred Maron, but I'm almost certain that the baby's life is deterring due to its separation from Xaxias."
"So as long as we keep her away from Xaxias, the baby will die on its own?" Rohana asks, earning a nod from the healer.
"How long until it's dead?"
She gives us a shrug. "Hard to tell for sure, but keeping an eye on Clarice is where we start."
"Can you give an estimate?"
"Branka, what aren't you telling us?"
"I'll explain later," I say, waving Rohana's mad glare off and continuing to get an answer from the healer. "Will it be sooner than a fortnight?"
"I-uh-maybe," the healer stutters.
"Is there anything we could do to speed up the process?"
"Aside from poisoning a thing that may not be able to be poisoned?." I nod. "Physical exertion, maybe. Right now the child is living solely off of her, which is why normal pregnancy symptoms are beginning to show. If we tire her body and disrupt the connection further, we may have her cleared before a fortnight's end. There's more to it, but nothing more you or your sisters can do."
"Perfect. Her training starts today."