Of Whispers and Daggers ✓ [TLRQ #2]

Chapter 16 - Leavi

Aster's eyes hold the same look I've seen in the mirror after too many late nights studying and a hard day of class. I want to ask him if he's alright, but I bite my tongue. His country is at war, his castle is surrounded by people who hate him, and his soldiers are dying, the lucky ones dragged to the infirmary. His world trembles before him, promising to fall unless he makes the right moves. Just because we survived today's battle doesn't mean he's alright.

He ushers me into his room, and I try to keep my expression from reflecting my thoughts. If my world threatened to topple around me, a sallow face would hardly be what I wanted around.

He sits in an armchair, and I plop down on his couch, the strange Morineause skirt fluffing out around me. I thought I would miss my pants—the only times I used to wear dresses in Erreliah was to parties—but the Morineause garb is oddly comfortable. "I have a present for you." I smile.

His head tilts, and he sits forward, arms on his knees. "Oh?" The word struggles to be light, but still his gaze is heavy with distraction.

From my pocket, I draw out my notebook, flipping through pages. "I believe some messages somehow found their way into my book, and I thought, where better to bring lost messages than the Prince of Morineaux?"

His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. "You should be careful. You don't have to do that."

"I know," I say, serious now. "And I am." I pass the notes to him.

His finger traces over the letters. "I'm surprised you wrote this in my language."

"I didn't." I blush, feeling dumb for handing him something he can't read and reach to take it back.

He just holds up the book.

I lean forward, examining the page. The words are Errelian, but as I stare, the characters twist into the Morineause script. I blink, and they morph back. "The bracelet."

His eyes flick to it, and the little lights dance on my wrist. "A powerful artefact indeed. I've never heard of a spell that could..."

Before he can ask where I got it, I gesture back at the notebook. "Is any of that going to be helpful? Do you recognize the woman from my drawing?"

"Woman?"

I reach over and flip to her face. He purses his lips as he considers. "I recognize the insignia," he says carefully.

I chuckle. "That bad, is it?"

"Sorry. No, it's not that; it's just not... specific enough to describe a particular woman. This could be almost any Lady of the court."

I hide a smile in mock seriousness, but his overcast face and voice makes my attempts at levity feel forced. "Then your Ladies need to stop looking so much alike."

He musters a feeble smile and leans over the scraps of the woman's letter. His face sobers as he reads. "This doesn't sound good."

"There's hardly anything there." I wrote it hoping at the time it would be helpful to him, but now that it is, I worry.