TRIGGER WARNING: This book contains depictions and mentions of graphic content such as sexual assault, assault, scars, executions and other brutalities. Reader discretion is advised.
1026, March 10th, Thursday
Rhianon scours the upper level of the bookcase, spotting a copy of the unfinished version of Kitab Al-Hawi Fi Al-Tibb under the flickering candlelight of the handheld lantern she holds. Intrigue fills her hazel eyes, and she plucks it out carefully with ink-stained fingers, using the bookshelf and her body to press the book against so she can gently flick through to check it's authentic. It is, and Alvis's notes are scrawled through the pages, his cursive already instantly recognisable. A bright smile crosses her face, much brighter than the candlelight in her lantern or the very beginning light from a barely rising sun peeking in their chambers.
Out of habit, her body clock had awoken her long before the sun showed any signs of rising. Not even birds have risen yet; still, only the crickets of the night echo outside in the land that, in a few hours, will bustle with life. Rhianon is already dressed, a dull blue billowing long-sleeved tunic tucked into brown wool-woven trousers and under a corset fastened to her waist. Her weapons belts are in place, but more subtle and hidden than yesterday's outfit, at Alvis's request for the weapons to be in her room. Still, her upper-arm braces are obscured from sight while being within reach, but her thigh braces and weapons are more subtle and hard to spot.
Worn, tall leather boots stalk to the ladder; wedging the thick and heavy book to her chest with the hand holding her lantern, she descends the ladder one-handedly. Both wrist braces move, only the hidden daggers attached, so Alvis cannot spot them, but her frayed fingerless gloves easily move down the ladder rungs. The ribbon made of her mother's dress is tied around her wrist; her dyed long hair flows with combed curls freely.
Alvis finds her at the table closest to the ladder sometime later, the girl not having noticed the passage of time. The early morning sun is more illuminating than her almost entirely burnt-out candle in her lantern, the light air of birdsong and gentle musings of servants and lower-class merchants beginning their day echoing in a soft hum. Rhianon doesn't notice the old man's door opening nor his descending steps, even though she faces the staircase that leads to his bedchambers. Her attention is solely devoted to Alvis's notes within the unfinished copy he has of the Kitab Al-Hawi Fi Al-Tibb and the untranslated version he has of De Materia Medica, comparing them each.
"Can you understand those?"
His shocked words startle the teenager, her whole body tensing and jolting. Wide hazel eyes snap to shocked brown, but his words don't register in her mind over the surprise at his presence. He is still in his sleep clothes, resembling an ankle-length, shapeless pale brown dress-robe.
"Well, good morning to you, too," Rhianon snaps, her anger more so at herself for not noticing him than at him.
Alvis is undeterred or shocked at her defensive demeanour. "Well?"
Rhianon blinks at him. "Well, what?"
"Can you understand those?"
"... Yes?" Rhianon hesitates, scrunching her eyebrows together in confusion at the question: why would she be reading them if she could not understand them?
Alvis's white eyebrows raise, one slightly higher than the other. "You understand those?"
"Yes?"
"Those are not translated."
"I noticed that," she snarks, her face twisting in annoyance. "Your notes are harder to read than the Greek and Arabic beside them." His brown eyes are still frozen on her, disbelieving. "What?"
YOU ARE READING
Inequable - The Lost Princess
FantastikAfter her own kingdom, Melshinaur, has been overtaken, the only surviving member of the royal family, 7-year-old Princess Adeleona, escapes at the cost of her best friend's life. She crosses the seven seas, aided by pirates who teach her how to figh...
