THE FORTUNIST

53. Rayton

“Zia's Spring is halved by its locker and its chain.”

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When Rayton awoke, he thought he would draw in water but he draws in air. Sharp, full and gratifying lungfuls of air.

"Slow down, slow down," a voice coaxes him, "the air isn't running anywhere." A soft hand on his bare shoulder pushes him back into the pillow. He does not recognise his surroundings. The last thing he remembers is struggling in the waters, the weight pulling him down. Blood staining the waters, blinding the view of purple eyes wavering above him.

The assassin had tried to drown him.

Automatically, Rayton knows he has no time to dally. He remembers his priorities. He remembers Anarella, and the Twin Mountains and Dian's Teardrop which had been in his pocket but which he now knows with a sinking feeling that the assassin had taken it as well. He slaps the coaxing hand away and stubbornly pushes himself up. Tears spring up in his eyes, blurring his vision momentarily.

His throat is awfully dry. One would think after gulping down a whole canal, he'd at least not be so desperately tasty. A glass of water is pushed into his hand and he drinks it in one go.

"More," he croaks but he needn't have because there is already another full glass which he eagerly drinks to the last drop. The water fuels him. He feels the cool liquid nourishing his shrivelled insides. First his limbs, then his chest. Then his brain.

His sanity rushes back with a slam.

He takes it all in with coordinated calmness. He knows not to panic or do anything rash considering he does not know where he is, the day, the time and how he is still alive.

"Calm your mind RayRay, you can look at me. I'm not going to hurt you."

He finally bestows his full gaze on his benefactor. A middle aged woman with regal aura. Her hair is oxblood red styled atop her head with numerous silver pins. Her dress is pale red with swirls of black and gold. She wears it well, making her seem taller than she really is. Then, there is her eyes, cerulean blue, just a little darker than his own. He had not seen this woman since his father's funeral when he was ten. Only she called him RayRay. He stays still, dreading the urge to speak first. Maybe he'll blink and she'll be gone. Maybe this is a fantasy in his mind.

"You are taller now, and you've gotten impossibly handsome," the woman breaks faith with her austere composure and gushes. "Oh but I'll know my nephew anywhere. Prince, king, he's my blood and I'll always sense him when he needs my help." She hugs him around his neck, her scent of orange and primrose stay with him. Finally, she pulls back. She grabs his chin firmly, looking into his eyes with her teary ones. "I've missed you," she says earnestly.

"Aunt Merys," Rayton acknowledges.

"Oh RayRay!" She hugs him again.

"What happened?" He asks as he tries to arrange the possibilities that could have led him here, right into his very aunt's bosom. "Where's Rel?"

"Rel, is that her name?"

"Where's she?" he demands.

"Relax RayRay, she's fine."

Merys Zia, his mother's sister had saved his life. She would have no reason to lie therefore, would she? Her face had always been vague in his memory especially after she gave up her place in the Council to a family friend after Meghren's death. There were random times when Rayton would wonder what she had been so afraid of. He remembers peeping in to see his mother and his aunt arguing. His mother was insisting that the Winter Solstice stayed in the palace. Merys was trying to disprove until Eim played her ultimate queen card.