How Shadows Turn to Ash

Chapter 4: Octavia

If Octavia was honest, she wasn't sure she could be patient. Each day, she roamed through the castle, looking for answers. Not once had she seen any sign of Lord Savoy. The guards claimed he was ill, but Octavia found the lack of confrontation odd. Savoy had never hidden away before. Even when he was sick, he had always demanded a visit to tell Octavia how poor her magical prowess was or that her singing voice was subpar.

"Good morning," Octavia said brightly, twisting her skirts as she passed Savoy's door one morning. One of the guards smiled at her. The other was new, looking at her warily as she brought out a bundle of flowers tucked in her arms. "Would you mind giving these to Lord Savoy for me?" she asked, holding them out. "And wishing him my best as he recovers?"

The new guard leaned away. "You've cursed these," he growled.

Octavia frowned, looking at her flowers. "Of course not," she said, sniffing one pointedly. "Look, I brought one for you, too." She pulled out a red rose and gave it to the other guard, whose cheeks tinged pink. "Do handsome soldiers not like flowers?"

"You are the sorceress," the new guard said, reaching for his sword. "You-"

"Haz!" the other guard hissed, reaching out to stop him. "She has no magic here. Look at her hands." Octavia shifted the flowers to prove her hands were clean. Haz narrowed his eyes but said nothing. "I'm sorry, princess."

"She's not a princess anymore," Haz muttered. Octavia wordlessly plucked out a blue flower and walked over. Haz tensed but didn't move as she pinned it on his uniform. "There. It matches your eyes," she said. Confusion touched his expression. "The spirits reside in flowers like these. They'll protect you from harm."

"You would want me protected from harm?" he asked. Octavia laughed, bowing her head to peer up at him through her lashes. The distrust in his face was still there, but she could see it waning in favor of bewilderment.

Octavia bit her lip. "My family and I are in a lovely palace with good food. You are protecting us. Why would I ever want to see you harmed?" She touched his arm before placing the rest of the flowers in front of Savoy's door, pausing to hear if anyone was inside. Only silence replied. "Thank you, Sir Haz," she added.

Giving the guards one last look, she turned away to sashay down to the gardens. She had just reached a bundle of bushes, kneeling to place her hands into the soil, when a new voice spoke.

"You truly are something else."

Octavia rolled her eyes. The dragonrider again. Dainn, they called him. Octavia dusted the dirt off her hands and stood up. Now that the guards were out of sight, she could let her lips curl in disgust. After all, Dainn didn't seem quite as gullible as the rest of her captors. More volatile and irritating, perhaps. But, unfortunately, not as easily manipulated.

"Will you leave me to pray in peace?" she asked.

Dainn stepped from behind the pillar he was behind. "Pray?" he repeated. He looked around the garden, eyes flicking over the countless flowers and finely trimmed trees. "You're playing in the dirt. You aren't praying."

Octavia's tongue pressed against the inside of her cheek in annoyance. She could tell by the lilt of his accent that he was from Dualis - not Romanov. He had the same drawl her mother did, a voice filled with soft constants, unlike the sharpness a native Romanovian might enunciate with. Despite the similarity in speech, Octavia would have never pegged Dainn from the same country as her mother. His skin was the color of winter branches, and eyes honeyed brown. Her mother's skin was copper, and her eyes much darker.

"Taking care of the earth is how we pray," Octavia said shortly. Dainn ran his palms together, the fire magic in his hands mocking her. If she could shove him down and take it without being killed, she would.