Stormhaze

Chapter 25: Love and war

Gillien and Zenobia watched with a smile from her bedroom balcony as Edras, Lorin, and Xianwei sailed away at twilight. The three had just about managed to sneak out unnoticed before the entire palace crawled with Etherion guards—dead set on searching every room and quarter for Lorin. Gillien breathed a sigh of relief, waving a final 'good luck' before the gondola disappeared behind the buildings.

"How do you feel?" he asked, looking at Zenobia.

"Relieved..." Zenobia said, walking back into her bedroom.

It was a large chamber near the peak of the citadel, overlooking the city to the north and the ocean to the south. It was a grand domed bedchamber with curtains dancing in the light wind, pillows strewn throughout almost every piece of furniture. Candles dotted the room, filling it with the light scent of cinnamon. Zenobia fell onto her wide bed, closing her eyes and breathing out a sigh.

Gillien smiled. She seemed exhausted, but still managed somehow to remain as present as ever to those who needed it. He felt an immense sense of growing respect towards the young woman, having seen and heard more from her in the past few weeks than he had over the course of sixteen years. He couldn't wait to see more, to hear more, and to work more by her side. It wasn't simply because she looked like a dream to his eyes, but because he genuinely wanted to understand her—to learn from her.

Though it was the break of dawn, he understood Zenobia both needed and deserved a long rest. He had himself not slept for over a day, feeling the soreness in his muscles and a growing headache sprouting roots across his face.

He bowed politely. "Have a good day's rest, my lady. I will see you tomorrow."

Just as Gillien was about to leave, Zenobia turned her hazel eyes to him. "You wouldn't mind... staying?" she asked. It wasn't a command from a superior officer, but an invitation, and invitation from a trusted partner. "It's not because... I just—"

"I understand." Gillien said warmly and walked to her bed.

"I... just haven't been able to sleep for a long while."

He lay down beside her, hugging her tightly, whispering his genuine understanding to her with all the heart he could give. She didn't need a quick night of mediocre satisfaction. She needed a warm embrace—stability, safety, predictability.

Almost all he had seen from her was when she needed to act like the Supreme Anax, but few had ever seen who she really was... and Gillien was just now seeing a small part of it for the first time. She squeezed her back against his chest as he lay down, and he surrounded her with his arms, breathing in her cinnamon-scented black hair. They both smiled... and fell asleep.

* * *

A few days had passed since Lorin and Zenobia agreed to form a coalition between Ryken and Alecaria. The required paperwork to declare every province independent had all been signed, stamped, and officialized by both Ildron and Zenobia for good measure, and she was preparing her speech for the public who were yet to be informed. Tomorrow, her Erylon-wide empire of two hundred fifteen million people would shrink to seventy-five million.

Kilas had been skillfully kept in the dark... but Gillien feared it would only be a matter of time before he found out—one way or another. The Grand Arkon did not seem to have been informed about Edras' part in Lorin's plot, however. Had Dardûm, the most dedicated and loyal of Kilas' religious zealots, not told him? Or did he know and was just biding his time patiently? Nonetheless, Gillien kept a watchful eye for anything that could pose a danger to his son.

For his part, Gillien had stayed with Grand Arkon Kilas during the day, and carefully snuck into Zenobia's chambers during the night. The two had yet to share anything more than sleep; the mere act of resting next to each other provided enough comforting solace for the meantime. After what had happened with Yrra, Gillien found himself unable to disrobe fully before bed. Every night he slept with clothes on. His hands began to tremble each time he tried to undress his himself at night—feeling like a frantic fool—especially when waking up with nightmares about his father.