Stormhaze

Chapter 27: The bomb on the balcony

"So many people..." Zenobia said, her hands shaking slightly as she peered out from behind a curtain to the balcony. "I've done public speaking... but not this public."

Her speech would be from a balcony by the river, addressing a large crowd gathered at the harbor square. A growing mass of people were patiently awaiting her announcement; five thousand heads by Gillien's estimation. She paced across the room to a standing mirror, smoothing out the creases on her blue dress. Gillien peered out the window. The remaining Rykic soldiers circled the building like a barrier, and in the far distance above the crowd, he could see the ridge Edras was on.

"You can do this, Zenobia," he said calmly, "you've been out in the streets aiding them almost every day since the Stormhaze Event happened. They look up to you, they have you to thank for keeping them fed and clothed."

She smiled weakly, "How long until it starts?"

"Roughly sixty minutes." Gillien said, looking at her from the end of the dimly lit room.

"Is the dress fine?" she asked, still standing by the mirror. "It's not too much?"

"It's perfect. The people will love it."

He was feeling a strange blend of admiration and heartache on her behalf. Her father had just been killed the day before—by her own brother no less—and here she stood, making ready to address a crowd of five thousand. In the years before, Gillien had always seen her as a cold and strict, but now he admired her for keeping her head cool under circumstances that would break even himself.

Did she ever really have anyone to confide in? To lean on? Gillien had seen her in the company of other men years before, but none he thought she would truly call a trusted partner, even in the sixteen years he had served in the palace. It was a new sensation to him that such a fact was weighing on his shoulders.

Zenobia always had company—but that didn't mean she wasn't alone. Gillien put his would-be jealousy aside, actually hoping she had given herself the chance to be in a years-long relationship with one or several partners. Just someone to share her mind with. He had never asked her about it, but he was somewhat sure he already knew the answer...

Gillien was making up his mind. I'll do what I can do be the one she can lean on—whenever she needs it.

He began thinking back: The very same day Gillien was declared a general he had been bombarded with requests of personal alliances, black favors, and the promise of gold and concubines. If that was the day of a measly general—how many more offers did Zenobia herself get? If she wasn't stone-faced and skeptical at all times, the rats would swarm and eat her alive. But it was also that which had kept her from truly embracing someone—and kept someone from embracing her.

"What about now?" she asked.

Gillien looked at his calleron wrist display. "Fifty-five minutes."

"And you're sure the dress—"

"Sit down," Gillien said to her sudden surprise. He simply smiled and walked over to her, reaching out an inviting hand that pointed to the nearest chair. "Sit down."

She seemed confused, but smiled nonetheless. "What?"

Gillien didn't answer, simply pointing at the chair with an open hand. He wasn't sure whether this would work or not, but he couldn't just stand and watch from across the room as she grew more and more anxious. Zenobia eventually relented, sitting down on the chair. He moved so her back was in front of him.

"Just sit still, and I'll try my best not to wrinkle your dress," he said, laying two warm hands on each of her shoulders, squeezing carefully to feel where it needed work. He immediately noticed her head and shoulders sinking slightly, embracing his firm but gentle touch. "Let's try to focus our mind on other things; nothing that's happened since the Stormhaze Event."