The Exalted

Yonder

Lila Valiente was not highborn as Alesdair or Chelinde was. The youngest daughter of a potion maker, she was at a level with Myrddin and his sweet sister Galiene. She had no lack of admirers in Joyeuse. Lila was comely; fair, with dark blonde hair and big green eyes, and a snub nose that made her seem innocent. Chelinde thought it made her seem childlike. There was a comfortable fleshiness to her - the ordinary look of city folk. Lila had soft hands and creamy thighs peeping out beneath her skirt. No doubt she had never fought a battle outside a petty argument with her older sisters. No doubt the most Lila faced was a burn from a cauldron or a potion mixed wrong. Errors that would no doubt seem monumental in Lila's life, but Chelinde had faced greater wounds. Once, when they were young, Alesdair had sliced her arm to the bone when they had used real steel for the first time.

It was an unpleasant shock when Lila had peeped around the window of the Valiente Sundries to stare at Noll. Even more unpleasant when they had spotted the glyph shining against her skin, pink and bright like a jewel. A healer is helpful, but why her? Chelinde smiled as Noll welcomed Lila to their ragtag group, joking about discounts and free potions from her store. Alesdair did not hide his feelings half as well as anyone else did, so his scowl was fierce and deep. When Lila's eyes darted to Chelinde, her face had paled. Good. The little rabbit knows who to be scared of, at least. She's not as stupid as she looks. Admirers liked the look of Lila Valiente, with her wide eyes and pouty lips. Chelinde thought her to look a fool. Wide eyes. Vacant eyes, and a stutter that people found endearing. Chelinde smiled and felt something like pride at Lila's balking. If the girl was cowed, she would be easy to control, and easy to keep out of the way. A fool would get hurt if left unchecked, and Chelinde could not handle another death. Especially not a silly child's.

"I'll keep you safe," Noll declared, all cheerful bravado and sunshine in his smiles, "You will come, right? You have to!"

"It's our duty," Myrddin added, smirking, "Sir Tall Dark and Handsome will keep you safe, kiddo. Just make sure you keep us healed."

Easy to cow, Chelinde thought as Lila nodded slowly. A little girl with love songs in her heart. Rowan would feel bad for her. Whip-smart, wonderful Rowan who gave Chelinde a reproachful look whenever she made a witty comment. Rowan who wore glasses and forgot to shave when he was absorbed in books. He was small yet strong, a warrior of the mind as much as Chelinde. Much better than a girl of sixteen years that was back to wearing pinks and cream and clutching a staff to her breast. When Alesdair was 16 years old, he was fighting tourneys and winning fame. When Myrddin was 16 years old, he could hammer swords. When I was 16 years old, I was already in a council, sending letters to royals all over under my tutor's eye. What are you doing? Why were you chosen? Why did you dream our dream? All these questions, and a thousand cruel remarks, but Chelinde just smiled...though it flickered when she caught herself. Her head hurt, and her heart ached. She's just a stupid child, she doesn't know how to defend herself, she thought, though not unkindly. She had lost too much already; she couldn't lose herself now.

"Sherry? Hi-ho, cousin!" when Chelinde turned, she found Kamui sitting atop a barrel, grinning in his usual manner, "The Lady Bird told Gisella and me in strictest confidence. It's a pity I wasn't chosen. It seems fun."

The others were gathering wares in the city. The sounds of Joyeuse were still subdued, but some color had returned to it. Some people were trying to smile and laugh. Kamui never had to try. A cousin by Chelinde's Aunt Flora, he had Mai blood and the northern House of Sighere in his veins. Comely and spindly, but twisted. He was born strange, giggling instead of wailing when he came out of the womb. Still, Chelinde loved Kamui all the same. Others avoided him, for all his smiles and gentleness. She joined him on the barrel, letting him play with her hair. He was paler than usual, she noticed. Handling bodies had been one of his duties. It brought back bad memories, Chelinde did not doubt. His silver-haired wife had been close to lost, but now his family flourished. Kamui, at least, still had them: Caramia and his daughter, Norah.