The Iron Seer

Years Earlier

"Father, do you know what day it is?"

Ariella stood in front of her father's desk. Back then, he was always 'Father' to her, not the Duke, as he was to everyone else. Even to North, who was his best friend, or as close as the fey gentry ever came to friendship. If North knew the Duke's real name, he never spoke it aloud.

The Duke glanced up from his work, frowning. "I do not."

Her face fell. She had asked the same question of her teacher, Isolde, earlier that day, but Isolde had only snapped at her not to ask inane questions and to get back to work.

His eyes softened. As if to comfort her, the Duke said, "We are not limited by time as mortals are, Ariella. Time is immaterial to us."

Ariella nodded as if she understood, and left his office. Through the window on the staircase she spotted North, who was out in the snow, standing by himself. She couldn't suppress a grin at seeing him. She'd only been able to say a word or two to him at breakfast that morning, but she hadn't been able to speak to him since then. Dashing down the stairs, through the hallways, and out the back door, she found herself outside, breathing the sharp, fresh air.

North stood with his back to her, oblivious to her presence, a statue facing the forest and the mountains in the distance, snow all around him. His long, silver-white hair cascaded around his shoulders and down his back. He could have been her uncle - when she was little, she'd even called him that - with his hair and his height, her father's brother; though he was much broader in the shoulders and perhaps even a bit taller. His face was sharper, his narrow, angular eyes a midnight blue, so dark they were nearly black. She'd stopped thinking of him as her uncle some time ago, she couldn't be sure when. He was still family, but he was more than that to her.

Silently, she crept forward, breathing only barely. Aiming to lock her arms around his middle before he realized she was there, she launched herself at him from behind - and was caught by his arms as he spun around to meet her. One of his hands on her upper arm prevented her head from crashing into his chest. The other landed on her lower back, steadying her.

Stumbling in surprise, she raised her eyes up to his. A half-smile curved his mouth, transforming his usually calm face and sending her heart into a gallop inside her chest. North gave her these smiles often, and each time, it was as if the world shifted focus; gravity pulling her toward him rather than rooting her to the ground. It was disorienting.

"You're getting better," said North.

She blew her hair away from her face in a frustrated huff. "How do you always know when I'm sneaking up on you? Do you have eyes in the back of your head?"

"No," he said, still smiling, and released her. She hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath until it all left her as he stepped away. A line appeared between his eyebrows. "What are you wearing?"

Looking down at herself, she blushed. A leather corset, a short skirt, and boots that came up past her knees, all in dark blue, were what she'd dressed herself in after her lessons. Her long, unruly hair was clipped back from her face, a braid on top of her head, the rest long and loose behind her. She also wore leather shoulder guards, which attached to white lace sleeves that belled out around her wrists.

Her new servant, a phouka girl around her age who had been sent to bring her water for a bath after lessons, had remarked on the corset. "Why wear that? Your chest is as flat as a plank of wood." Ariella had scowled at the girl's chest, which was already as large as any grown woman's.

"I don't care," Ariella said. "Someday I'll grow up and be as beautiful as the woman in that picture." She pointed to the portrait of her mother on the wall.