UNMARKED

22: Sea of Assassins

Briannon had inherited her late mother's penchant for throwing grand celebrations, and her coronation was likely to be her biggest event yet. With a week to go, preparations were in full swing, coinciding with the festivities leading up to the summer solstice - parades, and parties, and feasts and the like.

Nobility from all over the continent and other foreign dwellings were pouring into the capital region and Blayre found herself driven to near exhaustion by the constant attentiveness she had to bestow by carefully screening the constant influx.

It was at times like these that Blayre questioned the usefulness of registering mages in Emares. Though anyone who came through was mostly nobility and had undergone a rigorous screening process, she noted a few who trickled in - mostly servants. It was concerning but there was no help for it.

She had begun to wonder if Nuala had a hand in her placement so near the palace gates as she, Fletcher, and Ainslee sat idly by near one of the cafes. Nuala knew her secret, and Nuala had the authority to be a birdie in Commander Holt's ear. She hadn't thought much on Nuala's knowledge until just then and it had only recently begun to make her feel anxious.

It was a smart move, she supposed. But she felt a constant invisible thread tugging her toward Rory, wherever he might be. She wondered what he was doing. Holding up the pretense of flirting with Alessa? Flashing his glorious smile at some foreign lady?

Or perhaps worrying over Briannon and her recent attachment to Duke Lonan.

Blayre nearly slammed her fist on the table. She needed to be closer to him. To protect him. She might have to have a word with the commander.

She looked up, realizing that Ainslee was staring at her, head cocked, porcelain mug of coffee frozen partway to her mouth. Fletcher also eyed her dubiously, one bushy eyebrow cocked.

"Why are you staring at me?" She grumbled.

Fletcher snorted "By the look on your face, someone just killed your favorite dog."

"I don't have a dog."

He rolled his eyes, "You know what I mean."

"Hmph." She replied, burying her face in her tea, but noticing Ainslee's smirk.

"I think I know what's raging in your mind." She gave a satisfied smirk, like a fox with a rabbit. "I see the way you look at the duke. You can't keep your gaze off him lately."

"I - I - I'm just worried is all." Blayre stammered, clinking her cup down on the table. "We're supposed to be protecting him and instead we're here." She waved viciously at the cafe. "Wasting our time, sipping coffee, watching the passers by. What use are we here?"

"Parade duty." Fletcher agreed with a grumble.

"Well, for one, we can spot the suspicious activity as it walks right through our gates." Ainslee pointed out.

"I agree with Blayre, though," Fletcher said, brushing the crumbs of his recently disappeared scone off the table, "I want out of here. I want out of the Capital altogether. We should be back in Mountainvale..."

Blayre had to agree, even though the combined thought of leaving Rory and returning to the dysfunctionality Blumore sent a pang through her. She thought of Caval's words at the Divine Sword. Finding a dragon fossil field sounded incredibly interesting. And it would keep her away from the keep and Lady Marianna's wicked grasp.

"What if they're keeping us from investigating on purpose?" Fletcher's voice dropped low.

Blayre started, and Ainslee gave him a look of reproach. "Whyever would they do that? Obviously the coronation is important. And all types of security are important. We can't have unmarked sorcerers attacking the Crown with no way to trace them while we're off galavanting in the mountains."