by Meagan Hurst
“I was holding a blade by your throat, we have never attempted such a thing before. It is a solid defensive reaction, and your reactions in that manner have always been sound. I should have suspected you would react with violence.”
“I should have known as well, and not made the request.” She bowed her head, embarrassed, and then grabbed a handful of hair and ran her dagger through it out of anger.
“That’s a new style,” the Dragon commented. “Would you like to leave it that way or do you think you’d be willing to accept my help?”
She answered with silence, but Nivaradros managed to pick up on the type of silence it was. He moved closer to her again, with an eye on her movements, and began cutting her uneven hair one section at a time until he succeed in making it all the same length.
“How short would you like it?” he wanted to know.
“Just below my ears,” she replied through tight lips. It was taking all her self-control to stay still and staring at the wall straight ahead. The sound of hair being cut caused her to flinch, but she knew Nivaradros wasn’t a threat, and so she was able to keep from moving. It was far more of a struggle than she wanted it to be.
In the end, hair covered the floor around her feet. The longest parts—the parts she hadn’t attacked with a dagger before the Dragon—were seven inches long; her hair had always grown fast. Running her fingers through her now shorter, more comfortable style, she turned to meet the Dragon’s gaze and managed a smile.
“Thank you.”
“You are most welcome,” he said with a shrug. “It has always been a dream of mine to play barber to a human.” His eyes danced as he spoke, and this time she was able to punch him—although he turned around and replied with a solid strike of his own.
Which led to a small tussle between the two of them as they continued to respond to each hit with one of their own. It wasn’t, however, anything that resulted in bruises. Nivaradros was smiling at the end of it, and she was laughing. Until tears began to run down her face. The Dragon was foolish enough to point it out and got a solid strike as a result. Rather than returning it with a blow of his own, he simply wrapped his arms around hers and held her until she ceased to struggle. Once she had, he released her and backed away to signal he was finished. It was one of the more comforting things about him that she had grown used to during their travels. They could fight and not spend any time being angry, which was very useful.
“Will you attempt to rest tonight?” Nivaradros wanted to know as she began cleaning up the hair.
“I can’t decide. Sleep means no one can bug me—in theory—until tomorrow, but I am not in any way tired, and I hate sleeping when I am not.”
“You are unlikely to ever be tired again unless you are wounded,” he pointed out as she finished cleaning up the mess they had made on the carpet and took a seat on one of the plush couches in the room.
This was one of the few rooms that contained furniture that was not connected to the walls of the room. She preferred it and wondered who or what this wing had been designed to hold or accommodate. She would research it when she had the time; so, the way things were going, in about five centuries or so she would know.
“If I decide to sleep, what will you do?” she wanted to know. He didn’t sleep when she did; he watched, but she often wondered if he ever got bored. She knew the main reason he stayed beside her when she slept was because of the occasional nightmare she seemed to be cursed with now—he woke her up when she couldn’t escape them—but she doubted she had them often enough to keep him entertained.
“I may try to find and speak with the Shade,” Nivaradros admitted. “I have tired of dealing with the results of his hostile words, and they reflect ill upon you as well. I would like to have him at least cease from continuing to spread them; I don’t expect him to admit they were false to begin with.”
“I do not want the Mithane, Shalion, or Kitra rushing in here to tell me world war twelve is about to break out because you decided to insult the Shade or take offense to something he said.”
“As long as he doesn’t insult you I will be fine.”
“That does not comfort me, Nivaradros.”
“As it shouldn’t. Zimliya, he cannot continue to spread his words. They are causing us problems already and we need a strong front to face off against Midestol. You know this.”
“Yes, I do, but I still think it would be far better if I handle Crilyne.”
“If he thinks I brainwashed or spelled you it will not do any good.”
“If he is stupid enough to believe that, I can correct it with little effort.”
“Oh?”
“Believe me when I say you do not want to know.”
Chapter 9
“If you two are interested in performing some stupid male display of power again, I will consent to be the adjudicator. However, if anyone is seriously wounded, I will be venting my anger on the least injured party, just saying.”
Both Nivaradros and Crilyne—who had been circling each other like two bears getting ready for battle—hesitated at the sound of her voice. But they did not look away from one another. She had followed Nivaradros because of a feeling that he was best not left to his own devices when it came to dealing with the Shade. Judging by their current stances, her decision to make sure things stayed civil, the immortal definition of civil, had been a wise one. He had claimed he was just heading out to catch the Mithane for a couple of questions, but Z had seen the flash in his eyes that hinted at something darker.
She had found them in one of the lesser used halls, and those halls were now abandoned by anyone save them; she had caught sight of servants fleeing the area as she had approached. It angered her. She couldn’t—they couldn’t—afford to be seen as anything less than unified, and Crilyne seemed to take Nivaradros’s presence as an insult, which Z didn’t understand. Crilyne had assigned the Dragon as her protector to begin with. Nivaradros, on the other hand, had never forgiven Crilyne for his desire to turn her into a Shade. Of course, as Nivaradros was a Dragon, and with the way Crilyne had been treating him since his return, Z wasn’t surprised the Dragon had gained such a dangerous edge around the Shade.
It was the Shade who backed down first, sort of. He took a step back. Nivaradros growled, a low, deep rumble, but turned to face her. “I see you decided to trust your instincts rather than my words. Very well done.” Nivaradros’s gaze went back to the Shade as Crilyne shifted his weight. “Don’t you so much as approach her.”
Z rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Nivaradros,” she muttered in a warning tone.
“You can kill me over it, but I am not budging on this.” Nivaradros glanced at Crilyne. “Especially with this latest mess he’s handed me to clean up.”
Crilyne ignored the Dragon and just let his eyes run over her form. “You look…decent,” he said in a tone that was both grudgingly approving and yet very judgmental at the same time.
“You have the Dragon to thank for that,” she snapped. “Perhaps you should take that into consideration before you once again pick a fight with him. And you,” she added as she turned to the Dragon, her voice sharp enough to draw blood had it been a weapon. “Should take into consideration the fact that Crilyne played a large part when it came to shrinking my issues in the beginning. I couldn’t—easily—kill him; he made me safer to be around.”
Her words didn’t do much. Both the Shade and the Dragon exchanged black looks, but Z saw Nivaradros’s jaw tighten for a moment before he glanced at her. Exhaling with smoke, Nivaradros let out another deep growl that Z felt shake the floor beneath her.
“Alright,” he hissed. “Alright.” Glaring at the Shade with such heat that Z was shocked the Shade didn’t burst into flames, Nivaradros ground his teeth and slowly and, as though the movement pained him, extended his hand to the Shade. “I propose a truce, done with a weak mortal handshake since that is probably what Z would demand of us in the end. We can work out terms later but based on her opinion in this matt
er—which I have been forced to hear continuously—she will not accept anything less from us. Since I have decided to deal with her on a constant basis I feel it is within my best interests to make this effort now, rather than suffer her wrath later.”
Z felt her mouth slip a bit, but she managed to keep her peace. Crilyne, however, raised a brow at Nivaradros’s words, but made no move to accept the Dragon’s hand.
“Zimliya?” His tone was thin, cold, and furious. “What has he done to you?”
“Why do you think he did something to me?” Z wanted to know. “He spent weeks keeping me alive. Spent further time working with me to help me recover. Crilyne, you know what he gave up in order to keep me and yet you still won’t give him a break. Why?”
Crilyne glanced at her. “Because,” he began in a voice that could have frozen time, “he doesn’t deserve you.” It was something he had said to her already, and it irritated her to no end.
“And who does?”
The Shade scowled at her. “No one,” he admitted. “But especially not the Dragon.”
She sighed and considered killing the Shade. “Crilyne, I’ve probably killed more beings than he has,” she pointed out.
“That’s different and I would argue against that statement.”
“It’s not. They were only on a different side. They had different views, different lifestyles, different training, and a different calling, but they still had friends and family. They still had a life that I took from them. When you take things at their most basic, I am worse than the Dragon.”
“You are fighting to save the world; he was fighting for himself.”
“I fight to save the world due to a personal attachment to its continued existence, it is the same thing.”
She had expected Nivaradros to speak up and make things worse, but the Dragon seemed content to let her handle it. Though he did keep his hand where he had left it for the Shade to grasp.
“And the Mithane? What does he think?” Crilyne demanded.
“Perhaps in another five millenniums he and Nivaradros will be something akin to friends. At the moment, he approves of Nivaradros’s continued interest in me,” Z replied with a wry smile. “Which, with their past, is a lot for him to accept. Ask him yourself—again, since I am sure you already have—what he thinks of Nivaradros. He was content to remain in the lair of a Dragon rather than return here. He trusts Nivaradros with me, Crilyne. I wish you would as well.”
Crilyne scowled. “I trust him to protect you,” the Shade explained with a hiss of frustration. “But I do not trust him to keep himself from harming you.”
“He hasn’t yet,” Z pointed out. “And before you mention sparring scars, I will point out I get those from everyone.” Though it had been a while since a sparring match with anyone other than Nivaradros had left her with a scar. She glanced at Nivaradros, and she felt Crilyne’s anger as she moved so she could lean against him. The Dragon, however, continued to hold out his hand to the Shade. “I’m not asking you to be best friends; I’m asking you two to be civil when we’re in public. It lowers morale for anyone around me when you two can’t be in the same room together for two minutes without sprouting the urge to fight. And,” she continued, “I am tired of this. Either agree to disagree and hate each other forever in silence, or I will have to ban one of you from the room at all times—and, Crilyne, at this time you would be the one I send away most often.”
Exhaling, she felt her expression turn brittle and let the full force of it land on the Shade. “I trust you to a point,” she told him as she lowered her voice. “And I care for you, but if you cannot accept the Dragon then I will count it as a rejection of me. You will not be allowed to visit, and I will distance myself from you. Crilyne, I trust you, but I also trust Nivaradros, and I cannot afford to seem lessened because you two will not accept each other’s existence. Please don’t force me to send you away.”
That hurt the Shade. He stiffened and glanced at her in surprise, but his expression shifted somehow, and he grimaced. “Of course,” he said after a pause she worried would never break. “The Dragon is your chosen…I was informed you don’t have a term yet?”
So, he was speaking to the Mithane.
“We don’t,” Z agreed.
Crilyne frowned, but glanced at Nivaradros without death in his eyes. “Perhaps I can offer you one. I believe in my kingdom—in my time—you two would have been termed Arienri quse Le’Tshenita, which is too much of a mouthful to say on a normal basis, but the shortened form is Li’Tsha.” He fell silent on the last word as though it pained him to recall it, but before Z could press him on that silence, Crilyne extended his own hand and accepted the hand of the Dragon—the hand that had never wavered since it had been offered. “A truce, perhaps this time we can even keep it. Rules?”
“You are not, under any circumstances, to change Z into a Shade. Ever. You are not even allowed to make the attempt, or even make an offer to. She is immortal. She can, when she is not being stubborn, heal herself. And the Mithane has offered to heal her unconditionally when she will not.” Nivaradros had released the hand of the Shade almost as soon as the Shade had accepted it and his arm had fallen to his side. “Otherwise, I am not concerned one way or another what you do—but that…that you are not to even dream of.”
Crilyne’s expression darkened, but he did incline his head. “Alright,” he concurred. “I agree to the terms.” He glanced at her, and she saw something akin to a loss in his eyes. “You look happy,” the Shade admitted. “And I do not want to intrude upon it. Not when you have been missing something close to happiness for so long. You will tell me if your Li’Tsha loses favor in your eyes?”
She scowled at him. “If I decide he needs to be removed, I will kill him myself.”
“And if he kills you?”
“I am certain there will be a line.” She shook her head and glanced up at Nivaradros’s smooth features. “I highly doubt he will ever even make the attempt.”
“Probably not,” Crilyne conceded. “He seems rather…used to your quirks.” The Shade was still furious with her—though the greater part of his anger was directed at the Dragon—but she could see he was also willing to let this rest. For the time being.
Nivaradros likewise seemed to be calmer. “She has a great many quirks. I believe it will require millenniums to ‘get used’ to them.” She could feel the Dragon’s receding fury and knew the Dragon wasn’t as composed as he appeared to be. “If we are through with our discussion, I would like to speak with you about lesser matters I was unable to address last time we spoke. I have a feeling Z will be attending us—I doubt we will be allowed to meet alone for some time now—so it limits a few subjects, but not all.”
“I will be joining you, and you will cease speaking of me as though I am unable to communicate on my own, both of you,” Z told them with an edge. “We will move this conversation to the war room. Now.”
Pulling away from the Dragon, she began to lead the way. Crilyne fell in step behind her, and the Dragon allowed it. She could practically hear Nivaradros’s mental curses toward the Shade, but she could tell he didn’t want to risk her anger again. He didn’t mind pushing her to a breaking point, but she knew he wanted the Shade to test her temper first. As a result, a very cold, deadly, and—of all things—competitive silence formed behind her.
It lasted for the better part of three hours. In theory it only took half an hour to get from the section of the castle the Shade and Nivaradros had almost turned into their personal fighting ring to the war room, but in practice Z found herself stopped at about every other hall for either a ten minute conversation, if she was lucky, or a thirty minute conversation, if she was not. By the time they reached the hall she had been trying to get to, Z was cursing in Alantaion. The Shade and the Dragon were still silent, but she felt them exchange a glance behind her. She considered allowing herself to be dragged into time wasting conversations, so she could swear afterwards just so the two beings behind her no longer
considered each other enemy number one.
Of course, finding the war room also caused a fair amount of swearing. The problem with a world of way too much damn magic and way too many immortal races was that few things were ever straightforward. She knew the floor the room was on and she knew the hall it was in, however what she didn’t know was where exactly the damn room was and worse, she didn’t know if the room would recognize the fact that she was the ruler of the Syallibion kingdom. When she had last been here Zyrhis had still been the ruler, though the room hadn’t recognized his ownership the last time they had visited it. The room had still reflected the tastes of Zyrhis’s father, which made Z curious as to whether or not the tree supported the former heir, her, or an unrevealed party.
If the castle didn’t acknowledge her claim, she wouldn’t be able to find the room, and since a door had not appeared so far, she was starting to wonder. Yet according to rumors she had managed to gather from her hours of wasted time talking to immortals she really hadn’t wanted to talk to, she had learned Zyrhis hadn’t been granted entry to the room either since he had announced she was taking over his kingdom, so she kept circling the hall long after she would have normally called it quits.
Right as she was willing to surrender and chose another room for this meeting—the dining hall even sounded appealing—an old fashioned wooden door outlined in metal appeared. She could feel the amusement of her companions behind her as she gritted her teeth and opened the door. It creaked with far more noise than she believed it needed to as it swung inward, but lights lit up the room as the door revealed it, and Z found the décor was much changed from when Zyrhis’s father had ruled. This room was designed with her in mind. If she had had any doubts about the castle’s acceptance of her, they went out the window as she scanned the room with a keen eye.
There were four long, narrow tables that were covered with maps that had not previously existed in this room. Z scanned the first set on the first table, but when they confirmed her suspicions, she moved her gaze elsewhere; they were Ranger maps and, more importantly, they were her Ranger maps. Had she entered the room with anyone other than the Dragon and the Shade she would have hidden them from view, but the Dragon was now a part of her in a way she couldn’t ignore, and the Shade had seen her make most of these maps.