The One Who Could Not Fly

by E G Stone

  Chapter Sixteen

  Davorin waited two days beyond the date he had expected before a response to his inquiry came. The falcon was brought to him by the new commander of the mercenary armies, Utheria. She had proven to be a far more useful asset than Davorin could have anticipated. In return for her promotion, she did exactly as Davorin asked, kept the mercenaries from rebelling against his rule, and even managed to dispose of Warrith’s body before the soldiers the Red Queen had watching him noticed he was gone. From the way her eyes followed him as he strode through the camp, Davorin imagined Utheria would be quite as pleased to serve him in his bed, as well.

  For now, he ignored the temptation. Courting Queen Lenore was far more important.

  “Storm Seeker is back,” Utheria announced, delivering the falcon to Davorin. He seized the message tied to the bird’s leg, ignoring its indignant hiss.

  Your concern for my well-being is most appreciated, brother, but not necessary. I assure you, the machinations within my land do not pass by without my knowing. Can the same be said for you? By the way, how is Father? Still denying you Dagan’s legacy?

  ~ Lady Seraphina, Queen-Consort to the High Warlord of Southron

  Davorin let out a low curse. His sister’s words were far from reassuring. He crushed the message in his fist and a haze of red clouded his vision for a moment. Davorin took ten deep breaths, eyes closed. When he opened his eyes, the red was gone and a steady, pulsating anger had replaced the volatile rage.

  “My…my lord?” Utheria asked tentatively. Storm Seeker let out a piercing cry. Davorin wanted to snake his hand out and wring the bird’s neck, but he refrained. That would be a waste of a useful tool and he was not Dagan. He would never be as foolish as Dagan.

  Davorin fixed a charming smile on Utheria, “Would you fetch Captain Nadezhda for me?”

  Utheria’s tan skin flushed a deep red. “If you’ll pardon my impertinence, my lord, I can do just as well as she! She’s naught but a former slaver. What use is that?”

  Davorin lifted his chin. “You doubt my plans?”

  “O-of course not! I just—”

  “Utheria, do not think I am unaware of the abilities of the people I command. I know perfectly well what you can do and offer. Just as I know exactly what Nadezhda can do and offer. And at this moment, I need Nadezhda, not you. Now,” Davorin lashed a hand out and trapped Utheria’s chin in his grip, forcing her to look him in the eye, “do as I ask and fetch Nadezhda.”

  Utheria squeaked. A very undignified sound for the commander of an army, Davorin thought. But she ran off to do exactly as told. And maybe later, he would take her to his tent and show her what true anger looked like, no matter that Lenore was his real conquest.

  A few minutes later Nadezhda appeared, walking as casually as if she had just been invited to a meal between friends. Her eyes were lidded and she looked as though she would rather be napping in her tent and out of the heat. She stopped in front of Davorin and stifled a yawn. “You asked for me?”

  Davorin slapped her.

  Nadezhda reeled a bit from the blow; he had not been gentle. The Captain put a hand to her cheek, feeling the sting. She studied Davorin with wide eyes. He growled out, “Do not treat me as you would have my brother. I am not Dagan.”

  Nadezhda lowered her gaze and inclined her head. “No,” she murmured contritely. “You are not.”

  Davorin thrust the crumpled note from his sister into Nadezhda’s hands. She read it carefully before looking back up at Davorin. “Well?” he demanded.

  “It seems that Lady Seraphina has begun to act on her ambitions.”

  “Does she mean to challenge me?” Davorin asked. His palms went to the hilts of his twin blades. He took comfort from the familiar feel of the weapons beneath his hands. “She seems to insinuate that my father will never let me have what Dagan had. That I do not even know what goes on within the Salusian Empire!”

  “I think she just means to rile you up,” Nadezhda said warily. Davorin snarled wordlessly.

  “She is infuriating! Baldur was never so capable before Seraphina married him. Now he is the leader of Southron, a land notorious for being impossible to unite. How did she manage that? And now that she has, what will she do? Surely that cannot be enough for her ambitions?”

  “I heard reports from some of the Red Queen’s scouts that there were forces gathering on her border. Perhaps you should go see for yourself?” Nadezhda suggested.

  “And what of the Empire? Would Seraphina be so idiotic as to march on the Empire and hope that Father doesn’t notice before she reaches the capitol?” Davorin ran a hand through his short hair, trying to wrack his brain and come up with some reasonable explanation for his sister’s actions, for what she could be planning next.

  “I have heard nothing from any of your spies,” Nadezhda murmured. “The Empire seems to be running as usual.”

  The loyal agents that remained in the Salusian Empire and reported the doings of the Court to Davorin were a well-guarded secret. Not one in his mercenary army knew of them, and he would do many things to keep it that way. There would be no telling what the Emperor would do if he discovered his son’s scheming. But Davorin would not leave the Empire without them reporting to him.

  Davorin growled, “I have to go to the borderlands.”

  “Your Red Queen is hosting a ball tonight. You would abandon her to the potential competition?” Nadezhda’s sneer was back, though slighter than before. Davorin would have to work on his training of her.

  “No, it will take time to determine who I’m leaving behind and who I’m taking with me. It wouldn’t do to antagonise Seraphina any further. Talk with Utheria and determine which ten soldiers can be missed. Have them packed and ready to go by morning,” Davorin said. He started towards the main part of the camp where his tent stood. He paused. “Oh, and Nadezhda, you won’t be accompanying me.”

  “I see,” Nadezhda said.

  Davorin heard the querulous note in her voice and smiled to himself. It would never do to have anyone understanding his full plan.

  “No, you don’t. But that’s irrelevant. You will keep an eye on Queen Lenore. Endear yourself to her, if you can. Befriend her servants and learn everything about her that you can. I want to know exactly what must be done to seal this courtship as soon as I get back. The delay is doing no one any good.”

  Davorin didn’t wait for an answer. He went to his tent to prepare for the evening.

  Nadezhda did not follow him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  For the first time in her life, Ravenna wore a dress. When the seamstresses brought the garment to her room earlier that day to do a final fitting, Ravenna protested. The two women had ignored her.

  Now, though, Ravenna stood before the silver mirror in Lenore’s chambers and admitted that perhaps they had been right. The dress was a deep, midnight blue in that same semi-transparent fabric that the desert people favoured. It tied around her neck and plunged deep, leaving her back completely open for her wings. The skirts brushed her feet, which were wrapped in braided leather sandals. The fabric had a few tiny crystals at the hem which held the light skirts down and gave it a whisper when she moved. Lenore herself had put Ravenna’s hair up, taking the night-black waves and pinning them into a mass atop her head with more delicate crystals.

  Between the blackness of her wings and hair, her pale skin and light eyes, and the deep blue dress, Ravenna felt like a being created from stars and sky. She felt beautiful.

  Ravenna reached out to touch her reflection in the mirror. Lenore stepped up behind her and put her hands on Ravenna’s shoulders. “You are the most stunning creature I have ever beheld,” the queen said, running her fingers over a loose strand of Ravenna’s hair.

  “You are more beautiful than I,” Ravenna murmured.

  The human queen looked like she belonged amongst the most graceful of sylphs. She, too, wore a dress that tied at the neck with a plunging back, though her dress was a burnt orange. Her red
hair was done up in its customary hundreds of tiny braids, all pinned up as Ravenna’s hair was. A circlet of copper and gold sat on Lenore’s brow, matching the bangles and jewels that adorned the queen. If Ravenna was starlight, Lenore looked like fire.

  “Ravenna,” Lenore murmured, her eyes suddenly sad. “Who told you that you were not beautiful?”

  Ravenna shrugged and moved away from the mirror. She stood before the great windows, looking out through the colourful fabrics that swayed slightly in the breeze. “Amongst the sylphs, I am an oddity. I was born with black wings, black hair, and white skin. The sylphs are golden winged and have skin of gold or of charcoal shadow. I do not look like them. I cannot fly like them. I am…I always have been different. Lesser.”

  Lenore spun Ravenna around. Ravenna blinked to see the tears gathering in the human woman’s eyes. “You could never be—”

  “That’s the odd part,” Ravenna interrupted before Lenore could say something she did not understand. “As soon as I was found by humans and taken for a slave, I was anything but lesser. I was—I am—the image of divinity to many of you. If not a divine creature or a god, then a symbol of magic that’s been forgotten by the people here. I am praised for my beauty and my figure. My wings are adored, and the fact that they cannot carry me in flight doesn’t matter. And when I fought the other slave and won? Then I was an avenging angel. An angel of death. I am attributed with powers that make no sense. But nothing I do seems to convince humans that I am anything other than what I am. At least you understand that I am a sylph, not an angel…”

  She took a deep breath, shrugging her shoulders, and wandered over to the mirror once more, her reflection bringing that same feeling as before. Ravenna touched the silver, her fingers meeting their mates. “This is the first time that other people’s perception of what I am does not matter.”

  The human queen, a living fire, appeared in the mirror beside Ravenna, though her black wings concealed all but Lenore’s shoulders and face. “Let me tell you a secret, Ravenna. I have ruled the Red Desert for seven years. In the human world, it is unusual for a woman to hold as much power as I do. Fight in armies? Yes. Even serve as a scholar. But true power? It took time for people to accept me and now I rule one of the few kingdoms not conquered by the Salusian Empire or Southron. The Red Desert and the Iron Mountains to the North. Beyond them lies the Wastelands.”

  “I have seen the maps in your library.”

  Lenore smiled. “Then you understand what it means for me to be queen here. At first, I was forever worrying about what my people thought, about what other kingdoms and dignitaries thought. I tried to rule my kingdom based on what they thought made a powerful kingdom. I almost ruined my people. One night, I was standing before a wine-drunk dignitary from some backwater fiefdom, long since eaten by the Salusian Empire. He was saying something about slavery and the routes that slavers took through my land, maybe I should tax them. I decided I didn’t care what he thought. I would never profit from such a horrible enterprise. So I threw my drink in his face and hunted down every slaver I could find. I never looked back.”

  “I was wrong about you,” Ravenna murmured. “I thought you were like my sister, Desarra. A bit vain, more interested in approval than what makes sense. But you are more like Tacitus.”

  “Tacitus? Your lover? Brother?”

  Ravenna threw her head back and let out a bark of laughter that was the most real sound of joy she had uttered for ages. “No! Tacitus was my heart-father. He raised me amongst the Intellecti after my mother died.”

  “A wise sylph?” Lenore smiled.

  “A dedicated one,” Ravenna answered. The queen looked a bit stricken, but the emotion flashed away before Ravenna could blink. Lenore squeezed Ravenna’s shoulders before turning away from the mirror.

  “Come,” she said, bangles jingling like bells. “We have a ball to get to. We wouldn’t want to keep everyone waiting!”

  The ball was held in the enormous Great Hall, which had been decorated for the occasion. It was hard to top the already-magnificent carvings and designs in the stone, but the servants of the Red Palace had done their best. Tiny metal cages that held small candles suspended from long ropes high above everyone’s heads. If you looked up, it was almost like stars. There were long sashes of white fabric tied around the great pillars, tiny crystals in the fabric reflecting the light. Plants from the gardens adorned the available spaces, adding a sense of exotic life to the scene.

  Nothing, though, could compare in Ravenna’s mind to the humans wandering around. They were dressed in clothes that should have been absurd but were stunning. The women wore dresses, some similar to the desert-styles that Ravenna was growing accustomed to, some heavier with wider skirts. The men wore breeches and tunics in as many varied colours as the dresses. Some sported the looser fit of the desert, others wore their clothes tight like the warriors. Jewels adorned many people’s hands, wrists and necks, with the men wearing nearly as many as the women. They sparkled in the candle-and-torch light, like a flock of birds of paradise.

  “Beautiful,” Ravenna murmured as she stepped through the enormous doors. Lenore, a heartbeat ahead of Ravenna, looked over her shoulder and smiled. When she turned around again, her spine straightened, her steps became more graceful, and there was a sense of power to her than had not been there before. Now, it was not Lenore the human that Ravenna had gotten to know, but Lenore the Queen.

  Ravenna shadowed her, an angel heralding some great mystery to these foolish humans. She knew the truth, knew that it was an idiotic thing, but the humans believed. That gave her power of her own.

  People gasped as Ravenna entered the room. Murmurs broke out almost immediately. More than one person seemed to stagger. Ravenna even heard a glass shatter. She ignored it all.

  “Queen Lenore.” Davorin was suddenly there, bowing over Lenore’s hand with almost sincere admiration. He wore leather armour, but this was far grander, etched with scenes of gold. The scabbards that held his twin swords were also grander, more elaborate. The rest was just as before.

  “My lord Davorin,” Lenore said, her voice quietly polite. “What do you think of my little gathering?”

  “I see dignitaries from many lands, some now controlled by the Salusian Empire and Southron. You have nobility from both places, as well as merchants, warlords, generals, even a representative from the Library at Sažem. I would say that your little gathering has quite the collection of people.”

  Lenore tossed her head and laughed, setting the jewels in her hair flashing. Ravenna frowned. She did not think that Davorin’s comment was deserving of such mirth. Her wings fluttered uncomfortably. A portly man wearing all black but for a crimson sash across his chest stumbled backwards.

  “Oh!” he said, loud enough to draw the attention of Lenore and Davorin. The man wiped a nervous hand over his light beard. “I thought they were fake, perhaps some costume,” he explained to Lenore. He bowed to Ravenna.

  “It is no farce,” Davorin said, smiling proudly. He gestured to Ravenna and she obeyed silently, stepping forwards. Davorin ran a possessive hand down her wings, his fingers brushing the feathers roughly. Ravenna swallowed her shudder. “She is a true angel.”

  “Davorin,” Lenore said softly, tugging on the man’s hand. He pulled away from Ravenna’s wings.

  “What is it, my Queen? Should she hide what she is? She is stunning and beautiful and there is no shame in it!” Davorin insisted. He turned an eye to Ravenna, who continued to say nothing. “Show them.”

  She closed her eyes, wishing to be anywhere else. Maybe standing in front of that mirror, alone. There, she was the only one she had to please. Here…Ravenna flared her wings as wide as they would go, her head high, her eyes still closed. The crowd gasped, murmurs turning to loud conversations. The noise pressed in on Ravenna, too much and far away at the same time.

  She pulled her wings close. Her eyes opened and she immediately saw the look of undisguised pleasure on Davorin’s face. She was h
is creature, and he had just proven it to the entire crowded room. Ravenna turned away from him and Lenore. She pressed her way through the crowd, who seemed to part before her. There was one of those great windows that opened onto the gardens. The balcony beyond it was empty. Ravenna ran there, her dress swirling around her ankles and becoming twisted.

  She wanted to tear it off, wanted to be wearing breeches. She wanted to be anywhere but there. Away. Far away, actually. She wanted to be home.

  “Are you alright?”

  Ravenna spun, wings stretching wide. She landed in her defensive Dalketh posture, only to slide out of it a moment later. Miska stood on the balcony. The concern on his face was the only thing that Ravenna believed to be true at the moment. He wore a pair of black trousers that flowed loosely around his frame. He wore no shirt but had a tunic vest tied at the waist with a piece of silver rope and closed with silver buttons. In his hands, he carried a tray of drinks glasses, reminding Ravenna that he was meant to be in there, working.

  “Are you alright?” Miska asked. He set his tray aside and took the steps to bridge the gap between them. Ravenna shook her head once. That was all it took. Miska wrapped his arms around Ravenna’s shoulders and pulled her close.

  She stiffened at first, unused to the contact. Her wings bristled for a moment, before they smoothed. A moment later and Ravenna was completely relaxed, her arms tight around Miska’s form. Miska kept holding her, though. Even when music began to play inside the Red Palace, Miska’s grasp remained. Some thirty heartbeats later, Ravenna loosened her arms around Miska and stepped away, more at peace.

  “What was that?” she asked.

  Miska frowned.

  “What was—”

  Miska held up a hand. “No, I understood the words. I just don’t understand what you mean.”