by Lisa Daniels
Meridas let out an involuntary snort of laughter, though Vash looked less than amused.
“Don’t put yourself down like that. You shouldn’t underestimate yourself. You’ll fit in right enough here, as long as you don’t do anything stupid. I think you could be a good match.”
A good match, Alex thought past the rapid beating of her heart, only because I’m a witch. Not because I have a personality or anything. It’s just my magic. She didn’t want to aggravate Lady Vash any more than necessary, though, so she said nothing to that statement. Meridas, however, was looking at her as if he’d never seen her before. Five weeks of hellos and how are yous and goodbyes, friendly pats and an amiable attitude, and not once had he stared at her as though she might be a succulent piece of meat.
“You know, you’re not bad-looking,” he said, nodding his head slowly at Alex. “You could do with slouching less, though. You’re not going to have someone leap out of the shadows and stab you.”
Alex let out a nervous laugh, feeling her cheeks glow in slight embarrassment from the attention. “No offense, but you told me that I would be considered valuable. Valuable things have a habit of being stolen or killed. So, yes. I am suspicious.” Even now, her attention flitted when she saw someone move in her peripheral vision—a servant, coming out of the kitchens with a bowl of soup. Another person came into the dining room, saw the three of them, and hastily backed out. Her eyes swept over the long, wooden tables, the tough, padded chairs, a dozen of them each side, though there weren’t enough people working here to fill up the place, and some stains that never seemed to have been wiped away.
“Can you not be suspicious and… not slouch?” Meridas walked to her and grasped her shoulders. She swallowed her impulse to struggle and kick, and frowned as he adjusted her slouch, so that she stood tall. The posture felt awkward, weird, like there was a sword belted to her spine. “Chin different, as well...” now his surprisingly soft hands brushed under her chin, changing the angle of her head, so that she stared directly into his eyes. They were like dark holes, and in the light of the orbs that were attached to the walls, she could see her own hazel ones reflected in his. Did they seem unnatural to him? Witch-like?
Finally, he dropped his hands and stepped away from her. “She is… pretty,” he said. “But I’ve found that looks alone do not make for good relationships.”
Strangely enough, Alex felt a savage kind of satisfaction with his words, along with relief. Yes. She agreed with that.
Still, though. Married twice? He’d been with two other women?
“Think about it, brother. It’ll stop you getting swamped when you attend the ballrooms as well, if they know that you have finally settled on courting someone.”
They fell into conversation again, bickering but with smiles, and Alex felt that now would be her time to slink into the kitchen, grab some food, and leave. She wanted to think on this a little longer.
Neither of them seemed to notice her go. Neither had asked about how her education was going, or if she wanted to be here. But, of course, it wasn’t like she had a choice, was it?
Inside the kitchen, she took one of the set-out bowls and ladled some soup into it from the simmering cauldron—chicken soup, with some kind of spicy aroma that made her mouth water. The male cook gave her a curt nod when she thanked him, and she sidled off out the dining room, selecting a quiet area to eat in peace. Wondering just what her future held in store for her, and if Vash would push with the marriage thing, and if Meridas would consider.
Chapter Four – Meridas
Another one was infected. They heard the news only yesterday. He’d been attending another one of his sky-cursed meetings, this time worrying about the affairs of one of the floating islands, who had recently had one of the minor lords exiled for tax evasion. Apparently, he’d made a storm about how expensive the cost of living was, and how they couldn’t expect him to pay such absurd amounts of money.
That same island with the exiled minor lord had now reported that the lord of Ruthus Manor had fallen mysteriously ill and could no longer attend any of his affairs. His son was taking up the work, but the lord himself, usually healthy and boisterous, now lay, some of the servants reported, upon his deathbed.
It might not be the Creeping Rot, Meridas thought, though not without frustration. He was no closer to finding out where it was coming from than he was since his sister fell ill. Because she had dragon blood, she’d lasted for weeks. Non-dragons would last far less than that.
He thought of events before. When his former island had fallen. When he was forced to watch with the other children as the magic drained out of the island and caused it to die.
Now Meridas sat in his study, staring out to the storm-lashed windows, watching the lightning crackle in the air. Water would flood the storm bowls and drains, providing them with water and danger. He thought he saw a skyship in the distance, struggling against the ferocious winds. Likely they had been caught unawares. There was always someone who thought they could sneak in an extra shipping trip or tourists.
The ship fought weakly against the winds, before it spun out of sight. In the corner of his study, the former street rat, Alex, sat frowning over a book she’d been tasked to read by Narl. It was a children’s story, but for someone like her, who had never been taught to read in her life, it provided a challenge.
Seven weeks, since healing Vash. Seven weeks, and all he’d done with her new life was to force her into education, and plan how best to use that astonishing power of hers. He was afraid of announcing her, however. There would be opportunists who might want to make circs out of her healing ability and use her for their own ends. He didn’t need the circs… yet. The shipping lanes he controlled helped rake in substantial profit, and you didn’t exactly get many sky pirates around—because the dragons did a good job of wrecking them.
Again, he examined the life witch, taking the time to note the way that blonde lock caught the light, making that section of her head golden. Or how her eyes with the light right on her desk appeared a luminous green, instead of the murky swirl they usually were.
What an amazingly lucky find she was. He found himself smiling slightly, before shaking off the expression. Maybe not lucky, if his suspicions about her origins proved to be correct. If those people ever found out what she was, they might well want her back. Vash thought her a child of an exiled noble. Fair enough. He, however, suspected something else—because of the lock of blonde in her hair, betraying a mixed heritage.
The Conclave of Zamorka.
He shivered at the idea. Zamorka. Land of shadows. A place where men went to die, seeking lost magics. The few humans that did live in such a place were twisted by the wild magic. It bled into their hair and eyes, lightening strands of hair to unnatural hues of yellow and red, and bleeding the warmth out of their eyes, so they became icy and—and green—like what he saw in Alex’s eyes when catching the light just right.
This woman, he was almost certain of it, had Zamorkan heritage. She might well be oblivious to it, but her very presence here right now meant that Zamorkans were inching in from forsaken territory to theirs. Perhaps even operating in the Undercity below.
Alex turning up and finding that people were falling ill to a disease that should have been eradicated years ago was no coincidence. He checked his scribe’s notes about the Conclave, a group of individuals who deliberately moved through the human kingdoms, sowing discord and dissent wherever they went. Twenty years ago, the Dynasty of Jarithas had collapsed in the far south. Today, the once strong kingdom squabbled with four potential heirs to the throne—and all borders and trade to Jarithas had stopped.
Were the Conclave targeting the Undercity and the Six Isles? Had they already begun their inexorable advance through the farmlands and the minor towns?
“Curse it!” Alex exclaimed, drawing Meridas out of his brooding. “I feel like a storming fool,” she said then, her face red with frustration. When Meridas didn’t snap at her for interrup
ting his thoughts, she took it as an invitation to continue. “I know this is meant to be a children’s book, but I still can’t wrap my head around so many of the words...”
“Let me see,” Meridas said, glad of a brief excuse to stay away from his worries. He’d prod Elicia later—she knew more about the wild magics than most people had a right to. He casually braced his hands on Alex’s chair, noting how her hair parted at the back, revealing a section of her neck. The text she attempted to read was “What’s for Dinner, Little Dragon?” Something he’d read when he was about six or so. Many notes lay at her right side, blotchy and messy in style, but just about readable. A child’s scrawl.
“You’re stuck here?” He read it out loud. “And the dragon flapped his wings, forming a huge gust of wind. ‘This isn’t dinner for me!’ The dragon flew to the sea.”
“Yes.. I thought… this was…” She pointed at dinner. “Dy-ner, but I know it’s probably what we say as dinner. Why do we say it as dinner?”
Oh dear. He didn’t have the faintest idea how to explain the various sounds, but he tried anyway. She still looked as confused as ever. She also seemed incredibly frustrated she couldn’t read it, but in all honesty, Meridas thought the twenty-something woman was doing well. After all, she’d only been learning for seven weeks. And she’d clearly understood most of the concepts.
“You know, you shouldn’t be so afraid to ask for help,” Meridas said, once she flipped over the next page of the story. “It’s not a terrible thing to ask for assistance when you’re in need.”
“I’m taking you away from your work, though,” Alex said, appearing slightly fatigued.
“If it’s a problem, I’ll say so. Right now it’s not.”
“Do I have to learn all this, anyway? It’s not like I’ve been anywhere,” Alex then whispered, rubbing her eyes and smudging ink on her cheeks. “All you need me for is to heal, right? That I can do. Unless you know anyone who can teach the healing better?”
“I’m afraid not. You’re the first life witch that I’ve ever seen. You people are quite rare. And it’s pointless to just have any witch teach you, because they won’t know how your magic works.”
“Hmph.” She turned in her chair to look into his eyes, since he’d now withdrawn his hands from the top. “What do you people do for entertainment around here? Because I don’t think I’ve seen anyone play or do anything. Like, ever.”
“Hmm...” he smiled at her. “We play Knights and Dragons. That’s a card game. Usually played between two people, and it’s about capturing each other’s cards.”
“Sounds like Beggars and Kings,” Alex said. “We got that card game.”
“Maybe we can compare,” he said. “I’m sure I have a deck lying around. We do other things as well, but… maybe start off small.”
“Sure. Why not? Teach me, master,” she said with a quirky grin, and he imitated it, eager all of a sudden to do something… nice, with someone. Not order them around or talk about current affairs and matters that served little more than to create stress.
Yes… this might well be enjoyable. He found his pack of cards at the back of the desk drawer, gathering a few layers of dust. During the storm weather, now would be an ideal time to sit by the fire and play cards… all they were missing was the actual fire. His study did have a hearth. He quickly went and grabbed some of the kindling and logs, dumping them in the lightly ashed fireplace, before leaning forward and letting out a small puff of flame from his lips. At least that ability stayed in human form, although not nearly as powerful. Tucked behind the iron grating, the fire now blazed into life, and he went to teach Alex the rudiments of the game.
She picked it up fast. Within about four games, she’d succeeded in her first win. There on the table, her knight had conquered his dragon, after she’d deftly managed to pin back his princess for another two turns. The princess was the only counter to the knight, and since the dragon was the strongest piece on the field in that it trumped all others, he’d desperately needed the right cards in time. But of course… she was smart. Smarter than someone found in the Undercity should have been. But then, that was mean of him to judge, wasn’t it? Education existed everywhere. Just not everyone had access to it with its paywall.
“It’s a bit different from my game,” she said. “We have to memorize cards with mine. You have four cards that can win when you put them down, unless you buy them out with the trump card. And you have to only put matching sets down, unless you have none of that set, so you must give something else, or buy the card...” Eventually, he persuaded her to try and set up her game with his own cards. She removed about half of them for the game, and was practically brimming with excitement at the prospect of teaching someone else something she knew. Probably was nice not to feel so stupid.
It wasn’t until Elicia came in to inform him that his dinner was waiting that he realized just how long he’d spent playing simple card games with Alex. Four hours. Four hours of doing virtually nothing else but bounce between their two games. It struck him as desperately sad, somehow, that he hadn’t managed to have fun like that in ages. Worrying about what his father thought. The divorce of both his wives, and the long court battles that followed so they didn’t pinch everything he’d earned. Hearing rumors that the Conclave were likely going to target their country next, and then his sister falling ill with a disease that could only be cured two ways. Both of them hard.
He’d sent some brave scouts to Zamorka, while he himself searched the streets and prisons of the Undercity for witches. His life had been nothing but long, miserable seriousness. And now this woman, who was around eight years younger than him, seemed to breathe some fresh life back into the household. Even Elicia seemed to like her, though she hid it behind her stern face. Storms… what had life turned him into?
“You may join me for dinner, if you wish,” Meridas said, before he’d quite realized what he just said. He’d invited her. To dinner. Like she was a court lady. Like someone of high status, and someone he took an interest in. He quickly overrode his shock by acting casual. “I’m having a traditional Jarithan dish. Figure you might appreciate the chance to try something a little spicier than your usual selection.”
Whether Alex understood his slip-up or not, he didn’t know. He rubbed the back of his near-bald head, feeling the stubble bristle. Getting longer. Maybe he should let it grow?
“Sure, I guess,” she said. “Is that normal? Inviting servants? It’s just I don’t think you’ve even invited Elicia.”
“I do it all the time,” he lied, feeling like a storming idiot. He now felt determined to make it something he did more often, just to have substance to his words. He wasn’t seriously considering the suggestion of his sister.
“Oh. Okay.” She still had a strange expression upon her face, as if she suspected him of lying, somehow. “I don’t think I’ve tried spicy food before.”
“A new experience for you, then,” he said, excited now at the prospect of showing her something, and then seeing her reaction. He hadn’t felt like that before. She was just there. But then, Vash had planted that accursed idea in his mind, and no matter how much he told himself that no way in sky would it ever happen, the notion refused to shake out of his head. And, well… it did have some merit, the idea, of keeping the prying hands away from his body when he attended court dances and meetings. Or had to sit there and endure the murderous stares of his two divorcees, neither of whom managed to claw at his fortune.
Perhaps dinner with someone would be nicer than sitting there by himself, brooding over the implications of the Creeping Rot returning to the isles.
* * *
So many things to think about. So many things to do. But for once, it felt good to share his meal time with someone other than immediate family members. His bodyguards always took to patrolling the outside, except on storm days like this, when they instead stationed themselves around the house. He didn’t want them getting soaked, and visibility was a nightmare, anyway. Lightni
ng flashed outside his private eating room, next to the main kitchen and servants’ dining hall. He and Alex sat in ornate, purple-cushioned chairs with gold tints along them, and ate on top of an embroidered tablecloth of white with flower patterns over an ancient rectangular table.
She finished extracting her food from the stewing pot and rice bowl, and now stared at her curry, dubious as she sniffed the spices. The sauce that coated the meat and vegetables was a bright, vivid orange. “I’m not sure about this,” she said, lifting a fork that had skewered a piece of meat, watching the orange sauce drip. “This looks poisonous.”
“Nonsense,” he told her happily, already tucking into the food. The spices were expensive in these parts, as they didn’t grow naturally in such rain-drenched country. They had more storms than other places, being situated right upon the coast, with Zamorka on the other side. He’d heard people say that they thought all the storms were a product of wild magic. The spices burned the back of his throat just right, and in his opinion, were mild. He suspected poorer people made do with salt as their main seasoning, given that salt was the one thing they had an abundance of.
One bite later from her, and her eyes watered up from the burning. She coughed after swallowing it, before managing to gasp for water. He couldn’t help but laugh at her suffering, and when she exclaimed, “How in skies are you able to eat that?”
“Practice,” he replied, which was true. He remembered not liking it as a child, but many tasting sessions later, it now settled in his body in a familiar, warm way. “You get used to it over time. For you, since you’ve likely never tried the spices, your taste buds will be overwhelmed with the new flavor.”
“‘Overwhelmed’ is one way of saying it,” she said, dabbing at her wet eyes with a handkerchief. “I don’t think I can eat that. I’d die.”
Summoning the master cook, Richen, Meridas requested for the dish to be milder. Richen didn’t appear too impressed with having his perfect cooking challenged, but he nodded and strode off with her plate, and came back a few minutes later, having used a lighter coconut sauce and added sugar. She managed this new dish with only a slight cough, before telling the cook that it was amazing.