by Viola Rivard
“I was told Lusia married when she was fifteen.”
Lidia nodded. “It was how I came by the position. My grandparents convinced the king that I would make an ideal companion for her, given that we were the same age.”
“But you look so young, for someone so human.”
She hadn’t meant it as a slight, and although Lidia’s face did not change, Eloisa did notice in her aura that she took some offense.
Eloisa said, “In the tower, we view humanity as a matter of fact, not insult. My comment was not meant to be disparaging.”
While it was true that Eloisa sometimes prided herself in the abilities her bloodline afforded her, she never viewed her blood as placing herself above others. She’d been outperformed by many a Child and Daughter who were steeped in humanity.
“It can be like that with halflings,” Lidia said, her offense subsiding. “I have a younger sister who already has grays in her hair, while I have nary a wrinkle.”
Now that she knew Lidia was older than her, Eloisa had to reframe her in her mind. What had once seemed like a bookish nature could now be perceived as the wisdom of age.
“You must have met Lusia only a few years after I left,” Eloisa said. “What was she like? In my memories, she was always so remote.”
She had looked up to Lusia, who had always been so mature and quiet of nature, despite being only a year Eloisa’s senior.
Lidia let out a pensive sigh. “She was difficult to know, at first. She was very reserved in her regard, which many mistook as coldness. She was accustomed to being used and manipulated for the purposes of others, and as such she was skeptical of any who would seek her friendship.”
Lidia smiled to herself. “We were suited for each other in that regard, because despite the effort to which my parents had gone to arrange the position, I had no interest in being Lusia’s friend. I thought her spoiled and ungrateful, though neither was the case. At the time, I wanted nothing more than to be married, and I was resentful of her, a princess who was so adverse to marrying a handsome prince.”
“She didn’t want to marry him?”
Lidia gave her a look that Eloisa was certain she’d soon become accustomed to. It was the look that she’d often given Children when they’d asked a question to which the answer was so plain to her that it should have been obvious to anyone.
“That is not how Atolian marriages work, Ma’am. Women don’t choose their husbands, and they’re seldom happy with their father’s choice. In any case, Lusia was particularly unhappy. She’d had affections for a young man in her father’s court, but the king forbade the relationship. He needed her to marry up, as far up as possible. At he time, the kingdom was in the early stages of collapse, though few could see it back then.”
“Philomen is not the cause of Atolia’s problems?”
Lidia lowered her voice, certainly out of habit, considering there were none around to hear them. “Your brother has made a right mess of things, but in some fairness to him, he has only been casting oil on the fire your father started. Did you not think it was odd when I told you how your father died? That he charged in to fight an army of dragons on his own?”
Eloisa hadn’t thought it overly odd, as she remembered her father’s dragon form to be massive and every bit as intimidating as Lord Caleth’s had been. But now that she’d seen the sovereign and his fliers, it was a reminder of just how powerful a single dragon could be. She could not imagine her father charging into an entire army of them and expecting to come out alive.
“I suppose I didn’t give it proper thought.”
Lidia said, “The marriage between your mother and father, it was arranged, but it was one of deep love. After your mother’s death, your father lost all care for ruling. As Lusia told it, things grew worse with each year that passed. He turned increasingly to drinking and became something of a fatalist. They are surprised he survived as long as he did.
“By the time Lusia was fourteen, the kingdom had already been badly mismanaged by his advisors and had gone into arrears. It was decided that a foreign marriage would refill the coffers, so the council arranged a bidding war for Lusia’s hand. The Agreian king bid for his heir, and when he emerged the winner, he paid the highest bride price in history. The sum was enough to keep the kingdom afloat for over a decade.”
“Why so much? Is Lusia a great beauty?”
In other parts of Atolia and the southern kingdoms, men paid dowries for their daughters to be wed. Among high nobility and pure bloodlines, it was the reverse. Men looked less for brides that would give them a political advantage and more for those who would give them powerful sons and pureblooded daughters they could later leverage for alliances.
“She is quite fair, Ma’am, but that was of little consequence. Many bid in hopes that she would take after her mother. Three children in ten years is quite unprecedented.”
“I see.”
Eloisa wondered if that was not part of Lord Caleth’s reasoning for marrying her. Would he expect her to give him sons to bolster his armies, and daughters to wed off to foreign lands?
“Was she happy with her husband, once she came to know him?”
Lidia hesitated, and then said, “The prince was also not inclined to marry, and was not pleased with his father’s decision to see him wed. He was never cruel to Lusia, but he also had little regard for her, at least in the beginning. Over the years, they’ve come to be at peace with one another.”
Eloisa could see that Lidia was struggling to paint truth over the unhappy union, so she decided to get the conversation back on course. “And for all these years, you’ve served my sister as her maid?”
“Mostly. I was married for a time, to a corporal from a good family. The Agreian people are not such sticklers for good breeding as the Atolians. My marriage ended when my husband fell in battle, not long after the Atolian Wars broke out.”
“I’m so sorry. But, the Atolian Wars?”
“That’s what they’re calling it now. It started with Atolian and Redura, but as the conflicts began to pile up it became more practical to call them simply, the Atolian Wars. In truth, it would be better called the Southern Wars, as there is not a single corner of the continent that isn’t swept up in the madness in one manner or another. Agreia was the first kingdom to come to Atolia’s aid, and they were one of the few who did. Lusia has since had to publicly cut ties with Philomen, lest her nation suffer further from the association with Atolia.”
Eloisa didn’t miss that she’d said ‘publicly’ and she wondered if it had been a slip, or an intentional offering.
Carefully, she asked, “Would Agreia stand to benefit from my marrying Lord Caleth?”
With equal deliberateness, Lusia said, “It is a matter of record that King Philomen is most in debt to the Agreian crown. Were he able to pay them back what is owed, as well as additional damages, it would go a long way towards easing social unrest in Agreia.”
Eloisa leaned back as she allowed the insight to simmer. She now had even more questions, chief among them was whether her marriage had truly been Philomen’s idea, or if Lusia had a hand in it as well. She could have pressed the question to Lidia, but she felt certain she already knew the answer.
What must Lusia have thought of her? Did she share Philomen’s conviction that Eloisa owed them for her absence? That she’d been fortunate to be sent away, and had an easy, simple life in the tower?
Was I fortunate?
Certainly, it had not been easy and she had wanted for many things, but she’d had a friend, someone she cared for dearly and trusted to care for her in return. She’d had the Sisters, who when they weren’t doling out punishments had always devoted themselves to seeing Eloisa raised well. Even Sister Verity, who had always been harshest towards her, had risked everything in an attempt to save her soul.
Meanwhile, Lusia had grown up afraid to trust anyone, and had been married off at an unconscionable age to a man she did not love. And though she didn’t know the circumstan
ces of Philomen’s upbringing, judging by how he turned out, she could not imagine he’d had an easy time of things.
Her contemplations humbled her. She still did not believe that she deserved what was happening to her, but she could at least understand their perspective.
“What will happen now?” she asked after a time. “When we arrive at Cal’en Fasha?”
“The sovereign will want to start courting you immediately. Courtships are supposed to last two weeks—twelve nights by their calendar—but they are often cut shorter than that. It is, however, considered bad form for a courtship to last fewer than three nights.”
“Twelve nights?” Eloisa repeated, her mind unable to process anything beyond that phrase. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
Though she knew little of courtship, she’d read plenty of historical texts that mentioned the subject matter in brief. When a king and his potential queen courted, the process often lasted months, sometimes years.
“The Cal’derache courtship is a much more involved process than the Atolian. The sovereign will spend a great deal of time with you, during the day and at night.”
“At night?” Eloisa said, her stomach twisting. “He will expect…”
“I don’t know, Ma’am. But I’ll do everything in my power to make this easier for you.”
Eloisa laid back on the couch, resting her head on a pillow and placing her hand on her chest. Staring at the ceiling, she felt her mind begin to disassociate again, too overwhelmed to contemplate what was to come.
“I missed morning prayers,” she said absently. “I never miss morning prayers.”
She thought back to how irreverent she’d been, crouched at her bedside, her back to Selia as they both prayed. Selia always said hers in her head, as was permitted, but Eloisa was ostentatious in her worship, always saying her prayers aloud and with a witty edge, not stopping until she’d heard a giggle or a snort from the other side of the room.
Eloisa had thought herself so clever. Now, she felt like a husk of her former self. Her wit and guile had dried up, leaving nothing but piety and fear in its place.
“Do they worship Phaeda in the north?” she asked, mostly to make conversation. The north was well-known for having a host of different pagan beliefs.
“I can’t speak for the entire north, but in Cal’dara, they worship only one god, the god of substance, Wysmet.”
“Ah. I think I've read of him.”
“They allowed you to read of other faiths?”
“We are taught that all faiths are Truths, and that if a god is true for one person, then he is Truth.”
“So then, do you believe that Phaeda is only true because you believe in her?”
“In a sense. Phaeda is Light, Truth in its purest form. Everything that we perceive is because of light, and therefore light is the only truth.”
Eloisa looked over in time to see Lidia hiding a blush with her hand. “You’ll have to forgive me, Ma’am. I am not much for speaking on philosophy. I can tell you that if you’re interested, I can help you find a teacher of the Cal’derache faith.”
Eloisa turned away. “I have no interest in other faiths. I’ll keep only Phaeda, even if she has forsaken me.”
After a quiet moment, Lidia said, “I cannot imagine what this must all be like for you.”
She was sure that Lidia did not know the half of it.
“You and I both. I have only just begun to process what is happening. I'm almost certain that I am not dreaming, but part of me still feels that this is a test. Some delusion brought on by the goddess, and that if I give into this madness, I’ll wake in The Cloister to find that I have failed Her test and must repeat my half-century as a Daughter.”
Lidia whispered, “I think that if the goddess were going to test you, she’d have you wed to some handsome southern prince, and not a northern warlord.” She sucked in a breath. “Why, Ma’am, I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you smile.”
Eloisa touched a hand to her lips. “I think you’re right on both counts.”
“You will get through this, I promise you. The day will come when all of this will seem normal to you.”
Eloisa swallowed a lump in her throat. “That is what I am most afraid of.”
She turned onto her side and closed her eyes, mumbling to Lidia that they would talk more later. Tiredness, she knew, was a thief of reason, and perhaps if she got some rest she’d be able to think more clearly.
As she drifted to sleep, she envisioned a dragon looming over her, its jaws open wide. She couldn’t tell if it was Lord Caleth or the effigy of Phaeda, and she wasn’t sure which was more frightening.
When she woke, it took time for her to orient herself. She knew from the way the room jostled that she was still in the palanquin, but it was dark and unfathomably cold. It had taken effort to open her eyes. They hadn't been glued shut by sleep, but by frost. Her lips were hard and stubborn to part, and she could feel that they were badly cracked. She flicked her tongue across them and tasted blood.
Sitting up, she saw that she’d been covered with a blanket. Her breath came out in crystals that froze and fell just as fast, and inhaling hurt her lungs.
Across from her, she could see Lidia sitting with her eyes closed, her hands still folded neatly in her lap. The moonlight made her olive skin appear gray and not unlike a corpse.
“Lidia.”
Her voice was hoarse, as if the place where it resided in her throat had frozen over.
She was relieved when Lidia twitched back to consciousness, her hands going up to rub warmth into her arms.
“S-Sorry, Ma’am. Must have fallen asleep.”
“Do you know where we are?”
Eloisa had leaned towards the window, but all she could see below was a vast stretch of water, its surface crowded with flotsams of ice chunks.
“It looks as if we’re still over the Y'drean Sea. We’d been over it for hours when I last checked, so it shouldn’t be long now.”
Eloisa tried passing her the blanket, but Lidia declined.
“We’ll be landing in Stravea soon?”
“No, Ma’am. We landed in Stravea quite some time ago. I saw no purpose in waking you.”
Eloisa rubbed her face, mostly to warm it. “I slept all day?”
“More or less, but we’re so far north now that it hardly matters.”
Eloisa went to pour herself some water, but the contents of the pitcher had turned to ice. Lidia opened the dining tray, took a fork from beneath it, and then used it to break up the ice, revealing water that had not yet frozen.
She poured Eloisa a drink, but the water was too cold for her to swallow more than a couple sips.
“I can’t believe that woman is out there, riding on the back of a flier,” Lidia remarked.
She was referring to the woman who had acted as Lord Caleth’s translator. When they’d departed from the palace, she had declined their invitation to join them in the palanquin, choosing instead to mount one of the fliers, leaving just as she’d arrived.
“I’ve heard that frostkind are like that,” Eloisa said. “Man or woman, the cold does not affect them. It’s the heat they can’t abide.”
There had been only one frostkind in the tower, but she’d had so much human blood that it was a stretch to call her that. She’d been born in the central lands, and whisked away to the tower as soon as she was old enough. When they’d graduated to Daughters, she’d had to remain in the lower chambers with the Children, where the air was cooler and inoffensive to her delicate constitution.
With a sinking feeling in the pit of her belly, she asked, “Will Cal’en Fasha be this cold throughout?”
Lidia rolled her shoulders. “I am certain they will make accommodations for you.”
As uncomfortable as she was, she knew that the burden would be far harder on Lidia. Eloisa's kind may have been adapted to warmer climates, but she could withstand the cold well enough. Humans, however, could not. Part of the reason that the n
orthern bloodlines ran so pure was that few humans could survive the extreme temperatures.
“This all must be a great burden for you,” Eloisa said. “I’m not in a position to do much, but I will endeavor to learn the language as quickly as possible, and then perhaps you may return to Lusia.”
Lidia was shaking her head before Eloisa could finish. “Better you don’t. The longer you remain ignorant, the longer I can be your voice.”
Eloisa wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Having Lidia lie for her, wasn’t it the same as lying herself? In the tower, when a Child lied to protect a friend, both girls were punished equally.
“I suppose so,” Eloisa murmured.
Her attention had gone back to the window, where in the distance she could see what looked to be a line of glowing blue light. As they neared the light, it began to expand and take on definition. Soon, she could see that there were hundreds, and then thousands of flecks of light, lighting the coastline and the land beyond it.
“What are those lights?”
Lidia peered out to follow her gaze. “Would you believe it if I told you that they’re beetles?”
“Beetles? As in, bugs?”
“Yes, Ma’am. They’re hardy little things, native to the north. They emit a faint blue light. The Cal’derache encase them in specially formed glass that amplifies their luminescence.”
“How do they live in the glass?”
“It’s my understanding that they aren’t meant to live very long. A few weeks, and then the sphere must be replaced.”
“How…cruel.”
But it was beautiful. Eloisa had never seen anything quite like it. As they reached the land, the ground below them shimmered with the light, the lapis sparkles making her think of an aura twinkling with peace and solemnity.
“I believe that is Cal’en Fasha,” Lidia said, lifting her finger to point.
In the distance, set on a hill overlooking the city, was a fortress that was taller than it was wide, its black spires reaching up to brush the clouds. The hill around it, and much of the earth, was covered in white, and Eloisa couldn’t help but remark on it.