He shook his head.
“I wish I could say it was out of the ordinary,” he said. “But Prada's powers have always been more than any of us have known.”
“And yet she trusts you,” Thomas said. “She will learn the ways Nature can guide her.”
“Yes,” Nathaniel replied, although he felt like he was lying. His mind was also whirling into the future. Sienna and Prada had only met once, when Sienna was still a witch. After that, he had only visited without his young Tiro in toe, trying to keep his lives separate How would Prada, fiercely jealous of anything that ever held his attention, react to the Tiro he once had a strong bond with? And how would Desmond react when he saw what had become of the Tiro that the Jurors had forced on Nathaniel?
Chapter 2
“Two minutes,” Nathaniel knocked on the door frame of Prada's quarters. She was packing, but she didn't look like she was packing fast enough. “I want to get this transport to Jeffro, or this won't be another one for a while.”
“I don't see why we can't pilot ourselves,” Prada answered, throwing things into a rut sack “We've gone that distance before.”
“Not for many years,” Nathaniel said, not wanting to tell her that he'd rather not pilot for twelve hours by himself if she was going to have a meltdown and refuse to do anything. “Come on, Prada.”
“Nathaniel,” he turned suddenly as Sybil, his childhood best friend, came up behind him from the hallway. “I heard you were rushing off.”
“Top secret,” Nathaniel turned to Sybil, a weary smile on his face. When they were young, they were top of their class, ready to take on the world. And for many years, they had done just that, taking the peak quests and laughing all the way. Now, approaching middle age, they didn't work together as often, taking quieter quests. Still, their friendship remained strong, and Sybil often wished him well before quests. “Are you off, as well?”
“Not until tomorrow,” she replied. “Prada, how are you?”
Prada's eyes flickered up, but as predicted, she had no words, even for someone who had been in her life since she was a child. Her hands rose, and she signed quickly. Sybil no longer needed translation and her eyebrows rose.
“Well, transport is much better than flying yourself,” she said. “Besides, you'll probably pick up something lovely on Jeffro. The Queen Eliza has so many ships. You'll like it.”
“Out of time, Prada,” Nathaniel said, as he looked at his time piece. “Pick up your rut sack, walk out the door.”
But… her thoughts bounced off his head.
“Now,” he said, and she groaned, walking out the door. “Go, I'll meet you in the hanger bay. Go now.”
She glared at him, but obeyed. Only when she was gone did Sybil turn Nathaniel.
“She's cheery today.”
“Promise me you'll never take another Tiro,” Nathaniel answered, as he shut Prada's door. “Life is easier that way.”
“Nathaniel, you do know that without you, she would be sent to the colonies, banished from the Order?” Sybil said, her tone taking on a serious note. “There is no one else who can control Prada's power like you can.”
Nathaniel sighed.
“Then why do I feel like I'm failing?”
“Every Maestro feels that way,” Sybil replied with a soft smile. “Go on, you'll be late. Say hello to the others for me.”
“You should come,” Nathaniel said and she shrugged.
“One day. Go save the world like we used to.”
“Let Nature guide you,” Nathaniel said, by way of parting, and followed Prada down the hallway. There weren't many public transport ships that came to their hanger, so his other option was a cargo ship that was stopping on Jeffro. It would be comfortable enough, and he was glad that he didn't have to take Prada on a crowded ship. She did better alone, in open spaces where her powers could lash out without much recourse.
Once aboard, they were assigned quarters for the long ride. It was two bunks, and a sitting area, clearly meant for the crew. But as witches, they were often treated with dignity and respect, given the best arrangements.
Prada threw herself onto a bunk, pulling out her tablet. Nathaniel settled their bags by the door, seating himself on the couch.
“Do you have homework to do?” he asked.
“No.”
“Then you don't need to be constantly staring at your tablet,” he answered, looking around the room. The walls were reinforced, and the space was wide. “We could spar if you want.”
Prada glanced at him.
“Now?”
She loved anything to do with sparring, or to fighting in general. She was a miracle in combat, so much power coming out of a tiny body. Nathaniel had done his best to teach her everything he could, but she surpassed him in brute strength. It was technique, control, she lacked.
“If you'd like,” he replied, and she put her tablet down, getting to her feet.
“I'll knock you to ground,” she said and he stood, with a smile.
“Will you now?” he said, thinking back to what he was learning in combat classes at this age. “Have they taught you an arrow yet?”
“Wha—” Prada only got the first three letters out before he flexed his palms, and flipped them, sending her a blast of magic she was barely prepared her.
She blocked it, and then shot back a powerful, but wild stream back. Nathaniel grinned, tensing his shoulders, and squaring his feet.
In the end, both of them were left equally out of breath, their magic feeling depleted, and their room in tatters. It was easy enough to fix, levitation and repair spells were taught in first year. But as they picked up after themselves, Prada broke their panting silence.
“She couldn't do that,” she said and Nathaniel knew what she was getting at.
“No,” he said, picking up her thoughts. “When I took Sienna to Jeffro, we flew ourselves. And Sienna didn't spar, ever.”
“Why?” Prada asked. “Why couldn't you teach her? You are a warrior. Desmond was a warrior. Why did you not force her onto cargo ships?”
“Flying with Sienna was difficult,” Nathaniel replied softly. “We chose to fly ourselves because of how ill she was, we could manage on our own schedule if we needed. As for her magic, you know it made her sick. Once we figured out there was no sparring. But far more homework in other subjects.”
“She should not have been a witch,” Prada said, and Nathaniel tried very hard not to get angry.
“That is not up to us, Prada.”
“Had she not been a witch, you could have trained me sooner,” Prada said. “Maybe…”
“Woah,” Nathaniel had not heard these words from her before. “Prada, there was no way. No way I could have stopped what happened to you, even if I didn't have a Tiro.”
He knew, of course, that his young Tiro had experienced violence and horrors almost from birth. But even if he didn't have a Tiro, he hadn't been aware of her existence to save her.
“You don't know that,” Prada cried, and Nathaniel tensed his palm. She was either going to cry or rage and he had to be prepared for both.
“I don't,” he answered. “But we cannot change the past. I am training you now, and that's all that matters.”
Prada bit her lip, and looked away.
“What are you afraid of?” he asked. “What can I do?”
“You do not let me do what I am able to do, because of her,” Prada answered. “I am not fragile, I am not weak. I can be more than this.”
“You will be a great witch,” Nathaniel answered. “But you are still in training now, do not forget that.”
“What I am supposed to do?” Prada asked. “Around so many that aren't witches? She can't use magic, Desmond is old, and we are supposed to—”
“Prada.” He put his hand to his face. “Can you just trust me, that this quest will be all right? Please?”
He was the only person in the world that she remotely considered trusting, and he was aware that some days that wasn't enough. However,
today, she nodded, falling silent.
“You should get some homework done,” he said, leaving her to the room. He needed to clear his head, before he said something that he regretted. The last thing he wanted was to hurt his Tiro because he felt like a failure.
Instead, he walked the ship, trying to occupy his mind; to come up with arguments of what he was going to say when he saw his old team again. He had spoken to them both, of course, but this was a different request. Sienna knew he was coming, but she didn't know why. And whether she had Desmond's updated whereabouts was a different story. Desmond checked in often, but he did not share any details of his life. Instead, he asked about his Tiro's lives, made sure they were well.
It was as close to a family as they would ever get.
When they finally docked, Nathaniel could not get off the ship fast enough. It was mostly shipping containers being unloaded in Jeffro, and very few people noticed them as they disembarked.
He remembered the days when they received a royal welcome in Jeffro, the Queen herself approaching them with a smile on her face. But now, not on official business and with a surprise in their minds, no one paid them much attention.
It wasn't until they found their way around to the hallways of the royal palace that they found Sienna.
She was clearly working in an official capacity. As a Baroness, a rank granted by Eliza so that she would always be safe, she was also one of the top translators in the world. Nathaniel always found it slightly ironic that she was brilliant in all languages except Basic. What was supposed to be the easiest most widely spoken language gave her difficulty, but the smaller, rural languages came as easy to her as breathing. He was proud of her though, for carving a life outside of the witches. She had wanted nothing more than to be a witch, and they had forced her to abandoned that path. Nature had done some of the work, of course, but he still often thought of the day he had walked away from her training.
He couldn't imagine, fifteen years ago, doing such a thing, living such a life. It was a reminder that life changed in a moment, an instant, to the exact opposite of what it used to be.
“Maestro,” Sienna's face lit up and she threw herself upon him. He briefly put his arms around her and squeezed her gently. Beside them, he felt Prada growl in his mind. This was not going to be easy.
“How are you, little one?” he asked, his nickname for Sienna. She smiled, stepping back. She looked well, now that her magic was blocked. He knew she had kept up with the regime, daily medications to make sure that there was no trace of magic left in her body. Without magic, she could thrive at last.
“I'm well,” she said. “Busy today, I miscalculated when you were coming. Hello, Prada.”
She had sat with Nathaniel the first time they had seen Prada in a tournament, her strong power reminding both of them of Sienna's power when she was a child. Unlike Sienna, though, Prada would not lose her power. Prada was stronger every day, learning to turn her gifted power into a well-respected weapon.
Before they blocked her magic, Sienna could barely learn how to breathe without magic interfering and running out of control.
Prada cocked an eyebrow, but said nothing.
“The Queen is awaiting you,” Sienna said. “I can take you, if you want.”
“Of course,” Nathaniel said. “I wouldn't dare wander around Jeffro without saying hello to Her Highness.”
“This way,” Sienna said, indicating they should take a back passage way.
“Where's Devon?” Nathaniel asked and he saw her face flicker.
“He's just napping,” Sienna said. “It's been a long day.”
“Oh?” Nathaniel asked, and she shrugged.
“We'll see him later,” she said, closing the conversation. But Nathaniel had a feeling that something more was happening. This was not a good way to start a dangerous quest.
Chapter 3
“Witches of the High Order, Maestro Nathaniel and his Tiro,” came the announcement as they entered the throne room. Eliza was in full regalia on the throne. If they were alone, he might have embraced her, or kissed her beautiful pink lips. However now, he simply tugged on Prada's cloak, to indicate she should dip to her knees. It was very rare that they bowed to anyone, but Eliza was special. Her title alone meant that she ruled a whole system of planets, acquiring them as if they were new coats, it seemed. She was so powerful, and yet, when Nathaniel looked at her, he saw none of that. Prada was a Princess by birth, and she usually didn't bow to anyone. But Eliza was a Queen, one of the most powerful in the universe, and Prada dipped low reluctantly.
He saw the woman he had loved since he was barely a teenager. When he had first seen Eliza, as a young queen, just trying to figure out how to rule far sooner than she had anticipated. She may have been nervous, but she had always done it with grace and beauty, and he had loved her since the start.
Now, she quirked an eyebrow at him, accepting their bow. She didn't rise, and Nathaniel's eyes flickered to the empty throne beside her. He had sat there more than once, not in an official capacity, but everyone knew where their hearts lay.
“You present to me a new Tiro,” Eliza said to Nathaniel, knowing everything there was to know about Prada from afar. With Sienna, they had practically raised her together. With Prada, Nathaniel felt alone in so many ways. Keeping Prada apart from his old life had mostly been choice, to avoid so many things that had gone wrong last time. “I remember the last time you came strolling in here with a Tiro.”
She gave a small smile to Sienna, who was standing off to the side. Sienna smiled back, although hers smile tight.
“This is Prada,” Nathaniel said. “And she would be pleased to serve you , as the one before her has.”
Eliza rose, waving her hand. It was the signal for the throne room to empty. Her servants and those in attendance immediately scattered. Nathaniel was always impressed with how fast she could make people leave the room.
Once the room was mostly clear, Eliza walked down the few steps. She met Nathaniel's eyes , communicating with only a look whether she should embrace him the way they both wanted to. But he straightened up a bit more, taking a step closer to Prada, to indicate that she shouldn't, not yet. So instead, Eliza turned a kind smile toward Prada.
“It is nice to meet you, at long last.”
What does she expect?
Prada's voice rang in Nathaniel's head, and he was about to answer her when something caught the corner of his eye. Sienna's head turned toward Prada and Nathaniel, and her eyes gleamed.
He knew that look, there was no way she could hide it.
She had heard their thoughts.
It was completely rare that a witch could hear the bond of another. Sienna had been a very powerful witch, and she was the only one who could listen it at ease to almost anything she wanted. The fact that he was her former Maestro made a hearing slightly more likely.
However, there was no way she should be able to hear anything with her magic blocked.
She looked away immediately, but he had already seen it.
Maestro! Prada practically screamed in his mind, and he turned back to her.
“Sorry! I…”
Sienna used the break in the conversation to dip low.
“I'll take my leave, your highness,” she said, before Nathaniel could call her out. She scurried from the room, leaving Eliza confused.
“What…?” Eliza asked, and Nathaniel sighed.
“There's a lot to discuss,” he said. “Between all of us, I imagine.”
“There is,” Eliza said, but she tried to smile. “What would you like first? Dinner, perhaps?”
Prada shifted at that, and Nathaniel managed a smile.
“Yes. It's a bit easier to feed Prada than Sienna.”
“You've never had a true Jeffro feast,” Eliza said to Prada. She was trying to be kind, but Nathaniel could see a flash in her eyes.
He grabbed her wrist, warning her.
“Prada, you are a guest,” he said, through his tee
th. “And you will behave as such.”
“Do you want to go to her?” Eliza asked, indicating Sienna's rapid exit. “I would like to get to know you, Prada, for I have known your Maestro for quite a while.”
“Uh…” Nathaniel glanced at his Tiro. He would like to find out what was going on, but he knew there was no chance, given the way Prada had been behaving. The last thing he wanted was her to lose control and destroy the Jeffro palace, only recently rebuilt. In addition, like Sienna's early days, Prada had no way to communicate with Eliza, and he had seen what damage that would do.
“No, it's all right,” he said. “Food sounds lovely. Come on, Prada, it will taste better than anything we've had on the plane. A moment of normalcy, and then we can work, I promise.”
We are here for the quest, Prada said back to him, although she did follow him on the way out of the throne room. Nothing more.
Stop, he warned her, his mind half-distracted. Normally, he'd be thrilled to have dinner with Eliza. But despite his attempts at normal conversation, he couldn't seem to connect with her over the noise of Prada's thoughts. Eliza seemed to understand this, and understand that she was secondary to their reason for being here. Nathaniel wanted to promise that he would see her that night, but he wasn't sure he would. He had so many questions for his former Tiro, and he wasn't sure where they would lead.
“Why her?” Prada asked him, as they walked down the hall to find Sienna's rooms. As a Baroness, she was afforded some grand rooms, with outer chambers, and enough space for almost an entire army to take up residence.
“Why Eliza?” he asked, keeping his voice low.
“Yes,” she said. “How did you know?”
It was an oddly tender moment.
“You just…know,” he replied. “You know your path, and once you know it...you can't deviate it from it. Even if you want to.”
“Do you want to?”
“Prada…” he said, unsure of whether she was able to handle such a mature view. “You know as well as I do that my relationship with Eliza is not exactly smiled upon by the Order. My Maestro was cast out for such behavior It's not a light matter.”
“I know,” she replied. “But if you know your path, you must follow it. Forcing someone off their path does not bode well.”
Dragon of the Prairie (Exiled Dragons Book 13) Page 66