by R. J. Price
Aren was shown to a rather small, but well-furnished room. There was a light on the wall, one she could light with her magic, as well as an oil lamp that Ervam provided without comment.
She was provided with a nightgown that was a little too short for her, but she thanked Ervam for the item before closing the door on him, putting out the lamp, and crawling into bed. There was a window in her room that let in the light from the fire just outside. She listened to rumbling grumbles, unable to make out words. Aren tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable way to lie and, upon finding that, trying to sleep. But her mind simply would not still.
It was some time later that the men entered the house.
“Av,” Aren heard Ervam say through the door to her room, “I demand a separate house here. You aren't mated to the girl, leave her be.”
“I wouldn't try such a thing in your home,” Av responded.
“I mean it,” Ervam said sternly. “Good night, to the both of you.”
“Good night, Father,” the brothers responded as one.
Silence followed, and darkness. Aren lay in her bed, unable to sleep, and, later, still unable to sleep. Finally, frustrated, she pulled herself up and sneaked into the hallway, wondering which room was Av's. It didn't much matter, she decided finally, setting her hand on her chosen door, as long as she had company. As her hand touched the door she heard a scuff, and dim light filled the hallway.
Ervam coming from his room, to the bathing room. The man looked at Aren, startled, then glowered at the door she had her hand on. He motioned to the door behind her. It was not the correct room, was what Ervam was conveying. Nodding once, Aren moved from what she assumed was Jer's room, to Av's room, sliding in silently.
“Aren,” Av sighed out as the door closed.
Aren approached the bed, wondering if he was awake or asleep.
“What are you doing here?” Av said to her, sitting up.
“I cannot sleep.”
“Then,”—Aren heard the rustle of blankets being drawn back—“get into bed already. I am as exhausted as you are. Though my being tired is entirely my fault.”
Aren climbed under the blankets and, the moment Av's arm draped over her, fell asleep. The sun filtering into the window woke her. Av was already gone but the bed still smelled of him. Getting up, Aren tiptoed back to her bedroom and pulled on her clothing from the night before.
They went about their day, eating breakfast with light talk. The morning, Aren spent running with Mie, playing various games. Then lunch, which Av made for them with a few fish he pulled from the lake. In the afternoon Mie produced a shirt, breast binding and short pants for Aren, and they went into the lake to swim. Aren's muscles were straining, but all those months of training with Av allowed her to keep up with Mie. She even managed to stay upright during dinner.
After dinner they all gathered around the fire once more. Mie crawled into Aren's lap and listened with apt attention to the conversation, turning his face this way and that to follow those who were speaking. Eventually Mie's movements slowed until his little head eventually fell to his chest. The conversation continued, nothing important, just the weather, how they thought winter would go, how bountiful the harvest would be. Long into the night they talked, while Mie slumbered in Aren's lap.
Ervam came to Aren and picked Mie up, taking him to bed. Soon after, Jer went off to bed. Not long after that Av doused the fire and led Aren to bed.
She dreamed of pain and change, of agony and terror, forced submission. In the morning Aren jerked awake, certain that she had lived the day already.
“What's the matter?” Av asked groggily, pulling himself up.
“Do you trust me?” Aren asked Av.
Hesitation, then. “Yes.”
“Then do not allow Mie's uncle to take him,” Aren said, rubbing at her face to erase the visions she had seen, “and don't allow your father to get involved.”
Twice—she had lived through the day twice already, and this was the third, she was certain of it as she climbed out of bed, groping for her clothing.
“Where are you going?” Av said in a groggy, yet annoyed tone. “The sun is barely up. Come back to bed.”
“No, I cannot,” Aren said, intent on changing her day. “Up. Now.”
“Aren,” Av said, sliding to the edge of the bed. “What's the matter?”
“Wrong, there's so much wrong,” Aren said, her trousers in her hands. She turned to Av. “Do you understand what I say, Av?”
“Not in the least, but please, enlighten me.”
Aren spun on Av. “What did I just tell you?”
“That it's wrong.”
“That's not what I'm talking about,” Aren responded, furious that Av was making it impossible to reason with him. Why was he not seeing what she was trying to tell him?
Av was silent for a very long while before he said slowly, “Mie's uncle is not to take him.”
“Do you trust me?” Aren asked Av desperately.
“Yes.” Av was out of the bed, holding Aren in his arms in a moment. “Aren, perhaps you should stay in bed. Father said the illness could take strange forms.”
“I'm not mad,” she said to him sternly.
“I'm not saying you are, I'm saying you seem like you need rest. Let me make you something, to help you get back to sleep.”
“Mie—”
“If Mie's uncle comes,” Av said sternly. “I will do as you command. Until then, I am concerned about you, and the progression of the illness that my father said might take you. Allow me to make you something to help you sleep.”
“Fine,” Aren said finally, defeated. “Fine. Make me something to help me sleep.”
Chapter Thirty
Av's hands shook as he poured the warmed, but not hot, water over the leaves which he hoped would mask the taste of the much stronger sedative he placed in the bottom of the mug.
“Av?” his father asked quietly.
Av put a finger to his lips and set the kettle to the side. “Aren had a nightmare, thought I'd make her something to help her sleep.”
He went back to the bedroom and gave Aren the mug, making certain she drank it all. Av saw the wince and grimace at the taste, but Aren didn't ask what was in the mug. She didn't protest as Av led her to the bed and tucked her in. He watched Aren until he was certain that she was asleep, then he moved back to the living area.
His father sat with two mugs of tea before him. Ervam looked up, annoyed and concerned, questioning as Av sat across from him. Av lowered his head to the table. He kept it there as he ordered his thoughts, and then finally raised it.
“Either she's gone mad or something is going to happen, and I need you to stay out of it, no matter what,” Av said to his father.
Silence for a long moment. “How do you feel about what she said?”
“Frightened.”
“Why?”
“Something happened.”
“What happened?” his father pressed.
“She saw something, something went wrong, and if we don't do as she says...” Av trailed off, frowning at his father, who frowned back at him. “What's going on?”
“Yes, what is going on?” Jer grumbled, shuffling to the table to announce his presence.
Their father sighed loudly. “The problem, is what is going on.”
“Aren's gone mad?” Jer asked.
“Or might not have,” was the quiet response. “I didn't bring up the other possibility, because it didn't seem possible. No one has survived more than five days in a very long time.”
“Wait,” Jer said, moving to the cooking area.
He returned a moment later with a glass bottle and three glasses. He poured a measure of the amber-coloured liquid before placing a glass within reach of each of the occupied seats.
“Somehow I get the feeling we're going to need this,” Jer said, sitting and taking the glass into his hand. “Whether it's just after dawn or not.”
Av watched his father pick up a
nd drain the glass before filling it nearly to the brim. Cautiously he picked up his glass and sipped the liquid, grimacing at the fire it lit all the way down his insides. It was too soon, since his last drink for Av to appreciate alcohol in any form.
“In queens,” Ervam said, gulping his drink. “In those who don't go mad right away don't die right away.”
Av and Jer waited patiently as their father stared into his glass.
“What?” Jer said.
Ervam sat up straight, licking his lips. “The stone is in her. Part of her. Those whispering instincts are no longer whispers.”
“Dear spirits,” Av said to his father. “Are you trying to tell me that she's right?”
“I don't know,” Ervam said. “The records only say 'and so she was infected and taken by the stone until her days no longer came and went,' it never said anything about the queen. Not about how long her reign was, not what happened during her time on the throne, only concluding that her death was of madness at a later year. No one writes histories for those who are infected. Your mother had a thought and if she's right then...” He made a slight motion towards the room that Aren was dozing in.
“Are you afraid?” Av asked his father.
“Yes, queens have magic and can be reined in if they have strange thoughts,” Ervam responded. “They can be stopped by you or me or Jer here. Because we can stand toe-to-toe to them and take them. But one who—”
“Who what?” Jer pressed.
Av sighed. “It's difficult to tell someone who has never seen it.”
“Your mother said,” Ervam picked up the glass and brought it almost to his mouth, “that it would be the same as madness, to those who were unfaithful, but it was different from the madness that would eventually take the queen.”
“It sounds like madness,” Av said, watching his father drain the glass.
“I don't doubt,” Ervam said, slapping the glass onto the table.
Av motioned for Jer to refill it, who obliged, but with a look to Av that demanded an answer at a later date. Jer would have his answer, at some point.
For the moment, the only way Av knew of to keep his father out of something was to have his father not there. Short of reaching over and knocking his father unconscious, there was only one other way to keep Ervam from a fight. Drunk was a difficult state to shake off.
Their father drained the next glass and wavered.
“Father?” came Mie's small voice from the hallway.
“Here, boy,” Ervam responded.
“He's drunk,” Mie said sadly.
“Only for today,” Av said to Mie, wondering what could have put that sadness into his voice, “and for good reason, if what I've been told is right.”
“Who told you it?” Mie snapped, suddenly angry.
“Aren,” Av responded, watching Mie's anger melt away as quickly as it had come.
“Oh,” Mie said. “She said to get father drunk?”
“No, she told me something a little different. I'd rather drunk to the other options,” Av responded.
“Only for today?” Mie asked Av, then looked to Jer.
“Only for today, little one,” Jer said.
“All right then.” Mie rocked back on his heels. “I'm hungry.”
“Sure,” Jer said, standing from the table. “I'll make some food.”
“For Lady Aren as well,” Mie said with all the authority of his rank, but in the tone of a boy his age.
“Ehm,” Jer looked to Av before he turned to Mie. “Lady Aren has taken something to help her sleep.”
Mie turned on Av and glared at him accusingly. Surprised, Av turned to his drink, sipping it as Mie stood, judging him. The young boy crossed his arms, attempted to look menacing.
“I grew up with Jer,”—Av made a motion to his brother—“you cannot pull rank on me.”
“You,” Mie said, jabbing a finger at Av. “Gave her something to make her sleep. That's not the way to deal with anything, putting someone to sleep just to make them more manageable.”
Mie stumbled over 'manageable,' but Av gave the boy points for attempting to stand up for what he believed in. Mie was less than half Av's size and willing to risk a fight because of what he thought right. This one was going to be a handful, once he got his legs under him.
“Well, Mie,” Av said, deciding to talk to his half-brother as an adult, “I thought Aren was mad, so I made her as comfortable as possible while keeping her out of the way. She might still be mad, but she might simply need a bit of sleep to come back to herself.”
“She's not mad, she's a queen,” Mie said sternly.
“How do you know that?” Jer asked Mie.
“Uh, duh.” Mie said, taking the seat at the head of the table. He looked at their father, watching as Ervam's head slowly travelled to the table. “What are you drinking?”
“I don't know?” Av said, looking to Jer for the answer.
“Strongest stuff I could find,” Jer called over his shoulder. “Mie. How long have you known Aren was a queen?”
“Since I stepped onto father's land,” Mie responded, drawing the glass towards him to sniff it. “It's pretty obvious, isn't it?”
“No,” Av said to Mie.
“Oh,” Mie said to the glass, pushing it away before he looked at Av. “Oh, if you say so. No idea what she is.” In all the rhetorical annoyance of someone who saw far too much.
Av wondered how many children reacted to Aren. She obviously blocked the adults from seeing her, but did she spend any time keeping the children from understanding her?
“What do you think of Aren?” Av asked Mie.
“She's sparkly and lovely and beautiful,” Mie said. “And if I were ten years older I'd be chasing her, like a warrior does a queen.”
Jer came to the table with a pan of reheated leftovers.
“You are a warrior,” he said as he served food to Mie. “And she is a queen.”
“I know, but it's also a saying,” Mie said to Jer. “Thank you, for the food.”
“You're welcome,” Jer said. “Your mother should have been here yesterday afternoon. She's decided to give you a bit more free rein, has she?”
Av, and Jer, saw the look of sadness before Mie turned to his food with single minded hunger. Suspicious and concerned, Av finished his drink and went about getting cleaned up for the day while watching for any other signs. He washed, shaved, and dressed as if he were at the palace, preparing himself to be seen by the court.
Unable to shake the feeling that trouble was coming, Av spent most of the morning picking up various objects and hefting their weight. He knew the weight of nearly every object in the house, having an intimate knowledge of them.
Almost at noon exactly there came a knock on the door. Av jabbed for Jer to stay and stepped out of the house, pushing back the annoyed-looking man who attempted to walk in. He recognized the similarities, the hairline, the shape of the eyes. Av had to fight his own fear as he stepped forward, taking advantage of the fact that this man knew what his rank was, and was afraid.
“I've come for Mie.”
“Where's his mother?” Av asked the man.
“Dead, passed the night before last,” the man growled in response. “I'm his uncle, I've come to—”
“No,” Av said, knowing full well that was all he had to say to end the argument.
Mie had lived with his mother most of the time, visiting his father when and where he could. While Ervam had claimed paternity, Mie looked nothing like Ervam, Av, or Jer. A woman was the only one capable of knowing where her children came from, and after learning of Mar's true paternity, Av was cautious. Em could rule in either way, it was well within the rights of an uncle, brother of the mother, to take such a matter to the queen.
“My father was granted paternity, was he not?” Av asked the man.
“Only man my sister was ever with, but she expressed to me the desire that Mie should be raised among her kin,” the man said in response.
“Mie is not
a commoner,” Av said to the man. “Mie is ranked, of my rank. My father has raised two like Mie.”
“I would never deny that,” the man responded.
“If you have witnesses that prove true before the throne, and Em would rule in the favour of the one telling the truth, but if you had witnesses to prove your sister's words, took them to the throne, and it was shown right, by all means you might have Mie back,” Av said as if he had considered.
The man stumbled over the information. He expected Av to demand satisfaction, or to claim him a liar, not to reason with him.
“Otherwise?” the man asked.
“Before your mother and myself and Jer, as well as Em, who still sits the throne, Mie's mother did declare that my father was the second half of Mie's blood. That should she pass, Mie's father would take over. Mie's father being the trainer Ervam, the lord and master of the palace. Any who question her words should bring due witness or...”
Av simply trailed off, cocking an eyebrow at the man.
“Or what?” the man asked.
“My father and his mother may not have been mated, but my father asked I stand in as warrior to any children he bore,” Av responded. “You know the mating rights, don't you?”
The man went red, then began to pale. “But those traditions were meant for a time when a man and woman of rank could stand on either side of the mated couple.”
“My father knows someone of rank to do just that, Jer stands on the side of the mother.” Av sighed as Jer stepped out of the house.
Mug in hand, Jer took a sip and looked down at the man.
“Mie's uncle,” Jer said to Av.
“What's his inheritance?”
“I spoke with her four months ago,” Jer said carefully, considering the man, then the mug in his own hand. “Her death wish was the same as before. Mie goes to Father. I tried setting them up again, but Father simply will not do it.”
“Unfortunate,” Av said to Jer. “But she's passed.”
“What?” Jer snapped, mug dropping from his lips. “She was healthy last I saw her, how did she pass?”
With two annoyed men, the uncle faltered, stepping away from the porch. Suddenly uncertain.