They'd found the third floor unoccupied and sat sequestered in a far corner, away from the stairwells.
"She knows, Aro," Anala said. She looked worried.
"How can you tell?"
"It'd just be a feeling I'd have. And I'd know her a mite better than ye do."
"Even if she does know, is that so bad?"
She gave him a look that made him wish he were a tortuga, able to shrink back into his shell. "I mean, Jules trusts her...."
"And 'ave we even decided we're of a mind to trust 'im?"
"I have, Anala." I do trust him. That was quick! "Do you trust my judgment?"
"As me major or me lover?" Anala asked.
"Both." I hope.
Anala sighed. "Yes, dammit. I'd just still be a mite..."
"...Paranoid?" he finished, managing to get a bit of a smile from her. A tired smile. Her eyes were duller than they had been. I still need to ask Ghia to take a look at her.
She was tired enough to suggest she wanted a nap. Aro bit back his concern, since she hated his fussing, and gave her one passionate kiss before they returned to the more populated areas of the castle.
Zardria
Jourd'Althea, 21st Decima
The shades were drawn in the top room of the Spire. Originally, there had been no shades, just a huge pane of glass stretching around the circular room, from where Athering's current Queen could survey the entire nation; could be the first to see encroaching enemies.
Zardria had let her aunt have the more luxurious Queen's living quarters and had stayed in her heir-apparent's rooms, just two floors down, but this room she'd claimed for herself. Her aunt had no need of it, anyway, as this was the traditional Queen's thinking room, where Athering's leader would make all the great decisions that affected the world around her. Zanny was a puppet, a figure-head: she made no such decisions.
Well, she makes a few, said Zardria's human side, in control now that Hecate was full once again. The Empreena had barely survived the Midwinter Banquet, and had secluded herself afterwards, before, during, and after the four days when Hecate was dark. She'd not had much to do: her agent in the kitchens had apparently met an unfortunate accident in her service and so Zardria had not had the means to use her Muerta's Tears as planned. It was regrettable -- she'd have to train a new kitchen agent and it was getting harder to find good help these days.
Making a mental note to find someone new for the job, she thought of Miranda, her drifter. The girl was still in the stables and none too happy about it. Zardria didn't care -- she was getting scores of information, whether or not Miranda chose to reveal it. No, the girl should stay where she was -- this business could wait. Her opportunity to kill Caelum and frame Yarrow for it had left with the banquet. She'd have to find another way to put Yarrow out of the picture.
As long as Yarrow was compos mentis and alive, no one would accept Zardria's rule. Much as she hated the truth of it, she knew her sister had to go or the threat of rebellion would always be present. A pity. Even Zardria could admit she'd be losing her best bellica, and perhaps her first regiment. At least there was Anala, who was almost as good as Yarrow. Better, in some respects. I just wish she'd talk from time to time. The silence is unnerving.
The Empreena sighed. So many people, so many problems. Ruling would be tougher. Mayhap easier once Zanny is gone. When was the soonest she could arrange for her aunt to meet Muerta? The Birthright Ceremony was one month away. Can I survive her insufferable stupidity that long?
Her eyes fell to the letter on her desk. It was the third in her recent correspondence with Lord Exsil Vis of Mt. Voco. She'd received his thoughtful reminder of her end of their bargain at Midwinter, and had sent a biting response.
My hands are tied until you swear Mt. Voco's fealty to Athering, as you well know. Time is running out; so I suggest you get on it. Let me know if you require an escort.
Now she'd received his reply: I require no escort. You must send a messenger -- alone, to show good faith -- with the treaty, signed by you, and I will cooperate. I have no desire to set foot unprotected in a land that despises me so....
Not only would he not cooperate, he dared to insult the skill of her military forces! Zardria's blood boiled in futility. The Battle of Voco had shown that while Athering's forces trumped those of the island in quantity, Mt. Voco outstripped them with quality. The Battle had been Athering's greatest military defeat in centuries.
So, now came the problem of finding a messenger. A bellica, preferably, or a majora. But my best bellica is not loyal to me...and if this is a trap I'd prefer not to send Yarrow. I want the pleasure of destroying her myself. As well, if Yarrow were killed with her current reputation, she'd be upheld in death as the people's martyr. That wouldn't do. She'd become an even bigger figure for their liberation. No, Yarrow must be destroyed utterly.
Besides, sending someone so emotional might just conflagrate things again. Yarrow undoubtedly harboured years of pent-up hate towards Lord Exsil Vis, not only for killing their mother, but also for that nasty card he'd played in the Battle. Zardria was rather angry about that as well.
Isidora Baker. She'd met the woman a few times, during the years when she was not so unilaterally hated. Los anos de aurum. Isidora had a way about her that made you feel she knew your every hope, desire, fear, and judged you not one pence for them. The feeling of being completely naked and accepted simultaneously extended to everyone, including Zardria. She and Isidora had never been friends, and for years Zardria had thought she'd hated the woman. She'd not discovered the truth about her feelings until recently, and had cursed her blindness. It had cost Isidora her life.
Had she sent an escort with the Queen Lynne, it might have not been boarded, and Isidora not captured. Had she acted when the news came, there might have been a chance to rescue Isidora before Lord Exsil Vis readied his people for the upcoming battle. Had she done any of those things, and more, Isidora might yet live.
But I might still hate her. In Isidora's death, Zardria had seen it was not Isidora she hated but the circumstances which kept them apart. Isidora had already been promised to Caelum when Zardria had met her. That surge of loathing she'd felt had not been for Isidora but for being too late to claim her. Her hate was desire with its back turned.
Somehow she'd never felt the pain. She'd waited for the tears to come, but her face had remained dry these many years. Whether it was she, Zardria, who failed in human feeling or whether her other side, she could not assess. She'd been two creatures so long, she'd forgotten what it was to be fully human...and had never known how it felt to be a woman.
She shook her head to clear it of the mist of memories. Isidora was gone, dead a long while now. While she could hold a grudge against Lord Exsil Vis if she so wished, it wasn't practical. She still had business with him that pre-dated Isidora. She couldn't let her emotions rule her in this area.
Locking her mind to the task ahead, she pulled a piece of paper to her and began to pen a first draft of the peace treaty. It would have to be worded very carefully. If nothing else, Lord Exsil Vis was highly intelligent, and would undoubtedly find any loophole, no matter how small, and exploit it. Zardria was sure she outstripped him but caution was called for nonetheless. She didn't want to be trapped.
As the previous Queen had been.
It was common knowledge that Lord Exsil Vis, her mother's ex-Consort, had killed her. What wasn't known was that death had occurred at Zardria's bidding. Her mother had trusted too easily and too much -- that was her problem. Even after the first attempt on her life, she'd been willing to believe the man could change and so had agreed to meet with him to negotiate peace between their nations. Her lack of foresight had cost the nation her life.
Who brings only two bellicas as an escort? An arrogant fool. Ostensibly to show good will, Zameera had gone to meet Lord Exsil Vis with little protection, knowing if he really wanted peace he would not attack her and trusting that if it was a trap, three bellicas, her escort and herself, woul
d be more than enough protection.
Too bad she'd brought along Bellica Eradola as one of them.
That woman had been in Zardria's employ. It was a good move on the empreena's part. She'd eliminated both Bellica Catriona and the queen in one stroke, and came out blameless.
Bellica Eradola had come willingly to Zardria's side, bitter over a past that had given her an undesirable name and a forgotten place in the army -- the tenth regiment, the Auxiliary. Zardria had suggested, through the Chamber of Councillors to her mother, that the officers of the Auxiliary corps in the tenth through thirteenth regiments be made the Queen's bodyguard as a permanent job.
That practice had quickly ended.
Though I intend to bring it back, with a bellica smarter, more skilled, and more trustworthy.
Eradola had been a stupid woman. Led on by delusions of grandeur, she'd believed Zardria's promises of reward for her part. The first regiment, even. Imagine that!
Her only reward had been a swift trial and merciful death. After her fake escape and her heralding of the kidnapping, she'd thought her part was done. After Zameera's death, however, an exile from Voco, a "Vocan courtier," came forward as an eyewitness to the crime. Eradola had been tried as a traitor and hung. She'd forgotten how far Zardria's claws reached.
I suppose it really was a bad luck name, Zardria thought now as she worded in a non-inheritance clause. She didn't want Lord Exsil Vis' children, if he had any, getting any land except the island-fiefdom that family had held for centuries. When Lord Exsil Vis married into an Athering family, which he soon would, it would cause a stir among the courtiers. This would shut them up, and keep her nation safe.
Zardria herself could not have children. She'd given up that aspect of womanhood when she'd become something more than human. She supposed, if she were the type to have regrets about anything, it would be this. But that bargain, together with the one with Exsil Vis, had given her all she wanted. She could not afford to live in a world of "what if".
She did not think she was fit for pregnancy, anyway. A waste of seven months, in her opinion. She could adopt a baby daughter from a commoner family more than happy enough to give up their child for riches, and a pregnancy story could easily enough be fabricated. Seven months away from Athering would be a nice vacation.
It was all well and good. Infertility forestalled the necessity of consummating the marriage between Consort and Empress, which failed to interest her, anyway. Her relationship with Lord Exsil Vis was purely business, and he more than likely had his own choices for his bedroom. As did she.
Putting the finishing touches on the first draft, she then revised it several times before settling on a final version. Satisfied, she sprinkled sand over the wet ink and called for her attendant.
"Find the Bellica Anala and bring her to me. I have a task for her."
The girl nodded and left silently.
Zardria sat back and smiled. Just because it was too dangerous to send Yarrow didn't mean she couldn't cause a little pain.
Jules
Ghia's prediction of the tavern's business level had proved correct -- hardly a patron stirred as Jules entered.
He didn't see the healer and settled down at the counter patiently. He didn't have to wait long; a few minutes later Ghia entered through the kitchen doors. She served the other patrons first, giving Jules the barest of glances.
She was dressed in simple homespun, her hair back and her face paler than earlier that day. She looked near to dropping from exhaustion, but he was relieved to notice her eyes were back to normal.
He knew what he'd seen. Ghia's eyes had been bright gold and he wanted to know why. Superstitious commoners said gold eyes were the sign of Umbra, Goddess of Lunacy and Witchery, ruler of Tyvian, dark twin of Kore. Jules knew better.
He wanted to know why Ghia had the eyes of a Magi.
A tap on his shoulder made him look up immediately but Ghia was already at the stairway, going up. He frowned. How'd she do that? He almost expected her to turn and answer. When she didn't, he shrugged and followed her.
He was going to get to the bottom of this. Even if she kills me.
Ghia
Ghia sighed as she pushed open the door to her room. She was tired. Training that afternoon had been beyond trying. She and Rosa had moved out of the basics into advanced magek techniques, and Ghia was using mental muscles she'd not known she had. Now here comes an argument with Jules.
It was inevitable. If their friendship -- or more, her inner voice said before she slapped it -- survived, it would be all the stronger. Still, she didn't want it to happen.
Jules would want to know the truth -- as is his right as my closest friend -- and she would not, could not reveal it. Not yet. She wanted to be able to tell someone she cared for about her powers, but it was too dangerous. I have to wait, she told herself. But waiting might cost me my ability to tell as well as the right person to tell.
Jules pushed through the door and looked at Ghia lying sprawled on the bed.
"You've been working yourself too hard again," he stated, adjusting his fustanella to sit down.
She didn't say anything. Why argue the truth? A sort of truth. She no longer knew what was truth or fiction, real or fantasy--just hoped she survived long enough to be able to distinguish between them.
The silence stretched. Jules was waiting for her to say something. Ghia could not bring herself to speak or care. Both cost too much energy.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
Ghia couldn't stand the concern in his voice. She would have preferred his anger to this. I can take care of myself. "Of course I am."
A gusty sigh heralded his response. "I can never tell with you, Ghia. You never tell me anything."
"That's not true."
"It feels true. Don't you think you owe me a little trust?"
"I owe you nothing, Jules."
He exploded out of his chair and Ghia thought, even hoped, he might leave. Instead, he began to pace angrily. "I hardly think that's true," he said tightly.
She sat up and faced him. "Why?"
"Do you value my friendship so little?"
He was standing in front of her, towering, his face tight with anger and his words more like snarls.
A shiver ran down her spine -- not of fear; it would take more than a miffed Jules to frighten Ghia -- but of excitement. He was positively dashing like this -- as if all rules of manhood had been stripped, leaving the beast that was at the core of every human.
It took every ounce of strength she had to resist kissing him where he stood.
Too bad this fight needs to happen. That might end it.
"No, Jules, but I don't see what the value I place on our friendship has to do with telling you all my secrets."
"How about just one?"
"Isn't it enough that I trust you with my life?"
"It's the same thing, Ghia."
"Not when telling you may endanger me." And you, she thought very privately.
He sat down beside her and grabbed her hand. "Ghia," he said, and she couldn't tear herself away from his eyes, which she'd never noticed as so green before, "you are the only person I trust. I would never betray you." Another thought floated to the surface of his mind and into her view. Tired as she was, she let it come.
Yarrow...Nucalif...terrabane...Jules had seen it all.
A small gasp escaped her lips and she felt herself falling backwards as she began to faint. Rosa! She called, as Jules reached out to steady her.
Before she fell all the way, a fibrous mental tendril caught her and lent her the magea's strength. A surge of coras, earth-power, flooded her body, clearing her mind and grounding her.
Bring him to me, said Rosa's cool mental voice, and then she was gone.
Steadied, Ghia took a deep breath and looked Jules in the eye. "You want to know my secrets?" He nodded. "Come with me, then," she said. She got up and left before he could protest.
~
Their flight to the cast
le went unnoticed. Jules seemed concerned about being seen, but Ghia ignored him. Her glamoury protected them. And if anyone did see us, they would just assume us lovers trying to find a private area. She hoped.
Rosa's contact had renewed her energy and she trotted with vigour. Jules had trouble keeping up.
She wondered why Rosa wanted to see Jules, but trusted her teacher's judgment. It would make her life easier, at any rate.
The north wing of the castle was empty. Ghia relaxed her glamoury. She could draw on her inner reservoir of strength but didn't know how deep it went. If she had to use her own personal power at all, she preferred to use what she called her "daily power" -- what was available to her without tapping her reservoir. When she concentrated, she could draw upon the power of Althea, or Cora, but that still wasn't automatic and she was too tired to think about it right now.
Just before the entrance to the first floor of the tower, Jules dug in his heels and ground to a halt.
"Ghia, this tower is closed off."
She turned and regarded him blankly until he started fidgeting.
"Have you changed your mind?"
"No, but...."
"Then stop asking questions." She turned back and opened the door, dragging Jules in behind her.
~
The room was empty.
This didn't concern Ghia. Jules looked confused.
She wanted to sit, but somehow felt that Jules and Rosa would remain standing. Sighing, she stood in one place, shifting from foot to foot.
A lengthy silence passed, in which Jules looked more uncomfortable by the minute and Ghia felt she might collapse where she stood.
"Ghia," Jules said at last, unable to take another second, "there's nothing here. I don't see what..."
"Shh...." her outstretched hand silenced him. "Try to use your medic's patience."
Jules' retort about obvious differences between the hospitalis and the field died in his thoughts as Rosa's voice entered both their minds.
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