Gradually, he released her, and she was astonished at how light she felt, as if a great weight had been removed from her heart.
“We’re going to fix this,” she said at last, looking up at him with determination. “We’ve got a plan to restore our men’s magic, and that will cure your stillness. Until then, you’ve got to take it easy, okay? Don’t do anything strenuous. No chores, no nothing, just sit and rest.”
Alder looked at the chair disapprovingly. “I’ve been sleeping for weeks, I feel like if I lay or sit any longer, I’ll get bedsores. Besides, people will be rising soon for breakfast.”
“This is serious, Alder. You really need to take it easy.”
“I understand, however…”
“There is no ‘however.’ This is life or death.” Athel threw her hands up. “We didn’t find a way to ease the drain on your remaining life force just to have you waste it doing things that don’t matter, like washing and cooking!”
Alder looked hurt. “Yes, of…of course.”
Realizing what she had said, Athel covered her mouth. “Oh! Oh Alder, I…I didn’t mean to say it like that…”
“There is no call to apologize,” he assured in a friendly tone as he sat down, but she could tell how deep her words had cut him.
Athel’s guilt returned. She clenched her fists, furious at herself.
“Alder I…”
She sat down on the floor before him and looked up. The gesture surprised him. Women were taught never to place themselves lower than a man.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s only been a few minutes, and already I’m falling back into my training. Ordering you around, invalidating your feelings. What’s worse, I just told you that all the skills you worked your whole life to perfect don’t matter.”
She reached up and took his hands. “But they do matter. It’s how you show devotion, I see that now.”
He looked at her kindly. She could tell how much it meant to him. “Thank you.”
“Maybe I could help you do your chores?” she suggested. “Do them together to lighten the load on you?”
He seemed a bit reluctant, but when she bit her lip adorably, and gave him a flirty little grin, he relented.
“All right,” he said playfully. “But you must follow my instructions.”
She gave a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”
“We don’t want anyone to be poisoned, now do we?”
Her mouth dropped open in faux offense. “Hey.”
They both chuckled. Without words, they leaned in and embraced again.
“It’s good to have you back, Aldi.”
“It’s good to be back.”
There was a squeaking of wood as Privet wheeled himself into the galley.
“Good morning, Alder,” he said with a yawn. “I’m happy to see you.”
“And I, you,” Alder returned. “Would you like me to help you straighten your hair?”
Privet glanced up at the tangled mess. “Yeah, it’s pretty muddled.”
“We must exhibit ourselves well, you know. Our presentation is a reflection on the Forsythia household.”
Privet shrugged. “Well, it was my wedding night. Athel can be pretty passionate.”
Athel blushed so brightly it looked like she might pop.
Alder’s eyes went wide. “I missed the ceremony? Oh, how awful.”
Mortified, Athel slugged Privet in the arm as hard as she could.
“Ow! What?”
“What do you mean, ‘what?!’”
“He’s your first husband, he knows what you’re like.”
“But you don’t have to say it!”
Alder produced a brush and began untangling Privet’s hair. “Miss Athel and I were about to begin re-making breakfast for the crew. Would you care to join us?”
“Join you? It’s been my job for days.”
“Oh, my apologies, I didn’t mean to…”
Privet waved his hand. “Nah, be my guest. To be honest, I’m kind of relieved. I think the Dreadnaught crew assumed that all Wysterian men can cook as well as you can. I kind of felt like I was letting everyone down.”
“Well, you did burn the coffee yesterday,” Athel huffed, still irritated.
There were approaching footsteps. Her fur in curlers, Mina gave a long howling yawn and poked her nose into the galley. “Please tell me I smell apricot cobbler,” she said sleepily.
Now it was Alder’s turn to be embarrassed. He quickly snatched up a towel and concealed the burned mess on the stove. “Why yes it is, we’ll be serving it au flambé this morning.”
Mina stretched. “Ooh, fancy.”
Her lavender eyes shot open. “Alder!”
Before he could respond, she ran over and scooped him up, picking him up off the deck and hugging him like a long lost teddy bear. “Oh, Alder, it’s so good to see you again!”
If Alder responded, the sound was lost amid Mina’s squeals of delight, and the general racket of her jumping up and down.
“It’s too early to be this loud,” Captain Evere groused as he wobbled in, carrying Ash. He was still nursing a headache from the previous night.
“Sweetie look, Alder is awake!”
Captain Evere instantly brightened up. “Well, that’s the best news we’ve had in forever!”
Alder covered his mouth when he saw the baby.
“Oh, you’ve used a safety pin? That will irritate his skin. A baby’s diaper must be folded.”
“Nice to see you too, lad.”
Alder took the baby and gently set him down on the table. “Please tell me you dusted him with alcu powder.”
As he fretted over the diaper, Ash looked at him oddly, then smiled brightly. “Dadi!”
Mina clasped her hands, her tail swinging happily. “Aww, he remembers his daddy!”
Ash clapped his little hands and reached out. Alder smiled and complied, hugging his son tightly.
Ash leaned his cute little head against Alder’s shoulder, making everyone swoon.
“Awwwww.”
Even Privet could not help but grin.
“Mami!”
Ash reached out for Mina, and she joined in the hug with Ash and Alder.
“Dadi!” Ash reached out for Captain Evere, and even a big old salty sailor like him was no match for that much cuteness.
“Oh, all right,” he relented, joining in the family hug.
Ash closed his little eyes as the three of them hugged him.
Athel watched on sadly, trying to be happy for them.
Ash opened his eyes and reached out his tiny hand towards her.
“Mami.”
Athel gasped audibly.
“Mami!” Ash insisted.
Mina looked up knowingly. “See? He knows who you are, sweetie.”
Her eyes moist, Athel came in and the four of them held the baby together.
Captain Evere reached his big arm around Privet. “Come on, lad you too.”
“Oh, that’s okay, I don’t wanna spoil the…ahhh!”
Evere grabbed him anyway and pulled him in with his big strong arm, nearly yanking him out of his wheeled chair.
Athel could not recall ever feeling more at peace than she did in that moment. All her problems and worries seemed to melt away, leaving only a warm coziness inside her heart. This feeling had a song all its own, a song without trees, but no less magical.
It was the song of family.
The world seemed to take a break that morning. The problems of the outside were far afield in the minds of the people onboard the Dreadnaught as it sailed through the skies. Athel and Privet helped Alder make a wonderful breakfast for the crew. Spiced pudding with clover, mulberry tarts with butter cream filling, nutmeg pancakes with caramelized syrup, and very tiny portions of apricot cobbler, w
ith a dollop of whipped cream to hide the scorch marks.
The galley was filled with laughter and song. People told stories, asked questions, and shared feelings. Alder was brought up to speed on the events he had missed, and Margaret stuffed herself with so much food she had to go lay down for a while.
Molly really got into it, skipping around and making new friends, traducing herself to everyone. Mandi was content to sit in a corner, watching Molly with an amused little smile on her lips.
It took awhile to get everyone served and fed. Athel found herself running tables like a barmaid, since Privet couldn’t wheel himself fast enough, and Alder was busy with the cooking. She couldn’t help but face how odd it was to be serving tables as a fugitive on a pirate ship. It was such a strange thing, after having been Queen of the Forest and de facto Empress of the Alliance. Yet, it would be a lie to say that it felt wrong to her. No one here was out to trick or deceive her; no one looked at her from under their eyebrows, contempt in their eyes. She didn’t have to weather the sting of conspiracy, or the coarseness of unrelenting criticism.
These people were rough, lost souls, but they accepted her as one of them. While the rest of the world hunted her and cursed her name, they would give their lives to protect her. She trusted them, in a way she could never have fully trusted a subject. Though she could never say it aloud, she felt more at home here on this former slave ship than she ever had in the palace.
Once everyone was finally settled and eating, Athel found a calm spot in the corner to rest. She watched as Alder sat in the middle of a rowdy group, asking questions and answering them. She couldn’t tell what they were saying, but when Ryin laughed and slapped him on the back, she figured it had something to do with dinner plans.
Privet wheeled himself up next to her and wiped the sweat from his chiseled face. “Shouldn’t you be sitting with him?”
His question kind of pulled her out of her head. “I’m sorry, it’s just….I’ve been waiting so long to see him again. Now that he’s here I…I guess I want to do something really special for him. But, there’s really not anything I can do.”
Privet grabbed a plate. “You could always marry a third husband to extend his life further.”
Her eyes became sad. “I wish you wouldn’t joke about that.”
Privet took a bite and watched her carefully. “Wow, you have changed. The old you would have popped me for a crack like that.”
“I guess I have.” She turned to him earnestly. “But, you know that’s not why I married you, right?”
Privet gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Yeah, I know.”
They both looked on as Alder spoke with the others.
“He’s amazing, Privet,” she said aloud.
“I know. Have you tasted these pancakes?”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I told him I caused his stillness, and he just forgave me…just like that.”
She wrapped her arms around herself. “I was so scared he’d hate me forever.”
Privet looked on in admiration. “He’s a good man, one of the best.”
“I could never do that,” Athel admitted. “I’m not like him, Privet. I can’t just forgive someone who hurt the people I love. It goes against all my training. What’s more, it goes against who I am, who I’ve always been. If someone hurts someone I care about, I despise them forever.”
Privet looked up, surprised at her comment. “But, you can’t live that way, Athel. You can’t just spend your life hating some other person. It’ll tear you up inside.”
Athel became quiet. “I wasn’t talking about another person.”
Privet furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand.”
She patted him on the knee. “It’s okay, you don’t have to. If you want to help, help me think of something I can do for Alder.”
Privet took another bite. “Well, what does he like?”
Athel thought. “If I was him, I’d really like it if someone made me fudge right now, a big tray of it I could sit and eat by myself.”
“Yeah, but Alder doesn’t really like sweets.”
“Yeah, and I can’t cook, that’s what I’m stuck on.”
“You’re still thinking like a matron. The trick is to do something that he’d appreciate. Express your feelings in the way that will mean the most to him. Try to see it from his point of view.”
Athel nodded. “I’m afraid that’s a habit I’m going to have to develop. Wysterians don’t really teach their daughters to think that way. I’m ashamed to admit it, but right now, I’m having trouble thinking of things he does like.”
Privet leaned back and linked his fingers behind his head. Seeing his rippling chest, Athel could not resist the urge to lean over and rest her head against it. Just touching him made her feel a little bit better.
“Alder loves being a part of something greater than himself,” Privet mused. He loves tradition. He loves ceremony…”
Athel’s head popped up. “That’s it!”
* * *
“Check over there, we need to find out what kind of explosive was used,” came a distant voice at the edge of her perception.
There was the sound of boots against rubble, an acrid taste of chalk in the air. People mulling about in the distance. Dust, dust everywhere.
Slowly Spirea faded back into existence, her mind reeling from the pain her spirit had endured. Over and over again, Queen Sotol had used her void magic to burn her away to nothing, and time and time again, she had returned.
“Whoever is behind this is dead,” came a dark voice from her own lips. “You hear me? Dead!”
“I’m not detecting anything,” another voice came from somewhere nearby.
“Well, you’re just not trying hard enough,” came Queen Sotol’s voice.
Reflexively, Spirea stilled herself inside the prison of her own body. She dared not try to make it move, dared not try to assert herself, for fear that the queen would notice her and burn her away again.
Where…where am I?
Queen Sotol paused in frustration atop a mound of rubble. As she surveyed the damage of the southern district of Madaringa, she absentmindedly reached up and touched the fraying animal-tooth necklace she wore. Tigera watched her do so carefully, but said nothing.
That man. Tigera. I remember him. He’s the one who is always looking out for me, always protecting me...isn’t he?
Blair became a snake and slithered up to the top of a mound, overlooking the great time-dome at the center of the city, where the tower grew before them in a flurry of activity, days of work blurring by in just mere seconds.
“Perhaps what we are looking for is not an explosion at all, but some kind of spell,” Blair mused.
“Destructive spells leave residue, you fool,” Queen Sotol blathered, looking pale and sickly. “They disturb the surrounding mana for miles.”
Tigera raised an eyebrow and saw an opportunity.
Blair shrugged and became an eagle. “I’m going to check the airships. Maybe one of the captains saw something.” He spread his wings and took off into the sky, towards the floating hedgerows of docks and shipyards that hung over the island, now crowning the rising tower like clouds about a mountain summit.
Tigera chose his words carefully, fully aware that a misstep could lead to his death.
Tigera…he really is...very handsome.
“My Queen, what if the attackers used something that is not destructive, but creative? Like Cruisao seeds, for example? They would leave no mana trace.”
The Queen looked at him oddly. “How do you know of those?”
He shrugged. “My birds bring me tales of many seeds, especially those to avoid eating.”
She accepted the explanation. “I will not hold it against you for not knowing this, since they are normally forbidden even to Treesingers, but Cruisao seeds have little effect on
stone, they could not have done this.”
“I see,” he said, hoping she would elaborate.
“Besides, the Treesinger who triggers them has to be close by, a few hundred feet at most, and even that would be pushing it. If one had been here at the time of the explosion I would have sensed her.”
Tigera had trouble hiding his surprise. “Is…that so?”
The Queen’s legs become wobbly. “Yes, it is…ahhh.”
Her ankle gave way as she clambered over a broken shop sign and collapsed. Tigera rushed in and caught her, holding her sickly body tight against his.
“I’ve got you.”
He feels so warm. Spirea relished the sensation. He smells so nice. When he holds me I feel…Wait, NO. He’s the one who attacked us on Thesda. He’s working for the Kabal…isn’t he? Oh, it’s so hard to remember.
“Oh, thank you Tigera, The Queen breathed, exhausted. “What would I do without you?”
This is wrong, I can feel my heart pounding, I can feel my face blushing. It’s like I’m…
He barely heard her, his eyes distant. “We will never know.”
She looked him over suspiciously. “Really…why?”
Realizing his mistake, he shook his head to clear his thoughts. “…Because I intend to stay by your side.”
These aren’t my feelings…right? They must be hers. I’m feeling her attraction to him…aren’t I? Or, is she feeling mine?
The Queen raised an eyebrow sharply. “And if I do not wish you by my side?”
He forced himself to smile. “That has never stopped me before.”
In spite of herself, the Queen laughed. “Still not afraid of me. I doubt I will find a man like you anywhere on Aetria.”
After settling her, Tigera sat down to remove a rock from his boot. On the outside he was calm as ever, but on the inside, his mind was moving a mile a minute. Athel tricked me, he realized. That little leaf witch told me she could detonate the seeds she fed me from anywhere…
Spirea found herself staring in spite of herself. She’s right, he really is amazing…wait NO! I’ve got to control myself. This isn’t real, these feelings aren’t mine.
Isle of Wysteria: Throne of Chains Page 18