by S D Simper
People don’t scare me.
Cottages appeared beside the road. The citizens they passed—all De’Sindai—looked perplexed, but when realization set in, they bowed and kept their heads down until they had disappeared.
The citizens in the city had done the same. Flowridia knew now that they pledged to him as a god, and it seemed he was a god to be respected.
‘Wood’s End,’ read the frostbitten sign, and everywhere people scattered and bowed as they made their way along the dirt road. Large and well-populated, to call it a town was misleading; the quaint little city in the mountains seemed rather lively and rich. The sky displayed brilliant pinks and purples as the sun moved to set, and to Flowridia’s surprise, Casvir stopped his horse in front of an inn.
“We will rest here for the night,” he said, dismounting.
Flowridia slid down her horse, quickly whispering as she approached. “But, why?”
“Because it does my citizens well to remember who they serve,” he replied, menace in his tone. “Let it be known that their king stayed in this very inn. It will help their business.”
Flowridia unloaded her horse, unnerved at the wicked spark in Casvir’s eye.
With one arm, Casvir carried what luggage he had before approaching the stable. Whatever conversation he had was short and precise. Two stable-hands suddenly emerged to lead the skeletal horses across the frosty ground.
Casvir had to duck as he stepped through the doorway of the large brick structure, and Flowridia followed at his heels, one hand kept firmly on Ana hidden in her bag. Inside, every patrons’ eyes darted rapidly between Casvir and Demitri, unsure of who to fear more. Flowridia kept in Casvir’s shadow, realizing a scant few looked at her with concern.
The young man at the desk, his skin a faint shade of purple and whose small horns pointed out from his black hair, seemed torn on whether to bow in silence or speak to his imperator. “I-Imperator Casvir,” he stuttered, settling on both. “An honor. And a surprise.”
“Your finest rooms for me and my companions,” he stated, the brutal efficiency of his tone unnerving even to Flowridia.
“Of course. Our finest room with our largest bed for you and your . . .” He glanced nervously at Flowridia. “—your lady.”
“Two rooms,” Casvir said darkly. “I will not besmirch the honor of my ward.”
“My-My apologies,” the man said, eyes growing wide. “I did not mean to presume. Yes, two rooms, one for you, and one for—”
“Lady Flowridia of Staelash,” Casvir interjected.
Flowridia feared the man’s eyes would pop from his skull. “Of course.” He bowed to her, stiff as he straightened. “I meant no insult.”
“No insult taken,” Flowridia said kindly.
The man nodded, anxious as his eyes fell upon Demitri. “And your wolf, your grace?”
“He stays with Lady Flowridia. But he can sleep on the floor.”
A sudden snarl escaped Demitri’s throat at the slight. The young man looked faint. “He will be cared for as any guest.” He stepped forward, glancing rapidly between Casvir’s bag and Flowridia’s.
Casvir stepped aside, motioning to Flowridia. “Chivalry takes precedence,” he said, voicing the poor gentleman’s inner turmoil.
With a bow, the young man took Flowridia’s bag, bedroll, and spear. “Follow me, please. Both of you.” He made his way across the floor, maintaining distance between them and the patrons sitting down for dinner, and escorted them up the stairs. Between Casvir and Demitri’s bulk, they had to go single file, the stairs creaking from the effort. Flowridia admired the polished wood; the inn was modest, yes, but held a quaint sort of richness she adored.
Two floors up, and the young De’Sindai led them to two adjacent rooms. “This one is for the lady,” he said, opening the door. “Plenty of floor space for her animal companion.”
Flowridia stepped inside, followed closely by Casvir, Demitri, and finally the harried gentleman, who carefully placed her belongings at the foot of her bed. Expansive yet cozy, the room held a comforting aura, and she realized she might benefit from a night inside, instead of shivering in the snow.
“The door in the corner leads to your personal bath,” the man continued, and from his pocket he withdrew a key, which he handed to Flowridia. “And there are extra blankets in the chest if your, um . . .” He surveyed Demitri, his face growing pale. “Well, if your companion needs additional accommodations, don’t be shy. If you need anything at all, there is a bell outside your door.” He turned to Casvir, audibly gulping. “If you’ll follow me, Imperator Casvir, I’ll escort you to your room as well. After you’re both settled, we can discuss options for your dinner.”
“Thank you,” Flowridia said sincerely, and after some rummaging in her bag, she withdrew a coin. She placed it into the anxious man’s hand, noting how he softened.
Casvir followed the young man out. The door clicked shut, and Flowridia turned to Demitri. “This was unexpected.”
I think Casvir enjoys intimidating the common folk.
“I don’t think you’re wrong.” From her shoulder bag, she released Ana, who immediately began hopping around the bed. Flowridia giggled. “She’s like a toy. I wind her up, and there she goes.”
Demitri began sniffing around, investigating every corner and crack. You should set wards around this room.
Flowridia leisurely stripped from her travel clothes. “I’ll do it from the bathtub. I’ll relax better. Will you watch Ana for me?”
Demitri’s gaze followed the tiny, bouncing skeleton. Really?
“Yes, really,” she replied, frowning.
If you tell her to sit still, she’ll listen.
“She’s been cooped up all day. If she gets unbearable, I will, but give her a few minutes at least.”
Fine.
Flowridia, dressed in only her underclothes, opened the washroom door. A small brass basin, perfect for someone of her stature, waited at the side of the room. It took some experimentation with the knobs, but she eventually figured out how to start the water gushing from the pipes.
It warmed at her touch. Flowridia quickly removed the rest of her clothing and stepped into the basin, humming contentedly as the water swirled around her body.
First, the wards. Flowridia sighed and let her senses expand, touching upon the water, the air, even the wood of the inn itself. She traced sigils into the bathwater. Let there be safety, in both the light and the shadows.
Content, she sealed the spell. As she settled in to relax, her thoughts drifted to the bath in Nox’Kartha, to Ayla’s tub—which, in turn, caused her to frown. Determined to embrace the cheery light of the inn, instead of the memory of soft, magical ambience, she shut her eyes, soaking in the warm comfort.
A pity she had never visited before Ayla’s death. What a scene they would have made, together under those crystals, their pleasured cries echoing against the stone décor—
Her eyes snapped open. Grabbing the soap, she scrubbed her dusty form with more force than necessary, hoping to wash away the uncomfortable warmth brewing within her.
Was this what acceptance felt like? To be able to reminisce upon Ayla with mere melancholy instead of tears? Perhaps.
Scratching at the door interrupted her. “Hello?”
Casvir is here. He wants to know if you’re hungry.
“I’m hungry, yes. Would you tell him, please?”
A pause, and then Demitri’s voice came again through the door. You want me to talk to Casvir?
“I see your point. Get him to the door; I’ll tell him.”
A few seconds passed, then came a knock at the door. “Lady Flowridia?”
“Don’t come in. But I can be ready for dinner in a few minutes. Whatever they can offer, I will eat.”
“I will deliver the message,” came the reply.
Flowridia ran soap through her tangled hair.
When she finally emerged, one towel wrapped around her body and the other skillfully tied arou
nd her hair, she found Demitri lounging lazily on the plush bed, the frame sagging dangerously low under his weight. Casvir left.
Ana popped her head out from underneath the bed. Flowridia stooped low to pull the fox against her damp body and kiss her bony skull. “Stay under the bed,” she said, and Ana immediately skittered back underneath. The towel dropped, and Flowridia changed into a cleaner dress. “That’ll give you some peace while we eat.”
Tell them to bring me something. I’m starving.
“I will.” With a final, determined squeeze of the towel, she removed it from her hair and hung it up, along with the other. Though still damp, she wouldn’t be going outside and so had no fear of her hair freezing to her head. After a quick kiss to Demitri’s nose, she left, careful to shut the door before smoothly descending the stairs.
The main floor of the inn expanded in all directions around the stairs with the entryway before her. The dining hall stood behind. All around were tables and patrons filling the chairs around them—De’Sindai, but in all sizes and shapes. Some seemed merely inhuman, more like unto to Zorlaeus or their skittish attendant, while others were as enormous as Casvir, if not more.
She saw no sign of the imperator. A young De’Sindai woman with pointed ears approached her as she lingered at the foot of the stairs. Tall and willowy, she stood half a head taller than Flowridia, despite being hardly more than a child. “Lady Flowridia,” she said, and she bowed politely. “If you’ll follow me, we have a table ready for you and . . .” She glanced up the stairs, concern filling her face. “Will Imperator Casvir be joining you?”
Flowridia nodded. “I thought he would already be here.”
At her beckoning, Flowridia followed the girl across the busy hall to an ornate table near the corner, away from the other patrons. Decorated with candles and a lavish tablecloth, Flowridia saw care had been devoted to make the space worthy of Casvir’s presence.
Once she had sat, the girl lingered, glancing nervously around the inn as she whispered, “Lady Flowridia, is everything all right?”
Confused, Flowridia said, “I’m perfectly fine. Why?”
“If you need a diversion, we’ll help you make your escape. My mother says she can have one of your horses waiting—”
“Stop, stop,” Flowridia said, holding up a hand. “What are you talking about?”
The girl looked toward the stairs before answering. “Are you not a prisoner?”
“He and I are travel companions, for the time being. I signed a contract . . .” She trailed off, noting the relief filling the girl’s countenance.
“Imperator Casvir is known for his business practices,” the girl said. “He will do as you both agreed and nothing more.” She smiled, though concern still bled through. “I’ll bring you your dinner. Imperator Casvir said you had a strict diet.”
When she turned to leave, Flowridia stopped her, placing a gentle hand on her wrist. “What is your name?”
“Atia, my Lady.”
“Atia, what you tell me, I swear to keep secret, but . . .” Flowridia studied the girl, realizing her eyes were a vibrant shade of orange. Twelve at most, her demure body language brought to mind a younger version of herself. “You were willing to betray your king. Why?”
At the word ‘betray,’ Atia immediately flinched, eyes wide. Flowridia instinctively grabbed the girl’s hands as they shook, smiling kindly. “I’ll say nothing to Casvir. You have my word.”
Atia nodded, but her stance remained stiff.
“You needn’t be nervous around me, Atia,” Flowridia said, praying she sounded sincere.
She released her hands, and the girl’s posture finally relaxed. “Rumors have spread of your relationship with the imperator,” she began, her hands settling to fidget with the auburn streaks of her hair. “Imperator Casvir demands respect from all his citizens, and while he’s known to show some deference to foreigners, especially foreign nobility, well . . . as I said, rumors spread.”
Flowridia’s replied died in her throat when she saw the unmistakable form of Casvir as he appeared from the staircase. Smiling, she looked back to Atia. “Would you tell your cooks to bring some meat up to my bedroom for my wolf?”
“Of course,” Atia said, understanding, and she disappeared behind a door in the corner.
A young man, the same young man who met them at the front, escorted Casvir to her table, bowing as he gestured. “Your dinner will be ready soon, your majesty.”
Casvir sat to Flowridia’s left, silent until the young man left. “I thought you would find me before you came downstairs.”
“I thought you were already here.” Looking around, the faces of the patrons perpetually glanced between Imperator Casvir and their own business. “I think you’ve made quite an impression.”
“My people should fear me,” Casvir said, though the nonchalance took away from the threat of the statement.
Atia reappeared, platters balanced on each arm. She offered a kind smile to Flowridia as she set down the predictable array of food—various cooked vegetables and fruit, along with fresh bread. And Casvir’s, something fancy and smothered in gravy, which she placed with a polite nod. “Is there anything else I can bring out for you? Any drinks?”
“Water, please,” Flowridia said. “If you don’t mind.”
“Of course,” Atia said, and she skipped away, perhaps too at ease in the presence of her king.
Casvir watched her oddly as Atia left. “You grew up a peasant, Lady Flowridia, but you are not like the common folk. Not anymore. You have influence and power and a reputation that precedes you. You do not grovel for favors.”
The soft bread filled her entire body with warmth. Once she swallowed, Flowridia said, “What do you mean?”
“Befriending those you rule over is a foolish endeavor. As much as you might try, you are nobility, and they are your subordinates.” Casvir’s red eyes studied the room, lingering on every face daring to match his. “And do not forget; this is not your kingdom. These people owe you nothing.”
Atia’s concern bespoke otherwise, but for Flowridia to mention her treasonous offer would no doubt ruin her and her family. She said nothing, instead returning her attention to her meal. “I’ve never seen you eat,” she muttered, watching as Casvir picked up his fork.
“Ayla ate for show as well.”
When the girl returned, she brought a pitcher and two cups. Condensation dripped from the polished wood—within, the water was surely cold. “Will you be staying with us for long, Lady Flowridia?”
“I’m not sure—”
“Our business,” Casvir interjected, a threat in his tone, “is our own. Take care you do not forget your place, child.”
Atia nodded and bowed, visibly trembling as she ran from their side.
“Casvir, I think you’re being harsh—”
“Lady Flowridia,” he said, the same threat readily apparent, “you will not reprimand me in front of my citizens. Understand?”
Flowridia nodded, shocked at the words.
“That girl is a child and warranted a warning before I disciplined her. You are not a child, and you know better.”
Flowridia turned her face to her food, a fierce blush covering her cheeks as she picked at her food.
Casvir said nothing more. They ate in silence.
When her plate had emptied, Flowridia dared to whisper, “We’re only staying one night, right?”
“I think we have made the impression we needed to.”
Something in those words chilled Flowridia’s blood. “I would rather not practice death magic in front of the living. Do you mind if I go to bed?”
“I do not,” Casvir replied, and Flowridia slipped from her seat and went toward the stairs.
The silence meeting her as she passed by each table prickled against her already frayed nerves. Every eye followed as she disappeared behind the banister of the stairs.
The wooden steps creaked, even underneath her light form, and when she reached the second
floor, a lithe, blue hand clutched her arm.
In the split moment before Flowridia lost her footing, dragged off by this interloper, she summoned her power. Purple smoke poured from the pores of her skin, immediately engulfing her in a cloud of death. She hit the ground and saw above her a familiar demon gasping at her damaged hand—The Coming Dawn. “Wait!” Flowridia said, but the demon spoke louder.
“Never alone. Should have stolen you at dinner.”
Flowridia scooted herself back, energy quickly draining. There was no life to steal from to sustain her spell, save the demon herself who nimbly side-stepped her efforts to grab one of her arachnid legs. “You’re The Coming Dawn.”
The demon folded her arms, one pair atop the other. “You have done research. Now, if you would kindly extinguish death cloud—”
“Listen. I know you’re here to appease Ku’Shya, but what if I said Khastra wasn’t—”
Blood spurted. The demon suddenly cried out in agony as horrible welts bubbled and burst beneath her skin. Flowridia heard thundering footsteps.
The demon’s skin turned black and slowly decayed. Casvir appeared, bursting onto the scene with his weapon swinging. The demon woman narrowly dodged. She fell into the shadow of a doorframe, vanishing from sight.
The cloud around Flowridia dissipated. Weakened but alive, she faced him. “What was that?”
“A spell you are not ready for.”
She shut her eyes and released a stabilizing breath. “With due respect, I was trying to reason with her.”
“I have sworn to keep you alive, per our contract. I will not put you at risk for a known enemy.”
Flowridia merely stared at the shadow The Coming Dawn had vanished into, wondering if her words would have meant anything at all.
“She has been following us for some time,” Casvir continued. “I had hoped coming here might draw her out. She will not die, but it will take time for her to lick her wounds. You shall be safe tonight.”
Flowridia almost felt pity for the strange demon and her horrible screams.
“You handled yourself well.”
“Thank you,” Flowridia replied, surprised at the compliment.