Lightning and Flame

by V. S. Holmes

  He led her up the sweeping stairs to the smaller upper floor. “All, truthfully. Much of my time is spent with Her Majesty, advising and discussing matters of government. She listens, though I will not truly be considered heir until she grows ill, I think.”

  “How is it you became heir?” Bren’s new duties had sparked her own curiosity.

  “Her only daughter passed as a child. There are only distant cousins after me.” He paused to let her admire the potted plants on the broad landing at the top of the stairs before opening a door to his private study. It was off the large master chambers and the other familial rooms were down a short hall. Papers and accounts were neatly stacked on the polished wood desk and a tall bookshelf stood behind. A table was set for a meal for two by the large window and two comfortable chairs were pulled out for them.

  Alea took one of the seats, happily noting the steaming pot of tea on the table. “Your house is beautiful, Lord Daymir.”

  “Thank you, though it is my household to which you give the honor. I’m afraid I’m terrible at ordering such things. In the country, where I am unsupervised, things are in hopeless disarray.”

  She laughed, thanking him as he poured her tea. “Where are your family’s estates?”

  “The main family land is to the east, by the mountains. We also had a small manor not far from the Hartland with lovely pasture for sheep. I am afraid it has suffered from the latest raids, though.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” The arrival of food interrupted Alea’s next words and silence reigned as they ate. “You spoke of sheep, Lord Daymir. What does Athrolan trade in?”

  Daymir looked at her curiously. “I never knew a woman who cared for politics if it wasn’t necessary.”

  Alea winced at the assumption. “Athrolan is a land very different from where I was raised—in social customs, food and so forth. It interests me.” She pointed at the plate before her. “For instance, this meal’s flavor is a variation on a theme. Each part of a Sunamen meal has a distinct flavor.” She paused, wrinkling her nose. “Forgive me, I met Master Rulhan today. Seeing a Sunamen face brought my thoughts to family and home.”

  “It must be wonderful to finally have a family.” He looked at her with something that she assumed was intended to be sympathy.

  “I’m sorry?” She frowned, glancing up from their food.

  “Bren and your mother. Perhaps Azirik negates any stability they offer, but still, after not having a family, it must be nice.”

  She sat back. “Arman made your same mistake. I did have a family. I had a wonderful, loving foster father, and siblings.”

  “But they did not consider you such. You always refer the them with ‘foster.’“ His curiosity was gentle, but nonetheless probing.

  “To my ihal I was daughter, to the others I was sister. It was I who add the ‘foster,’ not they. I do it to remind myself of the great gift they gave me, for which I will be forever grateful.”

  “It seems I place my boot in my mouth each time we speak.” He looked down. “Forgive me, I realize I perhaps do not know you as well as I thought.”

  She allowed herself a smile, though her eyes were sharp. “How could you? We’ve barely met.” She pushed away her empty plate. “But you are interesting enough for me to be curious to know more.”

  “In that case, if I may return to the safe subject of food, have you tried our maple syrup?”

  “Never even heard its name.”

  “It’s made from the sap of a tree we have here—not the paper birches, but another kind. It’s sweet and best with breakfast.”

  “Perhaps with our next meal I’ll try some.” She rose as the plates were cleared and gazed out the window. She was aware of Daymir watching her, but did not turn to look. What must I seem to him, this woman who sends his country to war. Already his words told her enough of his opinions, despite the apology. “I have yet to visit Athrolan’s library, but I was hoping to do some research. Is the collection extensive?”

  “Quite. Not what it once was, in Claimiirn, but impressive. What were you hoping to find?”

  She raised her chin, running a hand over the window’s stone sill. “A way to kill the gods.” She allowed herself a mental congratulations as he fell silent.

  Finally he cleared his throat. “Your light talk and gentle manners make it easy to forget you embody Destruction.”

  “Creation as well.”

  “Right. You healed the Rakos.” He looked down, making small folds in his napkin. “Do you mind if I ask you about it?”

  She did mind, but knew the questions he would ask were not the most uncomfortable. “What did you wish to know?”

  “What was it like? Did you fight the gods for him?”

  “Souls go through me to Le’yan. It is a deep place, and guarded by the souls of the Laen. I had to tear them apart to find him, but I did.”

  Daymir shuddered. “Were you scared?”

  She frowned. “I think I must have been. I ignored whatever part of me was scared.” She watched as he thought over her words. Please do not ask me why.

  “I heard he left for the south, to raise more allies?”

  “I assume so. I want to investigate the library. Would you care to join me?” The invitation was dishonest, but she feared he would realize why she was fleeing the conversation.

  Daymir rose, giving her his hand. “I’m afraid I have business this afternoon. Perhaps another time?” He escorted her to the manor’s gates. “I hope you find what you are looking for, Dhoah’ Lyne’alea.”

  She pulled a smile onto her face as he showed her out. Pretending at happiness grew harder each time. She wondered absently if it was the fatigue of pretending that caused some to die so young.

  Chapter THIRTEEN

  The 28th Day of Aeme, 1252

  The City of Ceir Athrolan

  THE SUN WAS JUST RISING when Alea startled awake. She curled into the enveloping library chair, an open book forgotten on her lap. Her shoulder and neck ached from the awkward position she had slept in. She frowned. She had dreamt of Arman and of anger, though she wondered if they were one and the same. She straightened with a groan.

  “Dhoah’ Lyne’alea?”

  Daymir sat at a desk by the windows.

  Her face flamed and she sat up hastily. “Good morning, Lord Daymir.” She smoothed her hair and skirts. “Forgive me, I must have fallen asleep while reading.”

  He laughed. “I can’t blame you. Some books are so dull. I didn’t want to disturb you, but seeing as you’re awake, how is your research going? Other than dream-worthy of course.”

  She smiled. “Well. I’ve learned a few things that might be useful.”

  When she did not provide more, he fixed her with a curious stare. “Could I help? I know this library well, and I might be able to answer questions you come across.” His smile was easy, and she suddenly noticed how few lines it bore. “I want to be useful to you.”

  “Your help is welcome.” She gestured dramatically to the pile of books before her. “I have yet to start these. I’m going to freshen up, but I’ll be back in a moment.” When she returned, washed and changed, Daymir had laid out parchment and quills neatly. He was already bent over a newer tome and making notes.

  “You’ve gotten farther in a quarter of an hour than I did in five.” She sat across from him in a huff of mock anger.

  “I also took the liberty of ordering breakfast, as I assumed you had not yet had any.”

  She leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “Have you ever been filled with cold? I suspect you might be the real Dhoah’ Laen.”

  He grinned. “Yes, you’ve found me out.”

  She matched his smile. The expression was still strange, but it was hard not to smile as their quick wits dueled. “We always seem to eat together.”

  “I believe conversation is more entertaining when stimulated with food. What have you found thus far?”

  “Not a lot. I already know how the gods killed Lynelle. I read something that says
their being—soul, I suppose—is linked to their power, but it was vague.”

  “It’s a start.” Daymir slid writing materials over to her. “And that is better than nothing.”

  The rest of the morning passed easily, and in relative quiet, save for the arrival of their meals. Alea enjoyed dipping ham and biscuits in the syrup Daymir had mentioned before. They found small details and vague allusions. Nothing was specific, but an idea began to uncurl in the darkness of Alea’s mind.

  Suddenly Daymir sat back. “Why aren’t you attacking them now? Laying aside the lack of knowledge, of course. Not to judge, but wouldn’t it be better to destroy the source of Azirik’s power first?”

  “Yes, if it were that simple. The God’s Crown is a conduit to their magic. They could use it as a well to hold their power, thus preventing me from destroying them. Through the Crown I can follow the connection back to them.” She looked down. “So unfortunately, for me to protect this world, we must first wage war across it.”

  Daymir’s clear gaze narrowed with humor. “You’re terrifying, you know?”

  She flushed, embarrassed and oddly flattered. “So I’ve been told.”

  He tilted his head at her. “It’s a pity you can’t sit on a human throne.”

  The sudden subject change tripped her thoughts. “There’s a law against someone like me ruling? You think the Creator and Destroyer is not enough for me? You wish to not take the throne yourself?”

  “None. I think you would make a good queen. There are no laws, for there has never been anyone like you. I guess I assumed the Laen would disallow it.”

  She ran a hand over a tome’s cover to hide her sudden anxiety. “Before the war many Laen worked for high-born families, but none took such positions or married into them.”

  “Until your mother and father.” A wary grin crossed Daymir’s face. “Given the power that union birthed, perhaps there were more valid reasons.”

  She laughed. “Perhaps. After being Dhoah’ Laen, a queen’s duty would be an easy task.”

  He snorted and turned back to the books before him. They continued in relative concentration occasionally breaking the silence with a humorous comment or puzzled question. It was relaxing, despite the grim nature of their subject.

  When Bren arrived just before noon, Daymir rose. “I’m afraid I must abandon you to your work—there are a few treasurer duties I should see to before tomorrow.”

  “Thank you for all your help.” She smiled as he bowed over her hand and disappeared. Alea returned to her seat, staring at her book thoughtfully, though she did not actually read the words.

  Bren took Daymir’s vacated seat and fixed her with a serious expression. “Sistermine, what’s between you and Lord Daymir?”

  She looked up, startled. “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve been spending a lot of time together. It makes me wonder at the intentions on either side.”

  “On either side? Bren I don’t see what you’re getting at.” Her heart faltered and she looked away. She had been enjoying the attention. It may have only been a shadow of Arman’s faith in her, but she would take it. She had purposefully been honest about her nature, hoping to avoid the awkward predicament that Bren now mentioned. “Bren, he called me terrifying. I think I’m safe.”

  He reached over and touched her hand. “Alea, Daymir seems to have grown an interest in you. He’s a good man, I think, despite his opinion of me.” His grin was lopsided. “But I want you to understand something. He is a shrewd and intelligent thinker. He’s circling you, gauging your worth, though perhaps less analytically than that sounds.” He sighed. “Alea, unless you mean business with him, I suggest you pull away.”

  “I resent you telling me what’s best. He’s an ally, nothing more. He may be circling, but he would be a fool to think he can gain anything. I am the Dhoah’ Laen, for goodness sake, not a noble daughter to be used in a power-bargain, or whatever it is you’re suggesting.”

  “Alea, you were raised a noble’s daughter and you are very much able to act the part. You have the bloodline. You’re incredibly powerful and not the least bit stupid. You’re a perfect match for a king raising his country.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you marry me then? Fates, Bren, you sound paranoid.”

  “I know how he thinks. Alea, you’re powerful and terrifying, but right now you are incredibly vulnerable. You have suffered heartbreak. Even if no one knows, it was obvious you saw Arman next to never before he left, and your manner about him has been reserved. Lord Daymir will read into that what he will.”

  “You never brought this up when I was seeing Narier.”

  “I didn’t think your heart was in any danger then. Also, Narier was obviously just enjoying your company, like you were his. I doubt he ever had any intentions beyond spending nights. I just don’t want your hurt over Arman to turn into false affection for Daymir. It’ll hurt you both in the end.” He closed the book before him with a snap. “He was right in one thing—you should leave the books for the evening. Come get some air with me.”

  Bren found an open hillock with an ocean view. The garden was quiet, the city’s bustle only a distant mutter. Alea leaned her head against her brother’s shoulder. “I’m angry at him, Bren, and I wonder if I can forgive him, and whether I should. Yet, I miss him.”

  “What did he say? Do you mind telling me?”

  She was quiet for a minute, sifting through the emotions from her encounter with Arman to untangle just the words. She was grateful Bren knew better than to interject. Her voice was calm and incredibly soft. “I asked why he sought company in another woman. He said I had no claim to him, which is true, and our bond was not that of marriage, nor should I treat it as such. I had no right to dig about in his affairs, for they were his alone. We fought, with our power.” Her voice wavered. “Bren, I threw my power at him. He blocked it, but I still tried to hurt him. Before he left he asked if I could have stopped myself from killing him if he hadn’t blocked.” She looked down, picking at her nails. “He said it’s what I’m good at.” She felt Bren’s jaw tighten in anger.

  “Alea.” He stopped. “I’m sorry. Those words were not deserved.”

  “Part of me wants to hate him for it, but I can’t. I wish I trusted myself enough to name my feelings.” She closed her eyes against the burn of tears, but they did not fall. “It seems wrong to save the world without him beside me. That’s why I brought him back.” She slumped back. “Bren, my heart hurts.” The sorrow and understanding on his face only made it worse. “It hurts so badly that I don’t know how to breathe sometimes.”

  “Alea, did you love him?” It was the second time he asked the question, but the depth behind it was totally different.

  She did not need to ask to which “him” her brother referred. “I once told Narier no one had seen my soul bared. It’s not true, though I didn’t realize it. Arman has seen my fear and my despair. My anger, my determination.”

  “What about happiness?”

  “I guess I hoped we would have time for that, too.”

  Φ

  The 35th Day of Aeme, 1252

  The scarf over Alea’s hair felt both familiar and strange at once as her past warred with her present. The simple dress and plain breeches were less so. She took back halls to the barracks, her steps purposeful. It had been months since the siege, and she was not keen to make a fool of herself, but she was also lonely. The six-bed bunk rooms were labeled with surnames and she carefully paced down the rows, reading them. The variety of names told her much about Athrolan’s trade history.

  A young man stopped at the sight of her. “Miss? May I help you?”

  She turned and shot him a smile. “I’m looking for Lieutenant Narier.”

  “You mean Captain? He got promoted last month. He expecting you?” The narrowed eyes were dark and she saw his guard visibly rise.

  “No, not really. We’re old friends and I’m finally back in the city. I thought I’d say hello.”
/>   He shrugged and pointed further down the hall. “Second to last on the left.”

  She followed his instructions, pausing outside the half-open door. She could hear the muted sounds of conversation and a deck of cards shuffled between callused hands. Seeing the names on the doorframe she suddenly realized she did not know his given name. Before her nerves failed her, she knocked quickly. The talk paused and a chair scraped back.

  An older man whose face she recognized, but name she did not know answered. “What might I do for you, miss?”

  “I’m looking for Captain Narier.”

  “Hold a moment.” He ducked his head into the room. “Narier, girl here to see you.” He looked back to Alea. “Your name?”

  “Alea.”

  His eyes inched over her and he stepped back a step. “Of course. Forgive me. Narier, it’s the Dhoah’ Laen.”

  Narier suddenly appeared in the door, shoving his friend aside. “Thanks, Jall, I’ll take it from here.” He did not ask her in, shutting the door instead. The hall was dim without the lantern light from the room. “Hello.”

  Her words faltered at his uncertainty. “Hello. It’s good to see you again.”

  “And you.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Dhoah’ Lyne’alea, what’re you doing here?”

  “I thought we might talk, catch up, have a drink or two tonight.”

  “You’re the Dhoah’ Laen.”

  She frowned. Something cold bloomed in her stomach, but she was not sure why. “I always was.“

  His smile was sad and faint. “Oh. You don’t see it, do you?” He drew a breath. “When we were together, during the siege, you were a young woman, bright and nervous with a big, shining title that didn’t quite fit. Now she’s grown and I can’t even see her because you shine so bright, but if I could see through the glow of how brilliant you’ve become, I think I’d see that girl is gone. I don’t recognize what’s taken her place.”

  Alea stepped back, feeling the frown chase her nervous smile away. “Of course.”

  He had seen her as Alea, when she thought no one else had. Instead she mistook their indifference for fear and respect. Now she only had the latter two. She swallowed hard and shot him a falsely bright smile. “Of course. I’ll see you about then. Good afternoon.”