Fantasy - Wildfire - [CLOSED]

[peritwinkle]

A friend. Kaira listened to him calmly, her eyes grazing his features that painted no sign of deceit, but what seemed like pure honesty. Had she been a Lady or Dame, his touches and gestures would have been considered a form if courting, but she was not childish enough to believe that was the case. Still, there was something else behind that friendship, something that resembled a mutual trust and reliance; he had jumped to protect her in that fight in the open field, despite being severely wounded, and she had given him a piece of her own strength that very night just as selflessly.

Yet, perhaps that had not been quite as selfless as she liked to believe. Along that reliance there was a dependency that derived from her fear of losing him. His presence kept her grounded and the knowledge that he was always there, always around to watch over her just as she was watching over him made her feel safe, guarded under an unfaltering but invisible wing. It was a feeling that resembled what she felt for Leon, as well, but while she saw him as a paternal figure, a part of her that still clung to hopeless dreams saw Kyel in a different light, with different dreams in mind.

She felt his finger trace beneath the mask and tug at her lip, and the next thing she knew, his lips were once again pressed to hers and his scent surrounded her again, luring her in. Kaira’s eyes closed and she pressed back, her hands coming to the back of his head, braiding her fingers through his hair. Being so close to him, she felt untouchable, undefeatable, and still oddly vulnerable, as if in his presence she could drop her guard and not worry about anything coming to harm her. For that moment, the crowd quieted down, and all she could hear what the sound of her heartbeat and the pearling of the lake below.

Still, she did not allow the moment to last long. Pulling away, she pressed her forehead to his and let out a soft sigh. “There is no point in feeding into this,” she said simply. “It is impossible to see this as a simple affair after everything that happened. The council expects more of you, and you cannot fulfill your duty if your mind is wandering to something you cannot have.” Kaira then pulled away completely and stood up, coming to place her hands on his shoulders and looking down at him with a bitter smile. “I can’t deny you’re all that… Everything a woman would want. Sans the brooding, I suppose.” She chuckled lightly. “But I need to remain focused. In war there is no time for girly dreaming.”

 

[pointmango]

He felt her fingers pull through his hair, she kissed him back and he felt desire within his gut. His hand at her cheek pressed back slightly to cradle the side of her head. When she pulled away he felt his head attempt to move closer to her again only to feel her forehead on his. She let out a soft exhale against his lips and Kyel breathed her in, knowing the rejection was coming. Still, knowing she would tell him no, Kyel could only justify the kiss in the fact that she had truly kissed him back. It was not hungry or possessive like their first, or his attempt at a second.

His eyes opened slowly at her words, she spoke them with such a pragmatic tone his jaw clenched in frustration. She was right, which only caused the pit of his stomach to flare with anger again, and as she stood he let his hand move to hers on his shoulder. His hand gripped hers, the caress was not friendly this time as he stood up and pulled her hand tight to his own side. He took a step forward to her as he pulled her closer. Now he was looking down at her, and he kept his face close to hers, “Fine.” he said in a tight tone, “No distractions.” He commented as his hand came to her back, he knew the tender flesh would allow for such a reaction as he pressed his hand to her sore point, hoping to feel her arch slightly and hoping for an exhale of her breath again so close to his lips.

Kyel pulled from her, but he still offered his arm. They were friends, friends walked arm and arm, as she did with Jon, or he with Elisif. It had to be no different. Was it a betrayal upon himself, or her to place his romantic hopes within a woman’s sentiments? He wished he were a man who could turn to science and philosophy for such a feeling, it was beginning to feel like nature had designed him to fall in love with women he could not have. Prior in the evening Lady Adrielle’s intentions were clear, and Kyel felt nothing. She was beautiful, and there was a desire there, but it was nothing more than that. With Kaira, the world ceased to exist when she was present, his entire being focused only upon her.

He decided then he would back off and explore other options. She was right, to indulge in such an affair, no matter the magnitude he wished to have her, was foolish. And if he backed away, who would be hurt but himself? It was the most safe route. He would not say anything else to her unless he was sure of the answer, and he also decided he would not ask the gods either. But at the thought despair set within his chest, and his jaw tensed again. Part of him would rather run his chance with Kaira and lose than be sure of winning anywhere else. No, he needed to remove himself from the plane of desire and temptation with her, or in the very least pretend to be sinless around her.

 

[peritwinkle]

Kaira watched as Kyel stood up and towered over her with an unassumed dominance, feeling his hand press to her back in an attempt to earn a suspire out of her, a reaction to his subtle frustration. His gesture made her draw closer, feeling his breath against her skin again, taking in the familiar scent that she had only broken away from moments before. Was this his way of reprehending her for refusing him? The corner of her lips turned up slightly, despite the throbbing pain in her back at his touch, and she simply took his hand pressing her in and lowered it just a touch below. “No distractions,” she whispered against his lips, before breaking away and taking his arm.

In the clamor forming with the end of the burning ceremony, Kaira was getting drunk on the power of anonymity. By his side, although their stance then was as innocent as any other, she relished in the knowledge that, to a degree, she still had him. “I have been talking to Elisif about the feast coming up,” she said nonchalantly as they started walking back. “She is having a dress made for me… Not something the other Ladies would approve of, but I might enjoy the glances.” She looked at him then, her smirk only widening. “I will have to choose my dances carefully. I want the council of Farrest to know I hold a solid position with Wendlyn and the North in this war.”

For how long that position was supposed to last, she could not tell. Free as she was now, she liked to think that once they defeated King Alastair, she would be free to live a life for herself. Now, something had switched inside of her, making her yearn for a more glamorous life, which seemed to make Elisif so happy. A life more meaningful than a simple commoner. If they won, would she be awarded any title? Would she be asked to become a royal Volur for the new King?

Would Leon be by her side?

All of those questions vanished as she saw the familiar mask of Ser Tokesten appear from the crowd, the man gesturing fervently to another with a cup of ale in his hand. Upon seeing them, Gavriel patted his friend on the shoulder and came striding, a large grin painted on his face. “Lord Skovgaard, Lady Elisif was just asking me where you had disappeared a few minutes ago.” His eyes then fell on Kaira. “Would you care for a drink, Miss Grimward? You should be enjoying yourself while the fun lasts. We will be training seriously tomorrow afternoon, it’s been quite long since I’ve seen you wield a sword.”

“I have trained once with Lord Skovgaard,” she pointed out. “But he got me good. I have to admit, I could use some training. If I can still move tomorrow morning after all this walking and drinking.”

 

[pointmango]

She was no stranger to his clear display of male dominance, and yet instead of falling into his trap, she smiled, and toyed back just as easily before pulling away. On their walk she began speaking of the feast to come and her discussion with Elisif. On a normal day Kyel might have smiled at the fact, Elisif having a dress made for another who could wear what she wished and show it off… well it was very fitting. Still Kyel could not help but to feel some frustration in his old friend as Kaira smirked about enjoying the glances. Next she boasted about the many dances she needed to maintain that evening as well, Kyel kept his eyes forward, she must’ve been aware of the power her words held over him. “Save my dance for last,” he replied simply to her.

Ser Tokesten greeted them in a happy and drunk state it seemed, and Kyel lifted his cup to his and pushed forward a false smile. He offered Kaira a drink and Kyel then cursed himself internally for not doing the same. Kyel tried to keep his mind focused on the conversation between Kaira and Gavriel, but his eyes plagued the crowd for Elisif’s position. His gaze shifted back to the pair as Kaira spoke his name, “Miss Grimwards skill is impressive,” that was not a lie. “But I think we all would be fascinated to see the Black Storm wield a sword proudly against a man as competent as you or I, Ser Tokesten, and her not need an ounce of magic.” Kyel’s eyes drifted towards Kaira, he truly only wished for her to have better defenses.

The night droned on and Kyel was doing his best to keep his eyes away from Kaira and whomever she spoke to. His chest was only at ease when she was speaking to Bastain, Beor or a woman. In the early hours of the morning the square had cleared somewhat, many stragglers were left behind, and Jon and Eric Pelletier were practically dragging Jon back to his room. In one of Eric’s hands was a bucket retrieved for them by a servant. “An exciting night my Lords,” Kyel spoke to both the Pelletier brothers.

“Stop,” Jon croaked out, grabbing the bucket from his brother's arms and hurling it into the container.

Kyel watched as Eric made a face at the revolting sound. He wondered how often the older Pelletier had truly seen men in their worst states. He didn’t know of many major battles in the area. Jon was only skilled because of his affiliation with the Greenwall council. The pair got Jon into bed, and Eric set the bucket up beside him. “Thank you for the help Lord Skovgaard, I hope to witness you tomorrow sparring Lord Tokesten again, a chance at redemption?” The older Lord teased. Kyel simply nodded to the man as he exited Jon’s room. On his way back to his own chambers he passed Elisif’’s room, he hadn’t seen her that night other than in passing, he wondered if she was decent. Should he check on her? He decided against it, and Kyle came a few more steps to the room Kaira was given. This time his hand grazed the handle of the door, but he pulled it back sharply, letting out a deep breath. No. He continued walking down the hall to his own room.

*

Kyel hadn’t slept much that morning, perhaps a few hours. Each time his eyes closed he thought only of returning to her room to knock on her door, even if to just speak with her again. But those were not his intentions, it was not the intention of a friend. When he deemed the hour appropriate he dressed himself and headed to explore the Riftmere castle. The place itself was bleak, but it seemed to match the season’s weather, Windows were abundant, and he wondered if the sun should reveal itself would the castle have a different feel entirely.

He asked a steward to point him in the direction of the library, perhaps reading would distract his mind. They needed more knowledge on ships anyway and Riftmere’s library would have plenty on that topic. When he approached the room it was smaller than he imagined, a dwarf in comparison to the room he witnessed in Greenwall, and even more so to that in the North. He looked around as he entered, and some candles were placed near books and on small tables. Light peered into the room mostly from windows, but across the room with a book in her hand stood a feminine figure in front of a low fire. It was Adrielle, and Kyel sucked in a small breath at the sight.

She was wearing an elegant day dress. Broad straps covered most of her delicate shoulders, and white and gold fabric mixed with a light green color hung around her gentle curves. The white base of the dress positioned before the firelight outlined her body beneath to leave a tantalizing shadow. “Good morning, Lady Sadelyn,” He murmured, his voice low and rough.

She turned to face him, startled by his voice and she slammed the book shut over her finger. In the dim firelight he saw her expression relax as she realized it was only him. “Hello Lord Skovgaard.” She replied, moving to open her book again.

At this notion Kyel frowned, her attention last night was not so easily waned from him. What could be in that book? He stepped forward slightly, still cloaked in the shadow of the room, “You do not make much effort to see my face this morning,” Kyel called her out easily.

At this comment Ardielle shut the book again, and she set her hands behind her back to face him. Curiosity rolled over her eyes as she looked at him. “I know the identity of the presence in the room.” She told him, “Do you wish for more?” She smiled slightly.

Kyel stopped moving forward and his eyes traveled her once more. Adrielle was quick, and calculated, and she did not fall for any notion he seemed to have made so far. He wondered what her desire was? Would betrayal come in their future? Perhaps it was just fear, or uncertainty. His mind then recalled his previous conversation with Kaira. What he wished for was a distraction, and he wanted that distraction to be Kaira, not Lady Sadelyn. “Yes.” he informed her, “I suppose we all need distractions from the actions we must take.” He frowned.

She let out a small huff at the word distraction. It was Adrielle who stepped forward then, closing the gap between them. “Any action we take should be purposeful, and free of distractions,” she looked up at the Northern man, overtaken by his light eyes and handsome features. Just standing so close before him she could sense his power. “I will see you later Lord Skovgaard?” She asked expectantly.

This time Kyel simply nodded, he stepped back slightly and bent over taking her hand and lifting it slowly to his lips. He kissed her knuckles quickly, “Until later Lady Sadelyn.” He replied.

 

[peritwinkle]

Alastair stood by the window of his office tower in a grave silence, watching as the waves crashed against the busy dock. His fingers tapped nervously against the window sill, but the rest of his body remained still, like a marble statue, frozen and heartless just as he enjoyed painting himself as most. In the back of the room, on the other side of the long desk in the midde, Leon pretended to occupy himself with a few letters, one from the Lord of Brume who was writing in regards to a raise in payment for his supply of wheat. It was the second time he had written that month, but Alastair had not concerned himself with his demands until then.

As often times as Leon had come into Alastair’s office, this once it felt colder, strange and empty, in spite of the tall bookshelves lining the walls from one side of the room to the other, now brimming with tomes instead of his usual history novels and pieces. For the past month, the King had been more preoccupied with his battle strategies involving magic than analysing historical conquests and weighing his winnings in advance as he once used to. He had called Leon to him late in the evenings many times, often late at night well after dinner, to discuss new findings and ask whether he was able to produce such sorcery himself. His passion with it had turned into an obsession, and Leon could not blame him. With Kaira on the enemy’s side, he was losing. She was still young, still training, but the both of them knew the chaos she was capable of, if she managed to muster it, was nothing his own Volur could contain.

“The Black Death…” Alastair set his jaw as he finally emerged out of his silent meditation. “Three old hags, a pregnant woman, two greenhorn Lords… and her. They said they found two broken from the back and another gutted from one side to the other. Not one of them left. My best men, and all they could take was a couple of haflife guards.” His tone was bitter, and as he spoke, his fists clenched and his knuckles turned pale. “They persuaded her. And she was stupid enough to believe them.”

“She is a child, your Grace,” Leon threw the letter back on the desk and took a step towards him. “They likely forced her into it, promised something more attractive for someone her age.”

“What is more attractive than glory?” Alastair finally looked at him, and his gaze burnt. “She should know better. I gave her a roof over her head, gave her the food I eat and the books I own. She will never have anything better anywhere else. Certainly not anywhere in Wendlyn… Pathetic excuse for a land. With who is leading them, no wonder it is the way it is.”

Leon lowered his gaze and said nothing. He did not wish to give Alastair reason to doubt him. The man was not stupid enough to believe he felt no pain with Kaira’s leave, but he trusted that he had Valera’s wellbeing higher on the list of priorities than his worry for the girl, and he had no intention to let him believe otherwise. For as long as he trusted he would put him first, keeping Kaira from his line of fire would be as easy as it could get.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw the man move from the window and come to rest his palm against the other side of the desk, looking through the pile of letters absentmindedly for a moment before returning his attention to his Volur. “I want you to find a way to connect with her,” he then said plainly. “You should be able to. I read about the connections between a Volur and their parents or siblings. Surely the girl sees you as a paternal figure, perhaps not enough not to betray you, but enough to allow you into that little head of hers.” A dark smirk played at the corner of his lips for a brief second before his expression turned grim again. “Correct me if I am wrong, please. I know you would only give me the truth of what you believe, yes?”

Leon gulped dryly and the tattoo on his wrists and neck ached. He could not lie. All he could do was to delay giving him the truth for as long as possible, and still, keeping the secret of his personal attempts at communication with Kaira had been agonizing. Silence was agonizing. He fiddled with the ring around his finger for a moment, pondering his options, before nodding. Before he could part his lips to say anything, Alastair turned on his heels and began pacing around his room with his chest puffed in anticipation.

“I want you to do it tomorrow night,” he started. “You have enough time to gather whatever you might need. Informants tell me that Riftmere will be holding a large feast on the day of the Last Harvest, and knowing your apprentice, it is unlike her to shy away from alcohol given the chance. Her mind will be muddled, vulnerable… She will let you in, no question.” He paused for a moment in front of one of the bookshelves and traced his fingertips over an older spine. “I want to see who they are around and where they are going next. If we are lucky, our next hit might be Elvgard.”

*​

“Well?” Elisif patted down the fabric of Kaira’s dress as she looked at her in the mirror. The tailor had done a good job of molding the silk over her form, cutting away the material in the right places, at her hip and waist, and generously carving a V-neck that poured deep down her sternum. It was an indecently revealing dress for the fashion up to the North of Wendlyn, and perhaps rather lewd for the rest of Valera as well, but Kaira knew she had no reason to worry. She was no Lady, nor was she a woman looking to marry or earn the respect of a man for such purposes. Dressed up or not, she was just as feared by everyone else, which demanded a certain degree of respect by itself.

As she analysed the delicate folds of the dress, a soft smile appeared on her lips and she took a step farther away from the mirror to give the ruffles a twirl. “It’s alike nothing I have worn before,” she admitted. “I do love it. I have no words to thank you for forcing me out of my black robes.” She looked up to Elisif sweetly, an expression that felt strange upon her own features, before returning to the mirror to fix her hair. Elisif had been generous enough with her time to help her braid a few strands at the back of her head - nothing too intricate, to match the simplicity of the dress, and frankly, Kaira did not think that excessively ornate looks fit her. Lady Vannbrek, on the other side, had an impressive talent of making everything look twice as expensive and glimmering as it truly was. Gold fit her, while with Kaira, silver seemed to do the trick.

There was one last detail that would complete the look, which Kaira had kept in a small box by her bed. She carefully opened the lid and slipped the necklace on; she struggled with the clasp for a few good moments, before she felt one side of the chain click into the other and she knew it was now secure around her neck. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Elisif turn towards her, cocking her brow in curiosity.

“I did not know you got yourself something at the market,” she observed.

“I stole it,” Kaira joked. “I hope nobody comes back for it. It matches my dress far too well.”

“Mm,” she mused. “Might be a good reason to risk it all. It is quite a pretty shade of blue.”

Kaira watched the joyful dance of the candle lights for a few moments, silent. She recalled the last feast she had attended, and the recurring feeling of doom seeped back into her veins. She had often found herself wondering, in the past days, whether that fight had been the end of her prophecy or merely the beginning. If someone at Whitevale had sold her, how much did they know? Where were they now? Had they managed to slip along without being seen or with their intentions so well hidden? She bit her lip and finally pulled away from the bed. “Are we ready?” she breathed out, and Elisif smiled at her through the mirror as she adjusted her rouge.

“Mhm. Come, I can already hear the music from here.”

 

[pointmango]

The drums were pounding and his head along with them. Pipes wailed and flutes trilled from the gallery at the foot of the Riftmere keep’s main hall. Fiddles screeched and horns joined in as a lively tune began while guests entered the great room. The sounds echoed heavily off the rafters of the hall, and guests already in attendance drank and shouted conversation to one another. Kyel sipped on a cup of wine, watching those already in attendance from the edge of the hall. Outside rain fell heavily, the air out there would have been bitter and biting cold. But inside the great hall the air was already thick and hot. Fire roared in hearths around the room and torches burned from iron scones on the walls. Most of the heat surely came from the bodies of the feast guests, jammed along benches so compact they would brush another when lifting their cups to toast a neighbor. To his left it seemed Bastain and Beor were already making fine acquaintance with other knights in attendance. Kyel assumed old friends as they clinked their cups and drank as if after tonight Riftmere would run short of wine.

The ale, wine and mead were flowing as fast as the river that led into the lake was outside. Even Lady Islea seated beside her friend Lady Lenda seemed a roaring drunk, which was uncommon for the woman. Kyel was deeply uninspired for the evening ahead. The heat and the smoke was not helping his head from aching, nor was the wine in his hand. He knew if he drank enough the pounding would subside, he also knew half of the issue was from thinking too much throughout the day. She plagued his mind constantly, and the events of last night only confused him further. The musicians in the gallery were numerous and loud, and while gifted he prayed they would relieve some of the noise. A few more hours and it would be over. He would only have a few more hours, he would avoid the gaze of Elisif, and dance with Kaira just once as promised, speaking only of her place in the war. He decided one dance with Lady Adrielle would be sufficient.

Near the back entrance Kyel could hear two dogs snarling from another room, probably over a scrap of meat, he knew the kitchens would give them anything not sufficient for a meal. He heard a small whimper and light howl as a man yelled “Git!” and he knew one, if not both had likely been kicked away. The sound of the dogs made Kyel wish Felix were here. Eric had respectfully declined his request for the dog to be present in the hall. “Your wild beast has a taste for human flesh, I hear,” Eric had said to him earlier, “Felix is no danger to anyone without my command, Lord Pelletier,” Kyel insisted. But Eric had shaken his head, “I cannot allow it Lord Skovgaard.” he said and Kyel let it go.

He watched as Jon was not in his seat beside his brother at the table, instead he was hanging around three nicely dressed women juggling three daggers for the giggly girls. He noticed Lady Adrielle Sadelyn entering the hall, she was quite pretty, tall and willowy, and while she maintained a shy smile, Kyel noted the grin change to something a bit more… devious when she noticed his gaze. Kyel pressed forward a smile back as the young woman approached him. Kyel adjusted the wolf head brooch that held his cloak fastened as she came forward. He wore striped black-and-crimson breeches and a black top, with black satin sleeves, and onyx studs. “Lady Adrelle,” he said and bent slightly to kiss her hand.

“Lord Skovgaard, you look dashing this evening.” She commented.

“So do you.” Kyel replied and sipped his wine again. If he were to engage in conversation he’d need this awful ache between his ears to leave.

He glanced around the great hall, only to notice another entering. He knew the dark hair well, too well, but it was not the hair that caught his attention, nor the eyes which were always first to capture him. His jaw clenched harshly and his eyes feasted upon her exposed waist and the plunging neckline of her dress. His gaze tightened in admiration, but also in annoyance, knowing every other man had the opportunity to look upon her in the same way. Immediately Kyel’s eyes flashed daggers towards Elisif in anger.

*

Jon trotted up to the pair with a wide grin upon his lips on entrance. His own coat was a gold color tonight, but he held his hand forward and bent to kiss both Kaira’s knuckles and then Elisif’s. “Well don’t you look exquisite,” Jon commented shamelessly to Kaira. He nodded to Elisif, “Beautiful, as always Lady Vannbrek, although I am sure your hand played heavier on Miss Grimwards garments tonight.” Or lack thereof, Jon thought smirking. The room was a blaze of light, and guests stood along the tables now knowing the food was imminent soon. He saw his brother stand then, and Jon turned to face him further.

Eric’s cup lifted and everyone else lifted their own, “Let the cups be filled!” Eric proclaimed. Cupbearers all around poured and gave glasses out. Eric’s golden chalice lifted higher, as did the crowds. “To the feast of the Gods! May our winter be short, and our harvest be plentiful! And to my brother, and his safe return home!”

People began chanting Jonathan’s name, and the man beamed yet again, he raised his hand accepting the chants, and as they dimmed Jon lifted his chest, “To Wendlyn and to the North,” Jon nodded to Kyel who only looked pissed off. Yikes. “We will gain independence and defeat the crown!” Jon shouted and bowed his head slightly.

“Let the feast begin!” Eric shouted and cheers broke out along the room, the music began again, this time seemingly louder than before.

Jon looked back to the women, “Lady Elisif, I can show you to your seat,” he said offering his arm, then he glanced at Kaira motioning for her to follow. “Miss Grimward, I know you must hungry, but may you spare your first taste for a dance?’ He asked her with a mischievous look upon the corner of his lips. “I would like to stretch my legs before my belly gets too full and before the pyromancers and tumblers amuse me, or the singers bore me.”

 

[peritwinkle]

As soon as she stepped through the tall doors leading into the dining hall, Kaira was met by a gush of heated air, the smell of spicy mulled wine and a jolly tune played in the background of a loud, correspondingly cheerful chatter. Next to her, Elisif breathed in deeply and exhaled with a smile, her eyes narrowing in a silent pleasure. Although the woman could not drink, she seemed to enjoy such revelries just as much as those who ought to be carried out to their rooms by early morning. She could not tell whether it was a mask of delight or genuine enjoyment; the woman would not tell her the truth, even if she asked, but Kaira did not wish to ruin her mood with questions about her suffering. She was a widow, but the joy of looming motherhood seemed to overshadow the sadness.

The first face they saw was of Jon, dressed in a golden coat that seemed to glimmer in the candlelight, which fit perfectly around his sculpted form. Even his smirk looked unusually dashing, and the way his gaze trailed over the bare skin revealed by the cut of her dress made her own lips turn up slightly in a mischievous satisfaction. This was the very reason Elisif had insisted on having her dress tailored in such an exotic manner, and Kaira could not deny she enjoyed the gazes. Knowing none of them could have her, while she could merely blink and have them all at her feet, made her feel powerful.

“You look good yourself, Lord Pelletier,” Elisif played back as she offered him her arm and allowed him to escort her to a seat. Kaira followed closely behind as she observed her surroundings; Dame Islea was speaking to the older Farrest woman, seemingly heated by a drink or two, and Bastian and Beor were clinking glasses with a few men she did not recognize, but who were likely old friends gathered from the long and plentiful lives of the two knights of Greenwall.

It was the back of the room that caught her attention then, as her eyes rested on Lord Skovgaard’s distinctive shape, towering over the small figure of Lady Sadelyn. The woman was wearing a pretty dress that embraced her curves elegantly and covered a considerably greater portion of her skin than her own. She had done her with more care, with small but intricate braids lost between loose curls and hair pins matching the onyx detailing of her gown. She watched her plump lips move increasingly close to his ear, and Kaira wondered if he was paying attention to her. A woman like her would surely have something sumptuous and carefully crafted to sound much more captivating than it truly was. She could only imagine how much gossip Adrielle had heard in court, or how many letters she had gotten her hands on which Alastair would have considered too confidential to present to his Volur in training.

Jon’s voice shook her out of her trance and she realised she had been tensing her neck quite painfully looking over her shoulder at the two of them. She took his proposal to dance with a sweet smile and offered him her hand. “Of course,” she said, “I regretted not having danced with you at the feast in Whitevale. Though you shall know I have another that wishes to dance with me tonight, so I cannot be entirely yours.” Her grin widened slightly. “I wonder if Ser Tokesten dances as good as he fights. You should try to watch your steps if you do not wish to be bested in that, too.”

 

[pointmango]

Jon took her hand gently within his, his thumb brushed the back of her hand as he kept their wrists raised while he led her towards the center of the room. Another? He was shocked to learn it was Lord Tokesten, he would have thought Lord Skovgaard offered her a dance. “Well, I hope he does not, I’d like to have something over his head besides archery.” Jon teased.

As another tune began, Jon turned to face her finally, one hand coming to the center of her back and slipping lower just slightly, his hand repositioned itself over hers as he began to step to the music. His hand over her back pulled her in closer, another smirk playing at his lips as their bodies were closer. “Now, do I get to inquire why you regretted not dancing with me in Whitevale?” He asked her, “Or did you only regret it after spending the night by my side?” Jon truly could not help his teasing, he enjoyed making anyone smile, but there was something about the way Kaira would break around him he found endearing.

Jon’s fingers filtered at the deep v of the fabric over her back, half his hand touching over her bare skin, and the other half over the expensive silk. “Elisif should dress you more often, or was such a garment to your own design.” He pressed her outward for a short quick spin, making sure to pull her back into him just a hair closer.

Kyel was distracted by the sight of her when Adrielle leaned up to whisper within his ear. He did not even catch the notion, his mind now muddled with Kaira in that dress and now Adrielle’s breath and lips so close to his ear. He sucked his breath in slightly and turned to look at her with a serious gaze, “We should dance,” he said to her. Other couples were joining Jon and Kaira upon the dance floor as food was being presented, and Kyel’s appetite was lacking at the moment. He took Adrielle’s hand without receiving an answer and she did not seem at all bothered by that fact.

Kyel pulled the golden eyes woman close to him, willing himself not to look around the room, and especially to not take notice of how low Jonathan Pelletier’s hand wandered on Kaira’s waist. Kyel’s hand clutched over Adrielle’s back, and his strides of dance were long, and heavy, leading her in a quick and certain motion. He could feel others eyes on him, picking up on the fact that he was dancing with an eligible woman, and not someone out of obligation. Let them look, he thought, let them stare and whisper and assume until they have had their fill. “Have your councilman agreed to join our cause?” Kyel asked her.

The woman let out a soft smile and shook her head, “I would prefer if we do not talk of politics and war for once Lord Skovgaard. But yes, they have agreed.” She revealed.

“Then you should call me Kyel,” he decided. It felt like betrayal, and yet he felt as though he had to continue to force himself to see something within Adrielle instead of Kaira. It was all in his head, he reminded himself. She had been right, maybe he would not find such attraction to her if she were available to him.

 

[peritwinkle]

Jon swirled her around the empty dance floor, the music seemingly picking up only to encourage them to dance, and as she pulled closer to him, she felt his hand wander down her back an inch lower than what would have been considered proper. Her lips turned up and she looked at him with narrowed, curious eyes. Kaira knew Jon did not want her, and felt his touches as more of an entertaining play than true interest. Still, she could not deny he looked handsome, and despite his tendency to talk more than one’s ear could bear, he had his own charm about him which set him apart from other men.

“Don’t let it get to your head, Pelletier,” Kaira smiled at him, then drew in slightly closer, masking the intimacy of the small distance between them with a whisper in his ear. “I can still make your brain boil if I find you overstepping the line.” She then pulled away for a spin, before returning to his arms with an innocent glow to her features. “I am not a prude,” she continued, “never have been… I do find you charming to a degree. I like your presence. You are fun, not quite as gloomy and serious as everyone else. Myself included, which leads me to believe I am just using you to distract you from my own dejection.”

Her feet moved swiftly, she knew her steps all too well from attentively absorbing others during similar parties, and she used the gentle winding of her hips and the ripple of the silk over her curves to her advantage. In the corner of her sight she saw Kyel step to the dance floor with Adrielle, which only encouraged her to draw even closer into Jon’s arms this time. With a subtle move, she guided his hand slightly higher on her back, pressing his palm against her bare skin.

“Elisif wanted me to look as free as I am,” she replied simply. “I relish in the knowledge I am not a Lady, nor will I ever be one… Why should I worry about the glares and whispers?” Even as more and more couples came to dance, she knew she had gotten her moment of glory, when everyone had seen her dance with the younger Lord Pelletier. He had not given his dance to a Lady or a Dame, or any other woman but her, an abomination of nature, but at least a good looking one. The thought made her smile again. “This is new to me,” she admitted. “Dancing, talking, enjoying myself. When I first saw you in Greenwall after I woke up, I never thought you would be so permissive with me… Allowing me to roam freely. Be around you like I am now.”

It fed a part of her that was hungry for fortune and excellence. While she preached a life of peace, away from busy cities and corrupt politics, there was still something within her that yearned for what Elisif had grown up with: silk dresses, pretty jewelry, and an intoxicating amount of attention. Although she doubted she would be able to handle it for as many years as Elisif had, Kaira found no fault enjoying even a piece of it for a while, until she was forced to resume her duty as a warrior, a weapon, a solider in a war where almost every odd was against them.

 

[pointmango]

Jon’s brow quirked when she leaned in to whisper in his ear, “All this talk of magic, but other than you swiping Lord Skovgaard in battle, I have seen none of these threats made true.” He grinned again at her compliments as she described him as charming and fun. The words were not new to him, but in comparison to the others it was new. Many people who took the Greenwall council seriously did not appreciate his gab or humor. It seemed Miss Grimward appreciated it all. Jon let himself lean in closer to her ear, “Use me all you wish, Grimward.” he winked.

She shifted slightly within his arms, and his hand pressed higher over the smooth skin of her back. Jon sighed at her words, “You know, I do love hearing about your past, but it is shockingly depressing,” Jon pointed out to her. “You should not be so easily fooled by my banter or skill of dance. A free woman should dance circles around me,” Jon pointed out to her. “Do not worry, I am sure we will have many more opportunities to loosen your dance as we travel North.” He smiled again, this time more sincerely, “You will never be a prisoner here,” Jon assured her. “You will never be forced to do anything you do not wish to do. Know that Kaira.” Jon said, but then in spite of his serious moment, he spun her one last time, “Well, I may entice you to a few unwarranted spins and dances.” He grinned.

Kyel pushed another smile forward to Lady Adrielle as she spoke of the seas by Farrest. “Are they warm in the summers?” He asked her, attempting to tease at her joy in discussing the ocean.

“Hardly,” Adrielle chuckled, “None of the seas in Valera are warm ever, Kyel.” She shook her head. “It is bearable, to swim in the summer. On days hot enough the cold is a relief. And by your home?”

“Not much water in Ironstone, a river trails by the base of the mountain.” He spoke simply, “I’d like to see any of you southerners attempt a swim in that water.” He said letting a true grin escape. As the song came to an end, Kyel stepped backwards, holding her hand and bent in a bow. “Go eat, perhaps another dance once our bellies have settled.” He offered before turning.

Kyel moved across the great room to take a seat beside Lady Vannbrek. A cup bearer came and poured him a generous cup of ale and Kyel nodded a thank you to the young lad. The next round of the feast was accompanied by crabs and many eastern spices. Chunks of chopped mutton were stewed before them with milk, carrots and onions and a mix of fresh fish tart. The tart was so fresh and hot from the oven it burned Kyel’s finger as he reached forward. He watched as Eric waved his hand summoning forth another singer to sing something about dancing with the gods. His gaze finally did turn to his old friend, and he glanced at her plate, “Does the smell of fish make you sick?” He asked her finally. “I recall when my mother was pregnant, fish made her upset. She couldn’t keep anything down when even in the same room as the stink.” He reached for another bite of the tart.

“Elisif?” He began again, “May I ask a rather personal question?” He said to her, his gaze was serious then, but he could not let his eyes wander, Elisif would catch on anyway, without his head directing her towards the true issue at hand. “Was it ever more than childhood fun to you?” He wondered. “I mean to ask,” Kyel cleared his throat, his blue eyes resting upon her green ones, “Why did we indulge one another… why did you indulge me when you knew we could never be?” He asked carefully.

 

[peritwinkle]

Kaira bit her lip playfully at Jon’s comment; his flirting came off as light-hearted rather than genuine, which warmed up her chest almost as much as the quick paced dancing. He was sweet and kind, and albeit fierce in battle with a bow, Kaira felt a strange need for protectiveness over him. He was around her age, perhaps only a year older if that, but his positivity made her own gloom appear as sisterly care. Beor was right in saying that he was not made for war; it was good that he had not come to inherit the seat at Riftmere, but his more diplomatic older brother had claimed it in his stead, allowing his brother a few more years to truly enjoy life.

His promise stung. Kaira knew he meant well, but she knew that not everyone shared his opinion. At some point, she would have to make the choice of staying by the new King’s side or living a life of her own, and if she chose the former, she would be forced to live under his rule. Even now, her mere presence was inciting heated arguments and flustered comments from other nobles who did not agree with her mere presence, let alone her more defiant nature. “Thank you, Jon,” was all she could muster as her expression softened. For the moment, she decided to believe him.

Once the dance came to an end, Jon was urged to break away from her and join his family at his family’s table, whereas Kaira turned to one of the tables arranged for the guests. Her eyes locked on Elisif rather quickly, now making room for Kyel to sit next to her, then they flickered to a familiar face to the left, clinking his glass with a boy who seemed around the age of squirehood.

Gavriel looked nothing like he did during their sparring. He was dressed nicely, with a fitted coat in a pretty shade of amber which emphasized his large, dark eyes. He had brushed his hair back and trimmed his beard for the event, making him easily blend in with the other Lords and nobles rather than fellow knights or soldiers. As she decided to walk towards him, his eyes lifted to meet her, and a bright smile washed over his features at her sight. He stood up, pulling one of the empty chairs back to make room for her to sit, which Kaira took with an elegant curtsy before she fell into the backrest.

“You look beautiful,” he commented. Kaira’s chest was still heaving from the dancing, and she looked at him with a smirk.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” she returned the compliment. “Hmm… I am so hungry.”

“Thank the Gods there is plenty to eat, then.”

She felt one of the servants slip up behind her to place a plate and a set of cutlery at her disposal, and at the offer of wine, Kaira held her glass up and allowed her to pour until it filled to the rim. She then bent over the table and sipped the very top before placing it down next to her plate and beginning to fill it with a few bites out of each dish the night had to offer. Everything smelled heavenly, and it tasted even better with a few sips of wine to wash each course down for a clean slate before the next. As she ate, she could feel Tokesten’s eyes on her every now and then; he was eating much more slowly, which made her wonder if he was doing so on purpose, but she did not care to adjust her speed. Every guest was too enamoured with their food and drinks to care to look at a famished Volur.

“I assume you will not be too busy dancing with other Lords to deny me the pleasure tonight,” he said as he cut into a piece of crab.

“Mm,” Kaira swallowed quickly and took a sip of the wine. “Definitely not. I was just telling Lord Pelletier I intend on comparing the two of you, see who’s better on his feet. Since you did not bother to invite me to watch you spar, it is the least I can entertain myself with.”

Tokesten chucked and shook his head. “I knew you were busy with Lady Elisif. I would not have-”

His voice cut off abruptly, and when Kaira turned away from her plate to look at him, she saw a young servant girl trembling over Tokesten with a half empty pitcher of wine in her hands.

“Forgive me, Ser! Forgive me, I slipped-”

“No need,” he sighed as he gently patted down the excess with a towel. He offered a smile to Kaira then, who looked at him with widened eyes and brimming cheeks. “I will return quickly. I should wash this off before the stain settles in.”

*​

Elisif was not hungry. She was ravenous, like a starved lioness who had not had a deer to hunt for far too long. When she noticed Kyel come to sit next to her from the corner of her eyes, she did not even bother to greet him, more absorbed by her plate of steak and berry sauce than his presence. Her cup had just been filled with warm eggnog, sending off a perfumed steam that intoxicated her, and as she dug into her course, all she could think of was washing it down with the long coveted drink.

It was his question that managed to stop the bite in her mouth from going down her throat, and for a brief moment, she just watched him with furrowed brows before finally gulping it. She took a good sip of the eggog as well, settled it back down almost aggressively on the table, then wiped her lips all whilst eyeing him in a combination of disbelief, confusion and amusement. “Are you truly asking me about a romance we both played at fifteen years ago?”

She folded her towel under her plate slowly. It was unlike Kyel to be so direct or sincere, which made her wonder what Adrielle had asked while they were dancing. Did she know of it, at all? She had to have been too young to know of such gossip, that even then was scarce and meaningless. Kaelan had made sure of it. She leaned against the backrest and canted her head at him. “We both cared for eachother. I suppose there was no place for disappointment if we knew from the start that it would, at some point, have to come to an end. You were good fun… The flirting and banter. I enjoyed being desired by two men. It made me feel powerful.”

Elisif smiled, thinking of Kaira. It was what she wanted for her, to enjoy herself as much as she could while she was still young and beautiful, and blissfully unconcerned by nobility rules. Was it why Kyel was asking her of their childhood fling? If what she had seen was true, then the history was repeating itself, now with a Volur whom he could never have forever. Not as long as he was Lord of Ironstone and the North.

 

[pointmango]

Adrielle had positioned herself by other visiting ladies. Her eyes shifted as she watched the peculiar woman that was Volur. She’d read of such beings, heard about them in stories, even heard of the current Royal Volur Leon, but to see one in person so open and ready to mingle with others was shocking. Adrielle thought she was proud, she looked far too smug when Lord Pelletier chose her to dance, as if she did not understand the motives of men while she was dressed for a brothel. It reminded her of the moment earlier when she had entered the court and Kyel’s eyes ravished her body. It was odd, such a look upon Miss Grimward and then to insist upon a dance with herself. Perhaps his hate for the woman ran that deep, or perhaps it was not hate at all. Adrielle had suspected in the council meeting there was something, but she was a Volur and he was Lord of the North, nothing could ever be.

Now the Volur sat beside Ser Tokesten, and he seemed to look upon her with admiration and a grin as she stuffed her mouth with food, unlike any lady should. The Ser seemed joyed by the moment, which she thought rather disgusting, especially since the Volur smiled all too smugly again. It was the first time Adrielle questioned her honor, was she really here to defeat the King alongside them, or was she simply relishing in a life of freedom the Greenwall Council allowed her to have.

A servant girl spilled wine suddenly over Ser Tokesten, and he politely excused himself. Adrielle took the opportunity to make a decision on the Volur herself, a conversation or two would surely give her some sort of indication of the woman’s intentions. Adrielle stode over to the seat where Ser Tokesten had been and sat gracefully and gently. “Kaira, right?” Adrielle asked, she knew her name, she also knew it was more proper to address her surname. “You look… cold,” She decided looking over the woman slightly. “I do hope you are enjoying the feast thus far. Riftmere has always had a much more extravagant display than Farrest, it is a treasure to come here.” Adrielle said.

Adrielle pushed forward another smile, but her eyes were not as friendly, “I must ask, what do you hope will happen after this war, Kaira?” She said, “At the council meeting your intentions seemed honorable, and quite intense. But here tonight, looking at you, dressed as if you are escorting for coin rather than honor, I wonder if you truly care about the future of Wendlyn and the North?”

*

At Elisif’s question Kyel’s eyes pleaded back at her, as if to say ‘please indulge me’. Her answer was plain and simple, and it didn’t satisfy him in the slightest even though he knew her words to be true to how she felt. Fun. Kyel knew back then he was more apt to having fun, and they shared a connection he had never known before. Kyel knew it as love, and she found it powerful. “Yes I suppose being desired by multiple men can be powerful.” He commented. He wondered if Kaira felt the same, he knew she was desired by at least himself and Gavriel, and other men looked at her with interest. He could not place the true intent of Jonathan Pelletier’s interests, but he seemed to be a contender for at least her attention.

Kyel missed Kaelan, the man would have notable advice for him. Even just a smack to the back of his head would be sufficient, but Kaelan would know what to say to lighten the weight upon his shoulders. He reached for his cup of wine and took another generous sip, “Do you remember when Kaelan tried to set me up with his cousin?” he asked a small smile on his lips. “Seemed almost every visit I made to you he was trying to set me up with someone. Do you think he felt bad for stealing my first love? Or was he just annoyed by my constant presence when I came to visit? I could hardly leave either of you alone.”

Then Kyel looked at Elisif, he let a smug smile appear to his lips, “I wonder, do you think the great Lord of Wendlyn would have chosen me had I been a woman?” Kyel teased now, it wouldn’t have mattered, she was betrothed to Kaelan at a young age, still it’d been too long since he’d bantered like this. “You may win with the golden hair, but I have nice eyes....” Kyel knew Elisif’s beauty was without question, and one of the first parts of her he had fallen for himself was her beautiful eyes. “I suppose not, I would make a rather burly woman actually.” He lifted his cup to the gods, a quiet thank you for his sex.

 

[peritwinkle]

Kaira’s food felt as though stuck in her throat as she watched Tokesten leave the room to clean himself. She was more angry with the mindless servant than the situation asked for, but she thought her too young and seemingly already too overwhelmed to withhold any more criticism atop the shame. Still, she could not help but feel some pity for the man, considering how put together he had made himself look for that very evening. She, herself, would not have minded it any other time, but knowing Elisif had gifted her the dress, she suddenly became more aware of her movement so as to protect the fine silk.

Somewhere in the distance, she saw a silhouette move towards her table, and as she lifted her eyes, they fell on the pretty face of Dame Sadelyn, whom she greeted with her lips pursed into a tight smile. As she came to claim Tokesten’s place, Kaira set her fork and knife down and straightened her back, turning to face her slightly. Was she so much more interesting to the woman than the food and wine? There was an air of vanity about her, in the way she held herself so straight and graceful, as if she could not tell it was all but an act. Something all Ladies did to appear more feminine, while silently imposing their title. She recognized it in Elisif, as well, although the woman’s elegance was undoubtedly inherent.

Her eyes narrowed as she began to speak. Adrielle knew her name all too well, so she suspected it was but a masked jab at her mistake from their first council. One jab after the other, and the smile that was once painted on Kaira’s lips disappeared, her expression now cold, apathetic. It was clear to her then that she had not come to ask her what she thought of the food or the entertainment provided by the Pelletiers. She saw the way she rested her palms in her lap, hidden and secretive, but as delicate as petals. She made no quick movements, but stood as still as a statue, only her lips moving and her eyes glimmering in the candlelight as if she were looking at a vitiated piece of dessert, not another woman.

It took every ounce of strength to calm the storm emerging within her. Kaira canted her head slightly and mustered a soft smile, only stretching one corner of her lip. She was good. Painfully stupid, but she could appreciate good competition. “I pity you, Dame Sadelyn,” Kaira nodded softly. “You seem so sad, caged up within your title and what is expected of you for that reason, that you seem to take it out on my freedom.” She turned towards her more, adjusting her posture to subtly display more of her silk dress. “Really odd that a woman preaching strength such as you would try to undermine one’s honor based on a piece of fabric. Though… Did you come all the way here only to insult me, or are you secretly hoping by sitting next to me you will be looked at as well?” She made a brief grimace and chuckled. “Oh, you should go before the indecency rubs off on you!”

Kaira then stood up and flashed her a smile. “You look very beautiful tonight, Dame Sadelyn,” she offered, before her expression stiffened abruptly. “I am no danger to you. But do not try to make an enemy out of me, because you will regret it.”

*​

Elisif returned to cutting up her steak and dipping it in the berry sauce as she listened to Kyel muse. He had either had too much to drink or nothing at all, and both possibilities worried her. He had changed quite a lot since their childhood, considerably more calculated and solemn now, but she felt as though a certain someone contributed to her gloom more than his maturity.

She recalled the way Kaelan offered to match him up with a wife or a mistress, and how Kyel always denied it so politely, that Kaelan believed he was merely not interested in the options he presented. As he had said often times - ‘It would take a dozen women from all across Valera to compose the beauty in one inch of Elisif’s skin.’ He boasted about her to everyone he met, and they all seemed to agree without question, married or not, be it men or women who were listening to him then. “Kaelan only wanted the best for you,” she decided simply. “He believed you were worthy of a good woman, one just as beautiful and intelligent as myself, and a brave one as well. Not just a damsel that struggles to pick up a bowl of water.”

A few good bites of the steak down, she leaned back in her chair melancholically. She was so full she could barely even laugh at his joke, and now her belly felt twice as big, solidifying her pick for a loose material from the bosom down. “You make too good of a man,” she sighed with a light chuckle. “But I am not sure whether you could ever steal Kaelan, you see… He was quite fond of my green eyes.”

Elisif looked at him then, and in the light of the candles and torches in the dining hall, he looked just as young as when she had first fallen for him. Now, her love had turned to care, and what she saw in him was but pleasant memories encased in a solitary soul. “People will want you to marry soon, Kyel,” she said then. “They will want you to marry someone with a good name, from a good family. They will not care if she is strong or weak, smart or dimwitted… But from the bottom of my heart, I tell you not to listen to them, and marry a woman you love. Even if you might end up caring for a stranger you did not like at first, you could grow to hate her just as easily. And a life without love is not worth living.”

 

[pointmango]

Adrielle glared at Kaira then, she truly was a smug woman. Displaying herself like a piece of meat, had she not been a high table someone may have mistaken her for an escaped whore. Her comment about being looked at as well caused another flare within Adrielle, did she mean in general? Or someone in particular? Adrielle lifted her chin slightly as Kaira wanted her not to make an enemy of her. Yes she knew all too well the woman possessed the talent of magic.

“My apologies for any connotations of my words. I only hope the best for you, Kaira.” She said sourly. She decided the volur was thick skulled, she thought she was special because of her gift bared to her by the gods. She was special because she spit magic from her hand as a baby. Adrielle had worked hard for her position. She studied, and learned until her brain felt as though it would bleed. She attended classes and apprenticed many officials to earn her title and perfect her craft of knowledge. She endured the words of patronizing men and tutors, and the Volur was pampered in Yllevad. “Do not rise, I will leave. I hope your friend does return.” She commented as she stood up and moved back towards Lenda and Islea.

*

Kyel nodded when she said Kaelan wanted the best for him. He knew, he was truly a great man. Kyel would not wish Elisif with anyone else. He cherished her better than Kyel ever could have. “Do not sell yourself short,” Kyel commented to Elisif quickly, “You are the bravest woman I know.” Now more than ever. But Kyel would spare her the thought of raising a child without her beloved.

But Elisif's joking tone turned more serious, and Kyel’s jaw tensed at the thought of marriage. He knew his time was running short, it had run short years ago. And then her advice, his face burned hot around his eyes and he tore his gaze away from Elisif’s to his fish tart, his fork pressed deep within the crumble. Her words were true, but it was more complicated and she knew that. What was she suggesting? “I have a duty to my people Elisif.” he said, his voice softer than he intended.

Kyel’s next thoughts grew dark, with the looming war and his presence within it, a decision may not be necessary. And if a decision were not necessary then why shouldn’t he do as he please, Feel as felt, and indulge in whatever he wished? He let out a shallow laugh then, “If only I could die an old maid,” He wanted to change the subject of their discussion. He was certain her words would ring within his ears for days and there was nothing more frustrating. “I would spend my days in Elvgard and teach your son to ride and fight like his father.” Kyel told her, “Or daughter, perhaps more dangerous than a son when blessed with her mother’s beauty.” He let out another sigh, taking another long sip of his wine, “I wish you could dance, nothing distracts the mind more than a dance.”

 

[peritwinkle]

Kaira caught the small shift in Adrielle’s expression at her response, but she could not tell whether she was surprised or content her venom had been returned so easily. Had she expected her to tremble and lose her voice? The corners of her lips curled up. The woman was intelligent, no doubt, but seemed to put herself on such a high pedestal, unaware that it came with certain expectation she did not meet. She and Elisif might share their fortune, but she did not have half the honor and distinction of the latter. As the woman excused herself and turned away, Kaira watched her attentively, still standing up at her table, her guard high.

It was only when Gavriel walked back into the dining hall that Kaira allowed herself to break her glare away from Adrielle and softened it to meet him. His coat was visibly wet, but the amber fabric masked the stain perfectly. It now clung slightly tighter to his form, emphasizing the shape of his sculpted muscles beneath. Kaira thought it was a good distraction; she could not deny Tokesten was so much more good looking than he let on in his leather armor and loose undershirts. The way he strode, holding himself high, his chest pushed forward and his lips in a soft simper, oddly enough it reminded her of someone else.

“I am sorry for leaving,” Gavriel lowered his head to her as he came to their table.

“No need. A dance?”

He seemed surprised by the offer, or perhaps more surprised by the fact that she had invited him. Most of the guests had already finished eating, and even her own gut weighed heavier after the generous meal, but she longed to get her mind away from what had just happened moments before he returned. The man offered her his arm without hesitation, the visible intrigue in his expression only glowing brighter as she touched him, and he gently pulled her away from the seats and into the middle of the hall, where only two other couples were swinging to a mild, romantic tune. One of his hands came around her middle, pressing against through the silk against the soft skin beneath, while the other held hers, their fingers now braided together securely as he began swaying her.

“You look distressed,” he murmured to her, his voice almost inaudible over the music.

Kaira pulled herself closer to him and smiled. “Not at all. I suppose full. Though I regret to see that your coat was ruined, it looks… expensive.”

Gavriel shrugged. “It was old, anyway. It is time for a change. I never thought shades of orange looked good on me, anyway.”

Kaira opened her mouth to disapprove, but her gaze was caught by a dark form somewhere behind his shoulders, in the clamor that was forming at the edge of the table as guests were finishing their meals and resuming their mingling, yet as she focused her eyes, it looked like nothing but a shadow against a wall. Her brows furrowed. She could swear she had seen someone dressed in black, yet all that the guests were wearing were bright hues, nothing too dark that could be mistaken for something one would wear grieving rather than for the Last Harvest.

“Kaira?”

Her neck tensed and she quickly returned her attention to him. “Forgive me,” she said, “I thought I saw someone.”

“I suppose talking of my home is quite boring,” he chuckled. “I admit. It is boring to listen to it, but I have such a large family that I don’t think I will ever regret my choice of leaving my land to them.”

“You don’t live with your family?” Kaira asked. She found it odd that he would pick a soldier’s room at court over a whole piece of land and servants to his name.

“I haven’t since Lord Kaelan took me under his wing. And with his death… I believe I still have a duty to protect Lady Elisif, in his name. But that place is way too spacious for me, I much prefer the city…”

She felt the room turn cold and grey. Suddenly, the heat within her limbs was replaced by cold tendrils slipping up beneath the thin fabric of her dress. Once again, from the corner of her eye she spotted the same form, yet this time, it stopped to look at her, and Kaira recognized that face all too well, from the dark, satiny locks of hair pressed to his forehead, to the armour of black steel down to his feet, and in the the air she could feel his scent, a musky pepper, salt and sea.

Her heart skipped a beat.

She could no longer hear the music. Kaira broke away from Gavriel, her hands trembling around her, ready to protect herself if needed. A woman passed in front of him, and his shape vanished once again, but as she looked around, it reappeared once again as the man in front of her, so close she could hear him speak indiscernible words with a voice she did not recognize as his. “Do not touch me,” Kaira shouted at Alastair, but the man only got closer and closer, with heavy steps booming against the stone floor. “Do not get near me. I am no longer yours to do what you want with. I am not yours, never have been.” Her voice trembled and she felt herself press against a table somewhere behind her, but she did not care to look. The voices in her head only grew louder, unbearable, reverberating through her ears like battle horns.

“DO NOT GET NEAR ME!” she called again, but Alastair did not hear. His eyes narrowed and his lips turned up in a sickening smirk. He was not there. He could not be, and yet his presence felt as real as the floor beneath her and the air she breathed in.

*

A duty to his people. Elisif shook her head slightly, but she did not care to criticize his thinking. Kyel was one of the most honourable men she had met, who would rather live an empty life than disappoint his people. The thought of it made her rethink her choices every now and then; she had always put herself and Kaelan first, and now the health of her unborn child. People came and went, and could easily abandon her if they disapproved of her actions. She would rather stay surrounded by three people who truly loved and supported her, rather than a hundred disloyal and close-minded. She let out a soft sigh as she took another sip of the eggnog. Sometimes, she wished she could give a spark of her own fire to him, see him live a little.

Her ears perked up slightly at the mention of a dance. “I am not that big, Kyel,” she said as she wiped her lips. “I can still dance.”

And would have, had the music not stopped.

Elisif’s eyes flickered to the middle of the hall, where she saw Kaira walking backwards and away from Ser Tokesten, her expression absolutely horrified, while the man looked at her as though she were a lunatic. Immediately, she shot up on her feet and looked at Kyel, in a silent demand for him to break whatever argument seemed to have gotten her so shaken. Strange. She new Gavriel all too well, from when he was but a squire; that man would not hurt a woman outside the context of battle, not even in a fair sparring match. She felt her chest tighten and her gut twist. Something was wrong, and she doubted it had something to do with the poor man.

 

[pointmango]

Kyel’s gaze drew distracted as Elisif spoke to him, he noticed a new pair moving to dance and could not be more displeased with the sight. He tried to turn his head and focus on Elisif’s words, but Kaira had smiled, and quickly her gaze changed. What could Gavriel have said to elicit such a facial expression? She looked tense, perhaps Gavriel had made the mistake of a wrong comment to Kaira, something Kyel found himself doing frequently. He straightened his gaze to Elisif, and at the mention of a dance he would have agreed, ready to apologize for assuming when his head turned as he heard Kaira’s outburst.

He was on his feet within moments, she stepped away from Ser Tokensten and her words were cryptic and desperate. The music stopped and Kyel wasted no time stepping forward, he came to the center of the floor where she and Tokesten stood, the man looked just as confused as everyone else. Kyel’s hand still came to the Knight’s chest and pushed him back aggressively. “Back up,” he said in a loud and deep voice.

His entire body now turned to face Kaira, she was looking forward, scared and trembling. Her eyes were almost in a daze and he moved towards her slowly. She had backed herself into a table and seemingly had nowhere to go. “Kaira,” he said, now his tone was lower, just loud enough for her to hear him, “What is it? What do you see?” he asked her in a dangerously calm tone as he took two more steps towards the woman, his arms out before him, facing forward and upward.

 

[peritwinkle]

Everything was a blur around her but him. The room was dark, cold and somber, much like the time she had used her inner sight to look through Kaelan’s office, though this time, she had done nothing of the sort, but seemed as though she had been dragged into that reality by another’s hand. Alastair stood tall and proud, smug, watching her tremble in fear as she struggled to get as far away from him as possible. His lips said nothing, but the voices in her head were so loud, she could not even hear her own breathing and heartbeat over the deafening whispers. It took everything within her power to focus on the words, but she felt as though floating in a vivid dream, unable to control what her mind chose to focus on.

No, he could not be there. Her rationality tried to keep her grounded, but it felt impossible to prove it right. She could smell him, and he was getting so close to her that if she bent forward just slightly, she could reach out to touch him. “Why are you in my head?!” she shouted at him. “How are you in my head?!” Leon. It had to be him, but she could not understand how a Volur could torment another Volur from such a distance. Unless he had somehow managed to slither somewhere close enough, but the possibility was too low. She would have been dead by now. She had betrayed Alastair. He would have taken no chance before killing her.

His hands came forward, trying to grab her, and Kaira let out a loud shout, falling to her knees as a wave of wind rippled in a circle around her. She heard the faint thund of a chair, a softer voice calling out her name. Nothing was there but him, and the gust of wind had barely staggered him. “Do not come near me,” she growled then, and her fingers searched to grab something solid to protect herself with, a fallen knife or the tail of a spoon, but she found nothing. “I can kill you, you know I can. It is why you kept me. This is the monster YOU created!”

 

[pointmango]

Kyel’s brow furrowed trying to figure it out, it was like she wasn’t here. She stood before him, but her eyes were not here. She flustered at her surroundings and Kyel took another step forward, but his step retreated when she bent forward slightly. She began shouting about someone being in her head. He had his own ideas of what was going on now, but how? It didn’t matter, he needed to pull her from the trance.

Then she fell and a sharp wind escaped from her, and Kyel almost fell over, he would have if his feet were not planted so soundly. She was gone, lost in her head, or someone else was taking over her head. Kyel could hear gasps from the silence of the crowd at her yells. He had to get her out of here, away from prying eyes. His body tensed, making himself as hard and stiff as he could and he moved towards Kaira now, in one swift motion he wrapped his arms around hers, pushing her to the floor completely. He was trying to stiffen the woman herself. It was little help, but he was unsure if she could produce deadly magic in such a trance. One hand moved to her face, gripping her chin, “Look at me,” he whispered, “Focus on me,” he tried. His hands came to hers, pinning her slightly still afraid she might press magic from those palms. As his hands moved off of hers, her ring slipped off and she was less tense for a moment. Kyel took the opportunity.

He said nothing and his arms wrapped tighter around her and lifted her, keeping her arms tight by her side. “Focus,” he whispered to her as he began carrying her towards the large doors of the Riftmere great hall. He heard yells then, “Traitor!” A voice called. “She’s dangerous!” another said. “Unpredictable!” more voices and more shouts came and Kyel kept his arms tight around her. Her room was closer than his own, and he moved quickly as he carried her up two flights of stairs and immediately opened the door to her room.

Inside he finally set her down, and his hands came to her face over each cheek. His jaw was tight and his eyes serious as they looked into her deep blue eyes, searching for the daze he saw earlier. “Kaira, are you there?” He asked her in a short and serious huff.

 

[peritwinkle]

Kaira felt her head bang against the hard stone floor and a weight pin her down. As she struggled to look up at the form looming above her, all she could see was the dark eyes of Alastair, his gaze scourging her mercilessly, like a lion ready to strike its prey.

‘Look at me.’

The voice that spoke next was not his. Kaira felt something inside her light up and burn at the sound of it. The dark eyes looming above her lightened to a pale blue, and the black smoke poisoning the smoke lifted. The man Kaira was looking at was no longer the King, but Kyel, his expression both terrified and concerned, yet in spite of his fear, he stood so close to her, she could feel his breath against her skin. She could not tell whether what she saw was real anymore, or at the very least any more real than what she had seen only seconds before.

Her limbs felt weak, as if she had just ran across a battlefield with armour weighing her down. She felt him lift her up, and she did not oppose being carried; she doubted she could walk properly, or at the very least not make a fool of herself even more than she just had. The people around them were silent, with the occasional protest against what they had just witnessed, but she immediately buried her head in Kyel’s shoulder and closed her eyes, forcing herself to become aware of touch, smell and sounds that now were, indeed, real.

The change in lighting that filtered through her closed lids reassured her that they were away from the hall and in a smaller room, where the air felt warmer, lighter and smelled of fresh linen and pine. He eventually dropped her, and Kaira planted herself steadily on her feet while pressing her palms against his chest for support. Looking up to him, she could see the fear still lingering in his eyes, but he masked it so well that, perhaps, if she had not known his past, she would be convinced he did not fear her at all. “I am fine.” She lifted her hands to wrap around his wrists and remove his from her cheeks, before slowly stepping away and falling down on the bed behind her. It was not her room, which lead her to believe he had taken her to his, slightly closer to the hall than her own.

“They despise me,” she breathed out. Her heart was still beating quickly and her soles were numb and cold. “As if I hadn’t already given them enough reasons to not trust me… He got into my head, Kyel. I don’t know how he did it, but he got into my head. If they find out, if they know… They will not trust me with intelligence again.”

 

[pointmango]

Her hands moved to his chest and he could feel the pressure. She was not steady, but her hands came to his wrists soon and released herself from his grasp. His jaw nearly trembled when she said she was ‘fine’. And his nostrils flared as she was anything but fine. She flopped back on the bed behind her and Kyel turned his body to keep himself from looking over her as she lay on the bed.

But when she spoke his name he turned back to her, and he moved to the foot of the bed, so he could learn over it slightly and look down upon her face. “They don’t understand you,” he replied almost instantly. “It doesn’t matter what they all think, only what our council believes.” His hand came to the bed, shifting beside her shoulder and he leaned down a hair more, “What happened Kaira,” he asked her very quietly. “You may not know how… but what did you see?” He asked her.

His brow furrowed in nothing but concern, he wondered if he were still in her head? Was it the King? Or Leon? Both? He had so many questions, and yet the most important was if she felt safe now. He wanted to reach his other hand forward, to trace the soft skin along her forearm all the way up to her shoulder and ask her what she was thinking. He could never tell and he never knew what to expect either. He wondered if the others would come to check on her? They didn’t know where he had taken her. And he heard the music finally begin again, faint from his room, which meant Eric must’ve passed over the issue and continued the feast.

 

[peritwinkle]

Kaira’s head turned to him as he mentioned the council and she let out a huff before looking away. “I could name one person in that council now that would gladly have me thrown to the wolves.” Adrielle was likely boiling in anticipation for the emergency gathering that would likely be called the next morning after everyone was sober and had had the chance to eat some breakfast and recall the chaos. The council served the people. If the majority considered her a threat, then they could not simply ignore their demand and stride forward in full force. However, it was not the standbyers that fought in the war, and dangerous or not, Kaira was their only weapon against Alastair. Not even an advantage, but as a means to balancing out the odds.

She let out another soft breath in an attempt to calm the quick drumming in her chest. Looking up to him, she nestled her head more comfortably into the pillow. “I thought I saw Alastair,” she explained. “It was so vivid… real. I could even smell him. And there were whispers, but loud, so loud I could not hear the music, but I could not understand what they were saying.” She closed her eyes for a moment. His closeness was oddly comforting. “Then I felt you grab me, and I heard your voice, which I suppose grounded me.” Then, Kaira opened her eyes again. “I used magic. They will think I tried to attack you.”

There was still wine in her system that, combined with the soft mattress beneath, lured her to sleep. She abruptly shot up from the bed and walked towards the window on the other side of the room, leaning against the sill and looking at her reflection in the glass. “You should go back to the feast, tell them I just had a vision… Or a fit. Tell them I was drunk if that’s what they will believe.” The latter made her jaw tense. “Maybe you could bring me something strong on your way back.”

The fabric clinging on her curves was suddenly uncomfortably tight. As she looked at herself, she no longer saw the strong, untouchable woman who had jabbed back at Dame Sadelyn so confidently. She looked worn out, pale, her hair messed up as if she had just finished escorting a man for coin. ‘No, she is wrong.’ Her nostrils flared. She refused to let her comments get to her head. She recalled the way Jon had touched her and how Gavriel had looked at her that night; she was wanted, but she still held the power over who had her, something which a noble lady could only dream of. Her only advantage over her was freedom.

 

[pointmango]

The King. She saw Alastair in the Riftmere hall as clear as day. He had pulled her back to reality and he felt his chest tighten. “No one will think that.” He spoke, but this time he wasn’t sure. She shot up and his eyes followed her as she moved to the window on the other side of his room. She wished for him to leave, and she looked at herself so sadly within the window. She was a fool if she thought he would leave her after all of that.

Kyel stepped forward towards her, his form coming behind her as his arm reached forward. His own hand pressed to the waist of her reflection on the window. His other hand to her actual waist, “I am not leaving,” he informed her. His eyes, which were studying the slope of her shoulder, lifted and his eyes met hers through the window’s reflection now. It was faint, but he could still see those dark orbs, again he couldn’t read them. His hand on her waist moved to touch her wrist very gently, and slid over the fingers of her hand, engulfing her small hand in his own. “You promised me a dance,” he reminded her.

He turned her to face him, pulling her away from the window by her hand. The music was soft, mostly just the bass of the sound played through the floors, a horn here and there, the melody of whatever tune it was, it was so soft, but if they were quiet it could be heard. “We can discuss your vision with clear minds tomorrow.” He whispered then. Kyel let one hand come to her back modestly, but he pulled her quite close against himself, their torso’s touching. She still seemed weak on her feet and both his hands moved to her waist carefully lifting her so both her feet were on top of his, their bodies pressed flush together now.

Kyel’s steps were slower than the pace the music indicated. He’d seen her dance with Jon, even the beginning of her dance with Tokesten, she could move freely when led correctly. His purpose now was to relax her. “Could he harm you?” Kyel whispered then, “In a vision like that... or a trance?” his jaw tensed slightly as he realized this was probably not relaxing her.

 

[peritwinkle]

Kaira watched Kyel come to stand behind her through their reflection in the glass. His hand came to her waist and she felt the muscles in her back stiffen at the touch, before relaxing once again and leaning back closer to his own body. She knew he would not leave. He was too protective of her to risk it, and although she would have liked a drink before bed, she needed his presence more than alcohol. She then felt his hand shift to touch her own, before gently twisting her around and having her face him again in person, not just through the safety of their mirrored bodies in the window.

A dance. Kaira was too weak to laugh, so she settled for a soft smile. He looked so innocent right then, and she truly appreciated him not pushing her for answers like Jon would have done. She could not understand how he valued her comfort and wellbeing over such crucial information, but she did not oppose the change of subject. Still, she did not think of herself as lively enough to settle for another dance that night. His arms came around her to pull her up with her feet on his own, before he began swaying the two of them together, in an attempt to take away her effort and place it upon himself. Kaira leaned in closer and pressed her forehead beneath his jaw, nestling her nose in the crook of his neck. His scent hit her again, and the heat of his skin awakened something within her she had not felt since their first sparring match.

At his question, a chuckle did eventually escape her lips, albeit weak and quiet. “You said no talk of my vision, and now you’re asking me of it?” She sighed softly. “No, he cannot. But it felt so real, that I could not think clearly in the moment. It was impossible to convince myself he was not really there.” What worried her most was that he had not done it alone, but with Leon’s help, which made her wonder what he had done to earn such betrayal towards her out of him. Had he caught on to his tendencies of going around his orders? Had he worded it in some way that left no room for hesitation or avoidance? If it was so, she could no longer be certain that she was safe from Leon in the circumstances of a real battle.

Kaira decided to shake the thought out of her head for the time being. It was late, she was a glass of wine in, and her judgement was not entirely intact. She decided to shift her worries onto something else, and Adrielle’s words returned to her mind once again. “Do you think I look cheap?” she asked Kyel then. “Indecent. Shameful. Did that ever cross your mind when you saw me walk into the dining hall?”

Those were never words that she could use to describe him, Elisif or any other noble she had come across. Kyel looked regal in his coat; frankly, he always looked distinguished, regardless of the clothes he wore. She recalled one day when they were riding against the sun: his fur cape trembled in the wind, tickling his chiseled jaw, and his expression was so stern, so elegant, that one could mistake him for a marble statue. She looked up to him again, in the hopes of finding the same sight, and she was not disappointed. Her fingers trailed over the embellished rim of his coat and the fine details embroidered into the fabric. The blue details reminded her of the necklace she wore, which made her wonder if he had picked it on purpose.

 

[pointmango]

She leaned her head into him and he could smell the familiar scent of her hair. He wished to press his face into the brown locks, but he willed his eyes forward, able to focus on their reflection and her exposed back in the window, keeping his hand in a modest position. Her chuckle pulled him back to her, but her sigh came and so did her answer. He still wished it were an excuse he could lay beside her another night.

His own chest was warm from the many cups of wine he indulged in, and he was pondering over if she would ever be safe from Alastair’s reach unless he were dead. Kyel had wanted the King dead his entire life, he had wanted it for his people and for his home. And now he wanted it for another reason entirely. But his brows lifted in confusion almost startled by her next question. His eyes moved back to the reflection in the window, he had to will his hand not to drift this time, “Many things crossed my mind when you entered the dining hall. Cheap, indecent and shameful were not any of the words that crossed my mind.” He spoke seriously.

His eyes looked down into hers then, tilting his head downward to see those blue eyes studying him. One of his hands lifted to the side of her neck, his thumb coming beneath her chin to lift her head slightly. Kyel dipped his head, his forehead pressing into hers, “Beautiful, powerful,” he said remembering Elisif’s feelings, and his suspicion Kaira felt the same way, “Free,” he whispered the last word, omitting the true word he had thought of, forbidden.

Kyel’s thumb pressed her chin up further, his lips brushing hers, “Kaira,” he spoke in a low rolling tone as his hand finally sank lower on her waist, feeling the smooth skin of her bare back as his eyes closed. Kyel pressed his lips to hers finally, beginning slowly, but impatience took him over and he deepened the kiss.

 

[peritwinkle]

Kyel’s voice was gentle, quiet, like a lullaby in her ears that pulled her closer and closer to him. As he spoke, she felt his breath against her lips, heated, and all she could think of was pressing her own lips against his. She wondered if he could see the yearning in her eyes and in the way she studied him longingly. Was he aware of what he did to her head while being so close? Seeing him then, towering over her in a silent, hungry demand, all she wished to know was that she belonged to him, but deep within her heart she knew he could not belong to her. It was only an illusion of love.

His lips finally crushed against her own and she responded just as eagerly, lifting her hands to run her fingers through his hair. She felt dazed, inebriated, like his mere presence stopped her from thinking straight. The sound of her name rolling on his tongue made her skin heat up beneath the now uncomfortably tight silk. She wanted him to call her name again, to hear his voice again, the same voice that had grounded her in the hall and broken her from that vile trance. She wished she could tell him to do so, but her lips refused to break away from his this time, and her hands continued to explore fervently down his jaw and reaching the crook of his neck beneath the collar of his coat.

Then, finally finding the strength to move back just an inch, she looked him in the eye and guided his hand to her shoulder, tugging at the fabric covering it suggestively before pressing her forehead against his again. Was that what he wanted of her? She did not fear he would push her away, for a part of her knew it was what played in both of their minds. Wine or not, she knew she wanted him, but the desire had remained dormant until then, and would likely resume it’s slumber in the morning, when rationality took over again. But until then, she wanted to imagine he belonged to her, even if it was just a foolish dream.