Chapter 70
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Zorion breathed heavily in his sleep, his breath tickling at Usoa's ear as she jostled the boy back on her her shoulder. After hours of rich food and entertainment, Zorion and Izar had fallen asleep, snuggled among their siblings. Ochoa had carried the heavier Izar back for her mother while Usoa gathered her sleeping brother. Dosar had fretted, pointing out the many servants that could help and the twins had been aghast, their mother would never.
Embarrassed, the mousy woman had let Ochoa carry the girl back to bed as Usoa dismissed herself with her own charge. Alone she had made her way back to the Garden, slipping into cool darkness of the familiar space she had grown up in.
She slowed on her walk, taking in the fountains and walkways lined with bright, sturdy plants. She passed closed halls, ready to be swept out for children that grew past their nurseries, just like her, but hadn't been married yet. Will Naia move into my little rooms, she thought as she reached the hall where her mother and younger siblings still stayed. Mixtel would be put out of the Garden soon, he was too old and would be sent to train in his powers, as Ochoa had been.
She frowned, turning down the hall that she had lived in until her brother had been removed and she had been granted her rooms. A nanny waited at the nursery to receive the boy and watch over him while he slept but Usoa put him to bed herself, laying him upon the pillows and covering him with the sheet after removing his clothes.
Maybe I'll visit with him tonight, she mused before brushing the idea away. No, I should check on the darktellers. Something is off with them, she thought, chewing her lip.
Her brother to bed, she left the nursery and followed the dark halls to her own rooms. The cat, a ball of fluff, greeted her with purrs and the brush of her sleek body against her legs.
"Hello there, Little," Usoa chirped, knowing that the animal heard none of it as she bent, lifting her into her arms. She scratched the cat's head, between its ears. "I'll have to find a new home for you," she said sadly. "Maybe if Naia moves in she can take care of you," she hummed. It was too early for the girl to have her own space, really, but then, it was too early for Esti to marry as well and yet, all their lives were changing to suit that reality. "It's not such a sacrifice for that girl to come here," she mused the purring the animal.
"I can put the idea into her head," she mused darkly as she pushed aside her curtains and entered her rooms. A servant had been around, leaving light and fresh drinking water for her along with some fruits.
She put the cat down and picked up a piece of fruit, peeling off the hard rind as she watched the cat clean herself. She ate slowly, the sticky juice running over her fingers but acting as the perfect end for a night of heavy food. She drank the water and sighing, began to undress.
She started with her hair and paused, her hand on the strange comb. With a gentle tug, it came free from her hair and she turned it in the light of the lamp, inspecting it closer.
The jewels were deep, blood red, each one shaped like a teardrop and their faceted depths made endless mirrors and pools that drew her in until she forced herself to come back, to take the piece in as a whole. Their were seven of them, formed into a pattern that made a flower but with the rounded ends connecting to a center and the points spanning outwards. Each had been individually set inside the gold, the metal warm and heavy in her hand. The detail, seamless as if stone and metal were one, the faceted surface seemed as if it were simply grown that way, mined from the earth in perfect, light refracting patterns.
This is from the Earth realm, she realized. It had not been crated by hands but with magic. The gift of such a fine thing was rare, the realm did little trade with any other, the people had no need for most of what the world offered. "A fortune," she hummed to herself running her fingers over the gems before she paused. "Then this is from the prince."
She frowned as she remembered Guifre's eyes, focused and burning on her, the gaze somehow heavier than the touch of Lloren's shadows. The warmth of the metal took on a new, sick feeling, to heavy in her hand.
She rushed into the bedroom and shoved the comb into her trunk, burying it under clothing that had already been packed for her journey. She couldn't leave it, it was a gift too fine, but she couldn't bear to touch it either.
She shuddered as she closed the lid. He must have ordered Lloren to give me that, the rumors are correct, she frowned. But why? Esti is close in age to Guifre, one dreamweaver is as good as any other, there's no reason for this, she bit her lip.
She turned, yawning, to her bed as she reached for the shoulder of the borrowed gown and stopped. There, atop her pillow, sat a scrap of paper, folded in half.
She reached for it, sliding it open. In trembling but familiar letters, it read, large south garden, third night sound.
She crumpled the paper up, a flash of anger shooting through her. Of course he would call me tonight, of course he would expect me to come to him after what he did!
She growled and turned, forgetting her own sleepiness and stalked out of her bedroom.
She moved swiftly through the dark halls, third sound had happened a little over an hour ago, while she was still at the feast with most of the palace. Of course Ferran had not been invited and would likely not have come anyway as he would be recovering from his punishment.
Although she was sure that hidden guards waited down the halls, she took the main paths, the most direct course to where she went. There was no longer any reason to be secretive, Ferran had, without her permission, exposed their relationship and if she chose to meet with him late at night, well, it was nothing for any part of the Emperor's court to be concerned with.
She slipped into the south wing without a single soul stopping her. The air became even more empty and dry as the fountains in the wing had all been shut off years ago, when the wing had fallen into disuse. Why her father had decided that the area should not be used remained a mystery to her.
She stepped through the gates into the garden, a joke, if there ever was one.
As the wing had fallen into disuse, so had the garden. Without water, whatever plants had been left there had withered ages ago. Without the bustle of life, the desert had come back to reclaim its land, covering the soil and paths with itself. Soon, it would pass through the gates and start eating the entire south end of the palace. The only things that remained were the stone seats that waited here and there and the dry fountains but Usoa knew that overtime, even these things would be reclaimed.
She found Ferran waiting at one stone bench, his face forward, eyes focused on the way she would come.
He stood as she came closer and in the bright moonlight, she could see his features, brows drawn together, lips pressed down, nostrils flared. Anger. He had drawn himself to his full height as she approached.
"You're late," he hissed. "Do you know how long I've been waiting for you? Or were you too busy enjoying wine and fine food while I was in agony over you?"
She paused in front of him, his fine features twisted in his barely contained rage. For a moment Usoa wondered what she had seen in him before remembering that she had relented to his advances before because he had been handsome and tall but mostly she had been bored and curious. Now he sneered at her and she understood her father's anger at his rudeness.
She recognized the sting in her palm before she realized that she had slapped him. Her hand had struck him hard enough to turn his face, his twisted lips, away from her. She rubbed the sting with her thumb, waiting for him to turn back to her.
His were wide, shocked at her attack.
You are a fool, she signed swiftly. I did not ask, I did not want you to do that. I do not want you!
"How can you say that? Because I was angry? I have a right! But now you want to toss our love like garbage? Why? Because that Dark prince has his eye on you?"
We were not in love, she said slowly realizing the truth. You just hoped to change your status with me and I should have been wiser. She shook her head, it was too late for that. Now we are stuck together and if you want to keep your life, then you will treat me properly. Do not ever summon me in the middle of the night again.
He blinked slowly. "What? You're my woman! I need to see you!"
She shook her head. I'm no one's woman! If you want to stay alive, you'll court me properly. I'll play along so you can keep your head but when we arrive in the Dark, that ends, do you understand?
He looked at her, brows knit, head tilted as if she were a stranger that he he had stumbled on for the first time and then he grinned. He gripped her loose hair in his fist and tugged on it, not quite gently. "I misjudged you."
She smacked his hand away and nodded, agreeing with him and realizing her own folly all in one.
He bowed, formal and cold, "Princess, I will see again, soon."
Uneasiness swept through her with the cool night wind of the desert as he rose. He paused for a moment and walked past her.
She did not turn, instead she moved forward, deeper into the ruined garden, deeper into the desert. As she walked, the markers of civilization smoothed and disappeared under sand, one by one until finally she reached the last bench, the last dry fountain.
She sat on the stone, her head tilted towards the empty basin for a moment, thinking of small fish before turning to look out into the blue darkness of the desert. She breathed deeply of the night air and when her heart slowed, she stood and turned back to the palace.
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Zorion breathed heavily in his sleep, his breath tickling at Usoa's ear as she jostled the boy back on her her shoulder. After hours of rich food and entertainment, Zorion and Izar had fallen asleep, snuggled among their siblings. Ochoa had carried the heavier Izar back for her mother while Usoa gathered her sleeping brother. Dosar had fretted, pointing out the many servants that could help and the twins had been aghast, their mother would never.
Embarrassed, the mousy woman had let Ochoa carry the girl back to bed as Usoa dismissed herself with her own charge. Alone she had made her way back to the Garden, slipping into cool darkness of the familiar space she had grown up in.
She slowed on her walk, taking in the fountains and walkways lined with bright, sturdy plants. She passed closed halls, ready to be swept out for children that grew past their nurseries, just like her, but hadn't been married yet. Will Naia move into my little rooms, she thought as she reached the hall where her mother and younger siblings still stayed. Mixtel would be put out of the Garden soon, he was too old and would be sent to train in his powers, as Ochoa had been.
She frowned, turning down the hall that she had lived in until her brother had been removed and she had been granted her rooms. A nanny waited at the nursery to receive the boy and watch over him while he slept but Usoa put him to bed herself, laying him upon the pillows and covering him with the sheet after removing his clothes.
Maybe I'll visit with him tonight, she mused before brushing the idea away. No, I should check on the darktellers. Something is off with them, she thought, chewing her lip.
Her brother to bed, she left the nursery and followed the dark halls to her own rooms. The cat, a ball of fluff, greeted her with purrs and the brush of her sleek body against her legs.
"Hello there, Little," Usoa chirped, knowing that the animal heard none of it as she bent, lifting her into her arms. She scratched the cat's head, between its ears. "I'll have to find a new home for you," she said sadly. "Maybe if Naia moves in she can take care of you," she hummed. It was too early for the girl to have her own space, really, but then, it was too early for Esti to marry as well and yet, all their lives were changing to suit that reality. "It's not such a sacrifice for that girl to come here," she mused the purring the animal.
"I can put the idea into her head," she mused darkly as she pushed aside her curtains and entered her rooms. A servant had been around, leaving light and fresh drinking water for her along with some fruits.
She put the cat down and picked up a piece of fruit, peeling off the hard rind as she watched the cat clean herself. She ate slowly, the sticky juice running over her fingers but acting as the perfect end for a night of heavy food. She drank the water and sighing, began to undress.
She started with her hair and paused, her hand on the strange comb. With a gentle tug, it came free from her hair and she turned it in the light of the lamp, inspecting it closer.
The jewels were deep, blood red, each one shaped like a teardrop and their faceted depths made endless mirrors and pools that drew her in until she forced herself to come back, to take the piece in as a whole. Their were seven of them, formed into a pattern that made a flower but with the rounded ends connecting to a center and the points spanning outwards. Each had been individually set inside the gold, the metal warm and heavy in her hand. The detail, seamless as if stone and metal were one, the faceted surface seemed as if it were simply grown that way, mined from the earth in perfect, light refracting patterns.
This is from the Earth realm, she realized. It had not been crated by hands but with magic. The gift of such a fine thing was rare, the realm did little trade with any other, the people had no need for most of what the world offered. "A fortune," she hummed to herself running her fingers over the gems before she paused. "Then this is from the prince."
She frowned as she remembered Guifre's eyes, focused and burning on her, the gaze somehow heavier than the touch of Lloren's shadows. The warmth of the metal took on a new, sick feeling, to heavy in her hand.
She rushed into the bedroom and shoved the comb into her trunk, burying it under clothing that had already been packed for her journey. She couldn't leave it, it was a gift too fine, but she couldn't bear to touch it either.
She shuddered as she closed the lid. He must have ordered Lloren to give me that, the rumors are correct, she frowned. But why? Esti is close in age to Guifre, one dreamweaver is as good as any other, there's no reason for this, she bit her lip.
She turned, yawning, to her bed as she reached for the shoulder of the borrowed gown and stopped. There, atop her pillow, sat a scrap of paper, folded in half.
She reached for it, sliding it open. In trembling but familiar letters, it read, large south garden, third night sound.
She crumpled the paper up, a flash of anger shooting through her. Of course he would call me tonight, of course he would expect me to come to him after what he did!
She growled and turned, forgetting her own sleepiness and stalked out of her bedroom.
She moved swiftly through the dark halls, third sound had happened a little over an hour ago, while she was still at the feast with most of the palace. Of course Ferran had not been invited and would likely not have come anyway as he would be recovering from his punishment.
Although she was sure that hidden guards waited down the halls, she took the main paths, the most direct course to where she went. There was no longer any reason to be secretive, Ferran had, without her permission, exposed their relationship and if she chose to meet with him late at night, well, it was nothing for any part of the Emperor's court to be concerned with.
She slipped into the south wing without a single soul stopping her. The air became even more empty and dry as the fountains in the wing had all been shut off years ago, when the wing had fallen into disuse. Why her father had decided that the area should not be used remained a mystery to her.
She stepped through the gates into the garden, a joke, if there ever was one.
As the wing had fallen into disuse, so had the garden. Without water, whatever plants had been left there had withered ages ago. Without the bustle of life, the desert had come back to reclaim its land, covering the soil and paths with itself. Soon, it would pass through the gates and start eating the entire south end of the palace. The only things that remained were the stone seats that waited here and there and the dry fountains but Usoa knew that overtime, even these things would be reclaimed.
She found Ferran waiting at one stone bench, his face forward, eyes focused on the way she would come.
He stood as she came closer and in the bright moonlight, she could see his features, brows drawn together, lips pressed down, nostrils flared. Anger. He had drawn himself to his full height as she approached.
"You're late," he hissed. "Do you know how long I've been waiting for you? Or were you too busy enjoying wine and fine food while I was in agony over you?"
She paused in front of him, his fine features twisted in his barely contained rage. For a moment Usoa wondered what she had seen in him before remembering that she had relented to his advances before because he had been handsome and tall but mostly she had been bored and curious. Now he sneered at her and she understood her father's anger at his rudeness.
She recognized the sting in her palm before she realized that she had slapped him. Her hand had struck him hard enough to turn his face, his twisted lips, away from her. She rubbed the sting with her thumb, waiting for him to turn back to her.
His were wide, shocked at her attack.
You are a fool, she signed swiftly. I did not ask, I did not want you to do that. I do not want you!
"How can you say that? Because I was angry? I have a right! But now you want to toss our love like garbage? Why? Because that Dark prince has his eye on you?"
We were not in love, she said slowly realizing the truth. You just hoped to change your status with me and I should have been wiser. She shook her head, it was too late for that. Now we are stuck together and if you want to keep your life, then you will treat me properly. Do not ever summon me in the middle of the night again.
He blinked slowly. "What? You're my woman! I need to see you!"
She shook her head. I'm no one's woman! If you want to stay alive, you'll court me properly. I'll play along so you can keep your head but when we arrive in the Dark, that ends, do you understand?
He looked at her, brows knit, head tilted as if she were a stranger that he he had stumbled on for the first time and then he grinned. He gripped her loose hair in his fist and tugged on it, not quite gently. "I misjudged you."
She smacked his hand away and nodded, agreeing with him and realizing her own folly all in one.
He bowed, formal and cold, "Princess, I will see again, soon."
Uneasiness swept through her with the cool night wind of the desert as he rose. He paused for a moment and walked past her.
She did not turn, instead she moved forward, deeper into the ruined garden, deeper into the desert. As she walked, the markers of civilization smoothed and disappeared under sand, one by one until finally she reached the last bench, the last dry fountain.
She sat on the stone, her head tilted towards the empty basin for a moment, thinking of small fish before turning to look out into the blue darkness of the desert. She breathed deeply of the night air and when her heart slowed, she stood and turned back to the palace.
Zorion breathed heavily in his sleep, his breath tickling at Usoa's ear as she jostled the boy back on her her shoulder. After hours of rich food and entertainment, Zorion and Izar had fallen asleep, snuggled among their siblings. Ochoa had carried the heavier Izar back for her mother while Usoa gathered her sleeping brother. Dosar had fretted, pointing out the many servants that could help and the twins had been aghast, their mother would never.Embarrassed, the mousy woman had let Ochoa carry the girl back to bed as Usoa dismissed herself with her own charge. Alone she had made her way back to the Garden, slipping into cool darkness of the familiar space she had grown up in.She slowed on her walk, taking in the fountains and walkways lined with bright, sturdy plants. She passed closed halls, ready to be swept out for children that grew past their nurseries, just like her, but hadn't been married yet. Will Naia move into my little rooms, she thought as she reached the hall where her mother and younger siblings still stayed. Mixtel would be put out of the Garden soon, he was too old and would be sent to train in his powers, as Ochoa had been.She frowned, turning down the hall that she had lived in until her brother had been removed and she had been granted her rooms. A nanny waited at the nursery to receive the boy and watch over him while he slept but Usoa put him to bed herself, laying him upon the pillows and covering him with the sheet after removing his clothes.Maybe I'll visit with him tonight, she mused before brushing the idea away. No, I should check on the darktellers. Something is off with them, she thought, chewing her lip.Her brother to bed, she left the nursery and followed the dark halls to her own rooms. The cat, a ball of fluff, greeted her with purrs and the brush of her sleek body against her legs."Hello there, Little," Usoa chirped, knowing that the animal heard none of it as she bent, lifting her into her arms. She scratched the cat's head, between its ears. "I'll have to find a new home for you," she said sadly. "Maybe if Naia moves in she can take care of you," she hummed. It was too early for the girl to have her own space, really, but then, it was too early for Esti to marry as well and yet, all their lives were changing to suit that reality. "It's not such a sacrifice for that girl to come here," she mused the purring the animal."I can put the idea into her head," she mused darkly as she pushed aside her curtains and entered her rooms. A servant had been around, leaving light and fresh drinking water for her along with some fruits.She put the cat down and picked up a piece of fruit, peeling off the hard rind as she watched the cat clean herself. She ate slowly, the sticky juice running over her fingers but acting as the perfect end for a night of heavy food. She drank the water and sighing, began to undress.She started with her hair and paused, her hand on the strange comb. With a gentle tug, it came free from her hair and she turned it in the light of the lamp, inspecting it closer.The jewels were deep, blood red, each one shaped like a teardrop and their faceted depths made endless mirrors and pools that drew her in until she forced herself to come back, to take the piece in as a whole. Their were seven of them, formed into a pattern that made a flower but with the rounded ends connecting to a center and the points spanning outwards. Each had been individually set inside the gold, the metal warm and heavy in her hand. The detail, seamless as if stone and metal were one, the faceted surface seemed as if it were simply grown that way, mined from the earth in perfect, light refracting patterns.This is from the Earth realm, she realized. It had not been crated by hands but with magic. The gift of such a fine thing was rare, the realm did little trade with any other, the people had no need for most of what the world offered. "A fortune," she hummed to herself running her fingers over the gems before she paused. "Then this is from the prince."She frowned as she remembered Guifre's eyes, focused and burning on her, the gaze somehow heavier than the touch of Lloren's shadows. The warmth of the metal took on a new, sick feeling, to heavy in her hand.She rushed into the bedroom and shoved the comb into her trunk, burying it under clothing that had already been packed for her journey. She couldn't leave it, it was a gift too fine, but she couldn't bear to touch it either.She shuddered as she closed the lid. He must have ordered Lloren to give me that, the rumors are correct, she frowned. But why? Esti is close in age to Guifre, one dreamweaver is as good as any other, there's no reason for this, she bit her lip.She turned, yawning, to her bed as she reached for the shoulder of the borrowed gown and stopped. There, atop her pillow, sat a scrap of paper, folded in half.She reached for it, sliding it open. In trembling but familiar letters, it read, large south garden, third night sound.She crumpled the paper up, a flash of anger shooting through her. Of course he would call me tonight, of course he would expect me to come to him after what he did!She growled and turned, forgetting her own sleepiness and stalked out of her bedroom.She moved swiftly through the dark halls, third sound had happened a little over an hour ago, while she was still at the feast with most of the palace. Of course Ferran had not been invited and would likely not have come anyway as he would be recovering from his punishment.Although she was sure that hidden guards waited down the halls, she took the main paths, the most direct course to where she went. There was no longer any reason to be secretive, Ferran had, without her permission, exposed their relationship and if she chose to meet with him late at night, well, it was nothing for any part of the Emperor's court to be concerned with.She slipped into the south wing without a single soul stopping her. The air became even more empty and dry as the fountains in the wing had all been shut off years ago, when the wing had fallen into disuse. Why her father had decided that the area should not be used remained a mystery to her.She stepped through the gates into the garden, a joke, if there ever was one.As the wing had fallen into disuse, so had the garden. Without water, whatever plants had been left there had withered ages ago. Without the bustle of life, the desert had come back to reclaim its land, covering the soil and paths with itself. Soon, it would pass through the gates and start eating the entire south end of the palace. The only things that remained were the stone seats that waited here and there and the dry fountains but Usoa knew that overtime, even these things would be reclaimed.She found Ferran waiting at one stone bench, his face forward, eyes focused on the way she would come.He stood as she came closer and in the bright moonlight, she could see his features, brows drawn together, lips pressed down, nostrils flared. Anger. He had drawn himself to his full height as she approached."You're late," he hissed. "Do you know how long I've been waiting for you? Or were you too busy enjoying wine and fine food while I was in agony over you?"She paused in front of him, his fine features twisted in his barely contained rage. For a moment Usoa wondered what she had seen in him before remembering that she had relented to his advances before because he had been handsome and tall but mostly she had been bored and curious. Now he sneered at her and she understood her father's anger at his rudeness.She recognized the sting in her palm before she realized that she had slapped him. Her hand had struck him hard enough to turn his face, his twisted lips, away from her. She rubbed the sting with her thumb, waiting for him to turn back to her.His were wide, shocked at her attack.You are a fool, she signed swiftly. I did not ask, I did not want you to do that. I do not want you!"How can you say that? Because I was angry? I have a right! But now you want to toss our love like garbage? Why? Because that Dark prince has his eye on you?"We were not in love, she said slowly realizing the truth. You just hoped to change your status with me and I should have been wiser. She shook her head, it was too late for that. Now we are stuck together and if you want to keep your life, then you will treat me properly. Do not ever summon me in the middle of the night again.He blinked slowly. "What? You're my woman! I need to see you!"She shook her head. I'm no one's woman! If you want to stay alive, you'll court me properly. I'll play along so you can keep your head but when we arrive in the Dark, that ends, do you understand?He looked at her, brows knit, head tilted as if she were a stranger that he he had stumbled on for the first time and then he grinned. He gripped her loose hair in his fist and tugged on it, not quite gently. "I misjudged you."She smacked his hand away and nodded, agreeing with him and realizing her own folly all in one.He bowed, formal and cold, "Princess, I will see again, soon."Uneasiness swept through her with the cool night wind of the desert as he rose. He paused for a moment and walked past her.She did not turn, instead she moved forward, deeper into the ruined garden, deeper into the desert. As she walked, the markers of civilization smoothed and disappeared under sand, one by one until finally she reached the last bench, the last dry fountain.She sat on the stone, her head tilted towards the empty basin for a moment, thinking of small fish before turning to look out into the blue darkness of the desert. She breathed deeply of the night air and when her heart slowed, she stood and turned back to the palace.
