Airlean Tales S2E15: Homecoming (3)

Halcyon barely registered what happened that evening.

There was a welcome feast, he thought. Or some impression of a feast. He remembered a torch lighting a decorative pyre, red grapes toppling over a platter, the aroma of butter-roasted sea bass, wineglasses full to the brim. Had he been cognizant, he probably would’ve drunk himself to oblivion. As it was, he’d only stared into the viscous, crimson depths, thinking it a pool of blood.

Simon Kourios gave a welcome speech. Had the Senators introduced themselves? No, they hadn’t attended. Had they? They wouldn’t; the first feast was an informal thing, a mere gesture of hospitality for the late arrivals. The Senators would be introduced tomorrow, with all due ceremony and aplomb.

At some point, the dinner ended, and the delegation was led down dappled stone paths back to the embassy plaza. Halcyon could not remember where his feet carried him, and he raised his head and tried to focus. It was like squinting through a fog.

He saw two beads of warm light that scattered a dim glow over a small but classically furnished room. A backless settee with gilded arms sat at the foot of a plush bed, where Halcyon had apparently seated himself. Water ran down both sides of a tall, underlit glass panel that lined one wall—something that was either a fountain, a translucent window, or both.

And Karis. Karis was here.

One beautiful leg crossed over the other, a whisper of an ankle peeking out from beneath the long hem, arms folded across her chest, eyes studying him with an intensity that nearly had him shrinking. One side of her face was caressed by the dim light; the other was shrouded in the dark, indiscernible to him.

Vaguely, Halcyon realized that she was dressed down. Her silken nightgown was modestly draped with a wine-red wrap that hugged her shoulders and wove down her arms. She was the moon and the stars. And Halcyon…was dreaming. Had to be. She would never step into his lodgings in a nightgown.

He could have laughed. Even in sleep, his mind was taunting him. As it was, a stuttering chuckle passed his lips before it strangled into nothing.

Karis straightened at the sound. “Ah,” she said. “You’ve come back to yourself.”

Halcyon blinked slowly. “Why are you here?”

“Today has been…taxing for you. You didn’t say a word during the feast.” She rose from her chair and glided toward him like a specter. “I wanted to make certain that you were well.”

Even as his face tilted toward her like a sunflower seeking the light, his mind burned. Well? Well enough, he supposed, for somebody who had just discovered that his whole family was dead. But he’d spent so much of his life hating them that he hadn’t entertained a reality where they were all gone. And now that they were…

He jolted at the feeling of Karis’s deft fingers on the strap that secured his pauldron, her touch searing like a brand on his upper arm. He instinctively jerked away, then immediately regretted it.

Karis didn’t flinch. “Yuden,” she said, “it’s impossibly late. You need to divest your armor so that you can sleep.”

Divest the armor. Sleep. He could do that.

Halcyon reached up for the straps. Ordinarily, it only took him a few seconds to remove. But his fingers inexplicably failed him, fumbling over the leather about three times as if it was coated in frost.

He heard a little huff from Karis. “That is why I’ve come to assist you.”

“It’s not normally like this.”

“I know.” Her hand fiddled with his strap for a second. Then the pauldron loosened and fell away. She set it aside with a careful touch. “Tonight is the exception.”

She set to his vambraces next, then his chest guard. The tip of her finger brushed his spine accidentally as she pulled the clasp free, and he closed his eyes, a sour, frightening heat flowering out from that one point of contact to warm his entire back.

“It was a decade ago,” Karis said from behind him. She worked on his tasset next, relieving the strap around his waist. “We received a knock on the door, my mother and me. It was the Guildmaster’s secretary, Nicolina Cotton. She held a cap in her hands. We already knew what she had to say.”

Halcyon knew, too. Everyone related to a Hunter did.

“That night, I could do nothing but stare into the fireplace,” Karis murmured. “I listened through the door as my mother muffled her sobs, trying to stay strong for her daughter, knowing she would have to raise her alone. I…could not even undress myself for bed. And no matter how I tried, my eyes would not close.”

She unfurled the strap and tugged away his tasset, then set it next to the other armor pieces. The lamplight glinted off the gilded edges like little stars. She crouched at his feet, her hands deftly working out the knots that bound his leather greaves in place.

And all he could do was watch her. Captured, unmoving. Like she was binding snares around his feet, not freeing them.

“Whatever troubles you, you needn’t speak of it,” Karis said softly. “But you do need to rest.”

But he did want to speak of it. To her, at least. Maybe nobody else.

His mouth opened immediately. “I hated them,” his voice said. “My…family.”

Karis froze for a moment. Then, slowly, her fingers continued their steady work.

“They were my family only in name,” Halcyon said roughly. Every word felt like a nail pulling out of his chest. “A mother kept away from me, a father who I never spoke with. And half-siblings. Each of us pitted against the other to become the strongest fighter. If I was less than them, I was beaten for being weak. If I was more, I was tormented for showing them up. I knew nothing but pain at their hands.”

Then why? Why did their absence dig out a hole in his chest and leave nothing behind? Why wasn’t he celebrating their passing, dancing on their graves?

Halcyon took in a shuddering breath. He wanted to laugh, but it wouldn’t dislodge. It remained locked somewhere between his mouth and lungs.

Gingerly, like even the slightest noise would disrupt him, Karis set down the greaves and looked up at him. Her eyes were embers, gentle and warming.

“Orion,” she said. “Your name from the kennels.”

“Yes.”

“You kept a part of your family with you.”

Had he? He only remembered stealing into the kennels in the dead of night. It had been the day after Nana died, and the skies poured thick with all the tears he hadn’t been able to shed. He’d been a youth of seventeen years, strong and fast from Nana’s training, good with a glaive and great with his fists. The kennels had eagerly accepted him as a new challenger.

Name? the master of the kennels had asked, quill raised over a logbook.

Halcyon hadn’t wanted to be Halcyon Yuden that night. Not a grieving, helpless boy who had lost the only person he could truly call family.

Orion, he’d told the master. The first name that had come to mind.

Maybe Karis was right, in a way. Deep down, Halcyon might have wanted to bring the Leventis legacy with him—the untouchable, unshakable warriors who cared for nothing but combat. A perfect mask for the kennels.

“I want nothing to do with them,” Halcyon said hollowly. “Not anymore.”

“Even when the mind is resolved, the heart falters,” Karis murmured. “It yearns for family to be reunited, no matter how they have hurt you.”

He laughed humorlessly. “A ghost I can’t get rid of.”

Karis shifted to sit next to him, and she stared into the undulating light of the water panel. Her nightgown flowed down to her ankles like a goddess’s chiton.

“I forget, sometimes, that you had a life before Airlea,” she said. “A life where you were betrothed, apparently.”

Halcyon glanced at her. She’d turned her face away, nothing visible but the curve of her shoulder beneath the evening wrap.

“I wasn’t betrothed,” he said.

“The senator lies?”

“We were, I don’t know, eight. Maybe ten. She threw out a sudden proposal because she was terrified of entering an arranged marriage with Prince Sethis. I didn’t think she even remembered saying anything.”

Karis straightened. “Oh?”

Had it bothered her? The thought nearly made him smile.

“I never would have married a senator anyway,” he said. “The Leventis family is sworn to neutrality to fulfill their duty. Relations between a Leventis and any of the senators is forbidden.”

She tilted her head. “And what duty would come with such a restriction?”

He tried to tell her. He did. He willed his lips to form the syllables, but they refused to move—as if his body had been cut off from his mind. He stared at her wordlessly, unable to move.

Karis exhaled softly. “Ah,” she murmured. “A sacred duty, if it is kept secret by bloodbind.”

He tried to nod, but even that wouldn’t take.

“Well, I can hazard a guess,” she said. She looked at the nested waves engraved into the ceiling, the curve of her neck as pale and perfect as a heron. “Sworn to neutrality, and kept from becoming too intimate with one side or the other. Then the nature of your duty is impartial, and a relationship with a senator would be a conflict of interest. I would guess you to be some sort of arbiter between senators, though that wouldn’t explain the combative element of your upbringing.”

She turned to him, her gaze knowing.

“Unless the senators are all very powerful manacrafters.”

He couldn’t move and couldn’t speak, couldn’t even venture a nod or shake of the head.

“That’s just my guess.” She looked back to the water panel. “I know you can’t answer it.”

“I wish I could,” his mouth finally said.

She remained silent a long moment, completely unreadable. Then she huffed a breath and jabbed him in the side with her fingers.

“Very well,” she said. “But if I discover tomorrow that you are actually the prince of dragons, or a thousand-year-old fae, or the reincarnation of some water deity, then I will be most cross.”

He paused. “About that.”

“Oh, Hal, come on.”

He couldn’t help it. He laughed, relief making him buoyant, and suddenly his fingers reached out and clasped her hand. Her skin was like gossamer, cool and silky to the touch.

Karis’s smile melted away. A soft breath left her parted lips; and maybe Halcyon was imagining things, but he swore that the edge of it trembled.

She was very close. Her head was half-turned towards him, her ear only an inch away from his mouth. The closeness of her, the fragrance of sweet plums, it all filled his lungs. Disoriented, he leaned in, drawn by a pull he could not describe. His hand raised of its own accord, the back of one knuckle barely skimming her skin as it brushed a slow, deliberate line from the shell of her ear and down her jaw. The softness of her danced over his finger like sparks.

Karis finally startled. She stood from the settee and jerked away. “What—what are you doing?” she blurted, color on her cheeks.

Any lightheaded giddiness promptly sank like a stone. She’d acted as if he’d dropped a cockroach in her lap.

“I’m sorry,” Halcyon said quickly. An unfamiliar panic began to set in. Had he misread her? Frightened her? She had only come here out of pity. Why had he lost his senses and pushed his luck?

Karis only stared open-mouthed at him, one hand clutched to her chest. Then she swiftly turned, rearranging the wrap over her shoulders.

“Good night,” she said hurriedly. “Make sure you rest.”

She was out of his room before he could blink. The only sound left was the gentle trickle of water from the panel, ever falling.

Karis returned to Sethis’s suite, slipping silently through the door like a ghost.

Her face was burning. Fresh tingles began anew whenever she recalled the warmth of Halcyon’s hand, the calluses catching lightly on her knuckles, the molten look in his eyes as he released a sudden, honeyed laugh.

Imbecile, she scolded herself. You’ve touched him before. You’ve treated his wounds. Why flutter about like a hapless maiden because he simply nudged you?

But no; that had been more than a nudge. There had been an intention to it, a passion that had nearly swept her up. The whole evening had been like that—charged, intimate, nearly like a stolen moment between lovers.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have offered to remove his armor. But what else was she to do when he sat in his room like that, unresponsive, staring into nothingness? She’d checked on him three separate times throughout the night, and each time, she’d found that he hadn’t budged. Intervention had been necessary. Professionally necessary.

The ghost of his touch traced that accursed line down her jaw again. As if he had been trying to…as if he had almost…

Karis shook her head violently. No. No. She would not hold him to anything said and done this night. Halcyon had clearly been inebriated, whether by emotional shock, alcohol, or a potent mix of both. And it was also in her best interest not to dwell. Feelings of infatuation were like an open wound, waiting to infect. She would not lose all reason for a crazy boy like Halcyon Yuden, who was sooner to see a grave than anything else.

“Is everything alright?” came a voice from the opposite side of the room.

Karis nearly screamed. As it was, she just eked out a soft, mostly dignified yelp.

“Your Highness,” she said, curtsying. “I didn’t realize you were still awake.”

Though his resplendent suite invited blissful repose, Sethis was very much awake—and working. Rather than reclining in the bedchambers, he was in the lounge, leaning over an ornate desk illuminated with a single bead of mana quartz. Several books and papers were scattered over the surface, hastily scrawled with drawings and notes. The only sign of any leisure was that he’d shucked his armor in favor of a peasant shirt and loose trousers.

He smiled ruefully. “Yes, I should have retired long ago. Yet I find that rest eludes me.”

“Ah—yes. I suppose that—er—this whole situation with Atlantis, yes, it must be quite vexing.”

“That it is.” His smile turned into a frown. “Are you well, Karis? You look quite…flushed.”

Karis immediately stilled her hand, which she realized had been unconsciously fanning her face. “Flushed? Oh! I do—get warm quite quickly.”

Sethis’s brow barely twitched upward. “After meeting with Lord Yuden? Convenient timing.”

Horror filled her. “Oh! No, no. A predisposition towards Forming ice mana can do that, ha, ha.”

“Would you like for the villa to be cooled? I’m sure that can be arranged somehow.”

“That’s not necessary.”

He shot her a quick look that was altogether too knowing, then returned to his papers. She had a feeling that her attempted deception had proved futile.

“Does something trouble you, Highness?” she asked as she gestured towards his scattered notes, eager to be free of this topic.

“Please, call me Sethis.”

“Truly?”

His lips quirked upward. “Let us say I am not much enjoying the position of the crown at the moment.”

She lowered her gaze. “I…am sorry. For the obstacle that Halcyon’s identity has made.”

“Should we all make it out of this venture alive, I shall gladly accept your apology.” Sethis shuffled some of the papers to the surface. “Before we embarked, my brother and I scoured the archives for any useful information on Atlantis. These are the notes from that session.”

Again, she found herself impressed at his diligence.

“Unfortunately, I’ve found nothing that can help us out of our current situation.” Sethis leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh, rubbing at the darkening shadows under his eyes. “With the threat of Lord Yuden’s identity, we are essentially political prisoners for the duration of our stay. We cannot depart unless we steal out like thieves, and we cannot hope to earn Senator Vascea’s favor with her trust in us already shattered. The best we can hope for is just as she says: a quiet stay with nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

“Perhaps an opportunity will rise where we can gain her trust,” Karis said, recalling how Xiph had eyed the prince with clear interest.

“She already doubts my identity,” Sethis said ruefully. “It appears that my father has damaged the relationship with every country, not just our own.”

“And what is your opinion of her?”

“My opinion?”

“If all had gone well, she would have made your bride. I presume you have some feelings regarding that, or at the very least, an impression.”

Sethis stared blankly at her for a long moment, as if he had not given a single thought for his own preferences or desires.

Which was quite likely, now that Karis considered it.

She prodded again. “You do have an initial impression of Senator Vascea, yes?”

“I suppose…” He cleared his throat and looked at his papers. “She is quite…bewildering.”

“Vexing?”

“She speaks plainly. Her words are startling, sharp and deft as a needle. I have never heard a lady consider the world the way she does.”

Karis’s long silence had him raising his head.

“What?” Sethis asked.

“Would you marry her?”

“Beg pardon?” He gaped. “It is far too early for that. We’ve only spoken once today.”

“The purpose of the trip was initially a nuptial encounter.”

“And perhaps it would have been, had we not knowingly carted a high-risk fugitive over their border.” Sethis shook his head. “I cannot consider the matter, because it will be a miracle if she releases us without any feelings of ill-will. Begging her favor is out of the question.”

Karis wondered briefly if he’d noticed how Xiph had clearly looked him up and down, then dismissed the thought. He was clearly preoccupied with more pressing matters, and deviating his mind to satisfy her sudden appetite for romantic tales would only harm him.

Instead, Karis silently crossed the suite to where her rapier, Celeste, rested in its sheath. She strapped the weapon around her waist, feeling some relief at the weight of it on her hip. Next, with a low burn of her manawell, she wove sugar-thread in a loose lattice over the doors and windows. They would be easily noticed by a manacrafter taking their time, but any hurried intruders might find themselves losing a limb or two.

“Get some rest, Your—Sethis,” she amended. “You’ll need all your faculties to meet the other senators tomorrow, if they are all as…impassioned as Vascea. I’ve rigged the entrances and I’ll be resting in the lounge.”

“Without a bed?” Sethis said, looking regretful. “I don’t suppose you would allow us to trade places.”

“Don’t be silly. A guard is to watch the way into his liege’s chambers, and of the two of us, it’s more important for you to be well-rested.” Before he could protest further, Karis bundled herself in her evening wrap and sat on the nearest settee. “And I don’t get cold.” An attunement with ice mana saw to that.

Sethis touched the mana lamp as he withdrew into the bedchambers, and the room fell to darkness.

“You may not,” she heard him say. “Perhaps it is because you are a warmer person than others give you credit.”

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