Drake

“Don’t farms have crops and animals?” Drake asked as they approached a well-cared-for house buried in thick trees.

Rosaliy slid off her horse and shot him an amused smile. He hadn’t been joking, but apparently his question was silly.

He dismounted as well and walked up to the cozy house, not having much time to take it in or find the missing farm before there was a clatter at the door. Constant interruption sprinkled with drama seemed to be the theme of the day.

“Rose, you made it on time this year,” an emerging woman exclaimed. Rosaliy hugged the person Drake assumed was her mother. Drake could see the resemblance, but not in any kind of normal way. For lack of a good way to describe what he saw, Drake could tell Rosaliy had inherited from her mother the ability to be busy with five different things at once. For example, after the hug, the mother brushed a thin layer of flour off Rosaliy’s back that had come from her white-stained hands.

“And this is Drake,” Emilia crowed as she reined in her cart horse, “but I’ll let Rosaliy introduce him.”

“Introduce him” had a very suggestive implication.

“This is Drake,” Rosaliy said, patting him on the arm, as if there might be confusion over who, exactly, was Drake. “From Bayselle,” she added, like that was the type of introduction Emilia meant.

Rosaliy’s mother waited for more, but Rosaliy was done, so she turned to Drake after the awkward pause. She brushed off her hands on a cloth slung over her belt. “Welcome, Drake from Bayselle. I’m Ana.” She gripped his arm in greeting like she could read his soul through physical connection. Maybe she could. He knew magic passed through families. He tried his best not to yank back his arm, because she could certainly sense fear. He was in trouble.

Emilia was out of the cart by then, and there was a mad dash to the door, and squealing, and an “Emilia, I haven’t seen you since…” followed by an “Ana, you look as young as when…” All in all, Drake was rescued until Emilia tossed out something about “when Rose and her ‘friend’ stopped by…”

Ana’s eyes floated back to Drake, reconsidering him. Her eyes tightened a little. He was becoming less welcome by the moment. The response gave him a favorable impression of Ana’s judgment. He had never been popular with mothers. This one would be pleasantly relieved when Emilia left and Rosaliy could reveal the truth; no harm done.

Except Emilia was far too tired to make it to the city by nightfall, and those n’er-do-wells were everywhere, she was sure. She had to stay to catch up, and somehow Drake was around a dinner table with a glowing Emilia, a nervous Rosaliy, a tense Ana, and a seemingly oblivious father named Darrow. Ana had directed everyone to seats around the round table, which meant he was pinned in by Ana and Darrow, and Rosaliy was across the table. Maybe family gatherings were always this oppressive. He had little frame of reference.

“Where in Bayselle is Drake from, Rosaliy?” asked Ana under the guise of pleasant conversation.

Rosaliy should have made something up, but a tell-tale look of panic crossed her face instead. “Umm…” She glanced his way, and Ana drank in Rosaliy’s uncertainty with the question. Ana turned her Kianne-blue eyes to Drake with unsettling intensity.

He filled his mouth with food to buy time. What did Kianne farmers know about Baysellian geography? The question seemed safe. Baysellian coastal towns all had picturesque, ocean-inspired names in contrast to the dirty messes most of them really were.

“Via Maritima, mostly,” he chimed in after he swallowed, “although the Lansilia Coalition operates mainly out of Seavale, so I’ve been there recently.”

“So not a very stable lifestyle, then, for someone so young,” Ana accused lightly, slicing a piece of meat with a knife Drake would have preferred she not have been holding.

“Mama, be nice,” Rosaliy chided her.

“Via Mar,” pondered Darrow. “That’s a tough town.”

Tough was an understatement. “Have you been?” asked Drake. The father had not presented himself as a threat, but perhaps Drake needed to reevaluate.

“Not myself, but we know a lot of interesting people.” Darrow caught his wife’s eye for a wink, but she both understood the joke and the implication he was missing, so she found no humor in it. The kind of people they knew from Via Mar were not the kind of people Emilia wanted to run into on an ill-traveled road.

“I’ve always wanted to visit Bayselle,” sighed Emilia, having her own conversation. “I never could develop a taste for fish, though.”

“Fish is the only thing Bayselle does right,” Drake said, grabbing at her subject shift like a life preserver. “Have you ever tried fresh lemon snapper?”

She had not, and since his opinion on Kianne fish was not going to ingratiate himself to his hosts, fish was leading to another lull.

“Cade’s in town,” Darrow offered to break the silence. “Delivering a flock of sheep and helping to build some sort of stage in Kani Square.”

Rosaliy’s brother was a safe topic. Rosaliy picked up on the opening. “For what?” she asked.

“What did Corin call it this time?” Darrow asked his wife.

“Harvest festival,” Ana filled in, still grumpy from being snapped at earlier and distracted from keeping Drake under constant surveillance.

“Don’t those normally come after a harvest?” asked Drake.

“Kianne City doesn’t run much on harvest schedule,” explained Emilia cheerily, buttering bread with an obliviousness that was downright charming, “and Prince Corin will use any excuse for a party.”

“So he has performers coming?” asked Rosaliy, still on track. “What kind?”

“You have to ask Cade,” Darrow answered, “if you plan to visit.”

Rosaliy glanced over at Drake. People were flocking to the city. They had an inconspicuous way in.

Emilia was a breath away from suggesting they accompany her to the city, so Drake quickly lied, “No, we weren’t going into the city.”

“Rose,” Ana tried, attempting a conversation redirection of her own, “Why didn’t you tell us you were bringing a guest?”

Her question was different than the one she had asked. Rosaliy tensed.

“Well, they just met,” bubbled Emilia, somehow missing the crackling tension between the women next to her.

“Last minute decision,” agreed Drake when Rosaliy remained silent and fuming.

“That seems unlike you, Rose.” Ana’s voice dripped with suspicion.

Apparently a silent feud had been raging between them while he was panicking about himself.

“Maybe you should just—” Drake tried to suggest to Rosaliy.

She glared at him with a glare that had the potential to set the table on fire, depending on how her magic worked. She would not be pulling her mother aside to explain the situation to her.

It would have been impossible for dinner to have gotten worse from there, but the prolonged tension made the meal seem like an eternity. The instant Emilia popped the last spoonful of peas into her mouth, Rosaliy had yanked her plate out from under her. Then Rosaliy announced she and Drake were going for a walk outside.

“It’s dark,” Drake pointed out.

She shrugged. Ana glared, Emilia giggled, and Darrow reminded Rosaliy to wear a warm cloak.

Drake trailed Rosaliy outside and through the forest. He shivered for multiple reasons. He was not used to evening chills for one. Plus, forest darkness was eerie and still. He was used to windy coastal towns that hardly went to sleep or balmy desert nights where the dark was open and endless. Forests were full of ominous obstacles and inky patches where anything could be lying in wait.

“Don’t you have wolves around here?” he asked nervously.

“Not very often.”

He did not appreciate the answer. Rosaliy rounded a shed, and the farmland she had promised was visible now down a hill. The bright moonlight illuminated the wide expanse and put Drake more at ease. Rosaliy leaned back against the wall of the shed and rubbed her temples with her fingers.

“That could have gone worse,” Drake joked.

“Just give them time,” Rosaliy muttered. “So getting into the city—do you have any special talents on that front?”

Like scaling walls? Infiltrating guarded cities? “Irritating people,” he said. “Arousing suspicion.”

“It’s not your fault,” Rosaliy snapped. She was pulling her Kianne-gold hair into a tighter ponytail, her way of exerting control over a frustratingly uncontrollable situation.

“She’s just picked up that something isn’t adding up,” he said. “You can’t blame her.”

Rosaliy bristled. “I can! She should trust me to make my own decisions.”

“It’s not really your own de—” He cut himself off when Rosaliy shot him another glare. He knew where she had inherited that look. “Sure, I see your point,” he amended. “As long as you tell her tomorrow.”

“I suppose letting her stew over this for a night is punishment enough,” Rosaliy said, mustering a little smile.

“Are you going to disappear again tonight?” he asked, more worried for himself than for her, if he was being honest.

She tossed her head from side to side. “Unlikely. It’s taxing for Kalilya to bring people back and forth, and it’s obvious we don’t have any new information.”

“Who?”

“Oh!” she squealed. “I haven’t explained anything!”

To be fair, even after she explained, he was still murky on the details. Queen Katyrinna and Alexander had been kidnapped by a group of powerful Naxturaen star women who were keeping them safe until the birth of the baby, she said. Drake fumbled around with a question, but she had already pulled a mirror out of her pocket. She ran her finger around the edge of the mirrored glass and waited.

“Is something supposed to happen?” he finally asked as she continued to stare at the mirror. Rosaliy did not seem like the mirror staring type.

“Sorceress Athena must be—” Rosaliy’s face was troubled. “She must be busy.”

Nothing seemed odd about that statement except Rosaliy’s tone. “There’s a lot going on right now,” he pointed out.

“There’s just…” she started to explain, trailing off. “It seems like a lot of powerful people are disappearing right now.”

With that, she pushed herself off the wall and announced it was time to head back. Forget wolves, Drake had questions. However, tipping off Emilia to any of the Crystal Palace problems or their intention to search the castle would guarantee informing Daniella they were here.

“As uncomfortable as it is, you’re a pretty handy distraction,” Rosaliy admitted. “I can’t keep a secret to save my life.”

Well, at least he had a purpose. When they returned, Emilia and Ana were already tucked away in the main bedroom, and Rosaliy was given her brother’s room, which relegated Darrow and Drake to the warm floor of the main living area. Drake was enveloped by the cozy warmth of the hearth which cut the chill of the radiating hostility of Rosaliy’s mother behind her closed door. He would be surprised if he made it through tomorrow without his past exploding on him like a Taragonian stone breaker.

~~~~~

????

Memories faded. Desires evaporated into numb acceptance. Will crumbled under never-ending failure. Of all these, the one force that remained, transcending all others, was hate. Hate was simple, all-consuming, effortless.

At first, her hate had a target; it drove the need for revenge. Eventually, revenge was too complicated, too short-sighted. Unfocused hate was much more powerful, took much less effort.

Then one day, they came. They said they had a plan. A plan to seize power, to blaze history in their image. She did not care much for their plan. She did not want anyone else to have power. She hated them all. But their plan would hurt Her, and in the meantime, hurting Her suited the pursuit of hate very nicely.

Would the child look like Her? Would it be scared and alone with no sense of its own power? Doubtful. It would have been taught, would be arrogant and self-righteous like Them. She hated Them most of all. It would be fun to hate the child. She yearned for its arrival.

The portal tore. They left. They returned. They were angry. They needed a new plan. How had she altered things so much, they yelled at each other. They had been watching so closely. Find her. Stop her once and for all. There were threats and a promise to return, to track down the children. Then they left. They brought no child. Disappointment. A new path to hatred.

A woman was left behind like they had forgotten her. They had not forgotten. They thought this place would trap the woman.

A laugh bubbled up in her throat. Or maybe that was vomit. This woman had cost her the chance to hate the child, but she had also hurt the people scrambling for power. She was an opportunity. An ally.

“Ally.” She tested the word with her raw throat, unused to sound. Could she hate an ally? Yes, she decided. It was quite easy. Familiar.

Issabeth stirred and brushed her hair out of her eyes, like being able to see would help her in this empty, formless place. Those eyes saw an old enemy. The fear and suspicion in those green eyes were delicious. Issabeth reached for the pearl and stretched it out.

Shrilynda’s mouth twisted into a smile. “Do it,” she hissed. “Bring this fragile world crashing down around your head.”

Issabeth lowered the pearl. “You’ve gone a bit crazy, haven’t you?”

“That happens when you trap someone in a nether realm for years.”

“I feel so much sympathy for you.” Issabeth tossed her hair from her eyes. “Wait. I don’t. That’s pretty much what you did to the Enchanters for a hundred years. Why did you bring me here?”

“I had no hand in bringing you here.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Issabeth scoffed.

Certainly she did. Shrilynda had neither the interest nor the will to insist otherwise. She was losing focus, drifting. She promised herself to hate Issabeth later. She looked forward to ripping the Sorceress’s throat open. The anticipation steadied her.

“Who were they,” asked Issabeth, trying to push against the white ground and sinking instead, a comical battle against the cottony quicksand.

“Hmm,” Shrilynda mused. “I don’t care. They said they were bringing Rin’s child.”

“That is not news,” Issabeth complained, extracting her hands from the cloudy surface and working slowly to stand.

“Would you like to leave this place?” asked Shrilynda.

Issabeth narrowed her eyes. “Of course I would like to leave this place,” she snapped. “What’s the catch?”

“You would free me.”

“You really are crazy if you think I’d be stupid enough to do that.”

Shrilynda nodded slowly. Her ally had too much hope right now. Time would fix that. “I’ll see if you’ve changed your mind in a year or so,” she said, wandering off to revel in all the old memories Issabeth’s presence had dredged up. Shrilynda had forgotten so many things she used to hate. This ally was already a gift.