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A CHARMER AND A SNAKE
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THE SUN OUTSIDE HAD begun its slow descent across the evening sky. Forest creatures scurried back into their burrows, where they could hide away from the night’s evils. The wind let out a brief yawn before awakening to its full howling potential, rustling branches as it whistled through the trees.
Savara regretted the entire miserable conversation. Jasper was right: she didn’t think things through, not even the words she spoke before they left her mouth. No one asked him to come along and put his neck on the line for me, she thought, trying to convince away the guilt of having snapped.
“You’re quite the little hothead, aren’t you?”
Savara jumped, startled to find the man she’d seen in Griffin’s tent standing beside her, cross-armed with a smirk on his face and a towel in his hand. His blond locks drifted elegantly in the breeze. Parts of them were still damp from whatever shower he’d crawled out of. His movements were gracefully subdued, but those amber eyes sparkled with mischief.
“You heard?”
“I think my grandmother heard, and she’s in a cushy coffin the next town over.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to... It just—”
He raised a hand to stop her stuttering. “I don’t think it’s me who needs the apology.”
“I know,” she admitted softly.
“Meh, what do I care? Besides, he seems like a good guy. I’m sure he’s already forgotten it.”
Savara stared at her feet nervously. It was the first time she’d shouted at Jasper, the first time she’d raised her voice and wanted it to hurt, but it didn’t feel right. For that split second, as the words burst from her mouth, she didn’t feel like herself at all.
“Sebastian Jakaus,” he said, extending a hand. “We crossed paths briefly, but I never introduced myself.”
“In Griffin’s tent, I remember,” she replied as she took hold. “You’re Argia, right? I saw you holding fire.”
He laughed a low, intoxicating laugh. Savara found herself staring at the curl of his lips, wondering how many people he’d charmed with that laugh alone. He tied his hair back slowly, making a clear show of brandishing the muscles in his arms. His movements seemed practised; he was too aware of each flex for it to be casual. It irritated her how cocky he was, but it irritated her more that part of it was working.
“Correct you are. I am Argia,” he replied with a ceremonious bow. “That’s why I empathize with your little show back there.”
“Why do you say that?”
Sebastian shrugged. “Some people like to say us Argia are hotheads. I prefer to consider myself more... explosively expressionistic.”
“Do you make a habit of twisting insults into idealised compliments?”
“Only when it helps my chances with the women doing the insulting,” he laughed. “Not that there haven’t also been attempts from the masculine hemisphere.”
Savara rolled her eyes, unsure of whether to scoff at him or laugh with him. He was more self-absorbed than anyone she’d ever met, and yet she didn’t feel the usual disgust at it. She figured he could talk glowing volumes about himself to a rock and convince it to fall in love with him.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re incredibly full of it?” she asked.
“I tell myself that all the time,” he said with a shrug. “I like to play hard to get.”
“...With yourself?”
“Constant adoration can be tedious and no one else is capable of resisting my charms.”
Savara rolled her eyes, finally reaching a limit on the amount of cockiness she could reasonably endure. She was about to storm off when he caught her by the arm. “Woah, slow down, little miss serious. It was a joke, and those I do happen to be full of.”
Savara could feel his vivacity crawling up her arm from where his hand met her skin. It felt as pleasurable as a warm day at the beach. She bit down the smile growing on her lips. At least he’s honest about how self-obsessed he is. “Alright.”
“Good,” he said with a smile. “Now, you got a name, sunshine? Or shall I just keep finding ways to remind you of your bright and cheery disposition?”
“Just Savara is fine,” she replied.
“Hmm. Just Savara? I like it.” He grinned as he turned her name over on his tongue. “So, just Savara, where were you going?”
She shrugged and hugged her shoulders. “Anywhere but here, I guess.”
Sebastian turned from the dining tent to her, understanding blooming on his face. “If you’re up for a bit of a walk, I can take you to the stables. I’m off to see my brother, and I wouldn’t mind the company.”
Savara looked back at the dining tent, imagining the earful of questions she neither wanted nor knew how to answer. Sebastian seemed decent enough. At least if he managed to take her far enough away, she wouldn’t feel as compelled to go back. She hoped the guilt would subside too.
“We don’t even have to talk if you don’t want to,” he added.
“You won’t ask questions?”
“Not unless you want me to.”
Good. She nodded.
“Follow me,” he beamed, holding out his elbow out in promenade and waiting for her to take it. Savara raised an eyebrow at him. “Haven’t met many gentlemen where you’ve been, huh?” He lowered it and began down the path.
She followed him along the twist and turns in silence. Occasionally she caught him looking over at her as she admired the grounds. The curiosity sparkled in his eyes, but to his credit, he kept his word, no questions asked.
“This used to be my family’s farm,” he said when he grew weary of the silence.
“You’re a farmer?”
“Not anymore.” A coy smile appeared on his face as he added, “Though if that makes me more attractive in your eyes, I’m happy to amend my statement.”
Savara couldn’t help but giggle.
“So, she does know how to laugh,” he joked. “Progress.”
“Charming,” she replied sarcastically, though she was grateful for the excuse to forget her troubles.
Sebastian shrugged. “Sometimes I can’t help my natural magnetism.”
“Do those lines ever work?” she asked, hoping to hear he’d struck out more times than not. Sadly, it was all too easy to imagine multitudes of women falling for the glimmering flames in his eyes and his tensed muscles—especially when he pulled back his hair. They might even flutter their eyelashes at his pearly white smile. Savara wrapped her arms across her torso, adamantly refusing to believe those things were working on her too, while the blood creeping into her cheeks said otherwise.
“You’d be surprised,” he replied but didn’t elaborate. A stray curl fell from his hair tie, and as he brushed it from his face, she caught him staring back at her with a look that meant he too knew his charms were working. Embarrassed, she looked away as fast as she could, but it only made him laugh. “Don’t worry, you won’t have to suffer through my stunning conversational skills much longer. The stables are just ahead.”
Pride alone kept her from admitting she was enjoying it.
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THEY CAME UPON A LARGE clearing beneath even larger trees, fenced in by stones that appeared to have sprouted from the ground into the shape of a corral. Under the dense canopy, it was hard to see without a light.
Sebastian snapped his fingers, and above his palm appeared a dancing yellow flame. It pulsed like a little heartbeat, lighting up the space around them.
“It still amazes me to see you control it,” said Savara, watching closely. “Can all the Argia do that?”
Sebastian laughed. “It’s like this with all the other elements. Any kanala Argia can control fire, but only a select few know the secret to conjuring it.” He winked.
“Modest.”
“Always.” His lips parted into that fiendishly charming smile of his. “Though I do wonder sometimes where the fun in modesty is.” He held the flame out in front of them to get a better view. She breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the cold shadows covering the blush in her cheeks.
Her idea of a farm and his idea of a farm were vastly different. Savara had imagined the typical farm animals, horses, pigs, cows, maybe even a few sheep, but was pleasantly surprised to be wrong. The stable itself seemed to be more like an enormous terrarium than a stable, with fences made to keep people out rather than animals in. At first glance, at least thirty-odd creatures shifted about beneath the canopy, but Sebastian assured her that many more were in hiding.
Savara stopped to admire a group of twig rabbits (jackalopes with twigs for antlers) as they pounded their feet on the ground, instantly creating large holes and darting through them. Sebastian insisted that many of the creatures had elemental powers of their own, explaining those of the few they could see before whistling into the distance.
The sound echoed through the cavernous space beneath the many intertwined branches. Curiously, Savara thought she saw a tree move towards them in response. As it entered the light, it turned out to be a large moose-shaped creature with skin as rough as bark and moss growing in select patches around its neck, back, and head.
“This is Taffy. She’s a moss-elk,” he said, patting it on the side of its sturdy back legs.
The creature bowed its head before Savara, and for a split second, she imagined she heard a voice say hello.
“Taffy,” he said to the creature, laughing as it chuffed over his neck and nibbled his ear, “go drag Simon here, please. There’s someone here I want him to meet.”
The creature bowed once more and trod off slowly into the distance.
“She understands you?”
“When she wants to. We’ll see what she brings back and then decide,” Sebastian joked.
Savara rested her arms over one of the stone fences and stared up at the bioluminescent birds. Their nests in the branches looked like stars in an endless sky.
“Not even animals can resist your charms,” she commented.
“You make it sound like that’s a bad thing,” he replied, leaning next to her. His voice was suave. She could almost hear the grin in it. “I’ll admit I have an easier way with interaction than most.”
“Again with the modesty,” she mocked.
“No, that was honesty.”
“So you assume,” she said as she turned to face him, eyebrow raised in challenge.
“I never assume,” he replied, returning the advance.
She leaned her head in closer. “You’re a narcissist.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he grinned. His next words held on his tongue as complaints and insults began firing in his direction.
Taffy reappeared, holding a man by the shirt collar between her teeth. Sebastian pulled away from her and turned to the man and the moss-elk, leaving Savara to wonder what might have happened.
“Sebas, you could have called,” the man grumbled.
“Yes, but this is more fun.” Sebastian laughed with the lightness of the afternoon sun. Each time the warm sound left his lips, Savara noticed his skin sparkle. “Taffy, you can drop him now, thanks.”
The elk opened her mouth and the man fell to his feet. As he straightened himself, Savara was surprised to find he looked almost exactly like Sebastian, aside from a neat pair of glasses perched delicately on his nose and a slightly different haircut.
“I’m going to give Flot your treats from now on,” the man said to the creature. It chuffed and walked back into the distance. “Sebas, you almost got me bitten. I was de-venoming the vipers. What do you want?”
“Defog your glasses, Simon. We have a guest,” Sebastian added, nudging him in the side. “Savara, meet my brother, stammering nerd and probably the best zoologist this side of Middle Isle, Dr Simon Jakaus.”
He wiped off a dirty hand on his shirt and extended it towards Savara. “It’s an honour to make your acquaintance. And please, call me Simon.”
Unlike his twin brother, his smile was shy and friendly, as though he was unaware of his own attractiveness. Where Sebastian burned loud and strong like a firework, Simon glowed soft like the rising sun. He was less charred and scarred than Sebastian but kept fresh smears of dust along his forehead and arms. His golden curls were trimmed relatively neatly, sitting as though in a basket on the top of his head, dipping occasionally in front of his eyes. His tentative smile and hesitant nature reminded her of Jasper.
“Savara,” she said, taking his hand. “How exciting it must be to be twins.”
The two brothers exchanged horrified glances and then glared back at her. She wondered where exactly the insult in her statement might have been.
“Sure, we might share a birthday,” began Sebastian.
“...but we look nothing alike,” added Simon.
“I mean look at him. He’s hideous,” said Sebastian, absolutely flabbergasted.
“Calm down. At least I have Mum’s eyes,” Simon said, rolling minutely more tangerine eyes.
“Yeah, well at least I have Dad’s nose.”
“...for trouble.”
“Boys,” she interrupted. Savara bit down hard on her lip to try and keep herself from laughing. She couldn’t tell whether they were joking, but if it weren’t for Simon’s glasses and clothes, she would hardly be able to tell them apart.
“That’s right, Simon. Behave, there’s a lady present,” Sebastian mocked.
Simon groaned and straightened his glasses again. “Why did you feel the need to interrupt me?” he asked his brother while rubbing a purple slash on the back of his hand. It looked deep and like it needed a good cleaning. Savara winced, making a point of keeping her eyes elsewhere.
“Griffin says to get Taffy and Flot ready. He wants to leave for Osiir tomorrow,” replied Sebastian.
“Oh... It’s been a while,” said Simon disappointedly. After a long pause, he added, “They’ll be ready at dawn. I’ve got to clear off some termites from behind Flot’s ears, or else they’ll get into the supplies.” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses. “I guess I’d better get started. It was a pleasure meeting you, Savara. If there’s ever anything you need, my brother and I would be happy to help.” He cast a mocking glance over to his brother and added, “I have a feeling he’ll be keeping a close enough eye on you anyway.”
Sebastian rolled his eyes. “You should get some rest if we’re leaving so early,” Sebastian said to her. “Come on, I’ll show you to your tent,” he added, ignoring his brother’s comment.
Savara decided it was best not to get involved in sibling rivalries. She waved goodbye to Simon and turned back down the path. Sebastian turned with her but snapped his fingers and set the grass beneath his brother’s feet on fire, grinning as his ears were met with the satisfying echo of his brother’s chastising voice.
The walk to her tent from the stable was too short for any deep conversation. She and Sebastian mostly talked about life and the people of the camp.
According to Sebastian, Griffin kept everyone in the dark until they needed to be involved in his plans—though he made a point of noting Griffin’s genuine care for those around him, and the fact that his plans always had everyone’s best interests in mind. Savara still wasn’t entirely convinced but figured it was something she’d need to see for herself to believe. Brass, he noted, was a quieter soul whom he’d never gotten the chance to talk to at great lengths but assured her that any ailments she had—from the slightest cough to a gash down her chest—he would work miracles on. She decided she didn’t want to know how Sebastian knew this and hoped she’d never have to find out.
“Sometimes I wonder if he isn’t a witch in disguise,” Sebastian remarked with a grin, provoking a giggle from her.
Simon—the twin who, in his mind, looked nothing like him—was too soft for things like war and violence but knew his way around almost every creature known to man. He was also the foremost expert on toxins, occasionally even using his brother as a test subject. Savara blushed, commenting that he’d probably deserved it and he nudged her in response.
Admiration twinkled in his eyes as he spoke about each of his companions. Savara sensed the love he carried for each one of them, like siblings in an unorthodox family. Through his words, she began to understand each one better, the way their different personalities fit together and the bonds that defined them. But the admiration turned into something more as they came to Storm...
“She hates me,” Savara remarked.
“She’s... cautious. Doesn’t take well to new people.”
“You mean, to people in general.”
Sebastian shrugged.
“She’s a bit of a bitch, and I don’t know what I did to deserve it,” Savara added.
“She can be a bit bitter,” he agreed. “Slightly cold.”
“About as slight as a snowstorm.” The two of them laughed, but Savara caught a glimpse of longing in Sebastian that she couldn’t quite place.
“Okay, so she’s not the friendliest of people, but she’s good people. Loyal to a fault. Brave too,” Sebastian said with a slight bite to his lip. A faint blush crept into his cheeks and over his nose.
“Yeah, well, I’d still rather not be on the wrong end of her sword,” Savara pointed out with a smile. Sebastian laughed, the sound crackling merrily from his lips and warming the cool night air. He made no effort to contradict her, and she doubted anyone who knew Storm would either. When Savara realised he wasn’t going to make any further comments she decided to change topics. “You kept your promise,” she said, poking at the embers in their conversation.
“I’m sorry?”
“You didn’t ask any questions.”
Sebastian smiled. “You asked me not to.”
“You’re not what I expected.”
As they arrived at her tent, he held open the mesh and said, “Maybe you shouldn’t expect as much.”
She swept her hair behind her ears, revealing the blush that had been festering inside her. “Thank you.”
“Goodnight, just Savara,” he bowed his head and strode off into the night, his blond curls swinging behind him in tendrils like the last rays of sunshine before the shadows of the tents engulfed him. About time too. Sleep had caressed her eyelids for the better part of the past hour.
Inside she found a neatly arranged cot, a small writing desk, and a great wooden trunk that was just about hollow, spare for an extra set of clothes. Resting neatly on the top was the package, still delicately wrapped in its brown paper packaging and twine.
Savara sat on the bed and stared at it for a long time, imagining what it might contain, and who might have left it. After a while, she decided it was best to leave it tucked away and unopened. For some reason, she hoped keeping the mystery alive would keep her memories of the other world alive as well. When she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer, she blew out the candle at her bedside and huddled up under the covers.
Sleep consumed her. And for the first time in a long time, despite the storm, the deaths, and the ominous clue to her past, her dreams were pleasant.
