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It was one of those nights. The kind that were too dark and too long for their own good and Ari tossed and turned for over an hour before she could even think about sleeping. Of course, the thought she ended up thinking was more along the lines of "screw this" than anything restful and somnolent. She lay sprawled on the bed staring up at the ceiling hidden by shadows and pretended like sleep was a thing she might actually do soon. The lie lasted all of a minute before she was up, dragging on pants and a shirt and pulling her sword off the wall. She was out the door before she remembered that she'd forgotten shoes.
Her first order of business after she'd been Queened (as she insisted on referring to it despite Virgil's many many protests) was to set up her own private training room. Virgil had one but his was full of Virgil things and the floor was full of Virgil's scratches. She wanted her own. In theory, the entire castle was hers but it felt better to have a room marked off as specifically hers instead of just "theoretically" hers.
Now she was glad.
She threw open the door, completely forgetting to be quiet though it probably didn't matter in this particular wing (especially when you were the queen). There were no bedrooms on this end of the castle, only workrooms and storerooms and other things that were probably abandoned this late at night. Everyone needed to sleep eventually. Except, apparently, her.
It wasn't that she was nervous.
Though she was.
She barred the door behind her and heard the faint whisper as she pressed a hand against it to activate the seal that Virgil had worked into the heavy wood. He said it functioned like a lock but one that only reacted to her touch. It was all beyond her but she believed him about its efficacy and at times like this it did make her feel a little better to have a lock between her and the rest of the world. The narrow windows along the opposite wall were similarly spelled though she hadn't attempted to open them yet. It was still cold outside, the chill seeping straight into her bare feet from the floor, and she didn't need to let in even more cold air even if she was in here working up a sweat. Virgil would probably spontaneously combust if she got pneumonia because of the persistent castle drafts.
The room had been equipped with an assortment of familiar weapons, most of them blunted or made of less dangerous soft wood except for the throwing knives that Naiah had commissioned as a coronation gift. And now there was Cheynathril, hanging at her hip. Further along were a set of straw stuffed dummies, more baglike and lumpy than human shaped, and a few latticed wooden structures that she had for practicing her hand to hand. All the comforts of home.
On another night she might have grabbed up a practice sword and taken out her stress on a dummy for a little while. The thought of doing that tonight made her feel worse. Instead she went to the center of the room where it was clear and drew Cheynathril from its scabbard.
The blade was long and thin, more rapier than claymore like she might have expected from an enchanted sword. It was deceptively beautiful, elegant. She ran a hand along the flat of the smooth blade. It was as glossy as a mirror despite its age and the way she'd found it.
While most of her memories of her first arrival in Callaria were hazy and fleeting, the memory of finding Cheyna felt as fresh as if it had happened yesterday. Maybe it was the magic of the sword. Or maybe it was just the surprise of finding a perfectly formed sword jutting out of a tree in the middle of a forest. That was bound to stick in the memory.
Five stones decorated the hilt, one for each of the gods who had blessed it with their touch when they'd gifted it to the First King. One for the wind as it cut through the trees. Two for the sky when it split with lightning like liquid fire. Three for the waters that separated the world. Four for the earth and the secrets it kept. Five for the soul that flowed in the blood. Five for the greatest of them, the one with no name.
Ari had no idea if any of that was true but she could see fragments of it when her hand closed around Cheyna's grip. She could feel the five of them woven tight together into one new thing. Like a feeling made physical, hardened and forged into metal that could shine like polished silver even after being abandoned to time for hundreds of years.
Ari swung the sword in a lazy arc just to watch it flash in the dim witchlights that lined the walls. Somehow they had been made to react to the time of day, blinking into existence near sundown and gradually dimming until dawn had broken and washed everything with fresh yellow sun.
She hadn't known what she was doing when she pulled the sword from the tree. It had been like moving in a dream. Senseless but purposeful. The kind of logic that made everything seem terribly important even though you couldn't explain it later no matter how hard you tried.
Maybe the sword had called to her. Maybe she had just been curious. She had never been able to say one way or the other.
She just knew she had seen it. And then she had taken it.
The sword had slid free of the tree as easily as a cliché knife through butter. There had been no dramatic light from the heavens, a celestial spotlight to mark the occasion. No chorus of singing cherubs. She'd almost fallen over with how easy the sword came free. She'd expected it to put up more of a fight. Not the most auspicious beginning. That had come later when she returned to camp and all three of them, Virgil, Cylian, and Naiah, had stared at her like she'd grown a second and third head during her brief absence.
Ari swung again and did a spin like she'd seen in the movies, flourishing the blade in impractical but eye catching ways. Cheyna was so light at times like this, as if it weighed nothing at all, not even an ounce, as if it was an extension of her arm and nothing more.
She lunged and feigned a parry, retreated, moved forward again. It was the rhythm that mattered, the constant flow, the push and pull like waves upon the shore. It had always calmed her and now was no different. Parry, riposte, retreat. Again. Again. Again.
Cheyna shone like the scales of a darting fish in the shallows, the movement hypnotic and distant. As if the sword moved on its own without interference from Ari or anyone else.
She whirled.
The witchlights were dimming, making shadows grow in the corners furthest from her but Ari paid no attention.
It must be getting close to dawn. Virgil would be looking for her eventually. Everyone would be looking for her eventually.
She swung and she lunged and she thought about nothing except the next step she took.
On and on.
And on.
She didn't remember falling asleep but there was a soft bed beneath her and the heat of a body beside her. Her first instinct was to close her eyes and snuggle closer, to soak up warmth and with it comfort, ease, relief. She started to do just that. Then she remembered that Virgil was elsewhere.
Ari's eyes snapped open.
The room around her was shadowy and unfamiliar, the bed a near endless expanse of blood red linens. Not her room. Not her bed. And beside her, half covered by the sheet was an equally unfamiliar body. They rolled onto their side, propped on one elbow, smiling without showing their teeth.
The truth came to Ari as suddenly as if someone had held up a sign. "I'm dreaming."
"So you are." Silvery hair, shorn at a severe angle, fell over stark cheekbones as they tipped their head to look at her. The light flickered like candles even though there were none visible and it made their deeply tanned skin seem to shimmer. It outlined one bare shoulder, highlighting the jut of bone and the line of tight muscle. "You have exhausted yourself so We took action."
"Who are you?"
The question was answered with an icy stare that nevertheless carried with it an undercurrent of amusement. "Do you not recognize Us even after all this time? After the many hours We have faithfully spent at your side?" The words came out like a purr.
Ari snorted. "I don't know if I would call it faithful, Cheyna. Cheynathril," she corrected but she relaxed a little, letting the dream's edges recede back into the darkness, letting herself drop back against the pillows. If Cheyna was here she would be safe, dream or no. When Cheyna moved closer, one arm snaking around her waist, Ari even welcomed it. This might only be a dream but that didn't mean it didn't soothe her. Cheyna had always spoken clearest in dreams but this was the first time they'd met this way. "You don't look like I would have expected," she said.
Cheyna's fingers had been running gently through her hair and they stilled at the comment before resuming their progress. Her hair was getting long. She kept it pulled back into a ponytail when she could so it had gone unnoticed until now. "And what might you have expected of Us?" She could feel them thinking, fingers still moving slowly through her hair, tucking it behind one ear. "We have no form other than what We wish. Would it have pleased you better if We had chosen a different shape? Perhaps something more diminutive? Or no, you prefer larger, man shaped things, do you not?"
"No, this is fine."
"Good. We had no plans of changing to suit your whim anyway."
"Gee, thanks." Ari pressed the back of a hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn. "You're making me sleepy with all that."
"You are already sleeping."
"You know what I mean."
Cheyna's nose grazed her cheek as they moved in closer, head resting on the pillow beside her. The arm around her tightened fractionally. She might have taken it for possessiveness but that was okay too. It reminded her of the way she held Cheyna, the real Cheyna not this dream fabrication, the way her fingers found a home on its grip, as if they were meant to be there.
Ari yawned again before curling into Cheyna's side. She threw an arm over and her hand settled into the dip above jutting hip bones. A smile curved her lips. "I'm glad you're here, Cheyna."
There was no answer and she was too drowsy now to open her eyes to see if there was any reaction. None of it mattered. This was the peace she'd been seeking. She let out a long sighing breath and Cheyna shivered beside her. Lips brushed her cheek. Firm but gentle.
"Sleep now," Cheyna whispered, already drifting back into the shadows. "We will watch over you until you wake."
Ari nodded. Or meant to. The dream was fading, unraveling faster now. Even if she'd wanted to cling to it there was nothing left to hold onto besides the faint touch of Cheyna's hand.
***
ARI WOKE IN HER OWN bed, disoriented and bleary. Her hands searched the sheets around her but there was no trace of warmth besides her own, no sign that anyone had been there. Cheynathril hung untouched on her wall though it seemed to be watching her, good as its word, inlaid stones winking in the dim light like sleepy eyes. Her fingers traced the spot where Cheyna had kissed her in her dream. Traced it over again. The rest of the details were disappearing already but she remembered that.
She stared up at the sword. Its voice had been like the moon. Not hard edged or sharp but cool. Slow.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Then she rolled over, burrowing beneath the piled up blankets. When sleep came this time it was dreamless and serene.