hate the Moonfair, I moaned.
Even now, at the crack of dawn, there were enough revelers and vendors in the maze of halls to slow my progress toward the King’s Wing significantly, not to mention friends and classmates determined to greet me and try to extract some juicy gossip.
Unfortunately for them, my patience had already been worn thin by all the ceremony I had to endure after landing; the only satisfaction I got from that experience was seeing the Olsdak governor and fair organizers blink sleepily when they arrived at the landing circle and glare at me for dragging them out of bed at this deken, all the way through the welcoming. As if they didn’t know that I couldn’t care less if they took a page out of Lady Winthra’s book: she didn’t even bother getting up.
Maybe this would make them think twice before inviting me next year. If…I was even available. Which, Flame Above and Below, I hoped I wasn’t. For many important reasons…but being excluded from participation in the Moonfair pageant was on the list.
As I hurried through the halls, I brushed the well-meaning friends off with a smile and the less well-meaning with a nod and hurried on when I could, or exchanged only the basic greetings when I couldn’t. But the longer the time went on, the more my smiles became forced and my nods curt. When we hit a blockage in the hallway caused by an overturned cart, I wanted to scream, but I forced myself to bend over and help the vendor pick up her wares instead, and glared at my wings until they did the same.
She’s probably not even awake yet, Yvera complained.
I snorted. Olsdak was half a day off from Sarah’s hold. If Sarah were asleep, it would be because she had been up the whole night and gone to bed again.
But I knew she wasn’t asleep. I could see her in there, somewhere, like a spot of light in my mind and not in my eyes. And that light was moving about. Had been for at least as long as we had been in Olsdak.
Was it…bad that I had watched her like that? The entire time we had been separated, every time I thought of her—which had seemed like every other moment—I had looked. Though I had wondered if I shouldn’t. Or at least…if I shouldn’t quite so often.
But it wasn’t like I could see anything revealing—just light, just a star in the darkness of my mind where I felt all my other gates. The further away I had been, the harder it had been to even discern movement; when we had been realms apart, she had appeared to stand completely still. But I had drawn a surprising amount of comfort from seeing her star in my night’s sky all the same. Every time I felt fit to burst from it all, I could look and breathe just from knowing she was there, that she was alive, and that if I absolutely had to…I could try to reach her.
We hadn’t tried me surging to her yet, much less from a distance, so I should give her fair warning before I did. And I should definitely not try it if she were just stirring and getting ready for the day.
Although, Flame help me, every delay tempted me more.
“Ben!”
My footsteps sped automatically, before my brain caught up and I recognized the voice. When I did, I stopped and turned to wait for the first time.
The tall, green-haired, olive-skinned drakón I’d expected to see pushed her way through the crowd with a bright smile on her face and pulled me into a hug. I hugged Svyer tightly back, even though something smelled off about her. A new perfume?
She pulled away before I could think about it further. Besides, her specialization in healing was with medicinal plants. She was always experimenting with some new healing concoction, balm, or aroma.
“Svyer!” I greeted in delight. “I didn’t know you were coming!”
She laughed. “Well, when I heard you were, how could I resist checking in o—”
She caught onto my pointed look and Kor’s cough just in time. “—ooon you,” she finished brightly. “You know. My busiest cousin. The cousin who is too busy jumping around the Six Realms doing super important things to answer my calls.”
I flushed. She always seemed to call at the worst times, like when Sarah and I were in mortal danger. Or talking. Or I was showering. Or sleeping. Or.… Yeah, that accounted for all my time these past handful of days since I’d spoken to her. Now, the part that I knew I was at fault for was not thinking of calling her back in the few spare moments I’d had to breathe.
“Sorry,” I said sheepishly, offering no excuse.
She rolled her green eyes as she slung her arm around me. “You’re lucky I’m related to you, so I have to love you anyway.”
“You’re my best, most favorite cousin,” I said solemnly. With her this close, that strange smell once again tugged at my nostrils, but I ignored it for her sake.
She smirked. “That’s not saying much, and you know it.”
“True,” I said with a crooked smile.
The closest branches of my family tree were simple: Avva had been an only child. Avvi had only one sibling, who had only Svyer. And so, for first cousins at least…Svyer was it for me.
“But,” I declared. “If I had to have only one cousin, you’re the best, most patient, most forgiving one I could ask for.”
“That’ll do,” she said, slipping away. Only to mock punch me on the arm. “For now.”
She nodded to Yvera in a friendly greeting. “Yv, good to see you.”
Yvera shrugged. She’d never particularly liked Svyer, but she’d never hated her, and for Yvera, that meant they were as good of friends as any. And Svyer, to her credit, understood that.
However, Svyer’s smile slipped when she had to face Kor. Her nod to him was surprisingly sober. Almost…bitter, for her.
Huh.
Not that I was one to talk about having a fireball to throw at Kor right now. But.…
Svyer turned back to me, smile returning. “Heading to the King’s Wing? Mind if I tag along? You know. To say hi to some friends.”
“Of course,” I said, clapping her on the back. “Your ‘friends’ would be upset with me if you didn’t.”
As hard as it would be to give up yet more chances to get Sarah alone before the evening festivities, I couldn’t begrudge her some time with the first friend she had made in the Six Realms. Especially time with a female…who wasn’t Yvera.
We had been near the King’s Wing already, so only a few more dek of walking finally brought us to the large arch and gate that led to that hold within the hold. The guards knew me and my wings on sight and hailed me, but I approved when they asked me to blood verify anyway.
In roughly the center of the arch, just before the gate, was an archival pedestal with a crystalline cone that ended in a hollow tip as sharp as a needle. It was a bit like the device used in blood registrations: the crystal tip took a pinprick of blood, then magic searched for a match in the records of permitted people stored in the archival and tested for consumption at the same time. If there was a match and no consumption, then the crystal glowed pure with their soulcolor; a match with consumption would show a dark column in the center. If there was no match but the blood was clear, the crystal would glow white. (Huh. We were going to have to fix that for Sarah.) Finally, if there was no match and the blood contained consumption, the crystal would flare completely black.
The test was a costly measure in magic, setup, and maintenance, and thus usually only used in the highest of security situations, but I was glad to see that Eskala was taking it.
I pricked my finger, and the crystal immediately glowed pure gold. A guard sanitized the tip, then Yvera did the same and got pure violet. Kor winced as he pricked his, which was silly; it was just a drop of blood, and we’d done this hundreds of times before, after all. Pure sapphire.
Svyer stepped forward last, hesitating. “Ben, I’m not sure I’m on.…”
“Go ahead just for the consumption test, then I’ll see what I can do to get you in.”
While she did that, a guard pulled me aside—an apologetic Strongshield. “Heir Koriben, I’m sorry to say it, but Eskala was adamant: no one not already on the registry was to be allowed into the King’s Wing without swearing a blood oath of no harm to our special guest.”
I grimaced. While Svyer wouldn’t have a problem with the oath on principle, it was extreme to ask such a thing just for a visit. Especially when she was my cousin. And, well, Svyer. Who wouldn’t hurt a fly, even if it had landed on her prized potted magdela. On the other hand…I wasn’t about to let all Eskala’s precautions go to waste by bringing Sarah outside the King’s Wing to Svyer.
“What is it, Ben?” Svyer asked.
I sighed as I looked at her. Silently, I said, They say you have to swear a blood oath of no harm to Sarah. Eskala’s orders.
“I’ll do it,” she said immediately, out loud.
“Svyer,” I said, pained. “You really don’t have to do this. I’ll…think of something.”
Although what, I had no idea. Eskala wasn’t one to be easily dissuaded, and in this case, I didn’t want to try. I had asked for the strictest protections for Sarah, and I couldn’t be asking for exceptions now—not even for my cousin.
You think I want harm to come to her? Svyer said impatiently. I didn’t come all this way to get stopped by a blood oath to do what I’m already going to do.
I sighed again, then nodded to her. Then looked at the Strongshield guard. “She’ll do it.”
The guard hesitated a moment. The oath…reveals the guest’s identity.
Ah, I saw the problem—in her mind, at least. In order to have any real effect, Svyer had to know who she was swearing not to harm.
Svyer already knows Sarah’s name, and has met her, I answered. And guesses at something of what she is. But you can just use Sarah’s name in the oath without having to disclose anything more.
The guard nodded in relief, then turned to Svyer. “If you will just step in here with me, please.”
She led Svyer into a side guardroom, and I followed, with Kor and Yvera lingering outside—Kor’s expression unreadable, Yvera’s impatient. Inside the mostly empty guardroom, a small brazier was already sitting on a pedestal for this very purpose.
The guard gestured for Svyer to begin, since the one swearing the oath had to light the fire. If Svyer had not been drakón, the guard would have given her a match.
Svyer lit the coals in the brazier with a wave of her hand. Then, drawing the knife at her waist, she sliced a line across her right palm and raised that hand over the brazier to allow the blood to drip into the flames, which hissed with each drop. I felt the presence of the Tree grow in the small room; nothing opened the gateways of Her power more than the swearing of a solemn oath. Particularly with blood.
Svyer hesitated one moment, as if struggling with something. Which was odd, considering what I knew of her and her stated willingness from before. I nearly opened my mouth to ask what was wrong.
But in that moment, she met the guard’s eyes and nodded to show she was ready.
Then she repeated after the guard, word by word. “I, Svyer Peacegrowth, of my own free will, do swear by my blood and the Flame to never intend or bring harm upon Sarah Lind, unless the Tree should permit. Thus I vow.”
The final caveat was usually included in such oaths as a failsafe in case the object (Sarah, in this case) should ever become unworthy of protection or unjustly try to harm Svyer, in which case the Tree would free Svyer of her oath. Otherwise…Svyer was now bound by her blood to never harm Sarah until the day Svyer died. And perhaps beyond.
Svyer clenched her hand into a fist, seemingly with more pain or effort than should have been warranted from just that simple cut. A final few drops fell hissing into the flames, and they surged upward to harmlessly enclose Svyer’s hand and seal the oath into her blood.
Then the fire fell back down and died altogether, not even leaving the coals glowing.
When Svyer’s hand opened, the cut was gone, without even a scar remaining—the final proof of the Tree’s acceptance of her oath.
“Very good, thank you,” the guard said gratefully. “Heir Koriben, with all of that in order, would you like me to add Svyer Peacegrowth to the registry?”
“Yes, please. I have no qualms about giving her access.”
“I will do so. Svyer Peacegrowth, you may now enter,” the guard said, gesturing out the room and to the gate, with Kor standing in view just beside it. “Flame welcome you.”
“Thank…you,” Svyer said, but there was a distance to her voice and a glazed look to her eyes.
“Svyer?” I said in concern, putting a hand on her back. I knew this wasn’t the first blood oath she had taken. After all, I had been there at her presentation before the Tree and witnessed the oaths of the drakón she had sworn when she had become.
At my touch, she snapped out of her daze with a shake of her head. “Fine, I’m…fine. Just…tired.”
She smiled at me and strode forward. “Come on. Let’s go see our mutual friend.”
I trailed behind her, troubled, but unable to name why.
But I was quickly distracted from darker thoughts, because as soon as we passed through the wicket gate and into the King’s Wing proper, my star came rushing toward me.
“Ben!” she cried, uncharacteristically heedless of all the stares and smiles she collected as she ran across the bustling central court to me.
I laughed joyously as she jumped into my arms, and I lifted her up for a proper hug.
“Missed me?” I asked in satisfaction.
“Of course I did,” she huffed, but the pique in her voice didn’t stop her from snuggling deliciously into me and wrapping her arms around my neck. “Didn’t you miss me?”
Sobering, I whispered in her ear, “More than I can say.”
Seeing her star in the distant cosmos had kept my lungs moving. But for the first time since I had held her like this on the mesa yesterday, I felt like I could truly breathe again.
“Well,” she said. “Good.”
Her words were enticingly breathless, in a way that made me so badly want to turn her head to meet mine and take the rest of her breath away. I might have lost the battle, promises be iced, but—
Yvera poked me in the back. I knew it was her because of the pointed nail.
Then she said sharply, If you have to be all moony over her, can you go do it somewhere else?
Right. Somewhere else. I should do that. Sarah would want that, anyway. Oh, and yeah—promises. Those things. Right.
With a monumental effort of will, I lowered Sarah to the ground, although I couldn’t help but keep a hand on her back. For an excuse, I used it to turn her.
“Look who came all this way to see you,” I said with a grin, anticipating her delight.
I wasn’t disappointed, except by the loss of Sarah’s touch as she gasped and ran for my cousin. It was a good thing I knew they were just friends, or I might have been jealous.
Alright…I still was. Just a little bit. I was only mortal.
“Svyer!” Sarah cried, wrapping her arms around the much taller young woman.
Svyer laughed and leaned down to return the embrace. “Sarah! It’s so good to see you! And to see you’ve somehow survived whatever scrapes Ben has been getting you into.”
“Hey,” I said irritably. “I’m right here.”
Svyer grinned over Sarah’s head at me. “Well, you certainly don’t need to be. I’m sure you have important Heir stuff to attend to while Sarah and I catch up.”
I was about to open my mouth to protest—I had just gotten Sarah back, and I wasn’t about to give her up yet—when Sarah let go of Svyer and turned to me, cheeks heating.
“Actually, Ben.… Would you mind giving us some time?”
Privately, she said to me, I have some…female questions.
I didn’t understand what she meant by that for one whole second. Then Sarah placed a hand on her abdomen and grimaced.
I blinked. And inwardly groaned.
That was all? Her moons?
Then again, I wasn’t female, obviously, and combine that fact with Sarah’s self-consciousness and obsessive need for privacy, I had better give her that time alone with the one she did feel comfortable talking to.
As sharp as my disappointment was. And as potent as my unjustified flare of jealousy.
“Alright,” I said with a sigh, running a hand through my hair.
“We should report to Eskala, in any case,” Kor said as he came to my side.
“Right,” I said, forcing myself to turn and hopefully not make it look as painful as it felt. “Eskala. See you later, Sarah.”
“See you!” Sarah called after me.
Thank you, she sent. Really. I wouldn’t ask this, especially not so soon after you got back, but I really do need to talk to just her for a bit. Come find us as soon as you can.
I understand, I sent back, a bit mollified. Take the time you need.
I could admit to myself that I was being greedy. Just because Sarah was now my star, around which my whole life and being seemed to be beginning to revolve.…
Didn’t mean I was hers.