35. Harper
35
HARPER
F or the rest of the day, they trained at full pelt in the training pit near the armoury. Harper was glad for the distraction. They pushed until every muscle screamed and her mind dulled with fatigue. She had reluctantly partnered with Aedon that day, and he was unusually distant with her. It left her like swirling water, confused and unsettled. Hadn’t they agreed to be nothing more than friends? She hated the awkwardness that hung between them.
She pushed all thoughts of Aedon and that kiss to the back of her mind, as difficult as it was with the heat of his body so close as they locked in mock battle time and again. Instead, she relished practising, using magic with her blade, charging the dead metal with speed and accuracy, even flames and lightning… much to the delight of the watching dwarves. She now realised the truth of Aedon’s insistence that magic was instinctive. It was like a warm river flowing through her. She only had to will it to harness it. The limit was her own strength, dictating how much or how long she could channel it.
“We’ll stop there for now,” Aedon said, though he was only breathing slightly more heavy than normal.
“I can continue,” insisted Harper. The magic made her feel alive, exhilarated, and buoyed her strength and agility.
“It’s best that we do not push you too much too soon. Not with what is at stake.”
“What happens if you do?” Harper asked as she lowered her blade and let the magic fade away. Glowing blue flame along the dagger faded into nothing.
Aedon lowered his own long, slim blade. “The magic will suck the very life from you, and you die.”
Chills flooded Harper. Before her, she did not see Aedon anymore, but Ilrune crumpling to the ground. It wasn’t the dragon that killed her. She used everything she had… to save me.
“Harper?”
She blinked herself back to the world. “Yes. Sure. I’m going to get something to eat.”
“Harper, wait up,” said Brand as he parried Erika’s strike. They disengaged and he ambled over, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. His chest heaved with each breath. “Aedon and Erika, you spar. I’ll go with Harper. I need a drink.”
Aedon shrugged and turned to Erika—who frowned at Brand, eyed Harper, then whirled to block Aedon’s strike.
Brand walked beside Harper in silence to the all-day feast in the konigshalle. The hall was busy, but not overly so. Many still trained at the various arenas around Keldheim. They each grabbed a bowl of stew and a beaker of water, then perched at the end of one of the long trestle tables.
Harper tucked in with gusto, savouring the rich meat and tangy spices, but Brand ate slowly, his eyes never leaving her face. “So,” he eventually prompted. “Will you tell me more?”
Harper met his gaze for a moment—serious and kind, as always—before looking away. “Only if you promise to hear me out and not change how you view me. I’m still the same person, just not sure how to make sense of any of this.”
“I swear it. I will not judge you.” Brand returned to his food.
The words tumbled out. Harper told him every detail of her vision. She remembered it with such vivid clarity, as if it had been permanently etched upon her mind. When she finished, Brand’s food sat forgotten as he gaped at her. She squirmed under his scrutiny and folded her arms.
“Well?” she asked, having no idea what she wanted him to say.
He shook his head, blowing out a loud gush of air. “In truth, I do not know what to say. I would not have believed it, but I know you would not lie about such a thing. How would you even know to?”
He shook his head and ran a large hand through his messy locks, then dropped his voice to a whisper. “So, you are Harper, daughter of Ilrune, granddaughter of Arven, great-granddaughter of Saradon ?”
She nodded.
“Wait… Who was the dragon rider you mentioned?”
Harper thought a moment. “Raedon, I think she said.”
Brand’s dark skin paled. “Are you certain?” he asked, a little too quickly to be casual.
“Yes. Why?” Her eyes narrowed.
Brand stared at her for a second, impassive. “We must tell the others.”
“Why?” Her voice rose an octave. Nearby dwarves turned their way, and she fought the volume down, and schooled the anguish from her face. “I’m not ready. I don’t even know how. Aedon will hate me, and Erika… Erika will worse than hate me!”
“I will see that she doesn’t,” he growled. “And as for Aedon, you shouldn’t care.”
“I’m not ready to tell them,” she insisted.
“You must.”
She refused to lower her gaze this time. “I shan’t unless you tell me why.”
His eyes darted around. Their disagreement had begun to earn attention. He leaned toward her, lowering his voice. “Raedon is the general of the Winged Kingsguard. He is also Aedon’s eldest brother.”
Harper gaped. “What?” she breathed.
“It’s true. You are… What? Twenty or so summers old? Raedon has been the general of the Winged Kingsguard since before you were born. It makes sense. He would have been personally tasked to exterminate the line of Ravakian, if no one except for Toroth and his predecessors knew it had endured.”
“Aedon’s brother killed my mother?” It could not be.
Brand nodded, his face grave. “And that is why we must tell him.”
Harper sat back, her own food forgotten, feeling sick to her stomach as the roaring of dragonfire consumed her once more. Yet again, she saw Ilrune’s lifeless body fall to the ground.