43. Rahzlyn
Rahzlyn
“Perhaps we should return to the palace,” Felaf suggested.
I sat with my chin propped atop my knees outside a print shop’s exterior.
The wall’s stony grooves dug into my back.
It took several rounds of breathing exercises to settle myself.
Even though I was no longer on the verge of hyperventilating, there was nothing that could be done to erase the boy from my mind.
Harsh sunlight gleamed down on us. Our black layers were light, concealing every inch of our skin apart from our eyes, but black absorbed the heat too well.
I itched to return to the palace and douse myself in the cool waters of the terrace.
The absence of water was everywhere, especially compared to the palace where it trickled in every crevice.
“No,” I answered her finally. “I’m fine.”
“You’re certain?”
“Yes, Felaf,” I grumbled, looking up at her.
She hesitated. “Did I do something to offend you?”
“You did nothing.” Absolutely nothing. Felaf could have saved that boy.
I understood getting involved would have exposed our presence, but following the rules wasn’t a good enough excuse to stand there and do nothing. Her penchant for rules wore on my patience.
“I know you’re upset, and honestly so am I, Princess. It’s against protocol for you to go anywhere without both guardians. Raithe should be here with us—”
“He’s probably too busy nursing his self-inflicted wounds.” Despite my apathetic tone, the idea pained me. His powers would quicken his healing, but I doubted he would want that for whatever reason. “I’m not ready to go back.”
“Alright, then.” Felaf accepted my wishes and extended a hand to me. “Where to next?”
I wanted to step beyond the other side of those gates and see for myself the wastelands of the city, not caring if what I witnessed tormented me for the rest of my life. I would rather be burdened with the truth than liberated by duplicity.
“Let’s just walk,” I settled on.
Felaf pondered our surroundings. “There’s a communal thermae at the bottom of this path.”
“Thermae?”
“Bathhouse.”
“Great.”
“We shouldn’t linger long though, for it is also up the road from the city dungeons. Remember to keep your—”
“Scarf up and hood drawn, I know.” I secured both back in place, catching Felaf’s wounded expression from my tone. I added more gently, “It’s too dusty without them.”
While the Baron’s District had an underground reservoir to keep its foliage alive and nourish its residents, it was still unforgivably dry. It felt like we were walking in Leo, a kingdom known for its deserts and arid landscape. Somehow, they managed to thrive under such conditions.
Scorpio, I was learning, was not built for aridity.
“Can I ask you something, Princess?” Felaf prompted. Irritated as I was with her, I was grateful for the break of silence. Our shoes scuffing along the dusty path had been the only noise exchanged between us.
“Of course,” I answered somewhat cautiously.
“Apologies, but it’s impossible for me not to hear conversations throughout the palace. I overheard Raithe talking to you one night not long ago.”
I racked my brain for anything inappropriate Raithe and I could have said. There had never been anything overtly wrong with our words—only the underlying tension that blossomed beneath the exchange. “Talking about what?”
“How did you get him to tell you about Hector?”
“I didn’t get him to do anything. I might have coaxed him a little.” Our steps slowed beneath the shade of a palm tree. “Why do you ask?”
“Raithe doesn’t tell people anything about himself. Alekko warned me that’s his nature, but I fear he resents me for the lashes. How could he not?” Her voice faltered, a touch of vulnerability seeping through.
“I don’t think he resents you,” I said. “Your approaches to being a guardian are different. As are your life experiences, I imagine.”
“Everyone compares me to Hector. I hear the whispers of how I’ll never live up to his reputation.
Stars, even Maryn respected him enough to address him by his name.
And Raithe is talented in his own right.
I mean, the youngest guardian to be Chosen and win an Elemental Tournament?
” Felaf kicked a loose cobble. “He has a plethora of knowledge and skills that he keeps all to himself. When he’s not bending rules to his whims, why can’t he see that he’s my Hector? ”
“You should tell him.” It never occurred to me that Felaf felt so inferior. Raithe wouldn’t know what to do with such an admission, but vulnerability had a strange way of mending friction.
Felaf huffed a laugh. “I’ve tried. But I’m pretty sure he doesn’t think I’m worthy enough.
My father certainly didn’t.” She hesitated.
“My father was once a general on the Isles. Fierce and loyal, hailing from a family of soldiers. He wanted a son so badly. ‘You should have been born a boy,’ he’d grumble.
I did everything I could, followed every rule, to prove I was worthy of him. It was never enough.”
I cast a glance at her. I couldn’t see beneath her hood, but I sensed her sadness.
“A parent’s love shouldn’t be conditional,” I said.
“I’m sorry you felt that way. I understand what it’s like to disappoint your family and live with the regrets of what might have been.
It’s a heavy thing to carry alone. I’m glad you told me.
” I glanced skyward. “I wonder what has become of my grandparents.”
Air territories believe that our souls became stars—but each elemental territory had its own belief. I found it difficult for anyone to declare what was right if only the Astrals knew the truth.
“How have you been since her—their deaths?” Felaf probed tentatively.
I mulled over a response that would accurately depict the state of my heart and mind. “Better. Letti was right. Time… it helps. But the pain of their loss has stained me forever. I don’t think I’ll ever be the same.”
“No,” Felaf agreed. “Death changes us all.”
I pictured Raithe’s gentle, earnest gaze during those nights when sorrow robbed me of sleep, of breath. He’d beheld me with such a fierce gentility—a dichotomy I’d never experienced before.
“Well, wherever she—I mean, they—are, I’m sure she… they are at peace,” Felaf sputtered. “Both of your grandparents and your brother, that is.”
I peered at her questioningly. “You okay?”
“Never better!”
Her deflection struck me as odd, but I didn’t press her. Not after she shared a part of her story that helped me to understand her a bit more.
I resumed a quicker, perturbed pace down the path carved into the bedrock of the skyland.
“On a separate note, I think you’re finally winning over the servants,” Felaf quipped.
“I find that surprising, given the distrustful stares I’ve continued to garner throughout the palace.
” I supposed snapping at them didn’t help, even if they’d deserved it for leering at Raithe.
I suppressed the blooming flutters in my belly as I recalled his nearly naked figure, honed from years of practice and mindfulness.
“Your dinner with Maryn is the talk of the palace,” Felaf added.
“I thought everyone was loyal to Maryn?”
“Servants want to be treated like humans, not animals, and your standoff with Maryn proved you believe the same.”
Treating others with basic respect was common sense to me. “Anything else I should know to win them over?”
“They live for all sorts of currency. Gossip, rare foods from the kitchens, special tonics from Gertah’s supply. Everyone wants something.”
“And what sort of currency have you dealt with?”
Felaf raised her fists. “Raithe isn’t the only skilled warrior, remember?”
Then it clicked. “I was wondering who taught Letti. She’s deceptively violent.”
“Oh, she was born that way. I simply help sharpen her claws.”
“And what do you get in return?”
Felaf merely shrugged. “She listens.”
I was about to ask what it was that Letti listened to when we reached the public bathhouse.
It consisted of a grand circular design with elegant columns encircling a deep central pool.
Scorpion symbols were etched into nearly every crevice.
The space was adorned with statues of Scorpio, terra-cotta urns, and draped seating areas illuminated by the light pouring down from the open roof above.
Dozens swam or lounged along the sides, basking in the sun.
Some in robes, some partially clothed, some fully nude.
Even in winter, it was still mild enough at midday to swim without being too cold.
The people paid us no attention as we neared, and I couldn’t help but admire their contentment.
They swam in the water for the sake of enjoyment, not necessity.
A group of people clustered nearby with instruments, their sounds blending together to create a soothing and lively melody. I drew closer, enraptured as one strummed a lyre in their hands, one with a tambourine-looking object, and two others blew on an instrument resembling a flute.
“What’s that they're playing?” I pointed to the two musicians at the end.
“An aulos,” she identified. “Quite a reedy sound, isn’t it?”
It was utterly enchanting. “I swear I’ve heard it before, but I’ve never seen that particular instrument in Gemini.”
“Not surprising. That and the drum-like one, the krotala, are native to the southern realm, made from the sycamore trees that grow here.”
The sounds produced between these two instruments struck something in me.
It was beautiful and melodic, soft as a breeze and profound as a lake.
Then it dawned on me—I had heard such music before: in the wind.
How remarkable to finally identify one of the instruments that inspired the magical breeze, if that was even how it worked.
Most days I was content to simply listen to it without questioning, but there were others like today where I wished my grandparents had known more about the nature of our familial gift.