Chapter 31 Rorin
Rorin
CLANK!
"Come on, Rorin, at least try to beat me!" Bennett taunts, his sword swinging down by my ankles. He laughs when I barely manage to jump out of the way and block his blow.
Backing away, I bring my blade out in front of me. The hilt spins heavily in my palm today, the weapon feeling more like lead than another extension of myself.
Bennett lunges forward, and I cast it out, catching the edge of his sword.
SCRAAAAPPPPEEE!
Sparks fly off the metal as we drag the blades down, stopping only when both tips touch the floor. He pulls his away sharply, trying to knock me off balance as he moves to swing again.
Turning on the balls of my feet, I arc over my head and bat his sword away before he can recover. I succeed at knocking it out of his hands, poising the sharpened tip of mine at the center of his chest.
"Was that trying hard enough?" I snap.
The sweat's dripping off both our brows, and I relent, giving him enough room to hop backwards and retrieve his weapon. "Meh — so you got one good hit in, I bet I'll still win the spar." I snort and replant both of my feet.
We take off at the same time our blades meet each other, hit for hit, as the loud clanging and clashing of the match bounces off the stone walls.
CLANG!
Our swords form an "x", driving us together until our noses are mere inches apart. We grunt against the other’s force, Bennett’s face turning red when his brow quirks up and—
"You conveniently snuck away this morning." Her voice slams into my mind.
"I— OOF!" I land harshly on the ground, my guard’s shit-eating grin hanging above me. “Fuck.”
He reaches a hand out for me to take, and I slap it away — choosing instead to stop the humiliation there and push myself off the ground.
From the corner of my eye, I catch something glinting in the light and turn to see Will, holding my discarded sword, a disappointed frown plastered on his face. "Don't look at me like that." I sigh, snatching the hilt from him and sheathing it at my hip.
"That was pathetic."
"Bennett was better than me." I shrug, throwing the man a bone as he sits down to polish his blade.
Will's eyes roll, crossing both arms over his chest. "You're distracted, your mind elsewhere. Do that on the battlefield, and you're dead."
"It was just a bad morning, Will." I placate, dropping a hand onto his shoulder.
"Don't worry, Eveera can just bring him back." Bennett chirps when—
CRACK!
A blinding flash of light strikes next to his body, sending him tumbling to the ground. "What in the gods?!" He shouts, scrambling backwards along the floor, kicking the now singed wood stool away from him.
"Fucking Vellaran scum."
The three of us snap our attention over to the entrance and see Maxwell seething, electricity crackling around his palms.
"Max!" Millie shouts, rushing in behind him, "are you okay?"
"Is he okay?!" Bennett snaps, gesturing frantically at himself and the seat he'd just been occupying. Millie's jaw drops as she looks between the two men, her fingers trying to wrap around Max's bicep, but he shirks her off, turning away to storm down the hall.
She looks desperately back at Max before turning her eyes accusingly at Ben. "What did you do?"
"Ah— I didn't know he was right there."
"What. Did. You. Do?"
Bennett lifts himself off the ground, brushing the dirt off his ass as he tries to find the excuse he wants to give her. "I made a bad joke."
"About?"
"About…" he sighs, defeated as he confesses, "about how if Rorin dies while distracted on the battlefield, that it's fine because Eveera will just bring him back."
Her green eyes widen, and she curls her lip, "you!"
"I didn't know he was there!"
She scoffs in disbelief, arms tossing out to her sides, "idiot!"
He looks at us, "I didn't know he was there." He tries again, desperately, but all Will and I can do is shake our heads.
"So you've said — would you like to tell us a fourth time, or can we move on?"
"This is really all your fault." He tries, his finger pointing out at me. "If you hadn't been so unfocused during training, this would have never happened." That's probably true. I admit to myself. "What did have you so distracted by the way?"
Will snorts next to me, "I don't think we have to ask that question, Bennett."
"Eveera and I's… discussion last night."
His brows lift, "oh yeah? Was it any good?" Very. The word almost slips out as flashes of the two of us tangled in each other go through my mind. "Ror-in?" He pushes against my shoulder.
"What?"
Bennett laughs, and Will grimaces, "I guess that answers that."
"I told you not ask, Haid."
While the two of them hung around to do more training, I snuck off to find Marjorie.
Some questions of mine need answers, and I have a dreadful feeling that she's going to be the only one with them.
Winding through the halls on this side of the castle was quiet — compared to the rest of it with its buzzing staff, diplomats, and their entourages.
Or it was quiet until I turned into the alcove where the healer's quarters are nestled.
CRASH!
I flinch at the noise, hesitating to knock, when I hear Murph's familiar voice float through the wood. A small smile spreads across my lips, and the tension in my shoulders dissipates.
KNOCK! KNOCK!
"I— argh — COMING!" Murph shouts, followed by the sound of feet thudding across the floor. The doors whip open, and his eyes widen, surprised. "I had been wondering about you."
"Hello, Murph." I greet.
He returns my smile and waves me into the room. It's a mess. The entire quarter is filled with bits and bobbles, potions bubbling over, and the stale scent of dying plants has grown worse since my last visit. "You've… erm… certainly made yourself at home here."
He lets out a short laugh and waves again for me to follow after him, into Marjorie's workspace.
"Murph— I— oh." The voice stops me in my tracks as my head swivels around to see Caz standing at the end of the workbench, arms filled with books, "your Majesty.
" He interjects, dipping his head politely.
"Caz. What are you doing in here?"
He hesitates for a moment, unsure if he wants to say. "Al—"
"The Alloy." Murph interrupts, cutting off the man’s explanation.
Caz nods and confirms while the former spins around to face us, his withered face scrunching.
"Well, come on, chop chop, work is to be done.
" He comments, completely unaware of the tension bleeding into the room.
"We do not— ugh—" he snatches the books out from Caz's hands, his face quickly turning to disappointment at our lack of urgency, "have time. There is much to do, much to learn. Now, Caz here, was just about to demonstrate this alloy.”
"Murph, you're not an alchemist."
He looks over at me, bewildered. "This I know, that does not mean that I am incapable of learning a new skill."
No, I think to myself, it doesn't. "Just don't blow anything up, alright?"
"He's done that enough already." Marjorie's gravelly voice cuts through the room like a knife.
"The Lady returns."
She gives us all a disapproving look, but settles on me. "A-hem, I was wanting—"
"I know what you want, child." She hisses, crooking her fingers for me to follow.
I take a step forward, obeying, as Caz speaks up behind us, "forgive me, my lady, but is he not your king?"
Her hands flex out at her sides, not too dissimilar from the way that Eveera does when she's frustrated. "I gave him that title. I will address him however I bloody please."
"Well, go on, I won't stand here all day, boy." She barks, standing against the edge of her balcony.
I blow out a long breath, "who are you exactly?"
"You've interrupted my schedule to ask me that?" She jeers, her green eyes piercing right through me.
"I mean—"
"You mean, who am I to you?" I nod, and she hums, “Did you know that Eveera's mother spent time in Valen's Court?
" I tamp down the surprise on my face, waiting for her to continue.
"Ayla was my apprentice, a talented one too.
She and my daughter were quite the pair running around the castle in her free time — not that I gave her that much.
Many people found it odd, an Obsid of noble birth coming to our humble kingdom, wanting to learn a Wield that wasn't her own.”
“Did Eveera's mother have a Wield?"
She inclines her head, her face lighting up.
"Oh yes. Both her parents were strong Shadow Mages, but where Killian was gifted — Ayla was exceptional.
So well versed in reading the wisps and so dutiful in worshipping the Fates that her power grew beyond its natural capacity.
My sweet Lala was a visionary. She knew a fair bit in regards to apothecary, which is what led her to me; she shared her Wield in return for my lessons. "
My forearms drop onto the balcony edge, my torso leaning over it. “I don’t see–”
“Shush.” She snaps, pinching my lips together.
“Ayla saw an opportunity to mix her skills with mine, to introduce Obsidian to a new way of healing.
But I was not an easy woman to win over, despite her charms and wit.
Luckily for her, she found a companion in my daughter, who helped sway my stubbornness. "
"And how did you end up here?"
Her face grows dark, her lips pursing, "Ayla needed my help.
She was close to her delivery with Eveera at the time, and things were not going well for the two of them.
Killian begged for me to see her — to save both of them.
" She turns in her spot, facing me fully, "there was some truth to Eveera's birth. The girl was close to death when she was born. Her face was dark blue, heartbeat was slow and faint. I brought them both back, and when she finally cried out, the whole castle was made aware. Not even stone could smother that girl’s cries… powerful from the day she was born."
I don't doubt that. Pictures of Eveera fill my mind, and warmth spreads through my chest. SMACK! "Ow!" I shout, bringing my hand up to my cheek.