Chapter 26 Seren
Chapter twenty-six
Seren
Colors and blurred light overlayed the imprint of Harkin’s face as he gazed upon me at the spring. Confusion and amazement filled his features as if I had surprised him. As if he had not wanted to look away.
I wondered if perhaps he had looked upon me with care all along.
When his face finally came into sharp focus, I saw that it was no longer Harkin before me.
It was Théo, sitting at one end of a long table, stiff in a high backed chair.
He looked so out of place outside of the melancholy remnants of the cathedral.
His expression grew tense under the weight of five discerning stares.
“Your Majesty, the troops march on Ordéles. I have identified fifty of their Guardians along the border. Our guards will have little trouble dispatching them and moving forward with their mission,” Théo said, hands wringing together in a repetitive motion.
“Hmm,” the king acknowledged. “Imre, what say you?”
I drew along the side of the table, moving slowly though I knew they could not see me. The king was directly across from me now, but it was as if his face was made from smoke and shadow. The dream bent around him, drawing my attention away.
Ignatius Imre sat straighter in his seat, puffing his barrel chest. “You put too much stock in the boy, sir. Let us burn the Guardians to a crisp and be done with it. No use wasting time with strategic pairings when good old blunt force will do the trick far faster.”
The words were mocking, and Théo bit his lip. He took a deep breath before responding.
“All due respect,” he began, “but these pairings have proven the most efficient method of succeeding in our missions without losing our own troops. Outright battle, unplanned and relying on firepower alone… Acsillans and Ordélesans alike will only suffer more for it.”
“Goddesses…” I muttered, squinting hard at Théo as if I could cut through the fabric of the dream if I only focused hard enough. They were so vivid—so real.
“Ah. The boy cares for the suffering of Ordélesans now! I have truly heard it all.” The fire wielder laughed, and Araceli Basa was quick to join in. Her air mágik swirled around him, teasingly.
Their conversation looped again in my mind.
No flesh and blood Acsillan would ever worry for the fate of Ordélesans; no Rázuri would ever care for the souls of humans.
The dreams could not be anything but a figment of my imagination, some desperate soft spot within me that desired to protect both of my homes.
“And what of water wielders?” Hesperia Farkas questioned, jumping in before they could dig Théo deeper into the grave. “What happens when their battles cross yours? What happens when they quench your fire, Ignatius?”
Théo inclined his head to her in subtle thanks.
Ignatius grinned, a wicked gleam in his eye. “Have you never seen a man boiled alive, Farkas? Water does not quench fire. Not if you know what you’re doing with it.”
“Do they know how to wield their mágik thus?” The king asked.
“Well, they ought to,” Ignatius sputtered.
“Have you instructed them on this specifically? Or are you making assumptions, Councilman?” Théo leaned forward as he said the words, splayed his hands flat in front of him in a non-threatening gesture.
Ignatius Imre brought his fist down hard against the table. Singe marks burned into the wood, sending smoke curling toward the rafters. “How dare you! You do not get to question me, nor any of us.”
I stepped forward, water already licking down the length of my arms.
“Théo is a member of this Royal Council. He wields life mágik, Ignatius. We need him.” Hesperia spoke slowly, deliberately.
“Quite right, Councilwoman Farkas. I see no point in changing the plans. We will continue with Théo’s strategic pairing attack plans.
Let us see just how many Ordélesans we can snuff out with his guidance.
” The king stood, and the others hurried to follow.
They offered short bows as he exited the room.
Théo fled the chamber, and I was the shadow on his heels. His every step was a river pulling me along in its wake. His tread was silent over smooth stone. Voices drew closer, feminine pitch rising—growing more placating with every breath.
“Apologies, Father. I only wished to help.” I could see her face now. The crestfallen look in her eyes speared me through—speared Théo through.
Ayla.
Our emotions tied together in an unsolvable knot, mine and Ayla’s and Théo’s.
“Yes. I imagine it is rather past time for you to step up.” The king faced away from me, his face hidden yet again, but the chastisement in his voice was unmistakable. “Are you finally ready to take on the blood that comes with running a kingdom? Or are you still too squeamish?”
“I… What if there was another way? One where we need not resort to killing?” Ayla was fighting a losing battle, and Théo loved her all the more for it. His unending devotion to her tasted like honey on my tongue, sweet and pure.
The king scoffed, moving to stride past her. “I should have expected nothing more. You do not understand what it takes to be a ruler. Perhaps you never will.”
“Come now, Brother,” the prince tutted, sidling up beside the pair. “The princess will serve her purpose yet. She had endless potential, we need only guide her in the right direction.”
“Then you do it. I don’t have time for her childish games.” He left without even a glance at Ayla.
Had he looked at her, the girl he claimed as his daughter, he would have seen what Théo and I did. He would have seen a girl with a heart too big, too caring, too close to bursting. He would have seen a girl who would do anything to please him.
“Don’t worry, my dear. I will take care of everything.” The prince patted her on the shoulder in a move so patronizing, Théo flinched. I gritted my teeth against it.
Ayla smiled up at him—a teary, distracted falsehood. “Of course. I will be ready when you call.”
The scene stuttered—a stomach dropping, time warping thing—and a grand ballroom rose up around me, Ayla and Théo in the center of the sweeping dance floor.
I could not grasp the way time worked in these dreams—it slipped through my fingers like water, past and present and future—and my head began to pound in time to a clock, ticking back, back, back, just out of sight.
My focus drifted, and my eyes fluttered shut.
When I opened them again, the pair stood closer to me.
Their faces were strained, lips pressed in thin lines and eyes hard.
Their words had taken on a distant quality. Snippets reached me in fits and starts. They were upset—arguing. Ayla’s expression shifted from peace to annoyance and back again. She raised her hands in a placating gesture as her lips moved soundlessly.
“I know he is your father, and he might have been a good man once, but he is unfit to rule this kingdom as it stands. I cannot sit by and watch his poor decisions affect our people. I cannot stand by and allow him to treat you as someone unworthy of respect.” Théo’s voice rang in my ears, suddenly clear.
“Théo…” Ayla said, on a sigh. “They are my family. I must stand by them.”
“Even if they would not stand by you?”
“What does that mean?” Ayla’s eyes narrowed as she regarded her friend.
Théo ran a pale hand through his fallen-snow hair. “Your father and uncle will use you to any end. They know you will not question them. They know you will never stand up against them because it is not in your nature, and it will be your ruination.”
Ayla took several deep breaths. “Is that truly what you think of me? That I am but a silly, mindless girl who would follow the whims of terrible men? That I am not strong enough to be anything else?” The words were not said in anger.
Hurt was written plainly across Ayla’s face, and her throat was thick with tears.
I choked them down with a heavy swallow, the salt of her pain grating on my tongue.
“No,” Théo breathed. “No, of course not, but I know how you love them. How you desire their approval. I only want you to take care of yourself. I do not wish to see you hurt again.”
“I must stand by them. It is the right thing to do,” Ayla insisted, eyes squeezed tight against the truth.
“Maybe,” Théo agreed. He looked straight through her with those pale gray eyes of his and saw to the core of her fear anyway. “But you wouldn’t be alone. Even if you chose a different path than the one your father has set for you, you would never be alone. You will always have me.”
“Please, stop… I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Ayla pleaded, expression crumpled.
I drifted closer, drawn in by her pain. If only I could take it into my own chest, lighten the burden on hers. Was the urge mine or Théo’s? I could no longer tell, lost in the recesses of my own mind.
“You are strong enough to stand up to them. You are more than enough!” Théo insisted, but she cut him off again.
“You were supposed to be the one person I could truly rely on. Théo, I counted on you to let me make my own decisions when no one else would. I trusted you to always take my side, but maybe I was wrong.” Ayla turned away, hiding her tears from him for the first time in their long years of friendship.
Théo reached for her, wrapped his slender hands around her wrists. “I have always been, and will always be, on your side, Ayla Sgalier. You are everything to me.”
“Then why won’t you accept that I wish to stand by my family?” Her golden eyes met his, and the pain in them cracked his fragile heart.
“I can’t keep watching them hurt you, Ayla. It is unbearable,” Théo exhaled. “Every time they crush your spirit, mine aches too. Every time they belittle you, I feel it too.”
I feel it too, I thought. I feel everything.
Ayla shook her head in yet another vehement denial, and Théo wilted at the sight of it. His chest rang hollow. He did not know how to make her understand.