Chapter Eighteen
Adeline
The Dhaliaan summer was endless, just as she remembered it.
In some ways—daughters, in many ways—it was a blessing.
She was blessed to spend so many days on end soaking golden warmth into her skin, watching freckles burst across her nose and cheeks.
Watching Kai’s long-cooled skin warm beneath the sun.
Waking each day to kisses and birdsong, fresh nycta blooms creeping over the balcony and wafting their thick perfume into her bedroom so that every morning smelled of nectar and sunlight.
But the endless summer brought endless waiting, too. Every day, Adeline would break her fast in the family room—early, so she could be sure to catch her aunt on her own. Every day, Eleni would meet her expectant gaze as she entered, anticipating the question before Adeline could ask.
“Not today,” was the answer, today and every day.
No response from her father. For weeks now.
Adeline gave a wordless nod; Eleni returned a reassuring smile.
“The Crossing takes time, agameni. I’d imagine he wants to give it some thought; decide on the best way forward. He’ll write, have patience.”
She was probably right; it hadn’t been long enough to be of concern, not really.
It helped that her aunt’s unfazed approach felt so familiar.
A similar flavour to her father’s calm and collected response, no matter the crisis.
If he had written, if he’d been here at her side, he’d warn her not to dwell.
It was another one of his sayings, a little piece of Dhaliaan wisdom she’d heard time and again over the years.
Don’t let yourself fret over an idea, Mischief; it’s a waste of a journey. You’ll arrive at the problem and find you’ve missed all the scenery.
It was a small comfort. Small being the operative word, since it wasn’t enough to loosen the gigantic knot in Adeline’s gut.
But Eleni was watching her, so she gave another distracted nod.
She twisted her hands together, and her eyes caught on a ragged hangnail—one she’d been picking at far too much lately.
She had to draw up a chair at the table just so she could sit on her own hands.
Don’t. Fret.
“Eat something,” Eleni urged, her brisk tone echoing Adeline’s thoughts. “The figs are at their ripest now. I know you like them sweet.”
Eleni took the plate from her place setting and fussed maternally, piling it high with figs and grapes, a small ceramic pot of yoghurt, and a generous dollop of honey.
Lighter food than they ate back home, but it hadn’t taken long for Adeline to learn that there was nothing worse than a too-full belly in the heat.
They ate in silence; perhaps a little weighted on Adeline’s end, but lighter and lighter as she ate—the figs really were very sweet.
With their plates cleared, Eleni took Adeline’s cup from before her and filled it from a steaming jug of bitter Dhaliaan coffee.
It was growing on her, truth be told; tolerable, with some milk and honey, even if Eleni liked to purse her lips at their addition.
Dhaliaan tastes favoured fresh and bitter flavours, but something in the combined scent of it made her feel at ease; reminded her of home in a way she couldn’t quite articulate.
They each cradled their cups in their hands and inhaled the earthy steam, their little routine so familiar by now that Adeline could nearly mouth along with Eleni’s next words.
“And what will you do with your day, agameni?”
She took a long sip, contemplating even though she gave the same answer every day.
“I’ll practice, I suppose.”
Eleni nodded approvingly. “With my assistance?”
Her next sip was longer; she really was contemplating now.
There was no doubt that Eleni was enthusiastic.
At her bidding, they’d explored much of the mountainside, with its thickets of ancient green, in search of a place that spoke to Adeline’s dormant magic.
She’d enjoyed the handful of mornings they’d spent together, meandering through the trees and talking aimlessly.
About books, and Court gossip, and the places Eleni had travelled in her diplomatic duties; where she’d like to go next; where she thought Adeline should visit, when this had all blown over.
It soothed some long-suppressed part of her to connect with her father’s family like this.
Like peering wistfully through a window to the life she could have had.
A mother figure who doted on her. A Court of loud, bossy, brilliant women who folded her in like she’d never been anywhere else.
A cousin who tolerated her a little more every day—one afternoon, Lyra had even deigned to split a clementine bun with her in a fit of lukewarm affection.
Granted, this was after their grandfather allowed her a single glass of wine, which immediately went to her tiny head.
He’d paid dearly for that in clucks and threats from half the courtiers, but Papou was a soft old man, and Adeline had learned quickly that there was nothing he would not do for his granddaughters.
In many ways, these moments with the Vanjirs had become sacred.
But her magic, for reasons she couldn’t explain, felt as though it belonged to her life in Eisalaan; her life as a Beira.
Something that seemed to rouse only when she was with Kai, some combination of his borrowed pendant and his calming presence, creating the perfect storm within her.
The only conditions in which her magic would bloom.
“I think,” she said slowly. “I’ll wait until the Merrow come back from Nua Laune.”
Disappointment dragged at the edges of Eleni’s lips, but she tugged her smile back up with a gracious nod.
“Of course.”
Adeline shifted in her seat. These last few weeks had been made up of such delicate stitching, mending what was torn and allowing herself to be drawn across the rift between her father and their family.
The last thing she wanted was to snag at one of those newly-mended threads, and so she couldn’t help but add, “It’s just that Kai has the pendant and, well—that’s the only thing that’s worked so far. ”
Eleni hummed, propping her chin on one hand as she considered Adeline over the rim of her coffee cup.
“And what of our request to Koemi’s Chief?”
“My charms have failed me,” Adeline said, pulling a face. “He said no—that he wasn’t supposed to give Kai a pendant in the first place, let alone a Beira princess.”
And that the delightful-sounding Sealgair would have his head.
Daithí had done her the honour of breaking the surface to discuss Eleni’s request over the side of the small dinghy that bore her back and forth to the Arabidae.
He had been somewhat difficult to read, but he was firm in his decision, and truthfully, she hadn’t felt right pushing him on it; their pendants were sacred—and, as Daithí explained, rather dangerous, too.
She quite liked her sanity, as it happened. Wouldn’t mind holding on to it.
Borrowing Kai’s pendant was a perfectly fine compromise in her eyes, particularly if it meant relieving him of its weight for a few hours each day.
She couldn’t help but notice, after speaking to Daithí, how intensely he felt its chill and its call.
It inflated his emotions if he wore it for too long—his ego, too, which was not necessarily a bad thing when it came to Kai.
“Disappointing.” Eleni frowned into her cup, but her eyes lit up mid-sip, and she set down her coffee to clap a hand excitedly over Adeline’s where it lay on the table. “I’ll ask Alun! If anyone can charm their way into a forbidden pendant, it’s darling Alun.”
Adeline’s smile felt stiff on her own lips.
“I’ll try not to take offence to that,” she said dryly.
But truth told, she didn’t know how much charm Alun had to spare these days; he was distracted at best and despondent more often than not.
Kai had told her how, in a bittersweet turn of events, Al had found his parents in Nua Laune—but aged and evolved, they had only the barest memories of their son and those memories ebbed and flowed with the tide.
It was different—of course it was different, as all grief was—but still Adeline couldn’t help but think she knew something of that pain.
To spend so long without a parent’s love that you learn to make yourself lovable.
Bright and open, finding family in those around you.
To find your way home, only for the door to shut once more before your eyes.
It was only in watching how Alun visibly dimmed in the short time since uncovering his parents’ whereabouts that she saw, as though from a distance, how loss had dimmed her, too.
It was a uniquely cruel grief.
She saw it in his face as the Arabidae drew in that afternoon; in Kai’s, too.
They stood together at the helm—some space between them and Al’s eyes fixed on the rush of the waters below, but at least they were talking.
It seemed like an improvement, even if the tension was visible all the way from the docks.
And when Kai finally stepped off the ship, it took a moment longer for his brow to smooth, still knotted slightly when he drew Adeline into his arms and buried his face in her neck.
He inhaled deeply, and when she felt some of the tension melt from his shoulders, her heart melted right along with it, because that sigh was one she knew well.
It was the same breath she’d loosed aboard the Arabidae, when the world was tilting and swaying beneath her feet, and Kai had been there to hold her steady.
It was the exhale that swept through her entire being when he’d followed her out to the balcony on their first night in Dhalias.
When he’d kissed her. When he’d held her hand as she confronted Eleni.