Chapter 9 Aura
AURA
Blackwood Estate, Treland
Aura tucks the nautilus shell beneath her tunic while standing on the landing of the second floor of Blackwood. Below, her mother curls up on the couch, reading a book. Everyone else must be in the Conclave meetings.
She exhales as she descends the staircase. “Good afternoon, Mum. I’m going into the city.”
A snap echoes as her mother closes her book. “Hand over the Sacred Stones.”
“What? I would never steal it!” Aura lies, avoiding her Mum’s discerning gaze.
“You should refer to it as a single stone. You united them with Pop’s virility twenty winters ago.
” She slips to the door, wrapping her hand around the knob but finding it immovable.
Grumbling, she tugs on the unlocked door to no avail.
“What is going…ah!” She tumbles through the entryway, landing on the porch. The nautilus slips from her shirt, clinging to the silver chain.
“Well, hello, little sis.” Thora leers down at her as her body reappears.
Dammit, why do both Mum and Thora’s Keeper abilities have to be invisibility?
“Did you want the stone, Aunt V?” Thora crouches beside Aura and clutches the nautilus shell between her thumb and forefinger.
“I would appreciate it if your sister would ask for permission before removing our country’s sacred spiritual object from the ancient Keeper chest.” Avina joins them.
Aura shoves to her feet. “I thought it would be sufficient protection for getting a pint at Feat’s Tavern.”
“I thought Jarl Calder has been your guard dog of late?”
“Thora!” Avina chastizes. “Jarl Avardsson is a good man who has fought-”
“...in the shield wall with Father.” Both Thora and Aura repeat in unison.
“He made some questionable decisions in his youth, but I would trust him with your lives.” Avina smiles.
Guilt slithers through Aura’s gut as her mother doesn’t seem to be able to stop speaking.
“The Skalor meeting should conclude in the longhouse. You both should be able to catch him.”
“Really? Why must I provide child care?” Thora plucks a throwing knife from her belt and spins it around her finger.
“Thora!” Avina’s rare beratement has them both scurrying. Crossing their father was just downright enjoyable. However, earning their mother’s ire never seemed to end well. Possibly because she never got angry or because her invisibility powers meant she knew everything about everyone.
Aura shivers at the thought.
She doesn’t utter a word to her sister as they shuffle into Toftlund City.
What she dares not share is that Calder’s presence has been erratic and intense around her, and throwing herself back into that fire seems unwise.
Touching herself with her bedroom door open had been intentional.
What shocked her the most was his self-restraint.
Out of curiosity and a strange urge to entice that bear of a man, she had not been able to leave him alone.
She leaves her door open while she dresses, memorizes his Conclave schedule, and subjects his breaks to time spent gallivanting around Salt.
He has not broken once.
While she can savor his intoxicating gaze taking her in as she tests his resolve, he appears as devoted a Drengr as her fucking father could ever ask for.
“A word of advice.” Thora finally breaks the silence once they are outside the longhouse. “Leave Jarl Avardsson alone.”
Aura rolls her shoulders, straightening her spine as she prepares to tell Thora to piss off when her sister holds up a hand.
“Hear me out.” Thora glances around discreetly. “He is still a Drengr.”
Aura feels the air leave her lungs. “I would never do anything that would place him in harm’s way-”
“My little birds hear everything. Uncle Sig will love you until the earth crumbles, while Calder will die the most gruesome death at his blades.”
Her cheeks burn with shame at her inexcusable actions.
No wonder he keeps his distance.
I am not worth dying over!
“Use this opportunity to remind him and yourself of who you are.”
“And who is that?” She spits.
The door at the top of the steps swings open, and her father strides out, followed by Uncle Slode and Calder.
“Sigvid Thordsson’s child.” Thora ruffles her auburn curls before approaching their father and uncle, clapping a hand on their shoulders.
She loves her father but refuses to reduce her entire identity to him, unlike her sister.
“Princess.” The lines on Calder’s face are deeper than she has ever seen. He looks exhausted, as if he bears the weight of the realms on his shoulders.
“How did the Skalor meeting fare?” She asks as another longhouse door swings open, and the other Skalor Jarls storm down the steps, cackling loudly.
“I might have fared better had I held a wyrm–poisonous snake of the Abyss–during the endeavor,” he mutters gruffly.
She has not inquired about the nature of the Conclave.
However, she has eavesdropped on enough conversations to know that it involves uncovering the other Draemonium threats Father suspects are plaguing the continent.
The Skalor group has been troublesome, as the other men in attendance deny any issues.
More interesting is her father's ongoing fascination with Calder‘s abilities. She believes he expects his Inner Circle member to unveil some dark secret to him.
“Will you let me buy you a drink, Calder?” She reaches for his arm but recalls Thora’s words and clasps her hands behind her back.
He nods while gesturing down the street.
Aura relishes the unforced silence as they enjoy the day together. She glances up at the Iss Drengr, his hands tucked in his pockets as he surveys the street.
“Princess!” A familiar male voice calls out to her from behind. “Princess Aura!”
She glances over her shoulder and recognizes a young Drengr initiate who passed his Trial just before she failed hers. Two older Drengr, who are nearer to Thora’s age, accompany him.
“I must know if the Lord Commander gets you dressed in the mornings?” His question earns a laugh from his companions.
“Oh, and we all wish to know if it’s true the Queen hired a brute to keep you safe?” One of the others prods.
Aura grits her teeth, her knuckles white from gripping her tunic's edge. Still, she walks on, her gaze fixed straight ahead.
“Were you trying to fuck your way into the Drengr like your mother did?”
“You, miserable maggot!” Aura reacts, refusing to let this asshole slander her mum, the most compassionate person on the Endless Shore. Her fist cocks back, and she pivots on her heel, only for Calder to intervene.
He grabs her fist and spins Aura to face him. “Do not listen,” he whispers, “to a man who passed his Trial because his opponent fell and knocked himself out. Rise above his nonsense.”
She nods, pulling away from his grip and confronting her peer. “Stay away from my family,” she hisses.
“Little bitch!” one of the older men steps forward, drawing his sword.
Calder moves ahead of Aura, his pipe clenched between his teeth as he exhales smoke from both nostrils. “Rethink your actions.”
“Shit, shit, are you?”
Calder folds his arms across his chest, the leather of his armor creaking as he breathes. “Jarl Calder Avardsson. The Iss Drengr,” he growls.
“W-we apologize, sir!”
“Ye-yes, we won’t cause trouble again.” They all scatter into the city.
Calder gives her a slight smile, wraps his arm around her shoulders, and squeezes. “Come on, Princess, I will buy the first round.”
They barely reach the tavern when shouts and commotion from the brothel next door cause a scene on the street.
Subtly, they join the crowd, forming a semi-circle around the open doors of the seedier establishment.
Calder's unwavering presence is behind her, his arms crossed as they observe the crowd of onlookers. Whispers circulate, fostering a growing unease, not unlike the extra sense her mother encourages her to consider in her decision-making.
Another scream emanates from inside the brothel, followed by more shouting. Aura stands on her toes, cursing the height she inherited from her mother, as she cannot see over the heads of the bystanders.
“Move!” Despite being bumped and jostled by others, she pushes through the crowd until she reaches the front. The commotion focuses on a furious-looking woman with long, straw-colored hair, dressed in a drab frock cut low to reveal her breasts and prominent clavicle.
It takes her a moment to recognize the facial structure beneath the dyed hair.
Isabel?
Two Toftlund guards spar with the daughter of Rendel to lock her wrists in irons.
A whirlwind carrying dust and debris encircles the soldiers. The wind stream slams them into the ground in an explosion of soot.
Father said Calder is the only individual who possesses an elemental ability. No Sacred Stone on the Endless Shore can bestow something so powerful, so raw.
Standing at the front of the crowd is Eivor’s brother, Serk, leaning on his walking stick while Eivor removes her dagger and charges Isabel.
“For the Princess!” she shrieks in her high-pitched voice.
Isabel sneers at the little girl and throws her hands up, palms out, unleashing a gust of wind.
“No!” Rage flares within Aura as she dashes across the street to place herself between them.
But she is too late.
The blow sends Eivor’s tiny body colliding into a street cart. Trinkets clatter to the cobblestone as the surrounding onlookers rush to tend to the girl.
“You are a fucking disgrace! What are you even still doing in my city?” Aura wields her axe in her dominant hand and a dagger in the other.
“I am exactly where I want to be.” Isabel’s arm draws back just as Aura brings her axe down. The gust of air shoved upward by Isabel serves as a shield, pushing Aura backward. Before she can strike again, a wall of ice erupts between them.
Dammit, Calder!
She smashes the ice with the butt of her axe and lunges at Isabel, tackling her to the ground.
“Briny!” Aura screams as she abandons her weapons so she can punch every bit of the traitorous bitch that she can get her hands on. “Let me berserk!”