Taní didn’t remember finishing his meal, nor did he recall dumping his heavy tray or wandering into the girl’s lavatory by accident. Even the grace period was a complete blur as he sat staring at nothing, the plush cushioning of the sofa keeping him anchored in the Fadenician reading corner.
News of the garden’s destruction circulated in a never-ending stream of whispers, and when he spared the shifting clusters a cursory glance, he found them staring at him with accusatory glares. He didn’t care, though. Not when the painfully obvious revelation had yet to loosen its grip on him.
The king’s daughter herself…the one so highly praised for her prodigious talent and beauty. How could he mistake her for a bloody doll? He’s never seen portraits of her, sure, but someone as pretty as her couldn’t be anything BUT royalty.
Those iridescent lavender-sapphire eyes, her flawless porcelain skin, and her voice…refined beyond belief with a hint of an Angler’s rolling cadence. As if the foaming tides of the short sea submitted to her will and hers alone. Command came naturally to her, though maybe that’s because she would be one day leading them.
Was that why she didn’t dismiss him like the rest? Because she knew he would be in her service? A Juneacão pledged themselves to a monarch first, after all. They aided the nation as a natural extension of their duties, but it was their Lord that defined their loyalty, and if the ruler was just, then they’d have a proper reason to fight.
Oh…
Taní slumped in his seat. She was acting. Of course, she was only acting. She didn’t care about him. Not when he would serve her kingdom one day. He wasn’t an equal; he was her pawn. Or whatever piece they played chess with.
Taní sighed inwardly. At least she doesn’t mind eating with me.
He found it strange that she, a member of royalty and a scion of House Vlasalisk, sat alone during lunch. Had she grown tired of the noise? Taní didn’t know her well, but she seemed the type to value the peace that came with silence.
Or as close to silence as a school cafeteria can offer.
Taní shifted his gaze to one of the various bookshelves walling off the reading corner. There weren’t too many people here, and it was easy to hide from prying eyes, especially when he could sink into the too-soft cushions of the sofas. If he turned, he could pretend that there was no one there. Maybe he could even skip class.
No, that didn’t seem like a good idea. It was the last class of the day. If he skipped this one, he’d feel even guiltier about skipping all day tomorrow. He only had to get through this, then he could relax.
“Hey, you hear about the new vassal?”
Taní’s eyes darted to the gap in the room that acted as an entrance. There was someone there, but he couldn’t see their faces.
“The one that tore through Çzar’s garden?”
“Yeah. Heard he’s got a relic.”
“A commoner? Yeah right.”
“I’m serious! Innes even said so.”
“Do you believe everything that comes outta that blowhard’s mouth?”
“Nah, but this is different. I can feel it.”
The other voice laughed. “He’s probably just tryna start something. Y’know, topple us down. First-years just try an’ act tough, but it’s all for clout. Nothing new there. My advice? Just ignore him. Don’t hear it, don’t see it. That’s what my father says.”
“But what if it’s real?” the other asked with an excited whisper.
“Yeah, as real as Fadénix’s ring.”
Taní strained his ears as the voices grew distant. The last thing he caught them discussing was a “threat,” as well as the “Lady” and “Shade” of Fadénix. Whatever those were.
Taní closed his eyes and waited patiently for a world-shattering emergency to occur so that he wouldn’t have to attend Art. As expected, nothing happened. Only more people talking behind his back. He hated it at first, but after a while, he grew drowsy.
Knowing no one would bother him, Taní turned on his side and shut his eyes. To him, anything softer than the ground was the best bed.
†
“Kinnakelar.”
Exhaustion arrested Taní as he came to. He needed only five, perhaps ten, more minutes of rest. He’d be good for the day following that.
“Will you forgive me?”
A flash of moon strung baubles populated the corners of his blurry vision. His lids refused to pry, but after rubbing the sleep away, he saw her.
Lavisa. Her head dipped and eyes closed. Was she meditating?
Curious, he inspected the cabin’s décor. A sterling cluster of silk hung draped from the ceiling, boasting emerald fragments mined from the moon, and a gathering of twinkling scales that rivaled polished gold. The center of the display appeared distorted somehow. Or partially elevated? He couldn’t properly explain, just that it looked “higher.”
Wait. His eyes widened. A cabin? The room rocked as if to quell his newborn confusion. It came again, a spell falling upon his heavy lids, as if beckoning him to slumber.
“Lavisa…?” came Taní’s groggy response. “What— Why’re we on the ship?”
“How do you mean? We’ve been traveling for some time now.”
“But…we just had lunch, didn’t we?”
Lavisa lifted her chin, and even though her eyes were closed, he felt her gaze upon him. “We’ve only ordered our meal, Tanão.”
Taní let out a long yawned. “We did…?”
“To be utterly transparent, I ordered on your behalf. My previous attempts to rouse you from your slumber have seen little success.”
Good blood, Danza was right.
“You were mumbling in your sleep. Were you having a nightmare?” inquired Lavisa.
“No, just a crazy dream.”
“What about?”
Taní straightened in his seat. “I’ll tell you later. It’s a long story.”
Whether Lavisa was disappointed or not, she didn’t show. Her expression remained regal, as always. Eleanor, or rather, the lady he had dreamt of being Eleanor, served them their meal not long after. Was she even Tyrian? Did she hate him as much as that dreamt version did?
They ate in relative silence, then finished their meals with a cup of tea. Taní was afraid the ship’s rocking would cause the liquids to spill, though they remained perfectly placid. Like a pond on a windless night.
Sparing the porthole a glance, he found not the seas or skies, but the moon in all her glory. A silvery palace decorated its center face, revealing a steady flare of black-white lights arranged in a pseudo-teardrop shape. The Jury of Histell’s heraldry; the uniform symbol of the Juneacão.
Taní scanned the edges of the porthole but found that the moon cloaked it. He could almost trick himself into believing it was getting closer. Almost as if it was going to crash into Valeço.
An unrelenting blast of heat struck Taní’s chest. He coughed as the searing wave filled his lungs, but when the air left, a whisper followed.
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“…idivix…”
“Tanão [Kinnakelar],” Lavisa murmured. “Do you have a Wish [regret]?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Taní tried prying his eyes away from the moon, but the rising heat in his veins ordered him to remain. This was their guardian. The first.
“Is it—” Lavisa paused and lowered her voice. “Is it a good one?”
“I guess.”
“You don’t sound certain.”
“A good Wish is subjective, yeah?” He leaned back in his seat. “Guess it’s normal to be a little doubtful. It only matters to me, after all.”
“I suppose so… Some believe Wishes to be a fickle afterthought. One that oft tempts us more than guide. A good Wish retains focus, but a rotten one? They serve to only blind. Veiling you from your deepest, forgotten desire.” There was a slight creak as the ship rocked. Then she continued with a knowing whisper. “They reduce us to recklessness, convincing you the holder of some fabulous destiny. I wish it were so, to be owed a place, but that isn’t meant to be. Not then, not now. Our waking world was never meant to cradle us. Never meant to be kind, pleasant, or charitable.” She brought a hand to her chin. “Makeshift blessings… Do you recall when you once dubbed Them so?”
Taní faced her, hesitant. Lights twinkled with the dimness of the Desolator’s scales, peppering the space between them in a vacuous display of heavenly ecstasy. Until, finally, she opened her eyes—robbing the haven of its glory.
The cosmic green glow of the Solanarium usurped her lavender-sapphire pools. Their divine radiance peppered with a sea of shimmering shards.
In a voice that betrayed the sympathetic, almost prying edge of a doting mother, she asked, “You never once believed yourself deserving of one, have you?”
The godly sear crawled its way from the depths of Taní’s heart and arrested his throat. In a quivering voice frailer than Greentide ice, They whispered. “Yes…”
“Why’s that?”
“Everything I did…it was for you. For her. I don’t need anything else. I’ve never needed anything else. So, grant your Wishes to the wanting. The dead do not deserve them.”
Lavisa’s twinkling green clusters softened as she regarded him tenderly. “I charged you with a duty greater than mine; I charged you with a task entrusted to me, and me alone. Not once, but for nine Cycles. Yet yours… Yours was a peace even I could not have found. For that, I would grant you your every Wish.” Lavisa’s eyes darkened as she struggled to push out the next set of words. “But that would not suffice, would it? You’d only be left wanting. As you’ve only ever been.”
Taní’s heart twinged. He wasn’t certain what she was referring to, but the weight of her words… They carried with them the sorrow of untold eons.
“Are you—” Taní stopped, his voice falling to a whisper. “Are you Lavisa?”
The thing masquerading as the Coros princess brought a secretive finger to her lips. “Grant me your Wish, my blood. My loveliest child.”
Taní conjured the words into being, but they immediately caught in his throat. The Coros princess—upon realizing this—gave a disappointed shake of her head. “Lies have no place here, my blood. Not while he remains Lord.” She closed her eyes, once more summoning the spray of stardust. “You always were such an honest child… Have the Cycles truly changed you so?”
Taní’s voice broke through. “I-I don’t understand.”
“Perhaps it’s best you do not.”
“What! You can’t just say all these vague things and leave me like this!”
She laughed. “My, you’re talkative. I Wish you could’ve shown more of this side while he was here. But then again…” Lavisa leaned to the side. “That would not have been you. Now wake up.”
“What, but I—”
“Wake up.”
A limb-numbing wave of exhaustion crashed into Taní. He fought against it, hoping he could coax an answer out of the imposter, but they simply turned away. Her eyes set on the moon.
“A night is as fleeting as the day, though you shouldn’t mourn its arrival. You should greet it as you do a new day. Satisfied with your efforts.”
A light grumble spilled past Taní’s lips. It was harder to talk now. Like someone was actively pinching his lips closed.
“If you must Wish, then wish for complacency. Perhaps then you might find what was lost.” Lavisa opened one shimmering green eye. Its despondent glint echoing eternity. “Farewell, my blood.”
“Hey.”
His eyes flickered open, and he nearly jumped as a round face with crimson-green eyes glared at him. It was that dark-skinned girl again, her brother at her side. “Are you deaf? I said get up. Grace is over.”
Taní grumbled something he didn’t quite understand himself, a response which only worsened the girl’s horrific glare. “Yes, well, no one wants you here, either. So, get out before we kick you. We don’t wanna get in trouble again because some first-year ditched class in our hall.”
Taní waved her off as he stood on wobbly legs. He wiped away the nearly dried drool on his cheek, paused, then gave a light stretch.
She set her hands on her hips. “Well?”
“Gimme a minute.” Taní yawned.
“I don’t need a minute; I need you in class. Now.”
“Why?”
“Because attendance adds to your monthly allowance. The more consistent we are, the more SG we earn. The tardier, the less.” She affected a broad, kind smile. “Do you understand?”
“Y—”
“THEN GET YOUR ASS GOING.”
Taní scrambled towards the exit, spun, and retrieved his assortment of tomes. He offered the brother—Çzar, if gossip was anything to go off of—an apologetic grin. “Hey, about earlier—”
The girl stepped in Taní’s line of sight. Her eyes narrowed to a heart-stopping glare. “What. Did. I. Say?”
“Go to—”
“GO TO CLASS. Now stop bothering my brother before you upset him!”
Çzar tugged on her arm. “Canela, please. I’m not upset…”
“Yet you spent all last period crying,” she replied matter-of-factly.
“I wasn’t crying. My allergies were acting up.”
“Then explain the lack of sniffling as I hugged you.”
A rosy-red blush stained his cheeks. “Your thick hair just catches all the pollen, alright?” Realizing Taní was still there, he turned to him with a flustered glare. “What’re you looking at?”
“I—I don’t know…”
“Then I’d advise leaving while she’s in a good mood. Don’t want your allowance being cut.”
“Allowance?”
“Canela’s the House treasurer. Y’know…in charge of SG? I’d say more, but…”
Taní’s eyes flickered to Canela. Her hand was inches away from grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. With that sign, he dipped his head and rushed off to class.