“Show me your hand right now!” His wife stood with one hand extended and such a scowl upon her face that he nearly fled on the instant.

“Why?” Leryn tremulously allowed her to take his hand. He feared he knew but to admit it was as bad as being found out.

Alas his fears proved true. She wrenched off his glove to reveal the traitorous gleam of the nascent childstone upon his palm.

“I knew it! You uncouth charlatan! You treacherous betrayer! Get out of my house and never come back! May the conversant curse you and your filthy mistress too!”

And thus with his secret revealed Leryn fled into the night to the waiting arms of his true beloved with her blade-sharp smile. He mourned the loss of his station and regretted the enemy he had made; yet he could not deny the truth of the passion he held for her who now welcomed him home.

-Leryn of Bellstone, a modern retelling

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In the evenings, Desten went off to the events to talk to other influential people, while I returned to the library or wandered the city on my own.

I'd decided to stop accepting Desten's help to fly me from city to city. Now that I technically could fly by myself, self-respect demanded that I learn do it on my own. I couldn't keep letting Desten carry me about like a child. Besides, if anyone saw us, it would raise more questions than I wanted raised.

I spent some time working on the weird dichotomy of intake and outward pressure of my power in an attempt to create my aura bubble without the threat of imminent drowning, but those attempts came to nothing. I wasn't going to admit defeat and go crawling back to Pel's horrifying lessons though. I would figure this out on my own. Somehow. Eventually.

I developed a mutant flight style that was more like enhanced walking than anything, striding through the air as I pushed myself upward with my power, so that I never felt out of control even when far away from the ground. It helped, though I still faltered any time my focus wavered, and the rush of wind against my face and in my ears made for a highly unpleasant experience. I had to wear layers of clothing and wrap scarves around my face if I were to attempt anything but the briefest of trips.

In this manner, I could make my way around the city, but not from one city to another.

As the end of Sarosa week drew nearer and nearer, I worried that I'd failed to meet my own goals. Yes, I was progressing in multiple areas, but none of them were important. Helping Desten? Irrelevant. Flight? Incidental.

I hadn't seen Pelys since sending my letter. He sent a prompt, brief reply, berated me for my cowardice in evading him and breaking off our practice sessions over the mail instead of in person, and promised that if I changed my mind he wouldn't hold it against me. He urged me to continue checking in regularly, and if I failed to do so he would be concerned.

He did not include contact information for any other of Fylen's acquaintances. For that, it seemed, I'd need to undertake the project on my own. Desten had done what he could, Pelys had done what he was willing. The rest was up to me.

I had to make the trip to the capital, and I had to do it soon. There were only a few days left until we'd be leaving Lirndyn Cottage and Sarosa behind, heading down to Leetan for the next week of festivities, and I didn't want to leave Sarosa without making at least one other contact.

So, maybe flight wasn't so incidental after all. But at high speeds the wind was unforgiving. I really wished there were a better way to learn aura bubble besides Pel’s extreme methods.

I spent the next-to-last day of the week running as high and as fast as I could, around and around Midpeak so I'd always be close enough to land safely if I lost power and focus. I didn't lose focus nearly as much as usual, my mind completely set on this task. I knew I had to get this right.

With a proper night's sleep and a hearty breakfast, bundled in enough layers to survive a blizzard, I set out for Northpoint first thing in the morning.

I’d never before realized it was possible for my power to feel exhausted. It had seemed to vanish that once, after Reirn Ushan forced its colour to manifest, and it had stopped working the night I fled the party in Sarosa, but now it felt like an active emptiness, sucking at my spirit like a warped psychic hunger.

I was midway between cities, alone in the middle of nowhere. I touched down to rest for a few minutes, but the emptiness never improved, and I began to fear I’d never be able to get back if I didn’t keep going now. I climbed back into the air, pulling at my power with desperate focus. It continued to drag at my psyche, cold and empty and demanding, the inner chill adding itself to the chill of the wind, but I didn’t dare stop.

Far too many experiences in my life had become nightmarish. Running through the sky, frantic to reach the town before my overstrained power gave out altogether, seemed poised to join Fylen’s murder and Pelys’s training as one of my worst memories.

It took far longer for me flying alone than it had when I was carried by Desten or Pelys. I was glad I’d left in the early morning, because it was after midday by the time I reached Northpoint.

And then I encountered my second problem.

“I’m sorry, this is a no-fly zone for the next 48 hours,” said an armored Sarosa guardian who appeared before me in midair, bringing my flight to a dead stop as easily as raising her hand. “I’m going to need you to stop your approach.”

“But I have people to visit.”

“Not today you don’t. We’re closed in preparation for the Ryshglide tournament.”

“That’s not for two days yet! Please, I have to get in.”

“And who are you that’s so important?”

“Astesh Varon, I’m here to visit some friends of Fylen.”

The guardian hesitated before answering. “Eirn Fylen is greatly missed,” she said slowly. “I suppose I could make an exception for his friends.” She waved a hand in the air, tracing out bright blue lines in the sky. “Follow this trajectory. If you must, fly somewhat to the west of the line. Do not under any circumstances cross it to the east. Understood?”

“Yes, absolutely. Thank you.”

I flew on, power aching, stomach rumbling at having missed lunch. Pelys’s house wasn’t near the trajectory I’d been assigned, but I reached the city and landed with only minimal incident. I … may have collided with a pair of slightly drunken teens flying ever so slightly off lane, but they wouldn’t remember me for long. One spat a curse at my back as I landed unsteadily, but they rambled off back into the air and were gone before I could think of how to reply.

Probably for the best. My reply would have been unkind.

Well. Here I was. Northpoint. The Sarosa capital. Fylen’s home city.

Now what?

First, I had no money and hadn’t packed a lunch. My soul ached and I was chilled through, to the extent that I stood shivering on a bright summer afternoon despite my full winter gear.

People were staring. The few that were around looked at me with deep concern, but thankfully were busy enough not to stop and gawk for long.

I shivered and wondered if there were such things as soup kitchens for nobility. Then again, I’d never actually seen money change hands. I didn’t even know if the nobility used the same currency as the rest of the population. That felt like a rather glaring oversight, now I thought of it.

How could I have so overprepared only for things that didn’t end up mattering? My entirely faulty view of the nobility was an ongoing problem, and one that no amount of crammed reading in a week or month could remedy.

Sure, I may have no idea about the economic structure of the people I’m infiltrating, but at least I had a complete journal of Astesh’s life up to the present. No one had ever tried to steal or read it, but I had it and still wrote in it faithfully. I may not know what height to fly at going north or south in a street, but at least I knew every gradation of Varon greeting.

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

No, self-recrimination didn’t help. I needed to focus.

And for that, I might as well start with Pelys. However much I may want to avoid facing him, I knew where he lived, and even if he wasn't willing to talk about Fylen's friends over a message, he might be able to tell me more in person. And I could apologize for dropping his classes in person, and maybe convince him I'm not as stupid as I must seem.

Well, socially I probably was exactly as stupid as I seemed, but I couldn't let that stop me. Everyone's stupid until they learn better, right?

I had a harder time tracking down his building from the ground level, but it was a very fancy one and very obvious once I spotted it.

I flew up to his balcony and knocked timidly on his door.

He didn't answer.

I waited a few minutes, pacing anxiously, then knocked again more forcefully.

"Yes?" asked a young woman, poking her head out the door.

"Oh. Um. Sorry. I thought this was Pelys's house. Eirn Pelys, that is. I'm sorry. Do you know where he lives?"

"This is his house. He isn't at home right now. Do you have a message for him?"

"Oh, just that I stopped by. That is, Astesh stopped by, and I'd like to ask him about Fylen."

Her eyes widened just a bit. "Astesh? But that's who he went to visit. Something about missing reports and you were probably dead?"

I wanted to smack myself. Of course. He'd said first time around that I should keep sending messages. I'd been avoiding him because of his potential wrath, but it seems I was too evasive.

"Great. Then I'll be sure to avoid him upon his return."

She glowered at me, then sighed. "May as well come in to wait. He obviously is concerned about you."

"Why? We barely know each other."

She laughed lightly. "He's a very intense person, our Pel. If he likes you, he considers you a friend from the start. If he hates you, you'll never have a chance of changing his mind."

"And which am I?" I asked, almost dreading the answer.

"Friend, of course. You don't think he frets so over the wellbeing of enemies, did you?"

"I honestly don't know what to expect. He's ... different."

"That too." She found a seat by the window and sat down, elegantly. It drew attention to the sleek folds of her gleaming iridescent blue dress, flashing a deeper blue lining underneath.

"So, why are you here?"

"Waiting for his return, hopefully with you in tow. You said you wanted to meet me, didn't you?"

"Oh, well, I must confess, I don't know who you are."

"Aneeyha Sarosa."

Oh. Fylen's wife. Right there.

My stomach tightened painfully and I quickly looked away, clenching my hand against sudden panic. I wasn't sure if I could bring myself to lie to her face.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," I choked out. "I didn't-- I didn't realize it was you."

"Thank you. I understand you have questions for me?"

"Oh. Yes. Sorry, I wasn't prepared, I didn't realize you'd be here."

"It's alright. I have time."

"Wait, why are you here? Is Fyless--"

"She is fine. She is with doctors and alchemists, and there is nothing more I can do."

She recited the words with a casual emptiness that seemed to reach right into my soul, somehow exacerbating the ache of my over-strained power. The power that should have been Fyless's. I shivered, wishing for it to grant me its usual calm, but nothing happened.

I stared at Fylen's widow, speechless.

"It's alright. Please, sit. I understand you were one of the last to see Fylen?"

"Yes, I was," I said, glad I didn't need to lie about that at least. I sat on the sofa in the center of the room, facing Aneeyha but not directly so. "Do you know if he was acquainted with anyone named Desten?"

She hesitated a long moment before answering. "Yes. There are a couple different Destens he may have known, actually."

"Was your brother one of them?" I asked, then winced at how insensitive that probably sounded. I should be less demanding of the grieving woman, however composed she seemed.

But she didn't seem to mind, simply replied without hesitance. "No. To my knowledge, Fylen and Des never met."

"Why is that?"

"Des left the family. He was much older than me, and I was quite young when it happened. Ran off with some merchant's daughter and never came back. We don't speak about him much. He ... didn't have a good parting."

I waited a moment, trying to allow enough time for politeness. “So which Destens did Fylen know?”

“He was quite well acquainted with Desten Utrenad. He can’t travel, so we made a point of visiting him any time we were in the area.”

“Friendly acquaintances?”

“Very much so. Desten has a unique outlook on life. I’ve never met anyone else like him.”

“So, there’s no chance Fylen would say he’d never lived well?”

Aneeyha’s lips turned downward in a slight frown. “Certainly not. Desten Varon, on the other hand, I would say he lived quite poorly.”

I sat up straighter. “Desten Varon? Which one?”

Aneeyha waved a hand. “Not the verdis player. The other one.”

“There are eight.”

“Oh. Really? Then I don’t know. I’ve only seen the two.”

“So, one was the verdis player, and the other wasn’t?”

“Yes. Both rather full of themselves, if you ask me.”

“Can you describe him?”

“He looks like a Varon. What can I say? I never spoke with him myself. Fylen complained about him once or twice, that’s the most I know."

Every time I started to think I’d get real answers, they slipped away. So unfair.

Though if I could rule out Metako and Utrenad, that was a huge help already. We were down to just Varon or Oros.

“What about Desten Oros? Did he know either of them?”

Aneeyha shrugged. “If so, I wasn’t aware of it. He does — did spend a lot of time in Oros though. I’d say he visited almost as regularly as Varon.”

Well, every little bit helped.

I was tempted to cut my touring short. With only Varon and Oros Destens left to actually investigate, it seemed like a waste to spend months wandering the other territories when I knew I’d find nothing. Though Desten 6 was known to be heavily involved in touring, so I might run into him.

And there was the fact that I’d promised Desten 3 my help.

I sighed. He really had been good to me. I shouldn’t leave him in the lurch, even if I wanted nothing more than to rush back to Varon and Oros and find the last few Destens.

Though, perhaps I shouldn’t be so quick to write off Desten Metako. Whoever killed Fylen had stolen his power stone. If Desten Metako had a commoner wife? He might be trying to find a way to turn her into a noble. If not for the fact that the childstone had ended up landing next to me, he might even have succeeded.

That was another thing I needed to investigate, but thus far I’d found no sources that mentioned uses for adult power stones in any way similar to childstones. Childstones were blank, unbound, ready to absorb into anyone who happened along. But from everything I’d read, using adult stones in a similar way wasn’t even mentioned. It was as though it was completely unthinkable.

Maybe it was just my commoner ignorance, but that seemed like a pretty significant oversight.

“How does it feel knowing you’ll never become Reirna?”

She smiled sadly and shook her head. “I could never be reirna. Metako, remember? Outfamily. I’d be heirn at best. But to answer your question, I don’t mind. Sateirna is more than enough for me. I never wanted power and influence. I want to raise Fyless well. That’s my only priority right now.”

I tried to remember what the title Sateirn and its counterpart Sateirna signified, but I’d crammed so many titles and ranks in my rush to prepare for this infiltration that now they were all muddled together. Something about voting power in … financial matters, perhaps? One more thing I needed to re-learn. I didn’t have enough time in the day! At this rate, Desten would die of old age before I found him.

“YOU IDIOT!”

I jumped up, instinct screaming for me to run, but Pelys crossed the room in a split-second blur of blue, crashing into me with the force of a flooded river. If not for the fact that his aura flared up around us as we collided I’d have been smashed through the wall and into the next room, but instead his power absorbed the momentum of our sudden brief flight and left us standing close against the wall but not through it.

“Uh, hi, Pel. Nice to see you. What’s up?”

“You,” he growled. “You send a stupid formal note canceling our practice sessions, and then I don’t hear from you again for three days!"

"I haven't left Sarosa," I protested. "There's no danger here! I'll start checking in once I actually--"

"Then," he continued, "when I sent you a message this morning, you were nowhere to be found. I was absolutely convinced that you’d gotten yourself killed! And, how are you shivering?”

“I, uh…” I stammered, unsure if it would be better to admit he’d terrified me, or confess that I’d overstrained myself from stubborn pride. Neither one sounded particularly good.

“Aura bubble, now!” Pelys snapped, then stepped back and threw a punch at my face.

I screamed and dropped to the ground. “Hey! I told you, I’m done—”

His foot moved lightning-fast, coming up to smash into my chest. I sucked in a pained breath and strained as he pulled back for another blow, but my power remained nothing but an aching emptiness. Even panicked instinct couldn’t force it into action.

“Stop, it won’t work!”

He sighed, draped me with a comfortably-warm wrapping of his healing power, then offered a hand to help me to my feet. “I was hoping.”

“I don’t like your training methods,” I mumbled, though I accepted his hand and let him help me to the sofa. Even through the warmth of the blue power, I felt the dull ache of his attacks. I sighed. This couldn’t be a normal training regimen. No way ordinary nobles went through this kind of nonsense.

“When I say I want you to check in every day or two, I mean it,” Pel insisted, his voice tense with genuine concern. “Every. Day. Two at most. I swear, it’s like you think I don’t care at all.”

“I tried to explain that,” Aneeyha put in. I’d almost forgotten she was present, and my cheeks immediately heated with shame. She was watching me, witness to how easily I’d been beaten to the ground.

Pelys bowed politely. “Thank you, Sateirna Aneeyha, for gracing us with your presence. I apologize for my absence.”

“Forgiven, Eirn Pelys,” she said formally, inclining her head. “Now, if you’re quite done terrorizing poor Astesh here, we should continue our discussion.”

“Of course.” Pel took a slow calming breath, then pushed another chair so it faced us both and looked back and forth expectantly. “What have you decided?”

“I need to check the Varon and Oros Destens. It probably isn’t Utrenad. It might not be Metako. Any progress on your end?”

“We've found your Desten… 4? Yes four, easily enough. He’s in a private hospital, been in a coma for almost a year now. They have no idea what caused it, but he’s showing no signs of improvement.”

“Desten 4, that was Desten 5’s father, the past tense one,” I mused. “So he wasn’t dead or estranged, just … unconscious. Since long before Fylen’s death. Well, that’s good. Rules another one out. We’re really making progress here.”

“I also invited Lan and Let to join us,” Aneeyha said. “They should be here soon. They were busy with preparations of the arena when I talked to them. I don’t know if they’ll have any new information, but Vess and Let were Fylen’s closest friends. Current company excepted.”

My stomach chose that moment to growl loudly, and the others both stared at me. Pelys jumped to his feet. “Well, then. Let’s adjourn for lunch. We can continue once our other guests arrive.”

“I am quite hungry as well,” Aneeyha said gracefully, rising as well. “Thank you, Pel.”

I stood and gratefully followed them to the dining room. I felt like I could eat a ten-course meal and come back for seconds.

Thankfully, Pel’s cooks had no shortage of supplies.

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