Remember

Lynera woke up without Urzic beside her…again. There was something disturbing about the King’s absence. They would always spend the night together full of passion and intimacy whenever he came to bed. But as morning came, he was always the first to leave.

Sometimes, it made Lynera wonder if the King had any sleep at all.

Still no signs from the Order, she wrote on her journal absentmindedly.

She realized the only person she knew in Vyndival was the King when she became his eternal mate—as felintines would only bind themselves to one for life. But as the days passed, there were few others whom she had been acquainted with.

Two servants. An elderly, human lady by the name Jena Finser and her half-elf grandson, Dylan Finser, attended to her daily needs; and the sentry, the half-orc, half-human Tristan Salem, became her guard and escort.

A knock echoed from her door. Lynera sighed, closing her journal without finishing the entry. Although reluctant, she was hopeful that at least one of these people came to see her today. It was Dylan. The well-dressed servant had his brown hair combed to one side, matching his simplistic features.

He carried breakfast, a couple of smoked fishes, three small pieces of bread, and her favorite cold lemon juice. It had been the same meal ever since he started serving her.

She didn’t mind.

Tristan was there like he always did, ever unmoving. Lynera spied the sentry’s eye glanced towards her, something men of his position usually avoided. The felintine traced the glance to Dylan’s tray.

Without a second’s hesitation, she took a piece of bread and gave it to the sentry. He didn’t move, completely ignoring the gesture. Annoyed, Lynera took his hand and left the bread there before letting Dylan inside her room. She closed the door a bit heavier than she anticipated, but it was too late to apologize.

“Sentries aren’t supposed to eat during duty, Mistress,” Dylan said. Lynera took the tray from him and placed it on her table. She grabbed another bread and gestured to her servant. “Neither should I.”

“Eat or stop serving food.”

Without much choice, Dylan took the bread and bit ever so little. Lynera started on a fish, sliced it in two and gave the tail side to her servant.

Food per se wasn’t a scarce resource on Vyndival, at least not yet. King Urzic had told her if nothing was done with the southern regions of the kingdom, now ravaged by the Nightmare Lands and threatening to move northward, food supply would be the least of their problems.

Lynera already knew that. She had seen the heart of the Nightmare Lands…or at least she remembered she had. No matter how much she tried to recall, her memories with the Order of the Void kept pushing her away, as if the very idea of the Order had rejected her existence.

Something was stopping her from remembering completely.

After their loss at the Battle of the Vanguard, the King had taken precautions to make sure the kingdom’s soldiers were well fed first to maintain their morale. Abuse wasn’t tolerated, however, and he made sure anyone who forcibly used their ranks as leverage for more than they were given were severely punished. At least, that was the theory…

Still, this meant people like Dylan had less to eat than most people, and lower ranked sentries like Tristan weren’t as well off either.

Very few people knew the relationship between Lynera and King Urzic Lasterfol. Those who knew addressed her as Mistress rather than queen as actual ceremonies and rituals were yet to be completed.

Lynera was hesitant to accept the title anyway. As awkward as it was, she hadn’t the first clue as to what her current relation to the King really was as far as social standings were concerned. Of course, she would rather make it formal, but as busy as he was, Urzic hadn’t found the time—she assumed—to propose to her yet.

“Do you know where he is?” Lynera asked, sipping from her lemon juice.

“The King is at the meeting halls with the council and his Lord Knights,” Dylan replied as he nibbled on the fish tail.

Lynera held her fish with her mouth and opened her meiyal-crafted wardrobe. All of the silks were old but finely preserved, and the details were elaborate. None of them matched her taste. She preferred clothes that provided more free movement, not dresses for princesses. But the King had issued tailors to minimize making clothes to use these materials for more practical things.

“Choose a simple set for me, Dylan. I’ll be in the bath.” She looked at her servant, eating his bread. “Save some for your grandmother and put mine into containers. I shall bring them to the King.”

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Lynera opened the door and found Tristan there still, bread no longer in his hands. She took one final sip from her juice before handing it to the sentry.

“When you’re done, give it to Dylan. I’m taking my bath.” Tristan made no words, but simply gestured a bow, almost too small to notice.

Lynera crossed the curved hall of the King’s Tower into the bathing chambers. Tristan accompanied her in silence, stopping at the entrance of the chamber and finishing the lemon juice.

Jena was waiting for her inside, handling a mechanism for the steam bath. The white strands of her hair were the only indication of her age. She wore a simple, sleeveless tunic matched with a loose pair of jeans, something Lynera actually preferred to wear instead.

“You gave them your breakfast again, Mistress?” she asked. She motioned to the other side of the room where a marble stone and a mirror waited for the next person to clean her body.

“There’s too much for me. People of my kind don’t hunger as fast as yours.” Lynera removed her evening robes and sat on the marble stone. Jena prepared some bathing soap and hair oil and began to wash her.

“You say that, but more feral natives of your kind turn to brutal beasts and savagely eat anything they see moving when they do get hungry.” Jena said it as if stating a fact she’d known for a long time. At least that was how Lynera interpreted the comment.

“Those feral types embrace the vorks and yumas inside them. Some of us reject it. Tame it.” Lynera faced the mirror and stared at herself. Deep within those yellow eyes she knew a vork lay asleep. And to sleep it would continue. “I tame mine.”

Hopefully.

“Well, if you say so. That puts me at ease, at least.”

“You’ve been across the Nightmare Lands?” the felintine asked. The natives Jena mentioned could only be found there as far as she remembered.

“I was High Sentry during my younger years, and I’ve seen things from the Void Region that would make even Lord Knights vomit.” She scrubbed gently on Lynera’s skin with a bubbling cloth, and the felintine would’ve enjoyed the feeling if not for their conversation. “I was part of King Menoris’s brigade that patrolled the Void Region.”

“How come you’re here as a servant, then?”

“Cannot keep still after all those years, Mistress.”

Jena applied the fragrant hair oil over Lynera, starting from the brown fur of her cat-ears and tracing them down gently to the ends of her hair. She didn’t miss the felintine’s tail.

Lynera had grown used to the sensation, but the uncomfortable feeling of someone else touching her tail still bothered her. She wouldn’t even let King Urzic play with it unless they were having sex. Which was most nights now that she had thought of it…

“And unlike the common folk, I have a picture of what’s happening to this kingdom, somewhat. In my old age, this is the least I could do to help the young King. Your eyes, please.”

Lynera braced herself as cold water splashed over her three times, washing away all the foam and slickness from her body.

“I’ve tended to your bath, Mistress. Do take your time. It’ll give this old lady a moment’s rest.” Despite her words, Jena looked as if she could easily wrestle Tristan out of his Armor.

After many days of following the same bathing routine, Lynera had formed a steel fortitude when soaking herself in hot water. Hesitation only made the ordeal stressful rather than enjoyable, and getting the pain out of the way as fast as possible was the best course of action to enjoy the situation.

Setting the thought aside, Lynera slowly but steadily entered the bath, and the sensation of heat electrified her senses. She remained determined.

Within just seconds, her whole body from neck to toe began to feel the familiar numbing and relaxing touch of hot water. Silence enveloped her senses, only gently disturbed by the subtle ripples of water bouncing off her skin. At this very moment, Lynera thought she was at peace.

The felintine found herself staring at a dark horizon. A gigantic pit deep enough that light couldn’t reveal its bottom. The ocean surrounding it fell towards oblivion.

Towards The Nothing.

Rubble and debris rolled along within the darkness, neither rising nor falling. She looked around, but the emptiness was too vast for anything else to see, neither across nor to the side.

When she turned again, she saw a silhouette of a person made of light sitting beside her, its legs appeared and vanished repeatedly as they swayed on the edge of the pit. The person’s head turned.

“You’re almost out of time, Lynera.”

Lynera’s eyes opened. She felt frozen for one second, then came the heat from the bath, bringing her back to her senses.

Jena was waiting for her, her very patience itself bringing testament to her long years as High Sentry. “Did you have a nice dream, perhaps?” She wrapped the felintine, still hot from her bath, with a bathrobe. “A few more minutes, and I would’ve been worried.”

“No dreams,” Lynera lied. “It’s better this way.”

The old servant returned once more just after Lynera had dried her hair.

“Dylan chose these clothes for you,” she said. “I must admit, the lad has a sense for simplistic fashion.”

Indeed, it was simple; only three pieces made the set. A white one-piece dress, a blue patterned shawl, and a pair of white, flat shoes.

“No undergarments?” With silks as thin as these, even with a shawl, Lynera would have problems with the skirt.

“Not to worry, Mistress. I chose them for you.” Jena revealed plain-looking underwear and gave the felintine a smile. “I know you like them simple during the day.”

“Thank you.” Lynera blushed but allowed the old servant to dress her, and within just minutes, she exuded an atmosphere of simplicity and humility masked with a stoic poise.

Uncomfortable for short.

“It’s a good thing we asked a tailor to fix these clothes for you,” Jena said as she brushed Lynera’s hair starting from the fur of her cat-ears.

One real problem for Lynera, and for half-breeds like her, was the lack of space for their tails and ears in clothes not specifically made for them. And while common folk made do, or worked around with what they had, a felintine of her status—secret to the public or not—essentially had the responsibility not to compensate for such trivial matters. And so, her clothes had been reworked to allow her tail to move around as freely as she would like.

“Thank you, Jena,” Lynera said with a sincere tone. “For these past few days, you’ve been taking care of me as if I’m your own.”

“I merely follow orders, Mistress.” The old servant smiled with the same sincerity. “Though I admit, I take great pleasure tending to your needs. And I shall do so until you say no more.”

“Please continue to look after me, then.”

Jena smiled and applied Lynera’s finishing touches.

Out of the chambers, Lynera found Tristan and Dylan waiting for her. She hadn’t set foot out of this tower since the day she was brought here. Somehow, she knew that would change today. She didn’t utter a single word and simply made her way down.

Tristan and Dylan followed without any form of objection.

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