Ayre

"It can't be that simple." I say.

Amari gestures with her hand, offering up her argument as if it would fit into her palm. “It is clear as day that you are bothered by being addressed by certain titles.”

“You’re not wrong.” I say, not wanting to contest the observation.

"Why can it not be simple?" Amari speaks as if this were the easiest thing in the world. "Did you not just finish explaining how this Snapdragon only goes by such in private?"

"I just..." Where do I even begin? I can barely even speak Lenore’s name or her words most days. “We don’t have time for this. My day is filled with things to do before I deal with the full moon.”

Amari remains undeterred. “If you want my advice. This is the kind of moment that can redefine who you are and how or why you’re going to approach everything that comes after.” Amari’s tail sways in an upright position behind her, evidence of her interest in the subject. “Even if I’m wrong about this, your fierce protector and I will learn how better to accommodate you going forward.”

It is as if Astraea can see I am conflicted. She offers me a soft smile. "It would probably be best if you humor her up front and not let her speculate.”

It is not like it is difficult to get under my skin. But still, Astraea likely has the right of it. Even as a stranger, Amari knows how to needle me.

Already standing on the precipice of agreeing, I sense a weight in Astrea’s next words. “I went by Bitterheart when my parents first kicked me out of the estate. This is… I really must stress that this is worth making the time for."

"I…" Should at least entertain the thought. My paid advisor and sworn protector are already in agreement. It is not like who or what I am is ever far from my mind.

I take a deep breath before blocking out any thoughts about my mother factoring into consideration. Nothing about changing a name should be a grave offense. “When I claim that this is not the same, I am coming from a place of not wanting to compare relationships with our mothers.” My voice trails off.

I doubt this will go over well with most of my siblings.

My Twelfth brother would know. Or would he not remember the names of broodlings unworthy of making the cut? I want to clench my fists in anger over the thought, but it would not do well to misdirect any lingering spite towards those who are trying to help me.

I’ve done enough already.

“I understand.” Astraea says, making it seem like an easy assurance. “I did not intend to press you. Only offer encouragement and myself as an example.”

I look up at Astraea. It is hard not to see her as a tall lilac skinned and horned example of the kind of monster my mother is excited to collect. Her wiry muscle and adornment of long faded scars that trail her arms speaks more to experience than a reliance on brute force.

The depths demanded I survive for years at the expense of others. I don’t want to dwell on any comparisons to Astraea being kicked out of her estate.

I want to like Astraea.

Amari on the other hand is too eager to make herself useful. I turn to give her my full attention.

It occurs to me that she might think she is doing me a favor. Something catches in my throat. “I don’t deserve this kindness.” I say.

The two exchange a long series of looks.

Immediately I am wary of having said either too much or the wrong words.

Astraea smothers a look of hope, adopting a protective concern.

Amari’s honeyed eyes widen immediately. Her smile grows ever wider, showing off her sharp incisors. “So you do think this would be a good thing for you.” Amari’s eyes dart around to ensure we are not overheard as her whispers turn conspiratorial, bordering on flirtatious. “Whether or not you are deserving is such a small matter by comparison. I could only help you identify the former. The latter, now that is something I would be delighted to convince you of.”

My heart speeds up as I avert my gaze.

How am I supposed to discourage such honeyed eyes and sweeter words?

There is so much more to my feeding than just drinking the blood of another. I consume their essence to supplement my parasite’s capacity to sharpen how I see the world.

Selescia and I struggled to see eye to eye before she became my second blood doll. Last night was the first time she threw herself at me in ways I have only ever seen her reserve for Lenore. Would I have resisted more had I not fed on Lenore and Selescia both?

There is also the matter of admitting I would be lying if I did not share Selescia’s worries over how Fia’s artistic interests still focus on identifying the vital organs of animals she sees.

It is with a heavy sigh of admitting defeat that I turn instead to recent events for examples. It is only fair that I give Amari practical examples that she can work with. “I’ve already leveled my worst memories at the Grove Tender here. She probably already knows enough that she’d take it in stride no matter which name I go by.” I pause to grind my teeth against my lips. “Even if I were to draw on more private observations, I can’t help but think going by Lenore would be to my advantage.”

Sensing victory, Amari’s eyes alight. “So what’s stopping you?”

I shrug. “I’m used to… proving myself and making choices that avoid punishments or protect those I care about. I don’t know enough about what you’re asking to know what kinds of problems it will invite.”

“Assume it will.” Amari purrs. “But I suspect that will be a conversation for you and Snapdragon.”

The thought of that conversation causes my cheeks to grow warm. I can’t even muster up the energy to be annoyed at Amari. “You’re right. And for some reason, knowing that there is someone else I can conspire to get ahead of any conflicts makes it easier for me to accept.” I make sure to keep Snapdragon’s name off my lips, just in case.

To call her Third just feels wrong all of a sudden.

Astraea holds up a hand aimed at Amari. “Can I ask why you’re framing it like this? Why not just give yourself permission?”

I hold up my own hand in a belated pleading gesture. But when it becomes clear that they intend to give me the time I need, I bring the hand to my chest.

Deep breaths.

My chest feels heavy all of a sudden.

Were we not just committing ourselves to throwing our lot in with Cerya, Snapdragon, and Theriya?

Wait.

When did I become we?

All at once, our focus shifts.

There is no pain.

Only a weak growing sense of distress.

But my parasite is acting.

This is new.

“I…” Our head falls into our hand. We feel strange all of a sudden. When I bleed, my parasite and I are of the same purpose. We need to push ourselves to our limit to physically and mentally adapt to threats. Sometimes the parasite needs me to nudge it in advance.

But I’ve done no such thing. And my focus from blood shed in the fight against the Grove Tender has long since faded.

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Our thoughts are quickly outpacing Ayre’s ability to follow them.

I… Ayre, am left to pick at similar circumstances that best fit whatever my parasite is doing.

This feels like adding my own emotional resonance to an activated gemstone implement. An overloading and subversion of purpose. Only I don’t fully understand the parasite or its purpose.

It feeds on more than blood.

I’ve exhausted Lenore’s essence, memories, fears, and doubts. But it’s more than that. Over time I’ve accumulated a better understanding of Fia and Selescia than it feels right to admit.

Is it feeding on me right now?

I know that its needs outpace my own capacity to produce blood.

Nestled atop my beating heart, it can drink whenever it wants to.

Every broodling knows this, even before we get a parasite. It is why Lenore and I were allowed to interact with the unclaimed dolls before having the opportunity to earn a blood hungry parasite. It is a contest only one of us was meant to win.

But the blood we have drawn from Fia and Selescia have been for sustenance only. The parasite has consumed nowhere near as much from them as it has Ayre and Lenore.

Reflecting just back to earlier in the day, since when did knowing surface level details about my dolls become knowing with a casual certainty that Lenore treated them better?

But what do I do about that?

We can’t just be Lenore, can we?

Our siblings killed her. Would they not kill us?

Just thinking that thought causes my parasite to go still, easing up the weight it is exerting on me.

Only those names would fit us.

My parasite is trying to help.

A horrifying thought.

“Don’t do this.” I say, gasping for breath.

My fingers curl into defiant fists. “Ayre is my name.”

I dig nails into flesh and sink teeth into lips, anything to get through to my parasite.

“Ayre is the name the Castellan bestowed upon me after my first kill. Ayre is the name she has praised every time I have risen in the ranks.” My throat feels raw at the admission, but I force myself through the words.

I can hurt myself more than that.

“Ayre is the one Lenore thought should live. I never accepted the reasons why. But she always thought the world of me. Just when I think I’ve escaped, I’m starting to doubt everything I’ve fought to protect.”

I look up at Astraea without really seeing her.

I will desperation into my voice and force an expression crafted to convince her to stop thinking of me as more than what remains. “Please, just let me be a miserable wretch content with its fate.”

The tears are an unwelcome addition that sting at my eyes.

But these are just the last desperate grasps of a self that doesn’t quite encompass who we are now.

We’ve already accepted this, haven’t we?

If this is a body worth binding to those who would claim us as theirs, is it not worth reclaiming for ourselves?

In Astraea, I find another impossible understanding.

She offers the physical comfort of embracing someone who no longer sees themselves as broken. Feeling like we are finally whole… It is something we could lose ourselves in.

Where Ayre ends and Lenore begins ceases to matter.

Both are welcome in Astraea’s arms.

Both are worthy of her protection.

Our head aches.

Our throat burns.

And when Astraea says what Ayre cannot, we listen.

“Changing what we call you would not change who you fundamentally are. But what if I told you that you can be called something that doesn’t hurt, but feels good and right?”

We look up at her, resisting the urge to shake our head. But we risk an exchange of words on Ayre’s behalf. “I… Would very much like to stop feeling like a wretch.”

Astraea’s expression softens.

We feel Ayre brace for the name whose shadow they struggle to escape.

It is a name that never comes.

Astraea withdraws a clawed hand, saluting with a clenched fist over her heart like she is renewing some bond with us. “How would you feel if your Sworn Blade addressed you as a Princess?”

It catches us off guard.

We feel warmth overtaking us.

Something about the word teases a smile from our lips.

But there’s just never enough time for what needs to be said.

“What’s going on here?” The voice of Thorned Watcher, Second Seed bellows aloud.

Amari backs away as Astraea and I intercept the ten Howling Watchers marching at Second’s heels.

“I could ask you the same question.” I say, my composure barely catching up with my voice.

Second gazes at me with sharpened contempt. “You. I don’t have time for this dereliction of assigned duties. Hand over Third and the former Thorned Watcher known as Nineteen this instant.”

Behind him, gemstones alight as the Howling Watchers turn their masks up and down the street.

“You’ll not find them here.” I say. “Confirm with your First if you like.”

“Seventh Howler.” Second hisses.

Without replying, the numbered Howler makes for the barracks.

“What’s going on?” Astraea asks on my behalf.

No one answers.

“It’s okay, Astraea. They are our allies and should be treated as such.” Until proven otherwise, of course. Heedless to the tightening of grips on those light spears of theirs, I step forward. “I asked the Third Thorn to bring the ex-Watcher in for questioning. I merely wanted whatever insights the two could provide in dealing with the Cinder Blights. If this Nineteen has committed some offense, I would hear of it.” I say, leaning into the fact that Second hasn’t tried to detain or attack me.

This either isn’t about the Grove Tender or they are only punishing Third over it. Even that feels shaky in my mind.

Second sets his jaw. “Why should I believe you? Wretch?”

I slash my arm, spilling blood as I become we in the time it takes to close the distance between Second and a joined us.

Before spears can be leveled in our direction, we lift the Watcher from the ground by his clothing and break his grip on his weapon. “Simple. This alliance doesn’t need you alive.” We say with a sickening blood hungry grin.

We eye the first Howling Watcher to raise her spear in my direction with annoyance.

Immediately we recognize her. There is even dried blood still staining her spear.

Only Snapdragon drew blood by piercing the leg of one of the Howlers. Which means these must be the Howlers from that confrontation. What is Second doing leading them?

“Do it.” We say with a growl. We hope they know to take us seriously and go for the heart.

Second finally gets a grip. “Ignore them! You. Wretch. She-Spawn. Whatever you want to be called. Put. Me. Down!”

We pull him closer. “Why should we? Seedling?” Our gaze snaps to the others. “What do any of you matter? We need only bind ourselves to the Seed Seers and rectify the situation you have already proven you cannot control.”

A voice cuts me off. “Is this what you want?” Astraea asks, drawing my gaze. “Princess?”

Astraea conjures her onyx parade armor as she strides toward my defense.

She’s an intimidating sight.

Breathtaking, really.

We hesitate.

All it costs is a spear through Ayre’s heart.

***

Blood guides our hands.

Grip firmly. Snap in two.

Withdraw the offending weapon.

Our life’s blood flows freely now.

With gore stained hands, we shove our attacker to the ground.

She bites into our wrist in a vain attempt to fight back.

Her teeth crack as our blood hardens along with our grip.

But not on anything vital. Just her arm and forehead to keep her pinned.

We’re losing so much blood now.

We can see and process so much.

More spears can be felt piercing through the air.

Astraea’s strides pound in our ears.

Our heartbeat quickens to match the tempo of the violence to come.

Spears break against Astraea’s onyx plate.

She forms a wall at our side.

We swing a hardened blood armored elbow, breaking the head off of another spear.

Yet two more pierce our flesh.

Not enough.

Nowhere near enough.

We laugh.

It takes so much to kill one of the Castellan’s brood.

Lenore and I should know!

No.

We should know better.

Are these seedlings not the grove’s young and unproven broodlings?

Must we climb our way to the top of another pile of corpses?

What do we have left to prove?

Our grip eases.

The laughter stops.

I hesitate, my senses faltering.

“No. None of you deserve to die over this.” I say, my voice lightly sounding from my head alone. Is this how Snapdragon made her voice sound lighter?

The Watcher beneath me gasps for breath.

Meanwhile I have to keep up with the beat of my wounded heart by breathing harder.

The parasite is no doubt working overtime to shore up the flooding of our lungs with blood.

Before I can figure out what’s happening, my blood stained arms are wrapping around me in a tender embrace that restrains me from further action.

The fighting has come to an end, as quick and suddenly as it began.

In part because Astraea has already subdued two Watchers.

And Second has turned an emerald gemstone on the rest without an implement to absorb the backlash.

Two spears splinter in the hands of Howling Watchers as the emerald alights twice in quick succession.

But all of this is unworthy of my attention.

The back of my hand strokes at my cheek, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.

My eyes narrow.

I can feel the blood easing my hands in various directions.

Having my own body be manipulated by another feels strange.

It is… Not entirely unpleasant.

How could it be?

If anything, it is nostalgic.

Her name springs from my lips.

“Lenore.”

My… Her hand lowers, forming a bloody perch for my chin to rest atop.

“I’ve… Missed you.”

The bleeding begins to slow.

Then it all stops.

And suddenly I feel uneasy, swaying unsteadily atop my attacker from blood loss.

Details lose focus as the world returns to normal, my parasite’s presence leaving me behind and feeling more intensely alone than ever as a sense of emptiness takes the place of someone else that should be there.

What little I thought I knew is crumbling beneath the weight of knowing this body has preserved Lenore in more than memory.

The remaining spear shafts in my stomach and chest make moving difficult.

I move to tear them free, finding it takes more effort than it should. Warding off any support from Astraea with a snarl, I alone pull and scream.

I curse the weakness of my wretched body.

I resent the very idea that I could have ever managed to survive alone.

Lenore was always there for me. Long after I thought I would have to go it alone.

When I can only manage a whisper, I call out to Lenore to mend the damage.

It is slow going.

But the bleeding stops.

My parasite is still alive.

And so am I.

It hurts to move.

But I know with every fiber and seam of our shared being that this was worth it.

I have my answer.

This body belongs to Ayre and Lenore both.

Whether Lenore is alive in some way or the parasite is acting upon the essence of her that I fed it, we are in agreement enough.

I’ll claim the blood stained title of Princess Ayre.

I’m too tired and drained to care about anything more than that.

For all I know, the parasite has claimed us both in its own way.

But the parasite stopped to comfort me in ways that Lenore would.

That’s enough for me.

If my parasite wants the name Lenore, it can have it.

It can have me too.

Anything is worth it if it means we both get to live some semblance of a life.