The room was silent, until Fialla spoke up. “You cut your dress, sister.”
Sheilah looked sheepishly over at Fialla. “I managed to stab myself in the leg.”
“You should have cut, not stabbed. Like Davian did.” Fialla admonished. “I thought that’s what you were going to do. Sister, that was too reckless, even for you!”
Sheilah nodded wearily, and looked back over at the two women. Andrea was very very still, Magdalene seemed to have fainted.
“Tea, I think.” Sheilah suggested, but Andrea made a strangled noise in her throat.
“You-” Magdalene tried as she came around to herself. She looked at the bloody towels, at Sheilah’s bloody dress and gulped, her face ashen.
Sheilah moved to the teapot and poured a cup, then looked to Fialla, who nodded. She passed it to the half-elf.
“A princess shouldn’t be serving tea.” Magdalene argued irrationally.
“Come back to us, Magdalene.” Sheilah acknowledged, and poured a cup for her.
Her mother reached for her cup with trembling fingers, she picked up her cup, nearly upset it, wrapped both of her hands around the cup and took a swallow, then immediately made a face. “No sugar.” She muttered.
Andrea shivered and seemed to come back to herself. “That was real?” She asked Sheilah, as she joined her at the tea cart.
“It was.” Sheilah agreed. “It didn’t hurt so much going in, but the pain when I pulled it out,” She complained with a gesture. Strangely though, Andrea nodded.
“Can I see it?” She asked curiously. “Your arm, I mean.”
Wordlessly, Sheilah held out her arm. Andrea probed the former wound with her fingers.
“And your leg?” Andrea asked.
“Likely the same, though it’s not ladylike to bare your legs in company.” Sheilah replied drily.
“Very funny.” Andrea replied. “But just because you heal quickly doesn’t mean you’re immune to things like disease or poison, or death.” She paused in thought. “Can you die?”
Sheilah gave her a baffled look. “I’m not in a hurry to find out.” she retorted. “And I said it earlier: I’m immune to poison and disease.”
“I must not have heard it over Milady's screams.” Andrea shot back, with a glance at Magdalene.
“She screamed?” Sheilah wondered. “I couldn’t hear anything for a while. My ears were so full of cotton- my whole head was- that I just...”
Andrea nodded. “I know what that’s like.”
Magdalene croaked behind Andrea, “Please don’t do that again. I’m not sure, but I might have made a mess of myself.”
Sheilah gave Andrea a look of alarm. “I think you should take her to the bath. Even if she didn’t, it should calm her down.”
Andrea nodded, helped Magdalene up, gave Sheilah a short bow, and walked with Magdalene out of the room, leaving Fialla and Sheilah alone.
“I thought you were just going to cut yourself- not stab!” Fialla complained hotly. “You almost made me mess myself!”
“I’m sorry, Fialla.” Sheilah offered contritely and sat next to the smaller elven girl and gave her a hug. “Here’s a piece of advice from your stupid older sister.” She offered in a comforting voice. “Don’t stab yourself- or get stabbed.”
“I know that, already.” Fialla complained, but returned the hug.
“Well, I’d prefer it if you didn’t forget.” Sheilah admonished gently. “They keep saying that elves won’t be welcome in Stormheim, no matter what. I don’t want you getting yourself stabbed.”
There was a bit of silence between them, then. “I’ll do my best.” Fialla replied.
Sheilah hugged her closer. “Thank you, Fialla.”
They stayed that way, giving and sharing comfort between the two of them.
“It’s closing in on dinnertime.” Fialla observed.
“I could eat.” Sheilah joked.
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“Of course you could. I can eat as well. Not as much as you, obviously, but-”
“Are you making a crack about me?” Sheilah prodded.
Fialla giggled. “A little.”
A little less than an hour later the two ladies returned.
“I had the cook begin preparations for dinner.” Andrea reported to Sheilah. Magdalene herself sat herself across from Sheilah.
“Don’t ever do that again.” She pleaded. Sheilah nodded.
“I did it because I wanted you- I want you- to understand that I am-” She paused, and closed her eyes. “I wanted you to understand what I am, if just a little bit. I come from a land that demands that you be strong. There are things- deadly things- that will kill you in a heartbeat if you’re not.” She paused again, and opened her eyes, finding Magdalene’s, “If there is someone- if there is a foe that is standing in front of me that intends to strike me down, I won’t hide behind others. I will face them directly.”
“It would be lovely if everyone came only from the front.” Magdalene replied with an eyeroll.
Sheilah gave up; there simply was no way to convince Magdalene that she was capable of looking after herself.
“After dinner, I’ll have you accompany me to the king’s conference room, as there is something I would like to show you- something that cannot easily be brought here for whim or convenience.” Magdalene explained, and then looked to Fialla. “You’ll wear a headscarf, of course.”
She looked to Sheilah, and then to the others. “I’d like to speak to Sheilah alone, please.”
The other two women eyed each other warily, and then nodded and left.
Once they were alone and Sheilah had confirmed that they were elsewhere and could not eavesdrop, Magdalene began.
“First, I’ll repeat again: Never do that again. Please. It’s bad for my heart.” She implored. After Sheilah’s confirming nod, she continued.
“I learned from your father that he’s been communicating with Davian all the time that you were with him.”
Sheilah’s eyes narrowed at this, but she didn’t reply. Davian had said something once about ‘dealing with Stormheim’ that had caught her attention, but she couldn’t remember what it was. There was also a sudden surge of conflicting questions from the various fragments of herself that distracted her.
Magdalene raised an eyebrow at Sheilah’s expression, but continued. “It may be possible for a letter from you to be delivered. What do you say about that?”
Sheilah lost herself in thought. There were a lot of things she wanted to say to him, so many things she wanted to ask him, but-
“This is very sudden.” Sheilah finally managed to say. “I will need time to think.”
Magdalene nodded. “That was all I needed to say to you alone. We should eat dinner.”
Sheilah had expected that she would be famished, would need to eat a great deal because of her use of her ability, but perhaps because she had eaten a robust lunch before her demonstration, it seemed as if she didn't need to eat as much as she thought. Still, she ate two helpings of everything, as Ladria would have commanded. “You’re still growing!” She would have admonished.
It suddenly occurred to Sheilah that if she simply stopped using the power of the Dragon so often, her body could use the nutrients as fuel for her much needed growth and development.
But the Dragon was strong in her. It demanded to be used, and more, she wanted to use it.
“There aren’t many reasons to unleash the power of the Tyrant, Sheilah, and so we are the first tyrants, demanding the power to remain under our control.” Sheilah reminded herself grimly as she ate her dinner, causing Fialla, who was seated next to her, to raise a curious eyebrow.
After dinner, Sheilah and Fialla changed clothes and were taken, as promised, to the King’s conference room. Toril and Galen were still there, talking about weaponsmithing, something that Sheilah didn’t particularly care about, as dragon-tooth blades were proof against steel.
She didn’t much care about what was being said. Galen captivated her.
He reminded her of Davian, of the strength he radiated. He was old, black hair streaked with silver, face lined, and there was a small scar on his chin that spoiled his short salt-and-pepper beard, but he carried himself with competence and surety of purpose.
“Oh?” Toril asked as he turned to the women at the door. “I didn’t expect-” He caught Sheilah’s gaze, her expression, and to whom it was directed, and his eyebrow twitched.
“Sheilah, allow me to introduce you: This is Galen Whitestone, commander -in-chief of all of the Stormheim forces.” He turned to Galen. “Galen this is-” He coughed, “Lady Sheilah and her sister, Fialla Redstone.”
Sheilah gave a graceful curtsy, followed by Fialla, who, he noticed, had covered her ears with a headscarf.
Sheilah glided forward, and took one of Galen’s hands in her own. “A pleasure to meet you, Galen Whitestone.” She greeted. Unable to help herself, she blurted, “Are you married?”
Galen made a choked noise, Toril struggled to hide a baffled look, Fialla gave Galen a speculative look, and Magdalene covered her face with her hand. Andrea looked down at her folded hands and didn’t say anything.
“Err- happily, my lady.” Galen replied in a strangled voice. “I have a son and two daughters your age, my lady.”
Sheilah adopted a crestfallen look and let out a disappointed sigh. “I apologize for putting you on the spot.”
Fialla quickly pulled out a fan and used it to hide her expression.
Toril broke the silence that was building.
“What can I help you ladies with this evening?” He asked.
“Toril, I thought I’d show ... the two ladies the map.” She replied, pointing at the table. “Since they don’t have a full understanding of Stormheim’s reach.”
Toril blinked. “Well... actually, I think that’s a fine idea.” he agreed. “Galen, we’ll talk later.”
Galen nodded, gave the women an elegant bow, threw Sheilah a confused look, and moved to leave.
As he opened the door, the three high elves stood there, and they all looked up at him.
“Greetings, human. We wish to speak with Toril before we leave.” The elven woman greeted.
Fialla made a strangled, growling noise in her throat.