D’Argen finished the rest of his mead and lifted his glass in the direction of the staff sitting against the wall. Half of them looked shaken and scared. The man that held the pitcher of mead was not one of them and he quickly got up and refilled D’Argen’s glass.

The movement seemed to be enough to bring a few of the others back as they slowly started eating again. Clearly, everybody had lost their appetite.

“Since we’re on sensitive topics anyway,” D’Argen decided to break the awkward silence. He did not hear it, but he knew the words were slurring out of his mouth. Cana was not beside him to stop him and he leaned forward to look past Lemisyre. He dropped his elbows on the table on either side of his untouched dinner and then rested his cheek against the cold glass in his hands as he looked at Acela. “We all gonna ignore what happen’ earlier and preten’ Lilian sitting ‘ere is normal?”

Lilian made a sound from the other side of the table that sounded between a gasp and a choke. Vain, sitting right beside them, reached out and started thumping their back. Lilian coughed and cleared their throat.

“Not now, D’Argen,” Acela said with a dismissive tone.

“Then when?”

“D’Argen.” Her voice took on a harder edge.

“So it’s decided? We’re gonna ignore the fact that you used your mahee on—”

“Enough!”

“No!” D’Argen did not realize he was on his feet until he saw Vah’mor stand up as well, sitting two seats over and staring right at him with narrowed eyes. D’Argen looked away from the general and one of his close friends to focus on Acela. “This’s not—”

“We will talk about this later!”

“When? When we’re ‘bout to leave? When you don’ have visitin’—”

“You are drunk, D’Argen. Come with me.” D’Argen had not even seen Vah’mor move until he felt a tight grip on his arm. Vah’mor tugged him back but D’Argen now had enough alcohol in his system to be stubborn and try to shake the hold off.

“Is this how we’re runnin’ thin’s now? More secrets and—”

“It is not a secret, D’Argen. It is a sensitive topic. One that I had asked Vah’mor to discuss with you when you were available.” Acela stressed the words with a glare. “Clearly, this is the first time you have made yourself so, even if that means being drunk.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“Come with me,” Vah’mor said again, their voice softer.

D’Argen turned to glare at them. A glance around the length of the table revealed that most refused to meet his eyes. Even Yaling and Abbot were looking down at their plates. Lilian looked angry and only Vain’s arm around their shoulders was probably keeping them from jumping across and trying to strangle D’Argen. Arehal met his eyes. The woman looked too serene. For a moment, D’Argen was glad Thar was not there.

“Fine,” D’Argen threw off Vah’mor’s hand and pushed away from the table under his own strength. “Fine. You know I hate these dinners ‘nyway. Stop invitin’ me,” he said as a parting shot and turned to leave the dining hall. Vah’mor said something behind him and then D’Argen heard their heeled boots following after him down the hall.

The main dining hall, the large one that Acela liked to use for these dinners that somehow always had some type of incident, had two hallways leading into it. One of those hallways ran along the length of the balcony that overlooked the large courtyard in the centre of the castle.

D’Argen slipped through the glass doors and into the cool night air. The cold was refreshing and he felt it calm both his stomach and his head.

“What was that about?” Vah’mor asked. Their voice had an accusing note in it.

“She persuaded Lilian to feel better.”

“What?”

“Lilian. They had not left bed for weeks an’ today, out of nowhere, huge smiles, and gettin’ dressed, and joinin’ us for dinner.”

“Do you think that maybe—”

“I saw Acela leave their room earlier,” D’Argen interrupted. When he looked back, Vah’mor looked conflicted. “Look. I know that’s Acela’s thin’, power, control, persuasion, whatever you wanna call it. I get it. That’s her itch how runnin’ is for me. But there’s this amazin’ thin’ the mortals came up with called consent that—”

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“How do you know?”

“What?”

“How do you know Lilian did not consent? How do you know Lilian did not ask for it?”

“They would never.”

“Never? The same way they would never willingly hurt themselves? Or you?”

D’Argen had to bite his tongue. Not many knew of Lilian’s first attempt, millennia ago. Most considered it a freak accident, Lilian’s mahee getting out of control because they tried too much with not enough skill. D’Argen knew better. He was the one who held Lilian’s crying form then.

“I know what I saw,” D’Argen said quietly, thinking of that day so long ago and then of earlier today when he saw Acela leave Lilian’s rooms with a quick stride. He was looking at Vah’mor and at the wall of glass behind them. At the hallway that led to the dining hall. The same hallway that Lilian was walking down, their steps firm and with purpose, their chin lowered. Vain was walking right after them, saying something that D’Argen could not hear past the glass. Lilian barely threw a glance over their shoulder at him, but their glare found D’Argen as unerringly as an arrow hit its target.

Lilian looked angry. The balcony was as long as the hallway that Lilian was striding down, their eyes firmly in front of them again and refusing to meet D’Argen’s through the glass. D’Argen could not look away.

“So, Acela didn’ tell you what happen’ in the Rainbow Fields. Not the whole of it, ‘nyway,” D’Argen said, his voice airy as he followed Lilian’s form until it disappeared. “She knows. I know she knows because I told her personally. The fact that she didn’ tell you is… surprisin’. Yet ‘nother secret I was to keep without knowin’, eh? Does nobody know? No. That’s not the case. Abbot and Yaling know. Vain knows, obviously. Olov—”

“D’Argen,” Vah’mor interrupted his thoughts and D’Argen felt his eyes drawn back to the general at that one single word. They looked worried.

“Has she told you about Sky Mountain yet?” D’Argen asked, afraid of the answer.

“You did.”

“No. No, I didn’. I told her. I told Vain. I told you we were there, nothin’ else. Not about—”

“She will tell me.”

“Will she?”

“If it is important for me to know? Yes.”

“So… Lilian tryin’ to kill themselves… for the second time… that’s not important?”

Vah’mor visibly flinched and looked away.

“Did you even hear it from her this time?” D’Argen let out a heavy sigh when he got no reply and looked towards the hallway. It was empty. He felt a shiver run down his spine as a cold breeze blew in and he closed his eyes. It felt like a caress that wiped the rest of the alcohol from his system. He felt tired. He felt sick. He would probably throw it all up before he fell asleep tonight.

“D’Argen?”

“Hmm?”

“Why is Acela afraid of you?” Vah’mor’s interrupted question caught D’Argen completely off guard.

“What?” he asked before he could think better of it. Acela? Afraid? Of him? It made no sense. Acela was one of the First Five. She may not be the strongest of them all, but she was their leader, as they had all agreed millennia ago. She was—

“Does it have anything to do with what happened after Lilian’s outburst?”

D’Argen was startled into a laugh that sounded insulting even to his own ears. “Outburst? Is that what we’re calling it?!”

“D’Argen!”

“I don’ know what you’re talkin’ about! Acela is not—”

“You did not follow her order.”

D’Argen froze with wide eyes to look at Vah’mor. He had no idea what the other was talking about. He scoffed and tried to think back. He was sitting with Lilian at the time when Acela showed up. She had told him to leave the room so he did.

No.

He left because Lilian told him it was okay.

After D’Argen refused to leave when Acela told him to.

Yes. He defied her order. The more he thought about it, the more he remembered that awful day. Acela had not just ordered him to leave. Acela had used her mahee. Acela was able to persuade Lilian to stop thinking of harming themselves if Acela’s lack of defence on the subject earlier could be taken as an admission of guilt, but she was unable to get D’Argen to stand up and walk a few steps. He had refused her order.

When D’Argen finally focused on the present, Vah’mor was looking at him with narrowed eyes.

“No,” D’Argen said in denial even though his memory said otherwise. “Hey!” D’Argen suddenly remembered something and he let a smile split his lips apart. “Did you know? We stopped at this one village that had stories about me! I have a game after me!”

“D’Argen,” Vah’mor sounded both tired and chiding at once. “This is not a topic to brush off so easily.”

“Why not? Acela is… no. No! It’s impossible. This is Acela we’re talkin’ about. She was right. I shouldn’t have brought that up at the table. In fact. I shouldn’t have even been here, to begin with.”

“What? Of course, you should have, you are always welcome at the table.”

“Welcome? Yes. Needed? Never. Most of the talks that happen at that table do not concern me. I have no lands nor subjects. I haven’t even been back in Evadia in centuries. None of these topics matter to me.”

“But they do!”

“Not really. They don’t concern me. In fact… when should I start gettin’ ready to leave for the White Cliffs? Do you know? Should I check in with Nocipel and Haur?”

Vah’mor exhaled so heavily that D’Argen felt like he had to take an extra-large breath in to compensate. “Not yet. Another few weeks, at least,” Vah’mor said.

“Huh. Interesting. Okay. So…”

“What is this game?” Vah’mor indulged him by switching the subject. “Earlier. You said the kids…?”

“Ah yes! So… these kids, they run around and one of them is always the runner D’Argen that the others have to try and catch. Right? But because he is the fastest, the others can’t run!”

“They place chase?”

“What? No! It’s completely different! The other kids can’t run! They have to walk!”

Vah’mor only hummed but D’Argen knew he was once again being indulged.

“It doesn’t matter.” D’Argen waved it away and knew that this topic would not last long, so he changed it again. “Look. I’m gonna go find Nocipel and figure out—”

“Nocipel is still in the dining hall,” Vah’mor interrupted him.

“Then… uhh…”

“So is Haur.”

D’Argen hesitated. He could not think of an excuse to leave and end this conversation.

“But Thar is not,” Vah’mor supplied.

“Ah! Yes!” D’Argen snapped his fingers as if he came up with the idea himself. “Thar. I should go check on him. If he’s ready. For the White Cliffs. You know?”

“Yes. Yes, I know. Go.”

D’Argen waved and let his mahee steady his steps so he would not trip or slide as he ran the length of the balcony then back inside the hall and straight to his rooms. Thar was an excuse. Maybe D’Argen would even visit him later. But first, he had to get all the mead out of his stomach.