===Welcome to Day 4.===

Having a spirit swim through her head was not Ari’s idea of a gentle wake-up call. Through bleary eyes, she glanced at the sky outside, where the grey clouds that squatted in front of the waning moon glowed with its silver light, and–

Claribel smiled back sheepishly.

~It’s the next best thing. Sometimes, familiarity is comforting.~

Ari sprang out of bed, leaving the black bracelet behind. Windmills in Aquilon could wait.

~101? 101 exercises? I doubt my body would make it past one.~

~No!!! You can’t! My hands… They need to remain soft and clean.~

Ari stared down at her – Claribel’s – hands again. Soft, yes, uncalloused, yes. And weak. The worst thing to be.

~It’s not my fault you can’t even summon up a breeze. Otherwise, the magic alone would make you strong.~

~Oh. Well. Yes. I know.~

Too far. She’d gone too far. Ari had never been good with living people, beyond delivering the biggest transformation of their lifetimes. Head of Change and Transformation: that was the title on the Chief’s business cards, matt black and debossed with rose gold.

~Like I said, I’m not a natural like Hes,~ Claribel rambled on, letting the apologetic thoughts that Ari tried to telepathically transmit pass her by. ~Well, not quite. As a child, I had some aptitude to wind – more than you, anyhow – and I pushed at it. Pushed and pushed until it consumed my hair, as you already know, but my nails as well. I used to have beautiful nails. Mother would dye them with madder, have them battle-red like the dames. A warrior’s colour, even though I was no warrior. Not then, not now. But now, my nails are too brittle, and the dye only makes them look worse. The magic is taking my bones too, apparently. You just can’t see your bones most of the time, and I prefer to keep it that way.~

Words were magic. Words, spoken by Max, time and time again. Taking your feelings, wrapping them in words, in sounds, in signs, and passing them onto another person: that was the right way to practise telepathy. How can anyone read your mind if you show them nothing but blank pages?

said Ari.

~Sorry for what? For being truthful?~

Claribel mulled it over. ~Then you owe me a proper apology. Promise me: at a time of my choosing, you will do exactly as I ask.~

She’d sworn the same to the Chief, not just once, but always. Had Claribel’s words been carrots drenched with apple cider vinegar, bait for the rabbit that she was supposed to be? A fail-safe for life after their seven-day truce? Ari pushed the thoughts away, for she was no rabbit, no glassy-eyed prey with matted fur and mangled ears.

~What lake?~

~Like the pinky swear? Here, we just swear upon Lady Una’s name, and if you break your promise, she’ll swim up the river and wring you like an old towel.~

~A word that cannot be used to describe Lady Una or early morning–~

PECK, PECK, PECK.

The one-footed crow was at her window again: a harbinger of dawn.

‘They’re pretty tasty,’ said Ari, tapping back. ‘Skewer it through some soaked oak branches, acquire some fire, and you’re set. Illegal, but you’d be fed in prison. That was what me and Natty thought, back in the days. Pigeons and crows all the way.’

The crow shuddered, almost as if it understood, and flew away, leaving Ari scowling at its crooked trail through the sky.

~As I was saying, I woke you early today to give magic another try. It can be difficult to connect with your aspects inside, especially for those with an affinity to wind or earth. I asked Lonicer to prepare the garden. Are you willing to try one more time?~

Ari grabbed a woollen cloak. If there was one thing she was good at, it was try, try, and try again. Reset. Restart. Open your eyes.

*

Incessant cock-a-doodle-doos and grunting moos floated from the farm at the back of Claribel’s manor, unimpeded by the towering concrete blocks that she’d once called home, making the absence of wheels on tarmac and the purring of engines loud in her head. She missed… No she didn’t. What was there to miss, now that Max was gone?

Ari treaded carefully, picking her way through fallen branches and protruding rocks.

One of the sycamore branches they passed, where Natty had greeted her for the first time in this new world, had feet and one arm, and a natural indent sat where the bellybutton ought to be. She bent down and dusted it off. With a sharp blade and a few hours by the hearth, it’d make a good children’s toy.

She trailed past rows of leeks peeking through the frost, past patches of chard, protected by a blanket of straw and linen tents, past the manicured herb garden, still dotted with green from the thyme and clipped back bay trees, centred around a small, circular fountain where water gurgled out of the mouth of a man among a shipwreck, besieged by a flock of ravens.

At the very edge was a touch of artificial wilderness. Frost tipped the blades of uncut grass with a crunch of silver. Crisp white snowdrops and eastern sowbread with its purple flowers and marbled leaves were allowed to bloom here, but a pile of prickles and brambles, recently uprooted, lay in a pile at the edge of the field of wildflowers.

The smell of vinegar still clung to the air, though it’d do little to deter Claribel’s dreaded creepy crawlies compared to the chill of winter. She pushed away thoughts of the fire ants, making a colony out of Tristram’s discarded body.

Under Claribel’s guidance, she settled herself face-up into the embrace of the earth.

~Now become one with the earth and the wind.~

Still, she closed her eyes.

Where did her breath end and the sky begin?

Where did the earth end and her body begin?

Where did Ari end and Claribel begin?

Was she still a being of flesh and blood, or a manifestation of the cold, frost-breathed and ice-hearted, seeping, seeping into the depth of the earth?

Time passed. She knew, only because the darkness behind her eyelids turned frost-grey.

She lifted her hands. Deep within, the earth lifted with her.

When she opened her eyes, two tiny balls of mud hovered above her hands, no bigger than fire ants, then fell back to where they belonged, among the flowers.

~I’m sorry. It didn’t work.~

*

Morning greetings, take two.

The chambermaids had armed her with bravado via the swish of an obscenely expensive cloak and gown. The silks were indigo layered with kermes, which Claribel explained, with glee, were also from insects: ones that inhabited oak trees. The resulting purple was unmistakeably noble, but apparently not as bright and boastful a purple as the one extracted from snails. The cloak was white ermine trimmed with gold, chosen to mirror the cloaks of the Holy Army.

A gentle start, take two.

Claribel guided her to a clearing next to the herb garden, where a group of women chattered and hauled basket upon basket of washed linen to dry in the sunshine that now peeked through parted clouds.

Two figures sat along a turf bench, built from brick and grass.

‘Good morning, my lady!’ Natty grinned when Ari greeted her with the formality befitting Claribel’s station, waving a puffy scrunchy that looked like a cross between a doughnut and an urchin in every garish colour she could imagine except purple. ‘Apparently Tarry is down by a seamstress, so I’ll have a second one assigned once Little Walton finds new ones, but look at the progress we’ve made already.’

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The girl next to Natty pinned her needle in a spool of orange thread and bowed. ‘My lady, I am not sure what is going on, but I am helping Mistress Fabia to make her visions come true.’

‘She’s nothing short of amazing! It’s hard to put it into words, but I shall try.’ Natty cleared her throat and sank onto one knee.

‘Oh you have a way with the needle,

And you have a way with scissors.

Just know that it will be lethal,

Oh Amie, my beautiful sister,

If you use either on my neck.’

‘Oh, Mistress Fabia, you really do have a way with words,’ said Amie, blushing a deep red. ‘No one has ever written a rhyme about me before.’

‘Great work! Carry on!’ said Ari, trying to recall some meaningless motivational messages to convey.

She said the same to Lonicer and his boys, giving her thanks for a bramble-less and insect-free place to rest her head this morning, and approved leek in her chicken pies.

~To the guards next. Most of them will be training.~

That they were.

‘Great session, Bador,’ she said, fighting an urge to call him Sten, as she’d nicknamed him in her head. She felt her confidence grow as Claribel prompted her with the name of each guard. These were her type of people; she could find common ground with them. In fact, seeing them practise their lunges and forward rolls over wooden tables made her heart sing. ‘Leg days are important. Your calves are looking strong! Take a water break though. You’re looking flushed. Marlon, look at that grip! You’re going to crush some apples with those hands.’

Marlon’s post-exercise glow intensified, further confirming the effectiveness of her approach.

‘Badd, you’re doing… great! Keep your feet aligned when you jump from table to table. Sometimes your precision jumps are a little sloppy. If you’re not careful, you’ll injure your shins. And Rin! Look at you! Pecs are looking strong,’ she said, tapping her own to illustrate the point. ‘Better get some nourishment quick from the kitchens.’

Rin mopped his brows and leaned closer. ‘My lady, I have been keeping well-nourished every day. There is no need to worry. I have even been taking food from Beck – he’s given me big chunks of bread, jerky and dried fruits.’

‘He’s been eating for two for the past few days!’ Marlon smacked him on the back. ‘If he were a lady instead of a pock-faced stinker, I’d say he was pregnant.’

‘I’m just here growing muscles the size of a baby. You’d better put more in your swings if you want to catch up.’ Rin turned back to Ari and shot her a wink. ‘So yeah, my lady, please rest assured. No one in your household is going hungry.’

Claribel seemed assured, even though Ari was nothing but confused.

‘Clary! Good to see you making your rounds.’ Just the person she most wanted to avoid. Duke Aquilon was already a swords-length behind her, and she hadn’t sensed him. ‘She is exactly right about your landing, Badd. Stretch out, bend in, land on the balls of your feet. You should try practising barefoot. Oh Clary, I can’t believe you have become so knowledgeable about jumps. Is it because of the letter from your mother?’

~You are the one who has been neglecting our duty. Even that letter to Isabel is still unanswered.~

All of a sudden, no silk gown, gold eye-shaped necklace and half-floating, ant-sized specks of mud could brighten her day.

‘Yes,’ she said as her chosen response, hoping for the best.

The Duke sighed and gave her a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. ‘Don’t let your mother’s words weigh too heavily on your heart.’

‘I’m not,’ said Ari. ‘I’m just doing what I want to do.’

‘Which should always come first.’

She felt the lump buried deep within Claribel’s heart swell, a grave of swallowed words.

~Spit it out.~

~Oh, for fuck’s sake…~

She yanked the other spirit towards the body that shouldn’t have been hers and pressed.

‘I… Father… I… just wanted some advice.’

Duke Aquilon gazed at his daughter with eyes that sparkled like amethyst but none of a gemstone’s harsh edges. The hollow pit in Ari’s stomach forced her to look away.

‘If you see someone in grave danger, but if you save this person, there may be a chance that hundreds will die – an unknown chance – what would you do?’

This was beyond a question of which exercises to try in order to build Claribel’s muscles. Questions like these belonged in Coell’s school of thought.

‘What would I do?’ said the Duke. ‘I’d do whatever I felt was right, and I’d believe that my family would lend their support.’

‘Thank you, Father,’ said Claribel, before she faded behind Ari’s grip on their body, all strength, no consideration.

*

Ari whirled through the rest of her morning’s greetings, meandering across a different kind of obstacle course, mere fences and ledges to traverse on her way to her study, where Claribel thought her mother’s letter must be.

Sure enough, among the sack of linen wishes they’d carried from the House of Giving and a fresh handful of letters, one sat at the top of her desk, commanding attention with a crimson wax seal that depicted the now-familiar raven eating an eye.

With a pop of the wax seal and rustle of the thick parchment paper, Ari read, hoping for enlightenment, dreading more questions.

‘A duchess to her dearest daughter, greetings.

By the light of my hearth, we have retold the tale of the great hero, Dame Susu, on many winter nights. As you are not by my hearth, I am writing to let you know that these days, my yard is filled with the sound of hooves and arrows striking wood. Soon, I hope to grace your manor with the same.

I have selected six trusted dames to travel with me to Eirene, in time to watch His Majesty’s Tournament, which shall no doubt be majestic.

The seven of us are all delicate flowers that cannot dream to weather the harsh storm that the new style of tournament that His Majesty has proposed. Therefore, please pray for our safety as we complete this treacherous journey east towards the radiance of each new sunrise, protected only by the blade that your brother wields.

Farewell, for now.’

She ground her teeth, a habit that had never been hers, and pressed the heels of her palm into her forehead.

Claribel glared at the parchment, as if it was a greater danger to hold than Hesperus’s blue flames, and said, at length, ~I am not sure there is a solution.~

~Mother has never let go of a single grudge in her lifetime. Many had attempted to weaken our House after my grandparents passed into the jaws of the Fated One at a young age. Mother once said she had them all on a list. They have all met their downfall, one way or another. Carriage accidents, bandit attacks, squabbling children: one way or another.~

Ari read over the letter one more time.

~Long live the King,~ said Claribel, as she smacked her incorporeal head through the desk.

The door swung open, and in poured the two churchy guys–

~Father Mathis, my Chaplain, and Father Bertin, my Almoner.~

Yes, them, in their fancy red hats and fang pins, and three short, sharp barks that definitely didn’t come out of their lips.

‘Quarrin and… who might this be?’ said Father Mathis, pointing haughtily at another muscled figure next to Claribel’s Huntsman, dressed in ragged leather and patchwork furs, with a beard that looked like a startled squirrel’s tail.

‘He’s Rufus,’ offered Quarrin.

‘And, pray tell, who’s Rufus?’

‘Him.’

‘I know! You just said…’

‘Yes, I just said.’

‘Oh! In the name of the–’

‘Father Mathis, please, Quarrin means no harm. You are a Chaplain. Please don’t use the name of the Fated One in vain.’

‘I am a man of the Church, therefore if I use the name of the Fated One, it will not be in vain, my lady. May the Fated One spare Quarrin a touch more good sense in his next life.’

Quarrin shrugged, and Rufus, whom he’d just introduced, said, ‘Hello. I’m Rufus.’

‘Groundbreaking,’ said Ari, even as Claribel pulled her back to her rod-straight standing position from a desire to crouch down and pet her most welcome visitor. Its fur was pale gold, close to white: nothing like the night-black on her Luna and Sora, but just as beautiful.

‘She’s Silver,’ said Rufus. ‘Lady Oriana’s been trainin’ her. Don’t think you’ve met though.’

‘You stole Lady Oriana’s hound?’ Father Mathis’s hat slipped as he shook his head at Rufus. ‘We don’t want trouble between our Houses.’

‘I’m Lady Oriana’s Huntsman.’

‘Oh. That’s… Is that worse?’

‘Off duty, mind. I’m just here casually, friendly, like. Quarrin said you wanted a bitch. The right kind of bitch. There wasn’t time to train a new one, so he got me to bring one I trained earlier. Can I bring her in for a quick demonstration?’

Ari’s heart soared, tugging at the vine in this tangled mess that looked about to bear fruit.

===(Side?) Quest: Truth is in the Wine. Uncover the truth behind Lord Selvan and Lady Mona’s disappearance. [In progress]===

‘Of course! At once!’ If she could solve that mystery, then… Then what?

Silver padded into the study, sniffing at the shelves, the portrait, the marble statues, staircase, floorboards. She bounded into the shelves once more, knocking over a small brown rubber ball, setting it bouncing through the room. Ari raised her hand, and missed, her hand refusing to coordinate with her eyes.

~No! It’s a present from a prince! They can only make these in Rernin…~

Though a little larger than one that’d sell for pennies in corner shops, and less colourful.

Recalibrating for the motion of her arm, of Claribel’s arm, she snatched the ball before Silver could clamp her jaws around it, or worse, accidentally choke on it.

Silver gave a whine, returned to the portrait of Clarus the Seer and barked.

‘Good girl!’ Rufus unhooked the portrait and removed a dead mouse that had been jammed behind the canvas.

‘Did you put that there?’ said Father Mathis, backing away.

‘Sure, and she found it straight away. Good girl!’

‘That’s a painting by Master Ambro…’

‘Hmm. Not bad. Does he paint dogs?’

‘He is the most famous painter of our time. His depiction of the Fated One adorns the ceiling of Eirene Cathedral.’

Rufus shrugged, an echo of Quarrin’s. ‘Never heard of him.’

Father Bertin cleared his throat. ‘A mouse is not much of a morsel for the Fated One, but a painting is ultimately worthless and meaningless.’

‘Yes, yes, we all know the theory, but that’s not the point.’

The point was… ‘Is that it?’ Ari swallowed her disappointment. She needed a sniffer dog for human corpses; rats and mice were nowhere good enough.

‘For now,’ said Quarrin. ‘The second part is in the solar.’

‘Please come after that Fathers have bored you to death with numbers, milady.’

‘And that is a greater sacrilege than you can level at the Fated One. Pray, what do you think pays for your service?’

‘Gold?’

‘Denoted with the correct numbers.’

With another twin shrug, the huntsmen left Ari alone with the Fathers and a scroll long enough to trail onto the floor. She squinted at the words, as exciting as those on a tax return.

‘The terms for the alms you asked for, my lady. We have written it in time for your visit to Cardinal Octavus this morning, should you wish to offer it to him today.’

Claribel floated above the words and numbers, nodding as she read. ~It is all there.~

~Please tell me you don’t feel the same way as Quarrin and Rufus.~

Ari nearly replied with a shrug.

~This is important! Money is power. I thought you liked to feel strong. Read through it. Make sure you understand it as well as I do. We are offering Cardinal Octavus alms directly to Eirene Cathedral, for the distribution of food and clothing from the Cathedral only. It shall be a third of my income from the mana mines, which are currently not Mines Royal, for the duration of my current lifetime. This shall be on top of the alms currently supplied to him, and will not affect our current agreements.~

With that kind of clause, he’d want to keep Claribel alive.

~All gold and silver mined in Ventinon belongs to the Crown, though His Majesty can lease those mines to others. They are Mines Royal. Mana stone mines, on the other hand, had always been treated as properties of whoever owns the land. That was before the spike in mana stone prices after... after the discovery that Master Reece made at the price of his life. Seeing the true value of mana stones, His Majesty is attempting to redefine Mines Royal to include mana stone mines. Apart from us, Duke Auster owns a lot of those mines, as do many of our vassals. The Church, unfortunately, had not previously had a stake in this discussion. Most others are under the control of the Children’s temples.~

~A third is very generous, more than three times what others offer as tithes. It is a show of my good will. Perhaps it’d make him more amenable to answering some pressing questions. And perhaps it’d make a difference to the people of Eirene.~ Claribel smiled. ~After all, it is the season for giving.~

*

Quarrin, Rufus and Silver were waiting outside her solar. A chance to ruffle Silver’s neck was the only reason she’d dragged herself back up those stairs, pushing back her departure to Eirene Cathedral: a visit for Claribel to volunteer her time, and for Cardinal Octavus to volunteer information.

‘Watch this, my lady!’

She did. She watched Silver sniff the floorboards.

Instead of sniffing the furniture next, she gave a sharp bark and started chasing her own tail.

‘What…?’

‘Quarrin mentioned there’d been human body parts in this room. It looks clean enough now, but Silver still knows, so she’s goin’ in circles. Lady Oriana wanted her trained like this, so she’d have Silver remind visitors that she’d stabbed enough men for being unreasonable, so it’s best to be reasonable. Took me a while to make sure she won’t spin for dead mice and crows and the like. Only humans.’

Ari clasped his weather-worn hands. ‘Thank you. It’s perfect.’