Adrin

Adrin seated himself in an empty row towards the back of the cabin and looked out the window. The linecar climbed the track to travel above the city, putting his eyes level with the treetops. It passed over streets and houses, such a normal, everyday thing—but today it caused the people below to crane their necks and point upwards. At last, something was moving again.

It hadn’t been that long, really, only about ten days since the last linecar had passed this way, but that was long enough for people to rediscover their awe at something so mundane as a linecar passing overhead. Some of them might be old enough to remember when the first one made its maiden voyage on a similar line, but for most of them it was something they’d never known life without. The sort of thing people took for granted until it was gone, and now they greeted its return with fascination and wonder.

Adrin had never lost that wonder entirely. He’d been so excited about the prospect of his first linecar ride as a child that he’d studied how it worked in library books beforehand. When they finally made the trip, Adrin had taken the opportunity to explain everything he’d learned to his family, an unfortunate captive audience, until his sister begged their parents to make him stop.

Were they all right, back in Dhanlir? There was an ache in his stomach when he thought of them. They probably got the dispatch about him going into the Ocean, and then . . . they were probably as worried about him as he was about them. But they were probably all right. They had to be all right.

The linecar picked up speed, hurtling through the southern suburbs of the capital city. Sangar dashed past Adrin to open one of the doors at the back of the car, shut it behind him, then opened it again.

“Check it out! Even the bathroom is super fancy!” The door slammed shut once more.

Adrin exchanged a look with Farn, who was seated on the opposite side of the aisle. The older man’s bottom lip twitched the slightest bit, a fleeting sign of amusement.

Maybe Adrin could use the time in transit to practice his observation of the ambient currents. He shifted his focus in the way that was becoming second nature to him, and nearly vomited from the sudden motion sickness. Apparently they were traveling through the currents too quickly for anything to register but a blur, and even after he reframed his focus on the visible world once more, his stomach took some time to settle. How could Farn sit there so calmly?

He still wasn’t feeling quite like himself when Jocyanë sat down in one of the seats across the table from him.

“Just wanted to make sure we're on the same page before our appearance,” she said without preamble. “Don't deviate from your prepared text. Let me answer the questions whenever possible. If you must speak extemporaneously, stick to the same points we’ve been going over for the Assembly. Watch your amplification and stand up straight, don't mess with your hair. Do you have any questions?”

“Is it all right if I pick my nose?” Adrin said.

Jocyanë stood and turned to leave. “Thank you for taking this seriously.”

“Wait,” Adrin said. He was unlikely to get another chance to talk to her in a setting with even a small bit of privacy like this.

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“What do you want?” she asked, hesitating in the aisle.

“I want to talk to you,” Adrin said.

Jocyanë sat back down heavily, arms crossed. “Fine. Talk.”

“Why does this have to be so difficult?” Adrin said. It wasn't how he'd intended to begin, but it was hard to be civil when she seemed to go out of her way to gall him.

“What makes you think it ought to be easy?”

“I'm not talking about public speaking, or being the Prince,” Adrin said. “I mean talking to you. Being with you. You made up your mind to hate me and nothing I do, nothing I try seems to change that. Can you at least tell me why? Because I just don't understand.”

“You're wrong,” Jocyanë said. “I don't hate you.”

“Well, you had me fooled,” Adrin said. “I could have sworn you couldn't stand the sight of me.”

Jocyanë looked at him like he’d just said something incredibly foolish. “You think because I didn't fall in love with you immediately, I hate you? I don't have time to hate you, Adrin. But come on, just try to think for a moment about what I've been through. What I'm still going through. You came out of nowhere and forced your way into my family and brought a crisis with you. My father might never wake up. Whether that's your fault or not, I don't know, but seeing your face certainly doesn't make me feel happy right now. I know you’re smart about some things, but when it comes to the things you need to know you’re clueless, and I have to bear all the weight.”

“Because you won't let me help. I respect that it’s difficult for you, but it's just as hard for me in a different way. Why can't we work together and support each other?” Adrin asked.

Jocyanë favored him with an inauthentic smile. “Oh, yes, I'm sure it's very hard for you. But I don't have the time or energy to support you while you figure things out. You just showed up one day in my life, and you expect me to make room for you just because? To hold your hand and help you cope because you have absolutely no idea what you're doing?”

“I thought that was how it was supposed to work,” Adrin said.

Jocyanë stood up once again. “Not sure if you noticed, Adrin, but nothing is working like it's supposed to right now.”

“So there’s nothing I can do to make this better,” Adrin said. “There's nothing that I could say or do that will make any difference.”

“I don't know.” Jocyanë shrugged. “Try to have some patience. We've got our whole lives ahead of us, don't we?” She pointedly turned away from him to look out the window.

“So now we go put on a show?” Adrin followed her gaze, and saw the oddly-shaped trees beneath the linecar track. The gardeners of the Sanctuary at Gradalla were known for coaxing the trees to grow in strange shapes; they would be arriving shortly. “We smile, pretend everything’s just fine?”

Jocyanë demonstrated a credible public smile. “I’m glad you understand something at last.”

Adrin hated to admit it, but she did have a point. Jocyanë had been raised to be queen from the day she was born, trained to be in control of any situation. And a worthy partner for her, the son of the Tresuan and the founder of the Ethereal Guard, had been raised alongside her. Raen Semfrey had seemed destined for greatness from the cradle just as much as Jocyanë had been. Adrin was only here now because something had gone very wrong.

But he wasn’t the first person chosen by the Ocean who came from nowhere. When selecting a match for Queen Irezan, the Ocean had rejected dozens of men that would seem to have been better qualified, and picked a twenty-nine-year-old schoolteacher. Zafrys had been a shop clerk from the Eastern League before coming to Thaliron and deciding to dip her toes. The last Princess Ethereal born into nobility had been her predecessor Noete, scion of a Namaian house so lofty that she was practically a princess herself.

Zafrys and Gerimon had both risen to the challenges of their times, and their spouses had loved and supported them. Someday something like that might blossom for Adrin and Jocyanë, too. At least, he hoped they might come to an understanding.

The linecar stopped at Gradalla station, and Jocyanë stood up. She extended a hand, wearing that credible smile. “Looks better if we come out holding hands, doesn't it, my betrothed?”

Adrin took her hand and practiced his own credible public smile. They had their whole lives ahead of them, after all.