Chapter 72

A Cousin's Guidance

Not for the first time that week, Femira strode through the hallways of the Palace. As always, she was dressed in her uniform but that was mainly because she didn’t own any other clothes than these and her stealth gear. There was that infuriating red dress she had worn to the feast—the one where she’d first spoken to Landryn—but that could sit collecting dust in her trunk at the end of her bed for the rest of eternity. The bed that I’ve not used all week, she realised with mild amusement. Since that night in Landryn’s office, the pair had spent every night with each other.

As a result of her recent notoriety from killing the kragal, Femira’s presence in the Palace was welcomed by the Highborn. And true to his word, Garld had arranged rooms for her on the guest level. Rooms that Landryn frequented each night.

Femira was not on her way to those accomodations at the moment however. She had her own tasks today and Landryn had a busy day preparing for the War Council. The fomori threat had unfortunately taken a secondary priority against what they would do with the news of Daegan’s death. The King was still deliberating on which course of action the army should take with regard to that.

Femira arrived at a door and knocked. A moment later a familiar handsome blond man opened it.

“Lady Annali,” he bowed, “please come in, please.” She followed him inside to an ornate living room with doors leading off to a bedchamber. It was similar to her own rooms in the Palace, but had a more permanent “lived in” feel to them. Decorating the walls were drapes of Keiran silk tapestries and ornamental urns in the style of her homeland. The man hurried about the room with agitated movements.

“My apologies for the state of this place, my Lady,” the man flustered, “Daurond hadn’t warned me that you'd be arriving today.” He began collecting empty bottles of red wine and glasses from the table.

“You don’t need to bother with the ‘my lady’ stuff with me,” Femira teased lightly.

“You see, Ovis,” Daurand said walking out from the bed chambers. Annali’s cousin wore a purple silk lounge robe that complimented his dark skin. His eyes were bloodshot with dark circles around them. “My cousin has grown quite relaxed with propriety since arriving in Reldon, I told you she wouldn’t care if the place was a mess or not. Now hurry on to your appointments, I will see you later tonight.” Daurond smiled at the man, guiding him to the door. Ovis grinned sheepishly at Daurand and then apologetically again to Femira before departing.

“You look like you had a fun night,” Femira said, cheerfully.

“Epilas is quite a fun place, if you would ever do anything other than hide in that barracks… one would think you’re hiding a secret lover.” He spoke in their native Keiran to her so Femira responded in the same tongue.

“Plenty of ways to keep yourself entertained in the barracks,” she replied and then regretted it when Daurands eyes lit up with the potential gossip.

“That friend of yours… Jazerah? He is a fine specimen wouldn’t you say?” The man wasn’t wrong, Jaz was incredibly handsome but Femira didn’t think that way about him… at least not enough to do anything about it. Although the mention of him now dampened her spirits.

“He’s been on duty out of Epilas,” she said and didn’t bother to mask her disappointment. Femira then decided to embellish her display by sighing emphatically. She didn’t care if Daurond spread a false truth about her having a thing for Jaz. It was better than the truth, and Jaz wouldn’t ever think anything of it, if he ever heard the rumour. It’s not as if Jaz didn’t proposition her half the times they sparred anyway.

“Well, when he returns you should invite him to one of my get-togethers sometime,” Daurand smiled as he spoke, picking up a decanter of wine and pouring himself a glass. He then lounged onto a cushioned sofa and offered her to do the same. She did but refused the glass of wine he subsequently offered.

“You’re becoming quite a person of interest around the Palace lately. I swear, the way people talk about you it’s as though I really am back in the same city as my cousin.”

“Is that a compliment?” Femira teased

“If you choose to see it that way,” he smirked.

“And what do they say?” Femira asked, her interest piqued. She didn’t really care if the highborn were gossiping about her as she had the veil of Annali to hide behind. What did it matter to her if she ruined the woman's reputation?

“Oh most of it is all very boring,” Daurond sighed, “how exceptional a runewielder you are. The stories people are telling of you fighting monsters,” he waved away the word flippantly, “dragons, demons and giant crabs… I swear some of it is just ridiculous. The most shocking thing is that no one here even seems to suspect that are an imposter,” he chuckled and Femira smiled inwardly.

“Although,” Daurond trailed a finger around the rim of his glass. “I did hear one particularly juicy tidbit,” he continued and Femira eyed him warily, “about you and Landryn Tredain.” He eyed her with a mischievous glint as he spoke, waiting for her reaction to the name. She maintained composure but inside her chest tightened.

“He’s my Commander,” she replied evenly, “that’s all… He’s also married.”

“That wouldn’t have stopped the real Annali,” Daurand smiled with his too-white teeth.

“Is this really what you brought me here to talk about?” She made a show of showing her boredom on the topic. Daurond sighed and reached for the crystal decanter, topping himself up.

“No,” he said disappointed, “I do like to partake in a bit of babble though. Can’t blame me for being intrigued by the rumours.”

“Our mutual friend Garld has invested much in you,” Daurond said moving on to the main topic, “I believe this is why he wishes me to tutor you. It appears that he is quite eager for you to quickly acquaint yourself with the particular intricacies of the Keiran Emperor’s Court.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“Do you know why?” Femira prodded.

“I can speculate,” he had glint in his eye, “I imagine that he wants you to be able to hold up to an Honorswords questioning if you are faced against one again.”

“I don’t intend to be facing off against one again anytime soon. And if I do, I think I can handle them without words.”

“Oh I’m quite sure the great Annali Jahar, slayer of fomori and monsters, is more than capable of fending off some Honorswords. All the same, you may find yourself in a situation that you cannot kill your way out of. What if you were to be interviewed by an investigator seeking to understand the reason why Karas attacked you. You must convince them it was solely because of your refusal to be brought back to Keiran.”

“It was,” Femira retorted to which Daurond gave her a levelled stare which she matched.

“Fine,” he breezed on, “I’m sure that Karas didn’t see right through your brutish Keiran accent. We can work on that however. I don't know where you came from but you’ve obviously had some training in pretending to be a noblewoman. However there are some very obvious flaws in your accent. We will work to rectify this.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because Garld has instructed me to.”

“I didn’t realise you were a bloodshedder,” she replied in a mocking tone.

“No, no,” Daurond scoffed, “I’ll leave all that violent work to you lot. However, Garld has helped me much in the past. He keeps my presence and standing here in Epilas in good order and I help convince the Altareans that the Reldoni aren’t so bad. Along with adding some weightable credence to your Annali impersonation. In return… well… he pays me, what more do I need to say beyond that.”

“So Garld wants you to help me,” Femira clarified.

“Yes, I am to teach you how to properly conduct yourself as a Keiran highborn lady. Frankly, he should’ve pushed for this from the start.”

“Hasn’t seemed to be much a problem so far,” Femira shrugged.

“Not to these Reldoni barbarians but to other Keiran, your speech is that of a streetdog and your manners are worse.”

“If the Reldoni are so backwards, why are you here?”

“I didn’t say that I don’t like barbarians. In fact, I quite like some of them, especially when they’re shirtless,” Daurond said with a playful grin. His melodic voice made the suggestive comment dance lightly rather than perverted, as it would have sounded in a regular accent. “There are certain choices in my lifestyle that are quite frowned upon in Keiran.”

“Our family doesn’t approve of your lifestyle?” Femira probed.

“Surely you know enough of our people’s culture to know the answer to that question.”

“A bit… I left Keiran when I was very small. I might need a lot of tutoring,” Femira let out a brief groan of annoyance, “this is going to seriously impact my runewielding training, isn’t it?”

“We have plenty of time,” Daurond expressed. “You might not be aware that many of the things that you and I do here are considered crimes in Keiran. We are very much karasi in the eyes of our kin.” Karasi. The word sparked recognition inside of her. Her mind flashed with the memory of her mother spitting the word at her with such vehemence that it made young Femira cry without knowing what it meant.

“Karasi is a bastard?” Femira asked casually.

“Karasi is anyone that brings shame to a noble house,” Daurond corrected, “a son who turns his back on the wishes of his father is karasi, a wife who lifts a weapon is karasi. But yes… bastards are the highest form of karasi. Their existence itself is the shame of their parents' actions.” Femira was pensively quiet for a time, trying to understand what that meant about her.

“You really do look shockingly like her,” Daurond noted after a while, his eyes sharp, like a bird watching a mouse, “who were your parents?” Femira didn’t know her mothers name. She’d always called her Mami up until the woman had disowned her, after that she was just another nameless stranger. And her father… well.

“My parents were Nurak and Azela Jahar,” Femira said with a playful smile.

“Ha,” Daurond chuckled, “I suppose they are. You know,” he flashed her one of his brilliant white grins, “I prefer you to her. You’re much more fun… Annali was such a brat. Always doing what the family wanted; the perfect, dutiful daughter… She was a bitch.”

“What makes you think I’m not?”

“You’re the better kind. The kind that will punch you when you’re angry. Annali was the sort to spread rumours and sow distrust.”

“Is that what happened to you?” Femira asked pointedly.

“Ha!” He barked a joyful laugh, “no, no. The stories Annali would tell about me were always true,” he said with a mischievous grin.

“So that’s how you ended up here?” Femira decided to pry into Daurond a bit more.

“Ah, not exactly,” Daurond’s eyes twinkled and he began running his finger around his glass once again, “I fell in love with the wrong man but that is a tale for another day perhaps.”

They spoke more throughout the afternoon and Femira found herself enjoying the man’s company. He was incredibly witty in a charmingly vulgar way and despite her best efforts to remain elusive to him, Daurond had managed to pry out of her some of her past living on the streets of Altarea.

“Oh,” he cackled, “how Annali would simply seethe if she knew that a thief off the street was pretending to be her. You’d better hope that Garld has indeed killed her. If he hasn’t, she will spend all of her energy in making you suffer for this ruse.”

“You think that he did?” Femira jumped at this, something she’d suspected for a very long time but hadn’t worked up the courage to ask Garld directly. She also wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know the answer.

“It would seem likely, unless he has her locked away in some dungeon somewhere. All he ever needed Annali for was to help cement the takeover of Altarea. If a former princess was seen to be supporting the new Highlord then the lesser nobles would fall in line. You being such an eager—and effective—little killer was a bonus.” That comment stung more than she’d liked.

Femira knew that when she’d been training to become a bloodshedder that she’d be expected to kill people. She just hadn’t anticipated finding the act so distasteful. Not like killing the kraglings. Killing monsters hadn’t left her feeling as sick as a fish in a wine bottle. It had left her with a sense of pride. A stronger pride than when she’d successfully steal something. For the first time in her life, Femira truly felt like she’d been doing the right thing. Like she had a purpose.

Femira and Daurond agreed that every morning she would come to his rooms in the palace where he would tutor her on Keiran highborn etiquette so that she wouldn’t trigger any obvious suspicions. Since returning from the Tidewall, Femira’s training regime had been sporadic anyway so she didn’t mind dedicating the extra time to Daurond’s lessons.

Aden still hadn’t returned from whatever assignment he’d been sent on and Femira normally went to him for tutoring in the late morning anyway. Some of the other bloodshedders had agreed to spar with her so she could continue to hone her combat runewielding skills but it was a long trek from the barracks to the Palace and back. She had permission from Garld to seek out Vestyr for training sessions. Which she had been meaning to do but all of the meetings throughout the week with various noble families had occupied a lot of her time. And the evenings she spent sneaking into the War Council member’s offices to collect information for Garld. Well… that was how she spent a portion of her night. After midnight was her time with Landryn.