Natheniel had awoken from a nightmare and, only half-acknowledging why he thought it would make a difference, put his feather necklace on the next morning. At breakfast, he learned the reason for the commotion that night, too: Tavin got sick… which wasn’t strange because it happened, but that they cared that much about it. At least that meant he was allowed to be in ignorance for a little longer than the rest of them, when they were told what else had happened that night.
The Stone Estate had been the site of a massacre, Skiá sparing only Elena’s adoptive children and some servants. It wasn’t a fact withheld however, though. After a couple of days Imre talked with Tavin—about what had happened, who wasn’t coming back, and their plans for a future without her.
Two months have gone by since then, and Lelishara began to fill up with visitors and rumors thanks to the coming Lantern Festival. Even Kiah, who was usually so gruff and blunt, grew a little sentimental around this time; of course, growing up following the traditions and understanding the solemn truth of the event certainly helped.
That sense of sentimentality, though, did not mean that she was any nicer during training. One would think when your opponent was someone almost half your height and a little over three times your age, they’d be easy to beat. This imaginary person had never met Kiah, nor would they enjoy getting to know her.
She was born and partially raised in one of the goblin and fairy provinces in Qizar; he’d never learned for certain what had happened, though eventually she found her way to Seothia. The late King Casper took an interest in her and appointed her as a royal guard, where she then moved up the ranks until Imre made her commander of the entire army. Now she was also in charge of Natheniel’s sword training, much like how Zofie taught him magic.
“You could be a little less predictable than that,” Kiah remarked dully. “Give a good fight or else I might need to show a specific little birdie where it’s supposed to be.” From their spot beside Tavin, Ihu chirped and hid behind him.
Natheniel knew better than to let her mess with him, but they both knew he couldn’t help but get annoyed when she made threats like that. Taking Ihu away from him—or suggesting doing so—might as well be like provoking a wild animal. Likewise, him falling for the act was like he was giving Kiah all the more reason to continue doing it. Whatever he tried to do, she just dodged and countered. It didn’t help that Tavin was now feeling well enough to be cynical as if he could’ve done any better.
“Your form isn’t even right,” the younger remarked. “You’re leaving yourself vulnerable to almost everything, except for what’s right in front of you.” To prove his point, he picked up a pebble and tossed it at Natheniel, resulting in him messing up his attempt to hit Kiah.
“If you’re so smart, why don’t you do this for once?” he shot back. “I’d like to see you try to do this!”
“Hey, unlike you, I don’t have permission to beat him up,” Kiah pointed out half-mockingly. It was normal for her, so neither of them took offense to what she said next. “All that matters is that he can dodge attacks and call for help. Anyone who wants to get to him’s gotta get through you anyway, and someone’s gotta be the future king's cannon fodder. Plus, need I remind you that Lydia never dismounted horses, she fell off of them.”
“It’s not my fault the odds were against him the moment he was born,” Natheniel remarked indifferently. “I’m over here getting the worst kind of special treatment!”
“Not everyone is meant for fighting,” Tavin reasoned calmly. “If we all were, there wouldn’t be such a thing as peace—we’d be too busy slitting each other’s throats to show off our power. We’re able to enjoy the moderately peaceful life we have because there’s people that wouldn’t survive in a fight… people who can’t be replaced.”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
There were several things Natheniel thought of that he only wished he could say aloud. The point was, though, that it was something to mention at a later date. He tried his best to please the adults, and arguing with Tavin right in front of one of them definitely wouldn’t be a good display of that. Not like they weren’t already aware of the conflict, but he could always pretend.
Kiah looked between the two, barely paying attention to Ihu fluttering up to Natheniel’s shoulder, seemingly recognizing that they were done. “Usually I’d just send the two of you home by yourselves, but Imre told me not to do that, so… I’ll go spell a bird with a note telling them to send someone to pick you up, and the two of you can clean up here until then. You should both know where everything goes.” She gave a dismissive wave and left.
It only took a minute after for Natheniel to see a hawk bearing the Seothian crest flying out from the window of the fort. Ihu gave their bigger cousin a friendly chirp as it passed.
He started working on putting the training supplies away. “Are you gonna help or just sit there? She said us, not just me.”
“Easier said than done, dreamer,” Tavin sighed as he got up.
They both knew that Kiah was watching so they pretended to get along. But at least they got something done, ready to go by the time they heard Samone’s voice.
“Coming with us?”
Kiah shook her head. “I’ve still got a lot of work to do. But I’ll meet you guys at the river when I’m done.”
Samone then went over to the boys. “Ready to head back to the castle?”
They both nodded and followed her, keeping away the silence by discussing the upcoming festival.
As time moved on past that moment, Lelishara slowly started coming alive for the festival. To a lot of Seothians, it was the most impressive thing they’d seen all year; the streets donned bright banners and lights and in a couple more hours the river beside the city would be filled with lanterns. Natheniel, who had been to Qizar during several of these types of events, knew it wasn’t anything fancy. The two kingdoms might have had somewhat different ways of celebrating, but one thing was consistent: the liveness in the streets, soon to be broken by solemn tradition when they all went to the river.
Natheniel had been forced to carry a lantern even though he held no feelings for who it belonged to. Each of these lanterns was supposed to represent someone dead or lost (whether literally or metaphorically), traveling down the river into the Lake, where they were burned by special Qizarn priests. The light they brought as they went there was like a call to the living and well to worship, and the smoke was said to reach the heavens where the gods then helped the families involved or the person themself, depending on the wish.
He never saw the point in it, besides to make the people who cared feel better, since he could swear that almost everyone here was just going through the motions. Really, the gods probably didn’t even exist in the first place, and, if they did, why would they care about a bunch of mortals?
Then again he never had anyone to dedicate a lantern to, and he was too ignorant to see it through the eyes of someone who did. Everyone else in the castle seemed to have someone they put a lantern out for; Imre for the Forgotten Light and he and Dimas to their late parents, Samone to her father, Kiah to an old friend, Domenique—though celebrating from Qizar—to the Forgotten Light, and even Tavin now held one for his mother, uncle, and aunt. There was no one that Natheniel called close that was gone, nor would there be. He couldn’t even imagine being in a situation like that, let alone one day spark such an impact that the rivers would be full with his name, just as they were with Lydia’s this year.
All together, as the last ray of sunlight disappeared behind the horizon, an uncountable amount of lanterns touched the water. And, in near perfect unison, everyone who’d been at the capital for the event muttered the phrase almost everyone knew, “Boreí to fos na se vrei.”
May the light find you.
Nothing better could’ve illustrated the sense of unity that came from it, and honestly it was the only impactful feeling he ever experienced during these festivals.
Everyone stayed for a moment longer, watching their lanterns float east to where its destination was. Slowly people began dispersing, some falling into a mournful conversation about who the lanterns belonged to. There were several names that he recognized, and a lot more still that he didn’t.