"Oooooh!" Lyssia released another soft exclamation of surprise.

Igone wasn’t wearing a cape. The creature had hung its wings down her back. When the long appendages were fully extended, it looked like Igone was about to take flight.

Looking straight at them gave Lyssia the impression she was looking through a wing-shaped piece of sea glass. Her uncle had brought back several pieces of the green glass the last time he had returned from a trip to visit Ilvana's Western steads. They were situated closer to the sea, and he had spent a long afternoon explaining to her and Roakev how the glass was constructed from sand and heat and the sea salt that gave it its brilliant green color.

She didn't remember any of the whys and wherefores of how the glass was made, but here it was in its natural form, made from sunlight, wind, and power and used to clothe a myth.

For though she had found descriptions of this ethereal beast and others of its kind in a few of the old texts her father had set her to learn, she had never dreamed of meeting one in person.

Igone smiled as the small creature lifted itself up on its front feet and looked at Lyssia again. Its claws dug into her shoulder, but she did not wince. Lyssia wondered if she wore padding beneath her dress.

“Is...Is that…?” Lyssia dropped her eyes as Igone turned from the creature to her. She could not hold both of their gazes.

“Do not be afraid to ask questions, Drottine. If we do not ask questions, we do not learn.”

“Is that your....your Drakun? A real Drakun, I mean? I’ve never seen one before.”

Ansev’s mouth popped open as he swung around to glare at her. “Of course it’s a Drakun! Do not insult u---”

Igone’s hand clamped down on his arm, and he cut off abruptly, shrinking under her heated gaze.

“Yes, my dear. The thought saddens me, but I know Ilvana is without Drakuns. You are smart to recognize Thisska as such,” Igone said, running a hand along the top of the creature’s feathery crown again. It closed its eyes and hummed a sweet note.

"But she is not my Drakun, as I am not her Drottingr. The Ancient Ones do not serve us. We are connected, because I serve the land she is a part of. We have been together so long, Thisska and I, we are a part of each other. When I told her we were visiting Ilvana's land, she refused to be left behind. Thisska is so curious. And I...I could not refuse her. I could not leave a piece of my heart behind."

Lyssia's eyes glossed over in confusion. Igone noticed, and instead of baretting her as her uncle had done that afternoon he set forth to teach her about sea glass, she chuckled.

"I am sorry, young Drottine. It is hard to explain. Perhaps with time, we can learn more about each other. I look forward to discussing your...songs of history. But now, I must attend to my husband. Ansev, come. Girls, I will leave you to become better acquainted with Lyssia."

Igone nodded to her, and Lyssia curtsied again. She felt like a spinning tree seed floating down and up and down and up as the wind blew this way and that, but it did not seem wise to ignore a Drottingr’s nod.

Igone turned aside but paused quickly as the Drakun on her shoulders shifted again. The creature turned so she faced Linea and Murel, eyeing them both in turn. They froze, both trying to catch and hold the Drakun's gaze.

Suddenly, her wings snapped open. She pushed off Igone, brushing the side of one wing along Sundric's cheek and eliciting a giggle from him, and glided the short distance over to Linea. Her claws dug into Linea's dress as she pulled her way up to perch on the girl’s left shoulder.

Linea stayed absolutely still while the Drakun stretched out over her shoulders and settled her wings against her back before giving a tiny hop and beaming over at her mother.

A look of jealous longing passed across Murel's features but banished quickly. Lyssia glanced over to gauge Igone’s reaction to the scene, and was surprised to see that a semblance of the Drakun, head curled against the side of her neck as it had been while she slept, had been branded onto Igone’s skin with ink. The image did not come close to matching the beauty of the Drakun’s feathers, but the ink's metallic sheen held a majesty all its own.

Igone trailed a hand along the band of ink that decorated the top of her bare collarbone, smiling when she caught Lyssia's eye.

“You see, Thisska and I can never be separated. For even when we are apart, I bear the likeness of her and she perches upon the likeness of me. So we are never alone.”

Igone blew a kiss in Thisska and Linea’s direction and pushed Ansev before her as she made her way to the tent where Lyssia’s father and his sat conversing.

All three girls watched her go as an awkward shyness descended back over their group. Lyssia took a deep breath and hugged the dark wood box closer. You are the hostess, she reminded herself. You are in charge.

She cleared her throat, and the twins' eyes jumped up from the ground, shining with mirrored gratitude.

"My father has graciously set aside a tent for us. Shall we see if they’ve left us any food?”

Lyssia waited for the twins to step forward and held them in the corner of her eye as she directed her feet toward the open tent that Carryn had indicated earlier. She tried to pick a path that would avoid the patches of mud that dotted the field between them and their destination. It was hard work that warranted her full attention. Linea and Murel glided along beside her on silent slippered feet.

They had to pause when Azerian rushed in front of them, followed closely by Roakev and his band of Jarlsons. He waved at her and the twins over his shoulder and called an insult back at Roakev before putting on a burst of speed and charging headlong into the line of trees that marked the field's end.

“Who is that?” Linea threw a hand over her eyes as they tracked Azerian’s progress.

“My cousin, Azerian. And that other one in front with the long hair...also my cousin. Roakev. I don’t know why they bother to play together." Lyssia's heavy sigh was no exaggeration in her mind. "They always end up in a fight.”

“You don’t live with all of them, right? That’s...a lot of boys.” Murel sounded truly concerned by the prospect.

Lyssia shuddered at the thought. “No. Usually just the two boys. And I don’t spend a lot of time with them.”

“That’s too bad," Linea said, twirling hair absently around her finger while she stared at the trees. "He’s cute. You said his name was Azerian?”

Lyssia’s eyes bugged out. “Right. Okay, so…”

“The tent?” Murel jumped in, locking arms with her sister and dragging her forward.

“The tent.” Lyssia gestured toward the shade that awaited them.

The area under the tent had been divided into two sections. A table set with half a dozen chairs and a feast that could feed ten full grown men had been set up at one end of the tent. The second half was taken up by a long fur rug and a collection of circular pillows of differing sizes.

Murel made a beeline for the bowl of round orange fruit on the table. "Oh good. I hoped Sundric left some for us. Here, try one!"

Murel tossed one fruit to Lyssia. It smacked the top of the box. Lyssia hastily tilted the box so the fruit rolled toward her chest while Murel took the rest of the fruit in the bowl and a jug of milk and deposited them between two of the larger, bead-lined pillows. She threw herself down on her stomach with a happy sigh and popped two fruits into her mouth at once.

Lyssia eyed the wrinkled orange ball she'd been given.

“Careful,” Linea said, grabbing a towel from the table and dipping it in the bowl of water set aside for the purpose. “It’s sour.” She started attacking her face with the wet towel as if she was trying to wipe away her eyes and nose.

Lyssia was glad for the warning. It kept her from spitting out the fruit as soon as she bit into its thin skin. Murel held the jug of milk out to her, and Lyssia hurried over with two mugs.

Linea joined them shortly, claiming the large pillow on Lyssia’s other side. She balanced a tray of sweet buns on her knees. She picked one up, took a bite, and set it back down, dusting her fingers on the edge of the pillow.

Thisska eased herself down into Linea’s lap. The Drakun sniffed at the berry-studded pastries, her tongue flicking out to taste the edge of one like a snake might, before settling her head on Linea’s arm where she had a good view of the tent and the surrounding area.

Linea smiled at her, stroking a hand down her side and reaching for her pastry. “'K. So we have our orders.”

"Hmmm? I can't understand you with your mouth full like that," Murel said. She had flopped over onto her back and placed an arm over her eyes. If her jaw hadn’t been working on her fifth sour fruit, Lyssia would have thought she had fallen asleep.

Linea swallowed and stuck her tongue out at her sister. "We have to get to know each other. You know we’re going to be asked about our conversation later, Murel.”

Linea picked up a small brown pillow lying near her feet and tossed it at her. Murel flung her arm out, knocking the pillow off course, but she sat up anyway and raised her hands in surrender.

“Okay. Okay.” She looked over at Lyssia and frowned. “You should probably get comfortable. Linea’s right. We have some work to do.”

Lyssia was sitting on her legs, her skirt smoothed in a circle around her, her back as straight as she could keep it without support, and her hands folded before her. She glanced down as she stretched her legs out, bouncing her bottom on the cushion. Her fingers took some more work. They'd been clenched for so long.

She picked up her mug and took a sip of warm milk, wetting her dry lips. Then she looked over at Murel and shrugged. Murel threw the brown pillow at her, catching Lyssia’s arm and nearly knocking over the jug of milk onto her box of gifts.

Lyssia plucked the pillow off the box and clasped it to her chest, leaning her chin against it.

She had a good reason for not wanting to let her guard down and take her eyes off the twins. At least, she thought it was good, but no one and nothing could have forced her to say it out loud.

They looked so similar, and though the words coming from their mouths were at odds, their voices matched perfectly in pitch. If she turned her back for one moment, what was to stop the Listorian twins from switching places and making a fool out of her. They seemed friendly, not at all the type to pull such a mean joke on her. But what did she know of other girls? She would not risk the possibility of such embarrassment.

Linea leaned closer to Lyssia and pointed at the pillow. “That means it’s your turn to answer a questi---"

“Is it true that you never take your mask off, and that anyone who sees your face is tied up in ropes and thrown in a river to drown?”

“Murel!” Linea exclaimed. “Why? Why would you ask that?”

“I want to know. Because I think it's a silly untruth, but I don't know...It could be true, and wouldn't that be good to know.”

“It is an inappropriate question.”

“Alright. What’s your question?”

“Well…” She rested one elbow on her reclining pillow and gazed up at Lyssia imploringly. “I would love to learn more about Azerian.”

“Oh, here we go,” Murel groaned. “That’s not even a question about her.”

“Fine then. Lyssia, what's your favorite way to pass a rainy day?”

Lyssia, who had been content to hug the brown pillow and listen to the twin’s bickering, blinked in momentary confusion. Murel’s question about drowning worried her but not enough for her to disrupt the sister's argument.

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

She sat up straighter and gave the question some thought. It wasn't a hard question, and yet all she could think about was how they would want her to answer. She could tell them that she liked to spend her time looking at herself in a mirror and reading books all day. It was half true at least. She did spend a lot of time reading, though she didn't usually get to choose what she read.

She opened her mouth hoping that an acceptable answer would just pop out, but a bird’s trill interrupted her before she could say one word. Lyssia smiled at the look of confusion on the twin's faces as she stood to retrieve the cage that sat hidden under the table.

Thisska's snout shot straight up in the air. She slid off Linea's lap and closer to where Lyssia had been sitting.

"I like to sing with my duet partner, Diyana."

"Diyana...Songbird?" Linea asked.

"I didn't name her. She belonged to my mother, so she's old. But she's still really pretty. I thought my father said I couldn't bring her, but he must have changed his mind and put him on a cart."

She shrugged and turned her attention to the cage, drawing back the covering slightly to peek inside. "Diyana dearest, are you awake?" she sang in a soft voice and was answered by a sleepy titter from the bird.

With one more glance at both girls, she sank onto her pillow, placed the cage before her, and threw the covering off. Diyana fluffed up her yellow feathers, peering cautiously around her.

Humming to put the bird at ease, Lyssia opened the cage door and held out a finger. Diyana hoped onto her hand and let Lyssia draw her out of the cage.

"Oh! What a pretty little thing!" Linea exclaimed before her attention soon diverged by a boy's cry over by the trees. "Is that chicken?" she asked, hurrying over to the table, but her eyes were on Azerian as he ran by and not on the food.

“She’s wonderful,” Murel murmured, ignoring the Drakun that had climbed into her lap. She reached out a gentle finger to stroke Diyana’s feathers.

Lyssia was busy watching Thisska’s eyes light up as she gazed at the songbird, and she missed the shift in features that might have heralded Murel’s change in topic. “You must miss your mam very much. I can’t imagine not having mine around.”

“I don’t...I don’t really remember her. She died when I was a baby, so...But I have my father and my nurse. Or, I had a nurse named Seaka. She just left. And...and I have my aunts…”

“That’s good. But it’s not the same as having a mam.”

“No. No, it’s not,” Lyssia sighed and slumped back in her seat. She slid Diyana onto her palm and drew her close to her heart.

“Murel!” Linea hissed, dropping back onto her pillow. "Inappropriate."

"Oh...um...sorry. I...I didn't…"

"It's okay," Lyssia murmured, her eyes returning to Thisska. The creature's gaze was stuck fast to Diyana, but they lacked the predatory glint that she half expected from the little Drakun. Instead, her gaze was full to the brim with what Lyssia could have only described as joyful wonder. "Do you have birds in Listoria?"

"Oh no. We have birds. But none so pretty or prettily spoken as yours."

Lyssia smiled at Murel's assessment of her feathery friend. "I like your honesty," Lyssia blurted and then hurriedly looked away when Murel blushed.

"You said something about a duet?" Linea asked, taking her turn at rescuing the group from awkward silence.

"Oh, yes. Listen. Hmmmm," Lyssia hummed a low note that made her teeth tickle as they vibrated. Diyana drew herself up, fluffing out her feathers more and lifting her head to the tent ceiling, preparing for a concert. She returned Lyssia's low note before releasing a simple three note warble.

Lyssia repeated it back to her, adding two more notes, and the game started. Lyssia eventually broke away from the bird’s straightforward melody and begun to sing a fast-paced Ridineig tune, absconding words for “aaahs” and “ooohs”. Diyana kept pace easily, her sweet avian voice weaving around Lyssia’s in harmony.

It felt good to exercise her mind and voice in a familiar way, and Lyssia stretched the song out searching for the perfect ending. As she reached the end of her third repetition, her voice near cracking as she chased Diyana's high soprano trill, Lyssia stood and, holding Diyana aloft, turned a slow circle.

Thisska jumped up on Murel's knee and took wing, twirling fast circles around her. Lyssia fell back on her reclining pillow and watched, breathless, as Thisska landed at her feet and took up her half of the duet. She led Diyana through the last stanza, but the final note was hers alone.

The little Drakun hit a note that not even the songbird could have reached. It hurt Lyssia's ears, but she did not want to offend the creature by covering them. Thisska dropped her snout to the ground, nuzzling aside the rug to dig into the wet soil beneath. The ground beneath her shook as something green broke free of the soil and began to grow.

Lyssia felt the oddest urge to feel the Drakun's warm side. Thisska's eyes snapped open as if she could hear Lyssia's thoughts, but she did not cease her work. Lyssia lowered her gaze to the flower blooming to life at her feet.

Thisska stood back when she was done and cocked her head at Lyssia. Lyssia felt a whisper of a question enter her mind. She recognized the Drakun’s voice in the timbre of the wild thought.

Lyssia held out a finger to brush the flower's furry stem and gently rubbed one of the silken petals between her fingers. They matched the red-brown color of her hair, and towards the center, they were spotted with purple spots - lavender like her eyes - that shimmered as if already covered in dew. Lyssia smiled at the watchful Drakun.

“Yes. Thank you. It’s gorgeous.”

Thisska ducked her head, tapping her snout against Lyssia’s boot, and then she sauntered up to Diyana’s cage and curled around it, resting her head on Lyssia’s pillow. Slowly, so as not to startle either creature, Lyssia lifted Diyana over Thisska’s head and slid the bird back onto her perch.

Only once she had secured the cage door and turned back to smile at Linea did she become aware of the crowd that had gathered outside the tent. The twins broke the silence first, slapping their hands on their knees and exclaiming enthusiastic approval.

“Wonderful! Wonderful, my dear!” Kongr Andev crowed, joining the rest of the Listorian party in applauding with hands on their legs. Lyssia’s legs shook under the attention of so many unfamiliar faces. She prayed they would hold her weight as she stood and acknowledged the Listorian Kongr's praise.

Igone stepped forward and separated herself from the crowd. "You have a pure voice. Pure and lovely; a voice fit to harmonize with a Drakun's."

Lyssia lowered herself into a deep curtsy, her eyes locked on Igone's slippers. "You honor me with your praise, Drottingr Igone."

Igone waved away her thanks, turning and making her way to the table. Sinking into a chair that faced the circle of pillows, she held out her arms in entreaty. "Girls, I think it's your turn. Why don’t you perform a section of Laikari for our guests.”

“Oh, I know the perfect one."

Linea brushed her hair back and batted her long eyelashes at Azerian, who had snuck up beside Igone to reach the plate of fruit that sat at her elbow. He recovered from his puzzlement quickly and flashed her a cheeky grin.

She leaned in toward Lyssia and her sister, holding Azerian's eyes for as long as she could before turning to Murel. "We have to perform the Laikari of Rowa and Jakem."

"The lovers? No. No!"

Linea tried to draw Murel in with her eyes as she had Azerian, but Murel only shook her head harder. "No, Linea, and I'll tell you why. You do not need to make a fool out of yourself over another boy."

Linea's lips puckered in a pout that almost had Lyssia feeling sorry for her. "This isn't about a boy. We're trying to make peace. That Laikari is all about peace and friendship and---"

"And I don't know that one well enough to play orator, so I would be stuck prancing around playing lovestruck. Do you think that would look good?"

"I...I think you could do it," Lyssia interjected. "I'm very intrigued with the story or Rowa and J...Ja…"

"Jakem. But no, she's right." Linea glanced over at Thisska, her gaze softening. "The Laikari of the Ancient Ones then. If I can't be the beguiling Rowa, at least I can be a beautiful and majestic Drakun."

"Beautiful and majestic. Sure. I'll try to work that in."

Murel and Linea clasped hands and stood together, curtsying first to Igone, second to the crowd standing expectantly to the side of the tent, and last to Lyssia. Or perhaps to Thisska, who sat up to watch their retreat to the grassy area before the tent. She settled back down as Murel called the observers to witness the history of the Ancient Ones and the creation of Listoria's kongdomr.

Lyssia crossed her legs beneath her skirt and leaned forward on her knees. If she wasn't careful, her excitement would get the better of her, and she'd end up jumping up and down in her seat.

Linea played Listoria, the Drakun heroine of the story. Murel was her sister's narrator, but as there was no one else to dance alongside Linea, she had a few additional parts to play.

She stood in place as Linea danced around her, only shifting her stance the smallest amount when Linea required assistance. She was the humble Drottingr praising the Drakun at work; the river rushing wild; the greenery sprouting to life along the riverbanks; the great winds smoothing out the fertile plain; the mountains rising up to mark the kongdomr's border.

The mountains they shared with Ilvana. But there was no mention of Ilvana or any of the other kongdomren. The Laikari ended with Listoria taking wing to fly to the tallest peak of the dividing mountains to pluck a trio of crystalline flowers that had absorbed the sun's life. From the flowers, she crafted a circlet made of sunshine and, returning to the humans who had come to reside in the palatial shelter the Drakun had built for them, she crowned the first Drottingr.

Murel knelt before her sister so Linea could place the flower chain she had quickly created from the tiny white flowers that dotted the grassy floor of their stage on her head. Murel stood, then with palms pressed together before them and heads bent, the two sisters delivered the Laikari's final proclamation together.

"Hear the mighty thunder

That's the heartbeat of

The Ancient Ones

Who time had no hold

And the earthquake is their dance

And the rain is their tears

Watering the ground

The Ancient Ones

Who space has no hold!"

Lyssia was surprised to feel tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. She bent her head and quickly wiped them away, covering the move by pretending to applaud in Listorian fashion.

Linea and Murel, cheeks glowing with the crowd’s praise, sank gracefully back onto their reclining pillows. They had swapped seats, but Lyssia had no trouble recognizing Linea, who reached for her hand.

“I couldn’t see your face during our performance. What did you think?”

Lyssia squeezed Linea’s hand. She tried to think of a way to describe how she felt about their performance, but her mind came up blank.

“She’s speechless. She can’t say one word,” Murel said, poking Lyssia in the side.

Lyssia giggled and pushed her away. “Stupendous. There’s your word. Stupendous!”

“Same to you.” Murel lifted her mug to Lyssia and drained it in one gulp. The crowd had dispersed, and out from under their eyes, Murel flopped back onto her back. Linea followed suit, hand reaching blindly for her plate of sweet buns.

Lyssia dropped Linea’s hand and leaned back, smiling down at them both. How could she have been so worried about mistaking them earlier?

Linea was slightly taller. Murel’s hair was a shade lighter. Linea’s smile was sweeter. They lacked the sarcastic tilt that Murel’s lips seemed to fall into naturally, but though Murel was slower to speak, she was more apt to hold Lyssia’s eyes. Murel held her mug in her right hand, and Linea reached for her food with her left.

They were mirror images of each other; similar, but not exact, and Lyssia needed to learn more about them. Her new friends. A warm wash of happiness settled into her limbs. She stretched out on her back, letting her head hit the soft pillow and her fingers brush against the cage and Thisska's side.

She had a tune in mind for the Laikari they had performed. It had a steady beat, but it wasn’t complicated. It wouldn’t be too different from Murel’s spoken oration. She didn’t want to interrupt the twins’ rest, but she wondered what they would think of it.

“Linea, Murel, I---”

“Well done, girls,” Igone called as she walked past with Sundric on her hip again. “I assume they’ll be packing up the tents soon. Kongr Dizean has offered to continue the peace talk under his own roof, and your father has agreed. We’ll be staying at his stead tonight, and probably tomorrow as well. Make sure to sample the food our hosts have set out for you before we leave.”

“Yes, Mam!” Linea waved a sweet bun at her. Igone cocked an eyebrow but said nothing as she turned away. “Yeah, a real bed!”

“And a fire.”

Lyssia turned her head to see Murel rubbing at the goosebumps on her arms. “Are you cold? I could ask someone to fetch you a cloak.”

“We brought cloaks, but we weren’t allowed to wear them today.”

“Why not?”

“Because they might have messed up our dresses. We’re going for a classic above-it-all look, you know.” Murel struck an upside down pose, one hand on her hip and the other behind her head.

If Linea had made the comment, Lyssia would have thought her half serious, but Murel did not seem happy at all.

“Wow, your parents are strict aren’t they?”

“You have no idea,” Linea moaned.

“Oh, I think I do.” Lyssia tapped the side of her mask and watched as the twins rolled over and sat up, their expressions turning dark.

“We have a lot to talk about.” Linea reached for Lyssia’s hand again, and Murel slid over onto Lyssia’s pillow, pressing her chilled arm against Lyssia’s sleeve.

“Perhaps we could talk some more tonight...if you slept in my room. We could tell stories all night.”

“And sing duets with Diyana! Oh, yes please!” Murel exclaimed.

“Am I invited too?” Linea asked with a laugh, tugging Lyssia closer.

“Of course! I have a fireplace and a big bed with a mountain of blankets and...and we could sneak up some sweets from the kitchen.” Lyssia stopped to take a breath and found herself once again caught between their discussion as they raced ahead of her thoughts. She couldn't keep the grin from spreading across her face and settled further into the pillow, trying to give them space for their animated discussion.

She felt near giddy herself with happiness. This morning she felt like she was being tossed into uncharted waters with no map. By her estimation, she had kept her head above water and she was coming home with two friends.

She felt as light as a feather. Like if her new friends weren't weighing her down, there would be nothing to keep her from floating right off the ground.

"Girls!" Carryn bustled into the tent. "Your parents are asking for you. You, too, Lyssia." Ignoring the twins' whining, she offered them her hand one at a time and pulled them to their feet.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Murel said as her fingers tugged at Carryn's hand binding. She stared at it quizzically. "Are you injured?"

Carryn thrust her disfigured hand behind her back. "I'm fine. Come on n---"

"Riders! Armed riders!" A shout rang out from the direction of the crossroads.

Lyssia spun around to watch a brown cloaked messenger run into her father's tent. The shout had not come from him but one of the lookouts at the top of the hill.

Lyssia's uncle stormed out of the tent and made his way over to them. "Drottine!" He sounded relieved to find her there. "Stay here. Roakev!"

Roakev broke away from his group and trotted over, Azerian on his heels. "Stand watch. If anyone approaches the tent, call for me."

"But father---"

"I'm going to find your mother."

"But what is it?"

Eindre stopped mid-turn and stared around the group, his eyes finally resting on Carryn. "Dunival riders. Blighted Dunival"---he spat over his shoulder---"come to ruin our treaty day celebrations."

Carryn's eyes tightened, but she let nothing else give away her thoughts.

"Blighted Dunival," Roakev echoed and spat to the side. He looked over at Azerian, who shrugged, and frowned down at his feet.

“Stay!" Eindre punctuated the order by pointing toward the back of the tent and left in search of Nimeah.

**********

Carryn urged Lyssia and the twins to return to their seats and brought over a plate of food that no one ate. Lyssia took Diyana...