It was almost midnight by the time Iona made it back and got Tower settled into his stall. A painful chord had been struck in her chest, reverberating throughout her body and sapping whatever energy she had left. Before trudging off to sleep, Iona decided in spite of her exhaustion, it would be best to grab the blueprints she’d been reviewing earlier from the planning room so she could look over them with a clear mind in the morning. With sleep nipping at her heels, she made her way through the silent halls. But as she closed in on the room, her ears picked up hushed voices coming from King Theron’s office. Her eyes narrowed, and Iona crept into the adjoining war room to eavesdrop- it was Theron and Leo. And they were talking about her. With a second wind fueled by nosiness, she peered through a crack in the door between rooms, and tucked herself into a shadowy corner.

“You know, Leonon…” the King began, as he turned toward the window, moonlight spearing through, “..The night after I gave you and Iona your battle assignments, she showed up at my study around midnight.” His voice wavered ever so slightly, his usual stoicism losing its grip- he was referencing the night after Elia’s murder. The night when he selected Iona to lead the capital forces and oversee all deployments. Leo was to lead his traveling infantry. The assignments that indicated, one day soon, Elia would be High Commander…and Leo would not.

Leo furrowed his brow as his father continued, “She insisted that I trade your commissions. She was concerned about you.” Theron turned to face his son, his hands clasped behind his back with wearied pain in his eyes. From the doorway, Iona took in how tired the King looked. Not the tired that can be refreshed by a good night’s sleep. No, a tired deep within him, in his bones and settled in his soul. She let out a muted sigh of grief at the sight.

“Iona was concerned about me? The Iona that I know?” Leo asked. Iona rolled her eyes at his skepticism. The crouch she was in was getting uncomfortable, but she stymied the need to shift around, worried her knees would crack and give away her snooping.

“Yes, Leonon, Iona was concerned about you being so far from the palace. She told me she was worried about how hard it might be for you to have to leave home, after what happened, and that it might be best for you to stay close by- for all of us, actually, myself and Heston included.”

Leo’s face was blank. No snide comment, huh? Iona thought. Her offer to the King all those years ago was not something she ever planned for Leo to know about, but at least maybe he would stop painting her as some stone-hearted despot.

“Why would she…” Leo hesitated, but he let the thought peter out. He cleared his throat. “What did you say?”

“Well, I disagreed. I thought it would be better for you to be out of here, away from…” he trailed off. King Theron was not a man of many emotions; Iona could count on one hand how many times he’d had a notable reaction to something. Even the night they got word of Elia’s attack, the King absorbed the news straight-faced. Heston attempted to follow suit, but could not hold back the tears that escaped from his eyes. Both Leo, and their mother, Queen Margot, broke into sobs. Iona would never forget watching the Royal family from across the courtyard; seeing their reaction, she knew immediately what news had been delivered.

The King’s deep voice brought Iona’s attention back to the present. “I needed Iona at the palace. She was ready for the path of High Commander, and it started here. That night.” After years of ongoing competitions, Iona had bested Leo for High Command, and she knew he always resented her for it.

“You and Iona have never gotten along, not once in the last ninety plus years that I can remember. But I need you both, now, to help secure the future of this kingdom. And as much as you don’t like her, Iona commands a deep respect from each and every one of her men. She is dedicated to them and the people, and they are dedicated to her right back. It would be wise of you to quash this lifelong competition, and learn to work together. Heston and I trust her with our lives, as you can and should, as well.” The King’s tone shifted, now speaking with a gentle optimism, “After all these years, even if I never live to see it, I think you two still have a lot to learn from each other.” Iona watched Theron lower himself into his chair with a frailty that stung at her chest.

Leo took on a look of defeat. “Ugh, I can try, father,” he teased, “…as long as she has to sit through an unendingly long lecture, too.” Theron laughed, shaking his head. With the conversation coming to a close, Iona snuck along the wall to escape out the door. She resolved to take the long way back to her bedroom so as to avoid running into Leo. Ambling back to the west wing of the palace, Iona unballed her clenched fists, her nails leaving marks from where they had dug into her palms. She hadn’t realized how tense she was listening to the King’s story. Her mind was hazy, swirling once again with vivid memories of the night Theron had just recounted to his son. The thoughts crashed down on her in a wave, just as they had many nights before, as she crawled into bed and pulled her blanket tight around her.

After the engagement, the princess’ future husband would only allow Iona to accompany Elia in his land as a lady-in-waiting. Iona turned down the offer. Her heart and soul had been torn into shreds at the news of her best friend’s death, and whatever healing was needed to put it back together was set aside in favor of war and reconstruction. The recurring thought which haunted her for the last thirty years clawed its way back up as sleep overtook her. She left Elia unprotected. She let this happen.

If I hadn’t listened to Theron, if I had been with her when the attack began…I could have saved you…

+++

The sounds of metal on metal, clashing swords, the feeling of hot, sticky blood and dirt clinging to her skin, the smell of death in the air…

Iona jerked awake, cold sweat soaking the sheets beneath her skin. She rubbed her calloused hands over her face, and through her hair, pulling back the strands glued to her forehead. Nightmares of the War were nothing new, and though she hated the feelings they dredged up from her, they were also a reminder of lives lost under her command.

Theron promoted Iona to High Commander about a year into the War. It was her job to coordinate attacks and defenses from the palace, deploying troops full of men and women with spouses and children and homes that still needed their care. She dreaded each and every speech to her soldiers, telling them how they should be proud to fight and die for the kingdom. So many of them would never return. She remembered every one of their faces.

If there was a large battle ensuing, Iona would gather her most trusted capital warriors and deploy with them. Her guilt compounded with each return to the palace; she managed to survive so many battles, ultimately leading Chrysos and their allies to victory but at an extremely heavy cost. The Ladrons didn’t have many allies, only some rogue groups here and there that wanted to see Chrysos fall for their own selfish reasons. But the traitorous advisors had dark magic at their disposal, allowing them to wreak havoc on many of Chrysos’ cities, towns, and villages. It was not lost on Theron or Iona how lucky Chrysos was that the dark magic also ate the Ladrons alive, sapping their life forces the more they wielded it.

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Iona opted for a cold bath in an attempt to rebound from her poor night of sleep. She pulled on a sapphire blue linen blouse, black pants, and her favorite riding boots- the same practical outfit she wore every day. She never cared much about making an effort when it came to her clothes or other looks. She hadn’t ever needed to as she was growing up- either she was helping her father in the fields or at the palace for tutoring with Elia or combat training. Her stick straight, dark brown hair nearly reached the small of her back, but she always kept it pulled back in a slick ponytail or bundled on her head in a knot. Her eyes were the same shade as her hair, with no extraneous specks of gold or copper.

She admired Elia’s talents when it came to things like applying rouge and kohl, and braiding her hair into intricate plaits, but Iona always fussed whenever her friend tried to involve her in such hobbies. Asa would often prod her daughter as she reached her teenage years to talk with some of the boys her age around the palace- sons of guards or stable boys and the like. Iona had no interest. She wanted to excel in her military training, and she refused to let any flirtations get in the way. As she got older, she had plenty of casual flings, but there was never any real attachment that pulled her focus away from her one main goal- being named High Commander. Sometimes she wondered if the younger version of herself would have been so keen on the position if she knew that War would one day be upon them.

Iona’s mind continued to whirr with remnants of her nightmares, thoughts of the rebuild continuing without her, finding the hostiles’ holdout, and this impending ball. She strolled to the dining hall to grab a small breakfast before her and Leo’s second attempt at a meeting. Leo apparently had the same idea; he was already sitting at the head of the long table, shoveling down a plate of stewed tomatoes, roast lamb, and eggs.

“That’s quite the breakfast,” Iona commented. Leo’s eyes flashed up to her and he took a swig of his drink.

“After our last meeting, I’m preparing for battle,” he winked. He seemed fine enough to not need that apology Iona had been debating.

“Yeah, yeah,” Iona said, snatching a ripe plum from a platter in the middle of the table and taking a seat on the opposite end from Leo. She loaded her plate with chunks of sour bread, eggs, and more fruit. They sat in silence for a few minutes before Leo piped back up.

“Why not just knock this out right now?” He stood up with his plate, shoving his seat back.

“What? Why? I’m almost done.”

“Cause we’re both here, and I want another plate,” Leo said as he plopped down in the seat next to Iona.

“Well, I’m not ready. All my maps are in the planning room.”

“I think you’ll survive without your precious maps. We both know all the ins and outs of this place.” In spite of her disapproving expression, Iona acquiesced- but only because she, too, was hungry enough for a second helping. She sat waiting for Leo to kick things off, tapping her nails on the table edge. After all, the last time she had tried to help, he accused her of barking orders.

Leo hemmed, seemingly waiting for Iona to speak first.

“Well?” she prompted.

“Well, what?”

“You wanted to meet now. You start!” she responded.

He stared at her over his plate for a few seconds. “Ugh, fine,” Leo said, “I sent the letters. All advisors have responded, and they’ll be here four weeks from today for a meeting.”

“Four weeks? Why is it going to take them so long?”

“I asked them all to compile their invite lists before they arrived, so they won’t have to travel back for a second meeting prior to the ball just for that. Figured we could just have them do their due diligence now and then you and I separately can meet to review all invitees.”

“Good call. Okay great, so we have eight weeks to get the palace in order as far as patrols leading up to the ball and immediately after- coordinate with local vendors and whatnot, too.”

Leo nodded in agreement. Their second meeting attempt went smoother than the first, though, they had set the bar quite low. For the next few hours, Iona and Leo hunkered down at the dining room table, staff and visiting courtiers funneling in and out of the room, as they made their plans. Though the capital city had always been a safe haven during the War, it was important for Iona and her guards to do everything possible to ensure the safety of their guests during their travel to and from the palace. This ball would be the first event of its kind since the end of the War. While the goal was finding Heston a wife and securing the family line, the ball also provided an opportunity to show the citizens of Chrysos and its allies that their land was once again secure and the power of the King remained as robust as it ever was.

Outside the vast dining hall windows, the sun began to set, and the golden light of dusk began filling the room. Lunch had come and gone, and the kitchen staff were now bringing out dinner platters.

“What do you think about having Heston greet all the guests as they enter? Or would that be too time consuming?” Leo asked.

“I thought that part of the planning was your job,” Iona snarked. Her hand wrapped around the goblet of wine in front of her which had long since replaced her morning coffee and afternoon tea.

Leo chuckled, “No greeting. It’ll take too long.” He glanced around, and Iona followed suit, realizing how late it had gotten. Leo continued, “Hey, how many times do you think you’ll get asked at the ball why you’re not just marrying Heston?”

Iona threw her head back, letting out a melodramatic sigh. Since she was a teenager, she had been asked that question many, many times. Heston was a good man, but he and Iona had always been strictly platonic. He also favored romantic partners who couldn’t beat him in a sword fight. “Hopefully, zero times. But realistically? I don’t know, I’d say three or four?…Maybe five.”

“There’s going to be hundreds of guests! I’ll bet at least ten times.”

“Ten?! You’re ridiculous. What are we betting?”

Leo scratched his chin, “Hmm…loser has to work in the kitchens for the day?”

“The kitchen staff hate when we do that,” Iona replied, remembering the exasperated faces of the cooks who had to deal with them as children. “Let’s just say, winner’s choice. Within reason.”

Leo shot his hand out to Iona, and stood up out of his chair, “Deal.” She stood up, too, shook his hand, and started gathering her notes.

“When are we meeting next?” Leo inquired.

“Umm, how about next week? I’m going to visit the cottage for a bit,” Iona responded. She decided that morning it was time for her to see her mother, anxious about it as she may be. But she really did miss home, and she owed her mom an apology for being away for so long. Asa most likely would have caught wind by now of her return, anyways.

“Ah, okay,” nodded Leo, “Tell your parents I said hello.”

“My father passed away, actually,” Iona stated, her head tilted towards her feet. She looked up at Leo and saw his face had gone a bit pale with pity jumping into his eyes. “But I’ll tell my mother you said hi,” she said, offering a small smile to buffer the news.

“Oh…Iona, I didn’t know. When did that happen? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It was two years into the War. Was I supposed to send a note while you were in the middle of battle? ‘By the way, my dad’s dead, just thought you’d want to know,’” her words had an attempt at playful sarcasm, but they were laced with sadness. “You only met him a couple of times, anyways.”

“I know, but-”

“It’s fine. I’ll be back in a few days,” she asserted, nodding at Leo as a goodbye. She shuffled out of the room without waiting for his response. The loss of her father, like the loss of Elia, was not a topic of conversation she liked to linger on in any fashion.