Auraya

Striding through the training yard, Auraya spotted her target. The young girl was standing with her hands behind her back, staring into the distance. She looked tense, shoulder hunched, brow furrowed. Her long brown hair was tied in a bun high on her head, the end of which almost reached her bottom. Her contradictory blue eyes seemed sad to Auraya’s eyes. She had been warned about the girl’s temperament, but her reedy frame betrayed her anxiety.

“Rhee,” Auraya called out. The girl turned, and a small shy smile graced her lips.

“Auraya,” she murmured. “I…”

“Call me O,” Auraya told her with a smile. “I hear you’ve been having some trouble since activation.”

“I can't get the wind obey me,” she confirmed, shoulders sagging.

“Let's sit,” Auraya pointed to the ground and sat with her legs crossed. Hopefully, the informality would ease the girl’s tension.

“Show me,” she commanded, holding her hands up and closing her eyes. There was a slight pause before the she complied.

Auraya sent her mind inwards, awaiting the girl’s invitation. At the edge of our senses, she could feel the tickle of the girl’s magic, inviting her to share in her perception. She latched onto it and allowed the images to overlay her own. The wave of disorientation was fleeting as she set aside her own perceptions and accepted the girl’s. What she saw and sensed was not much different from her own perceptions, so alignment did not take long. The girl, however, was not confident in her talent nor in her ability, so the images flickered and wavered, showing how uncomfortable and unconfident she was.

Regardless, Auraya saw that the girl sent her mind to her well of magic. There, in the depths, Auraya spied a spherical, viscous type liquid floating in a void. Rheanna roughly tore a – Glob? Lump? Blob? – dollop of her magic, which reformed into a smaller dollop before rising up and out into the world. The dollop kept rising, probing each gust it came across. It moved erratically, stretching from multiple points of the sphere, attempting to lace the gusts with her magic, so she could latch on. Each attempt was unsuccessful. Auraya could feel Rheanna’s frustration growing and eventually indicated that the girl should withdraw. Once her magic had returned, they let each other go and opened their eyes.

“You perceive your magic as a liquid.”

The girl blushed.

“I was activated with two water elementals and three earth,” she explained. “It was easier to think similarly to them.”

Auraya nodded her understanding.

“What do you know of the wind?”

“It…” Rheanna’s eyes glazed over as she looked to the skies. “It does what it wants. One moment it’s here, the next it changes course. At random. It’s confusing.”

“Exactly. It's erratic, unpredictable, obstinate even. It can be as gentle as a mother's kiss or as cutting as our blades. It can carry the warmth of the sun or the chill of winter. It moves as though dancing to unheard music that can change tempo or pitch in an instant.” Auraya looked for comprehension before continuing. “Usually, we do not interfere with another’s perception of their magic. It is intimate and personal, and we must all find our own way. You, however, as the only air elemental amongst our kin, are unique. I think we should try something together. Would you be amenable?”

The girl eagerly nodded, smiling. Auraya raised her hands again.

“Look,” she said in invitation.

When they had reconnected hands and closed their eyes, Auraya sent a tendril of her magic towards the girl. Rheanna latched on eagerly and opened herself to the images. Auraya waited for the disorientation to pass before sinking to the place that held her magic.

“Do you see?” Auraya asked.

“Yes… It's beautiful.”

Auraya’s magic could be perceived as a collection of floating specks of golden light. The ebb and flow was gentle and somewhat mesmerising, as the specks undulated amongst themselves.

“You know of my talent?”

“An absorber.”

“Indeed. With so many different talents, I find the need to change my perception at will. I find this form most compatible in general.”

She altered her perception to her flames.

“This, I like for healing. Do you recognise this?”

“That's... That's the magic I shared with you,” Auraya could sense Rheanna’s wonder through the mind link as if it were her own. She had delved deep into the core of her magic where she kept the magics of others. It was obvious that they did not come from her. It was not something one could tell with the five senses; it was just a sense of differentness.

“Yes. It has been difficult to learn to control. But...”

Auraya altered the perception of her magic once again, drawing a gasp from the girl.

“It’s like smoke.”

Her magic now curled and coiled around itself like a wisp of stolen a fire and moulded into an orb.

“Do you think you can change your own perception?”

“I… can try,” she replied hesitantly.

There was nothing more to do than to be patient. They kept a grip on one another, although they reversed control again, allowing Auraya to watch Rheanna’s progression. It changed in fits and starts. Slowly changing form before sharply reverting back. It may not have been long since her activation, but Rheanna had become comfortable in her perception. Changing it was quite a task.

Once she was able to hold the new form in her mind, Auraya decided to move on.

“Let's dance together,” she told the girl gently. “Let your senses roam.”

Knowing it would be easier for the girl if she did so first, Auraya sent her senses outward. Her awareness shifted as her mind processed her surroundings without her eyes. She no longer needed to close her eyes in order to do this, but it was how they taught the young ones.

She sent a wisp of her magic out. A long tendril that flitted and swayed, twisted and writhed at random. Soon, the girl joined her, moving uncertainly at first, but in the absence of pressure to obtain a goal, she relaxed and began to explore. They sent their magic higher and danced together until Auraya sensed Rheanna’s confidence grow. It was then that Auraya directed her magic to ride a gust. She didn't try to control it, merely stayed with it for a time before riding another. Rheanna followed her lead before striking out on her own and riding her own breeze.

“Look,” Auraya said, sending images to the girl again.

She sent her magic to a gentle breeze that was flowing a few yards from the ground. She moved with it, but this time, she made her magic drift through the gust and take hold of it. Once she had ample control, she moved it with her will, barely changing its behaviour of random flitting. She drew the gust down and sent it through the girl’s hair, who giggled with delight. Letting the wind go, Auraya opened her eyes and smiled at Rheanna.

“That was amazing,” the girl beamed.

“When you feel you are ready, try it,” Auraya told her with an encouraging smile. “Until then, let's dance with the wind whilst we do our movements.”

They stood. The girl’s uncertainty had returned somewhat, but not to the degree it had been when Auraya had first arrived. It was gladdening.

“Start with one and just keep going, two beat hold.”

“Can I close my eyes?”

“If it helps.”

They took position side by side, roughly three yards from one another. Their hands curled into fists, wrists pointing upwards, resting on their hips. Feet, shoulder width apart. They then sucked in a long breath through their noses and released it, closing their eyes.

The movements were drilled into them from the moment they were able to walk with some coordination. For those who arrived older, it was one of the first things they were taught before training could begin. The movements were ingrained into each of them, allowing for fluidity as they moved their bodies instinctively. They held each stance for two breaths, keeping the movements slow. Their magics tangled in the air; they danced and darted about in an imitation of the wind.

Auraya sensed the others but ignored them. Soon, they were joined by at least ten of their kin who had risen for morning training. It was a common sight for them to run movements together. Trevor liked to run at least a few of them every morning as part of the warm-up. It was calming and comfortable. It kept them fresh in their memories and bound them as kin, as a unit. A few other magics joined them in the sky. Their movements were not in harmony with Auraya and Rheanna, but the practise of control was valuable to all.

Trevor soon arrived and took control of the morning training. Today, he focused on using talents during combat. He split them into groups with similar talents, then paired everyone off to be the untalented attacker and the talented defender. Those with passive talents were made to perform drills, then began to spar amongst themselves.

Auraya sparred with Rafe, as per usual, throwing everything she had at him. It was always close. Rafe knew her, so avoiding her attacks had steadily become easier over the cycles. It meant she had to be creative and flexible. Falling into a particular style and remaining that way meant she would never best him.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spied a figure waving frantically at her. Auraya sighed and made her way over to him.

“Your highness,” Evans began. The deep frown Auraya sent him made him retract though. “Auraya, Celia is waiting.”

Auraya sighed again, heavily. She did not want to speak to that woman.

“Give me half a mark to bathe, then come find me.”

After the allotted time, she found Evans standing outside the bathhouse, as promised. She was hoping he would forget or perhaps fell down a well. But alas, he had not, so she walked to her fate with dignity. However…

“First, come with me,” she told him. Directing him to the far end of the training yard. Some of her kin were still left training, whilst others had left to perform their own duties. They walked past ignoring the lot.

As they approached the lone standing building, the clang of hammer on metal met their ears. When they entered, the wave of heat almost knocked the breath from their chests. Auraya waited for the clanging to end before attempting to gain the patron’s attention.

“Auraya,” he greeted with a grin when he spotted her.

“Rupert,” she said with her own smile.

“Today’s the big day, is it?”

“So it would seem.”

“It’s all done,” he informed her, walking over to a rack. He removed one of the items and made his way back to her. He passed it over tenderly and Auraya let out a little noise of appreciation. The sword was beautiful. Elegant and finely decorated, but practical. The scabbard was made of a matte black leather, trimmed with polished steal, and imprinted with runes. Pulling the sword out slowly, another gust of appreciation escaped her lips as she eyed the blade. The steel shone with silvers and purples. It was quite a sight. An internal light shone from seemingly nowhere. It was captivating.

“Happy nameday Aury.”

“What…?” Auraya tried to ask; her eyes flicking upwards.

“Beautiful, isn’t she,” Rupert confirmed, amazement curling his lips. “All thanks to our little friend.”

He turned around slightly and indicated to the open door at the back of the workshop. As he finished speaking, a young girl with dirty blond hair sauntered into the room with a cheeky smile on her face.

“Misha,” Auraya exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

“Uncle Rupe has promised to take me on,” she replied elbowing the older man.

“Why? What happened?” Auraya asked, smile slipping.

“Nothing of consequence,” Micha replied nonchalantly, shrugging.

Auraya narrowed her eyes, unsatisfied with the response.

“Nothing to worry about today,” Micha told her, raising her hands to placate. “Let’s just say, they won’t be making the same mistake again soon.”

Auraya winced internally at the implication from Winnie’s protégé, and the wicked grin sent her way. She would look forward to hearing the story.

“So? Do you like it?” Misha asked eagerly.

“Of course. What did you do?”

“I finally figured it out, O. Here, look,” she said as she raised her hand. Auraya clasped it and closed her eyes.

She allowed Micha to send images of her perception. She had a tempered short blade in her hand ready to be sharpened and buffed. Auraya followed the path of her magic to the blade. It resembled fine grains of sand, tumbling and rolling over each other in their race to the blade. When they reached it, they settled into the blade as if they had been absorbed by a sponge. Once the blade was full to bursting with her magic, they began to vibrate so sharply it was almost audible. Whatever the structure of the metal was, it responded to Misha’s magic as if she were its guardian. The imperfections slowly smoothed out and vanished, the edges rearranged themselves to create an otherworldly sharpness. The blade was steadily beginning to resemble a finished product. After several beats, Auraya sensed Misha gathering her magic inside herself again and lacing it with intention; to remain sharp. It was far more complicated than that, her will was laced with notions of tools and processes that Auraya couldn’t fathom. Misha’s knowledge of steel and blacksmithing had really come along during her apprenticeship.

When Misha opened her eyes, so did Auraya. They looked at the blade, now ready to be given a pommel and sheath. Auraya was awed.

“Superb,” Auraya breathed.

“Take it, O,” Misha told her. She could feel Misha’s magic pushing at the edge of her own. It was like an eager puppy, jumping around and nudging at her. Auraya laughed quietly, then accepted the gift. She latched onto the magic, then severed it and lay it to rest at her core. She took a few breaths as it settled, then looked at Misha.

“Thank you,” she told her kin. “I won’t do… what did you do?”

“Enchanting,” Micha told her. “I gave the blade instructions to keep itself sharp. As long as magic remains within the blade, it will do as commanded.”

“Once again, superb, Mishe. You’ll have to train me to sharpen.”

“Of course, anytime.”

“And this one?” Auraya asked, indicating to the blade in her hand.

“We mixed the metals, steel, and another I found deep. Looks pretty, but its durable, and flexible, and lightweight, and…” Micha trailed off looking away and scratching her head. “Anyway, I gave it a few enchantments too. Sharpening, self-cleaning, damage absorption, and… you know, this and that.”

“Mishe…” Auraya almost gushed.

A clearing of two throats drew the girls’ attention back to the other two present. Misha looked sheepish, but Auraya simply raised her brow.

“Celia,” Evans began. Auraya sighed loudly, eliciting a deep snort from Rupert.

“Before you go, Auraya,” Rupert said, looking surprisingly shy. “Sandy’s coming up soon with the order. The two of us… we’re to be wed.”

“You kept that quiet,” Auraya replied after a few beats of astonishment. “Congratulations.” Her shoulders sagged a little. “Are you moving back to Whitegate then?”

“Well, we were hoping she could move in with me here. The cottage is too big for just me anyway.”

“Of course. Will she take the oath?”

“She’s ready.”

“Then let’s have it here… The wedding.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t want to cause a fuss.”

“Nonsense, you helped raise us just as much as Reggie and Sal did, Uncle Rupe.”

The man glowed at the compliment. He had been a stray that Reggie had picked up about ten cycles ago. He had lost not only his wife and child in a fire, but also both their parents, and siblings. The family had gathered for a celebration when the building had caught on fire. Everyone had been sleeping, and the poorly built house had crumbled around them, trapping them all inside. Rupert had earlier snuck out to his workshop to finish Auraya’s first sword for Reggie. He had fallen asleep satisfied and proud, but woke up distraught and broken. Reggie had spent a great deal of time putting the pieces of the man back together. Auraya thought back on that time and believed that a wedding in their new home, for someone who meant so much to them, would be good for her kin.

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“Besides, Evans here would love to organise a wedding in the castle,” she said, clapping Evans on the shoulder.

He hesitated for but a moment before his etiquette training kicked in.

“It would be my pleasure, sir.”

“Definitely not a sir. But,” he glanced between the two, seeing expectant expressions. When he looked at Misha – no doubt for back-up – he was only met with a grin. His shoulders sagged and Auraya knew she had won. “Thank you. I’ll talk to Sandy.”

“I look forward to it. Now,” he said, looking expectantly at Auraya. She relented; she had stalled enough.

“Let me know how she feels, and we’ll start circulation,” Rupert called as they left. Auraya waved over her shoulder.

They made their way back to the castle and walked towards the north wing. Evans kept giving her sideways looks, opening and closing his mouth. If he had been sitting, he would have been fidgeting.

“Out with it, Evans,” Auraya told him impatiently.

“Have you thought on Patten’s suggestion?” Evans asked tentatively.

“He roped you into confronting me?”

“He may have,” Evans conceded sheepishly. “But I do agree with him.”

Auraya rolled her eyes.

“Is it so hard to trust outsiders?”

“Yes.”

“Do you not trust me?”

“We exchanged blood, I trust you.”

“So, trust, in your opinion, can only be gained through a blood oath?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Auraya replied with a sigh. “The oath is the beginning. I trust you, particularly, because you have never lied to me, and you don’t hold back your opinions.”

Evans beamed at the comment. Auraya remained impassive.

“You trust Patten.”

“I do.”

“And he trusts his men. Some more than others, given his list.”

“We would be revealing a large portion of ourselves to outsiders. The few that we have to already has been hard enough.”

“But… surely you have to start somewhere?”

“I don’t think you get it, Evans. Growing up in Whitegate taught us that if you give your trust out without caution, you will end up face down in a ditch with a dagger in your back.”

“I may have been raised in this castle, but I do know what it’s like to have to watch my back.”

“I didn’t mean to undermine your upbringing, Evans. For that, I apologise. I meant, after everything my kin have been through, I am reluctant to expose them to potential treachery.”

“I understand. But you are more now.”

“Upgraded indeed,” Auraya muttered.

“Hmmm?”

“Never mind, I’ll think on it.”

They fell silent after that. Auraya contemplated whether she should accept Patten’s offer. To add more of his men to their inner circle was a risk. One she was still not certain she was willing to take.

Eventually, they passed the guards at the passage leading away from the west wing and into the north wing. There were more people there, rushing about and making noise. They made their way to the second floor and knocked on the door that was labelled ‘Royal Tailor’.

“Come in,” said a feminine voice from beyond the door. Evans opened it and indicated for Auraya to walk in ahead of him.

The room was fairly large, occupied with several women attending to mannequins. They were making various items of clothing for both men and women. The designs were lavish, and the material was costly. The room itself was brightly lit with many sconces, candelabras, and chandeliers. Rolls of material lined the left wall, chest of drawers were lined up under the windows on the far wall. The right wall had several doors with shelves in-between filled with tailor type paraphernalia: balls of wool, yard sticks, foot long spools of thread, a variety of scissors, baskets of swatches, awls, knitting needles, and many closed containers. Multiple thick rugs seemed to designate the staff members’ work areas, with a desk, chair, and mannequin in each workspace.

Auraya looked around impassively, annoyed that she had to be there. A woman approached her, arms wide, smile bright.

“Your ‘ighness,” she called. “Very big day, yes. Come, come.”

Celia led the way to one of the doors on the right and ushered her in. Evans tried to leave her to it, but a glare from Auraya had him following the pair into the room.

A loud sigh escaped Auraya’s lips as she entered. There were at least ten mannequins in the room, and as far as Auraya could see – as she could only see a few of them from her position – they were adorned with dresses. And not tasteful, practical ones. They were all frilly, garish affairs that made Auraya wrinkle her nose in distaste. She had already told the woman – multiple times – that she would rather be gutted and left for the crows than wear anything with lace or a hoop. The damn woman had hounded her for the last half turn, pouncing on her whenever she left her study. Auraya could have sworn the woman had spies, relaying her movements. It had only been the last few days that the woman had relented. Auraya had threatened to go elsewhere for her clothing. The rest of her kin were being clothed by Sandy; Auraya saw no reason why she couldn’t either. She couldn’t comprehend why clothing was even an issue. It was so inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. She would never understand those who obsessed over foot coverings or warmth providers.

“Now, your ‘ighness,” Celia called from in between two gaudy monstrosities. “I ‘ave examples for you to try.”

Auraya glared at the woman, refusing to engage. She raised a single brow.

“I know you say you no like ze dress, but you would look so very beautiful. ‘Ere we ‘ave a lovely forest green gown that would look fab-bulous wiz your eyes.” She looked at Auraya expectantly. As she was met with the same glare she always did, she moved on to the next one. “‘Ow about zis midnight blue…”

Evans cleared his throat, putting them both out of their misery.

“I think her highness was quite clear Celine,” he told her delicately but firmly. Auraya commended him for his conversational superiority. “Do you have what she requested?”

The put-upon sigh the woman let out was overly dramatic in Auraya’s opinion. She had plenty of empty-headed prancers to dress-up like dolls.

Celine looked between the two for several moments before heading to the back of the room. The final two mannequins had the clothes and leather armour Auraya had requested. She walked up to them and smiled softly. Regardless of how much of a pest the woman was, she certainly did good work. The thread work was fine, the material was soft, the leather was high quality and appropriately stiff, and Auraya could tell just by looking that it would all fit perfectly. This would probably be the best set of clothing and armour she had ever owned. No matter how annoyed she was, she was thankful and would treasure them.

“Thank you, Celine,” Auraya told the woman with a small smile as she fingered the coat. “They look perfect.”

The woman ushered her behind the changing screen and handed her each item of clothing. She hooked her dagger and her new sword to her belt and walked out.

Evans’ breath caught, and Celine’s smile was a little sad, but extremely proud. She promised to return Auraya’s clothing to her office and bade them farewell.

Auraya and Evans left the office and made their way back to the west wing. They walked along the ground floor corridor that connected both the north and south wing passages. When they reached the south wing passage, they were met by Auraya’s senior kin – those she had been with the longest – and four castle guards. Rafe, Winnie, Gina, Trevor, Seelie, and Tristan were all equally dressed in new clothes and armour. Sandy had taken up the task of clothing her kin, and she had done a great job. The material perhaps wasn’t as costly, but the thread work was equally as fine. Emerson, and three other guards – Ackers, Rhodes, and Walston – stood to the side, watching on. No-one spoke; they all looked at each other with small expectant smiles.

After long moments, Auraya nodded her head.

They made their way to the south wing, twisting and turning through almost bare corridors. It would seem that most of the castle’s occupants had assembled. They walked past the private throne room where the Choosing had taken place and walked towards the front of the south wing. The doors to the main throne room – to the left of the main entrance – were stood slightly ajar.

Evans and her kin walked into the room – leaving Auraya behind with the guards – to join the rest of her kin and to announce her arrival. Something stirred in Auraya’s stomach. It wasn’t nerves. She was not nervous, but she felt a growing anticipation. This was yet another step on the road to fixing Moralis. Or, at least, improving it so not only the nobility live comfortably. She felt the weight of more lives steadily being placed on her shoulders. Reggie had always told her that her job was to protect her kin, to help guide them when he wasn’t around, to lead them in his stead. Her education – alongside healing and combat – had included leadership and governance. Auraya had presumed that that had been for their orphanage and future clinic, but now she wondered. Things just didn’t seem to add up.

Auraya noticed that the voices that had drifted from the hall steadily hushed to nothing. The quiet was then punctuated by a group of obnoxious horns. The sound made Auraya wince. Recognising her cue – and Emerson’s unnecessary encouragement – she began to walk through the doors, which had been opened wide.

She walked forward, through the crowd until she reached the centre of the room. She turned right and faced the dais. Still flanked by her guards, Auraya walked purposefully towards her fate, head high, face expressionless. She could feel the eyes on her, prickling her skin, but just like the Choosing, she ignored them all. Her kin were positioned to the right, along with the lesser nobles and influential persons of Moralis. The left was taken up by the wealthier and more influential nobles and their chit. She kept her focus on the throne. The throne that would soon be hers.

Closer to the front, a group of assembled knights of the royal army were clustered on both her right and left. They stood at attention, watching her impassively. After the knights were the members of the council, wardens of the regions, and their families. Most looked on disdainfully, whereas others simply looked curious. Auraya again, tried to block them out, focusing on the throne. Her guards peeled away as she approached the dais.

When she was mere steps away, she looked to see the group assembled there. Stifling a sigh, she noticed priest Truman standing next to high priest Fellows. He looked disapproving next to Fellows’ small, amused smile. She saw Smythe standing next to the high priest. He too had not entirely masked his disapproval. Celine may have been persistent and annoying, but at least she knew how to keep her mouth shut. No doubt if Smythe had known she wouldn’t be wearing a frilly impractical dessert masquerading as clothing, he would have vetoed her request. He had informed her that Celine would be in charge of her new wardrobe. Auraya hadn’t deigned to reply to the comment. She would dress how she chose. When she finally met the woman, her patience had soured to new heights. In the end, Evans had been a balm to her frayed temper. He had handled the woman with an efficacy only one who had been raised amongst the nobility could achieve. She would certainly be hearing a few words of Smythe’s displeasure later.

When she reached the dais, she took a knee on the step below the high priest.

“Welcome child,” he greeted. She ignored him and kept her head low. The soft chuckle and the huff told her how the slight had been received by both priests.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Fellows called to the hall. “We are gathered to bestow the title of Crown Princess to Auraya Reevers, daughter of Hamilton Reevers and…”

“Ophelia,” Auraya supplied softly. The small gasp at her response caused her to look up. The priest had a strange expression on his face when their eyes connected. It quickly slipped back to amused before Auraya could identify the associated emotion. “My mother’s name was Ophelia.”

“Daughter of Hamilton Reevers and Ophelia,” he told the room after a few beats. “We are here to welcome the heiress apparent and hear her oaths.”

Fellows turned his attention to Truman then, who retrieved a familiar looking pillow from a table behind him. He handed it to the high priest, who lowered it to Auraya.

“Firstly,” Fellows told the room. “To reaffirm legitimacy, the crystal will shine brightly to indicate the presence of royal blood and magical talent.”

He looked down at Auraya, and on cue, she raised her hand to touch the crystal. She closed her eyes, before the blinding pain began. As she was prepared this time, she focused so she could sense the crystal’s draw. As she tried to understand what the crystal was supposed to be doing, she found it was beyond her comprehension. It drew on the person’s blood, but then went deeper – smaller? – and read information from deep within the blood. It acted like the blood was a tome to be read, that the information found within the deepest recesses of one’s blood was linked to one’s ancestors. Auraya was aware that there was material in the world smaller than the eye could see, but to imagine that information was stored in those things was… Well, she didn’t quite know what it was, and that moment was hardly the time to think on it.

After the crystal had ascertained that the blood belonged to the correct lineage, it then checked whether said person’s talent had been activated. The light was triggered when both conditions had been met.

Auraya removed her hand after a few moments, then slowly opened her eyes. Fellows passed the cushion back to Trueman and accepted a sword. It was an impractical, gaudy looking eyesore, covered in gems with unnecessary pieces of precious metal hanging off of it. Auraya kept the eye roll internal as the blade was placed on her shoulder. She sliced her finger subtly with her dagger.

“Your oath,” Fellows indicated.

“I, Auraya Reevers, pledge my strength, loyalty, and life on my blood and on this sword. I pledge them to this kingdom, Moralis, and its citizens, from this day until my last. I pledge to uphold and dispense justice for the betterment of my people, from this day until my last. I pledge to govern my people with diligence and consideration, ensuring their safety and prosperity, from this day until my last. Only death awaits those who break an oath.”

When she finished speaking, the few beats of silence caused her to raise her head. Smythe was looking at her with an expression trapped between exasperation and irritation. Fellows’ usual amusement was magnified. Auraya raised her eyebrows, prompting the high priest to relieve himself of the sword and retrieve the silver circlet from an equally pretentious pillow as the crystal had been resting upon. He raised it up and placed it on her head.

“I present,” Fellows called in a louder tone urging Auraya to stand. “Her royal highness, Crown Princess Auraya Reevers.”

The cheer, led by Auraya’s kin, turned deafening, eliciting the corner of Auraya’s mouth to turn up.

After the high priest settled the crowd back down, three people moved to Auraya’s former position and took a knee. Fellows tried to get her attention, gaudy sword in hand, and tried to pass it to her.

Auraya retrieved her dagger and told him, “I have my own, thank you.” The surprise came and went in a blink.

Auraya stepped forward. “Rise, Captain Patten.” Auraya could hear Smythe’s noises of confusion behind her but she ignored it.

As prearranged, Patten rose. Auraya used her dagger to cut her own hand, then Patten’s offered palm. She ignored the scattered gasps and whispers. They grasped from palm to elbow, and Patten repeated his vow.

“I, John Patten, pledge my strength, loyalty, and life on this blood. I pledge they shall be yours, Auraya Reevers, from this day until my last. Only death awaits those who break an oath.”

There was no sensation this time, as the oath was merely for show, but Auraya smiled slightly, nonetheless. She healed his hand, then he stepped back and took a knee once again. She then moved to the next person.

“Arise, General Braston,” she commanded.

The man did as directed. When he rose, Auraya saw that he rivalled Patten’s height and girth. Clad in full armour too, it may be hidden, but Auraya could tell his body was well-maintained. His brown hair was short, his features were hard, and his expression was stoic.

“Your left hand,” Auraya demanded.

She commended him. He offered his hand without complaint and seemed to adapt to this change of events with ease.

Once their hands were clasped, he spoke the words.

“I, Aaron Braston, pledge my strength, loyalty, and life… on this blood. I pledge they shall be yours, Auraya Reevers, from this day until my last. Only death awaits those who break an oath.”

The feeling elicited by the oath did absolutely nothing to the man. He did not seem shocked, and he did not flinch. Once she had healed his hand, he went to take a knee again.

Auraya then walked to the third man. He was quite different from the general. He was rounded, well-fed, and his emotions leaked from him. His hair, a blend of black and greys, fell about his armour clad shoulders. His eyes cast about, seemingly searching for an escape.

“Arise, Captain Bathus,” she ordered. He did so slowly, looking from her to Smythe.

“Is this truly necessary?” Bathus asked nervously.

“Giving your oath?” Auraya asked, knowing he was referring to the method and not the oath itself.

“The blood,” Bathus replied with a grimace.

“I have no use for empty platitudes, Captain Bathus,” she told him with only a little disdain. “Your oath must be freely given. It is your choice if you wish to remain in your position.”

His face fell at her threat. He was steadily descending into anger, when Auraya felt a presence at her side.

“Perhaps the traditional oath would be more appropriate,” Smythe interjected.

“I am performing the traditional oath,” Auraya told him. “This bastardised – and pointless – version of tapping a sword on the shoulder has only been in use for the last one hundred and fifty cycles. As I said, I have no use for empty platitudes. I want oaths in blood and magic. To do otherwise is meaningless. What say you, Captain?”

The silence was deafening. Auraya was employing the principle of ‘start as you mean to go on’. These people had their ideas, and she would not back down if they were irrational or worthless. She eyed the man in front of her. She could see the resentment he directed at her for putting him in this situation, but Auraya remained impassive. She would get what she wanted, or he would – eventually – have to go.

It seemed like he sucked in any excuses he may have been devising and offered his hand. She sliced it lightly, ignoring the man’s wince. After they had clasped, it took him several moments to say the words.

“I, David Bathus, pledge my strength, loyalty… and life… on this blood,” Bathus’ hesitation seemed to be due to both the searing sensation and the content of the oath. “I pledge they shall be yours, Auraya Reevers, from this day… until my last.” The captain stared into her eyes, taking a long breath before he continued. Auraya wasn’t sure if he realised that his hesitation was prolonging the pain.

“Only death awaits those who break an oath,” he finally muttered. He sighed in relief when the sensation finally eased and disappeared.

Bathus then sunk back to his knee and Auraya stepped back to join Smythe and Fellows, having healed both their wounds.

“With that,” Fellows called to the room. “The three branches of defence have given their fealty to their future queen.”

The ceremony rounded off with more pointless chatter about the future and greatness and blood and whatnot. Auraya tuned it out and listened to her kin. They were chatting amongst themselves through the pendant. Comments about the way people were dressed, who was throwing them the evil eye, and potential threats. It was quite amusing. Most of them were not paying attention at all.

When the ceremony finally came to an end, Auraya and Smythe walked side by side out of the hall, and up the stairs, flanked guards. Once all the fawners and hangers-on had drifted away, Smythe finally voiced his displeasure.

“Were you not told to allow Celine to clothe you?” Smythe asked with clear exasperation.

“She did,” Auraya replied neutrally.

He looked her over at that comment. “And that is what she chose.”

“She will never choose what I wear. She did make it, however.”

“It is inappropriate…”

“I will always choose what I wear,” she told him forcefully, cutting him off. “Let it go, Lord Regent.”

The breath forced out of his nose reflected his annoyance well.

“You altered the pledge?”

“The version you suggested was pointless and biased.”

“Biased…”

“I will not pledge myself to the nobility. All the people are my people. I will endeavour to ensure they all prosper.”

Again, he sighed.

“The oaths,” he asked without inflection and with definite resignation.

“Empty platitudes are pointless.”

They walked on in silence after that.

Eventually they reached their destination. Auraya waited whilst Smythe spoke, loud and clear. The doors opened a little while later, indicating her cue to walk onto the balcony.

It would be a lie if she were to say she was not nervous. It wasn’t fear or anxiety, but a trembling in her stomach as she looked over the largest crowd she had ever seen. They were gathered in every available space of the front courtyard. They were waiting for her. They had expectations that she was required to live up to. The nobility would no doubt presume that she would fail. That she would tow the line or be quashed. The commoners would hope she would allow their voices to be heard, or that she might just turn into one of them. She would endeavour to take her own route; she would do as she saw fit. She would make the improvements that she and her kin thought were best. The expectations of others were weighty, but in the grand scheme of things, she could only do what she felt was right.

“I present to you,” Smythe called out. “Crown Princess, Auraya Reevers.”

The roar of the crowd seemed to shake the very foundations of the castle. The crowd looked to be a mixture of the rich and the poor, the noble and the common, the young and the old, men and women. A smile stretched Auraya’s lips as she looked on. The cheering went on for so long, Auraya thought she might deafen. It eventually did calm down though, so she stepped closer to the wall.

“I have given my oaths, on the ceremonial sword and in blood. From this day forth, I pledge my life to the betterment of our mighty kingdom, and for all its people. Thank you.”

She raised her hands, and the cheer deafened them once again. It took some time for the crowd to calm. Then Evans got to work. Castle staff directed the crowd to tables loaded with food and drink, clusters of tables and chairs, bonfires, and groups of entertainers. She and Smythe stayed on the balcony for a while, looking over the crowd, making her presence known.

Eventually, they made their way down to the ballroom. Their presence was announced, and they walked in. Instantly, they were both accosted by well-wishers and simperers. Smythe was immediately sucked up by the crowd, leaving Auraya to deal with one noble after the other by herself. She sent a call to her kin and was eventually found by Gina and Seelie. It made addressing the nobles far easier. Seelie, who never forgot anything she read, was a well of information and Gina was the best pair of eyes amongst her kin. She saw all and absorbed all.

The evening wore on as nobles tried to either gain her favour, or – not-so-subtly – insult her. She wasn’t sure what they thought they would gain from the insults. She would be their sovereign soon; did they not value their positions? She put the thought out of her mind as a distasteful figure appeared in front of her.

“Your highness,” the man said politely with a shallow bow.

“Amhurst,” Auraya replied impassively.

They both eyed each other, sizing one another. It had been quite a few cycles since Auraya had laid eyes on the leader of the Healer’s Guild. He had more grey in his hair than before. He was tall and striking. Sharp, regal features. Well-fitted clothing, and stylishly coiffed hair. His black eyes were probing and intelligent.

“I was hoping to find your benefactor here,” he told her, looking around as if he might be close. The blue smoke revealed the lie for what it was.

Always with the theatrics. Auraya remained silent, waiting for the display to run its course.

“It would seem we need to go over the terms of our agreement,” Amhurst informed her.

“The agreement is still in place.”

“And yet,” he replied with a baffled expression, tapping his bottom lip. “I was informed that Lily Mayers, daughter of Sid and Meredith Mayers, was healed by your… kin.”

“They came to Whitegate for healing.”

“They are residents of Forest Wall, and as such, reside within the walls.”

“As you well know, the agreement states the location of the healing, not the residence of the individual being healed.”

“Hmmm…” Amhurst hummed, looking at her consideringly. “Perhaps the agreement needs to be revisited.”

“The agreement will stand.”

“The agreement is meaningless if those within the walls simply walk to an inferior establishment.”

“Perhaps they wouldn’t seek help elsewhere if you and yours did not leave children to die.”

“We do not provide charity,” he replied disdainfully.

“Then it should not concern you where they go once you have refused them.”

He opened his mouth, but Auraya had had enough.

“That little girl was six years old,” Auraya told him, raising her voice. “She would have died within two days if they had not come to us. Do not dare to preach to me about what I can or cannot do. I will heal any who comes to me without impunity, and you, Amhurst do not have a say in it. This is not the first time, those within the walls have come to us because you will not help them. If that irks you, then change your practices.” She took a breath.

“The agreement will stand,” she repeated, then turned on her heels and walked away. It was only then that she realised they had an audience. She had been so consumed by Amhurst’s little performance that she had forgotten her surroundings. People were gawking and whispering and pointing. She sighed for airing her dirty linens amongst the nobility.

“Can I cut him?” Winnie asked from her left.

“Not today,” Auraya sighed.

“Tomorrow?” Winnie asked again, tilting her head to the side, expression serious.

“Perhaps,” she replied with a laugh.