Ranvir walked up the steps to Ione’s house. He could hear her shuffling in the entry. She must be getting ready, he thought, knocking on the door.
She stilled then, vanishing almost entirely from his senses. Ranvir furrowed his brow. “Ione?”
She cursed under her breath, low enough that a normal person wouldn’t have heard.
“I can hear you,” he said when it became clear she wouldn’t acknowledge him.
“Fine,” she muttered and pulled the door open.
She was dressed up in one of the old formal robes, tied at the waist. She’d carefully braided her gray hair into an intricate knot. He finished his perfunctory scan. “Looks like you’re ready to go,” he took a step back and nodded toward the town.
“I…” she said before shaking her head. “No, I don’t think I am.”
He saw it then. Her lips thinning to a fine line, her brows lowering and hands clenching. She looked like a warrior bracing for a fight, digging her heels in. Sighing, Ranvir shrugged his shoulders once.
Why was I chosen for this? I’m not the sweet talker. He cursed Pashar and her schemes once more.
“Why not?”
Ione stiffened and raised her chin, fingers relaxing and gathering at her middle. “I don’t agree with what they’re doing.”
Ranvir stared at her. “You dressed up. Were you going down there to complain?”
Ione’s haughty expression intensified, staring at him like he was a worm. Ranvir felt his hackles raising, a more literal experience than before his bond with Graywing.
“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
Throwing his hands up, he turned away. Ranvir took two steps down before he remembered the tone of Amalia’s voice as she asked for Pashar’s help. He remembered some of their talks traveling to folds when he’d first joined the Sentinels. He couldn’t give up so easily. Ranvir owed her more than that.
“Then you’ll explain yourself to Amalia?” he turned around. “Or no, probably not. You’ll what? Continue setting her up with people she doesn’t want to be with?”
Ione glared at him, her lip raising slightly as if in disgust. He looked back through half-lidded eyes. “I will not convince you,” he said, the realization coming to him as he spoke. “Because you don’t want to change your mind. You’ve had nothing but time for the last decade? More? If you wanted family, you would’ve had it. But that’s not what you want, is it?”
Ione’s eyes narrowed. She stepped onto her porch, getting close to him. “You shouldn’t speak of things you know nothing about,” she hissed at him.
“Why? Because your perfect marriage didn’t work out?”
Ione snarled and reared a hand back.
Ranvir’s spine stiffened, and heat flared to life like a sun within his chest. “Do not strike me, Ione,” he stepped forwards, bumping her with his chest. “You’ve done well by me, I acknowledge that. That’s why you get this warning, but you’re not a kid who doesn’t know any better. You’re a braced and if you hit me, I will treat you as such.”
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“You wouldn’t,” she hissed, though her face had gone pale.
“Why?” Ranvir asked. “You think I’m worried about Amalia’s inheritance? We both know you won’t leave her anything. If I raze this estate from the face of Korfyi, what’s going to happen? There’s a single braced within a hundred kilometers who could stop me,” he leaned closer. “Tell me, do you think Kyriake would stop me? Or help me?”
“You’re a monster!”
Ranvir smiled and spread his wings. “I least I’m honest about it.”
Ione stared at him, but didn’t challenge his assertion. She took a step back and visibly calmed, returning her hands to her stomach, palms inward. “I don’t know what you’re trying to achieve by coming here,” she said after gathering herself. “But you won’t get it by threatening me, or challenging me to fight you.”
Ranvir snorted. “I came here because I didn’t know how bad things actually were. I didn’t actually think you would treat Amalia like that. You throw her away with more carelessness than Frija does one of her toys. It’s frightening.”
Ione winced at the comment, physically retreating into the doorway.
“Perhaps it’s a good thing you’re not coming,” Ranvir continued. “Cutting contact now might be for the best. I know I’ll be. If it’s up to me, you won’t see Frija or Vasso again, not even passing through Eriene.”
“It’s so easy to talk from where you’re standing!” Ione yelled, splotches of red on her cheeks and tears in her eyes. “You’re looking all high and mighty from up on your pedestal! I’m not a callous murderer. You don’t even realize you’re turning into something even more messed up than me! And you’re standing there like you’ve done nothing wrong! You just threatened my life!”
Ranvir narrowed his gaze and set his teeth. “You hide behind your door. You cower behind your fears, staining the world with the broad strokes of a brush so it can fit on your canvas.”
“You don’t know me,” Ione said, her voice harsh with tension. “You speak beyond your understanding, child.”
“I’m saying what the others won’t,” Ranvir said. “You won’t listen, but now you’ll at least know.”
“I care for them,” Ione said, tapping on her chest. “I care for all of them. I still care for Theoni, even if she’s scorned me. I still care for Amalia, too. I want what’s best for them!”
“Do you? What is best for them? To suffer like you did?”
“Relationships take work,” Ione said, stepping closer. “They take a lot of work. You won’t understand this, seeing as you didn’t stay with the mother of your child, but they take so much effort. And sometimes, relationships aren’t easy.”
Ranvir almost laughed. He’d seen hardship in marriage, he’d lived through it for years as his mother recovered. “So a strong relationship can only form between a man and a woman?”
“They require work and harmony. A response you can only get from two people of the opposite gender coming together.”
“Like you and your husband?”
“Like me and mine, yes! We weren’t always perfect, but tried.”
“Really?” Ranvir asked. “Because that’s not what Kasos says. Your husband was a philanderer, and that’s not just according to him, but your daughter, too. ‘There are whores in Crotenus he’s fucked more than Ione.’ Was one description I’ve heard, so please tell me when your relationship was strong.”
Ione stared at him, wide-eyed with anger, her face red from the top of her hairline down past her neck.
“If you want to play in your mansion of delusion,” Ranvir waved a hand at the building behind her. “Then go ahead, but don’t take that shit into the real world. I’ve seen strong relationships and they’re not tied by the gender or how hard one half tries. A one person effort cannot make a partnership, nor can whatever bigotry you’re telling yourself.”
Ranvir paused. Breathing hard, he staggered a step away and off the stairs. He shook his head. His wings flapping in agreement. A startling flash of white was building within him, surprise at his own outburst.
He stopped a few steps away. “I don’t care what my daughter does or could ever do. There’s no point where I’d ever abandon her. I love her and that’s not something I can take back because she does something I don’t agree with. I will always be there. No matter how much it sucks or how bad it hurts.”
Ione shook her head.
“Honestly,” Ranvir continued before she could speak. “from here you don’t look valiant and steadfast. You’re just a pathetic and scared old woman,” wielding his power, Ranvir wrapped his Flesh in space and returned to the wedding.