Kirs trudged across the palace square, hood high and head low against the harsh winds. The white steam of her breath was whipped away on the instant of exhalation. Reaching the wide stairs ramping to the palace gates, a guard approached her.
“Name and purpose for visiting the Queen’s palace,” he ordered, stopping her on the last step.
Her fingers knotted inside the long sleeves of her coat, staring longingly at the shelter next to the walls. Yet, she knew the man wouldn’t let her get any closer.
“Kirs, here for an audience with Triplet Master Zubair and Saif.”
The guard nodded, the tips of his mustaches wiggling in the breeze. Frowning, he peered down at a slate tablet. For five long minutes, he scowled down. Mouthing along almost angrily with each name and description. Finally, he nodded and stepped aside. “You may step inside.”
Kirs gave him a tight smile. The door was swung aside by his partner, who gave her an apologetic smile. She handed her token over, a sign of her meeting with the woman at the palace reception.
Where are you, Es? She wondered longingly. He should’ve been back a week ago. Being this delayed must mean issues with the palace itself. She needed no reason to long for her husband, though she had many.
The bed was all too big and cold to warm up herself and always forgot to heat the room beforehand. She missed his mediocre food. His protection.
She took the slip of cloth in exchange for the token. She missed his voice, the way he laughed. The cloth let her through to the next checkpoint, where she was then forced to restate everything again and wait for confirmation. At one point, a guardsman in far more decorated bronze armor showed up to look at her. She shivered after a moment, vaguely sensing something.
The guard narrowed his eyes but left. Not long after, a man in a captain’s uniform showed up as well. They interrogated her briefly, before confirming that she was who she claimed.
And today, of all days, she missed he being a tethered. The Queen employed multiple tethered guardsmen, just to make sure the regulars weren’t torn apart by a furious man playing at being a god.
The two guards, tethered, she guessed, shot her a curious glance but figured out that she was a civilian. Bringing Es, even if just to the lounge, cut the waiting in third, if not more so. Bringing Ranvir cut the waiting almost entirely, but somehow was always worse than going alone.
She fiddled with a carpenter’s toy between her fingers as she waited. Four squares of thin wood with a dowel through the center, capped with a quick bit of copper. It was a toy for young children or babies, train some dexterity into them as spun the thin pieces.
Her fingers no longer felt like thick sausages, resisting fine movements. They were more closely resembled too wet dough. Sluggish and relaxed, it was difficult to create any tension at all. Still, her fatigue had lessened, which must be a good sign.
At least, when she wasn’t worried about her fool husband. What’s happening with you, Es? Did he get stuck somewhere in the desert? She knew he was capable. Perhaps they’d just miscalculated how long it would take him to travel there. Traversal with warp was one of the more difficult techniques to pull off, his even more so due to the strange intertwined nature of his Concept and Disciplines.
She spun the slats of wood between her fingers, worrying at her lip. He was capable. Far more capable than most thought. Es was dangerous. He had the most destructive mana of any kind. Not even Kasos in all his years had seen anything like it. Morphos, the old veteran student, had seemed positively terrified when he first sensed.
They both assumed it to simply be like their shearing mana, but only the most skilled uses of shearing mana cut light. Warp did so by default. Es would be fine and he would come home to her safe and sound.
So long as he didn’t let himself be fooled. But he was smarter than others gave him credit for. Even herself. It wasn’t that long ago she’d said he couldn’t help with her ritual work at all. A disk got stuck, the alignment falling off somehow. Unless he gets tricked.
Stolen novel; please report.
Her hands shook on the toy and suddenly her eyes burned. Blinking harshly, she looked away. Too kind, he was too kind by half.
“Kirs?”
Sniffing sharply and looking up, she saw Hildrid. The woman who’d grown to be the Queen’s left hand, no mockery intended, stood in the doorway. Obsidian brace covering her severed fingers. Kirs did not want to think about how she’d lost the digits.
“What are you doing here? You don’t need to wait here!” Hildrid waved her along. “I figured you’d still be at the school.” She said conversationally as she led them further into the palace.
“My studies took me back. Got an interview with Triplet Master Zubair and Saif today.”
“Oh,” Hildrid muttered, giving her an amused yet pitying look. “I’m sorry.” Before Kirs could reply, she continued. “Where is Esmund? He always follows you around like a lost puppy.”
“He does not,” Kirs said angrily, frowning at the Queen’s advisor. The old woman went too far. Hurt puppy?
Hildrid raised a hand and a half. “I was just making conversation. You’ve not had a falling out?”
“He is doing something else for me.”
“Oh? Good for you, he seems a hard worker.”
Kirs nodded.
Hildrid stopped at one of the more prestigious waiting rooms. Kirs recognized one of the waiting men as a master from the academy. Hildrid exchanged a few words with the people on duty in the room, then waved for the man to follow her. “See you later, Kirs.”
Kirs nodded at her and slumped into her seat. Just like that, a tethered cut her wait time into tatters. Twenty minutes later and she found herself in a room with two-thirds of the city’s strongest tethereds.
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Three hours later, she turned back onto her street, a massive head ache pounding hard enough that she barely noticed the cold. A waste of time. Apparently, their power came with the ability to talk in circles for hours and hours.
Despite all this, however, she managed to scrape a little information together from the conversation and confirm other stories. Notably, Kirs was now certain that both men were close to a hundred years old. Even though Zubair looked noticeably older than Saif.
She shook her head. What she really needed was time to gather her thoughts and notes.
A woman stopped Kirs. She vaguely recognized her as one of their neighbors. Es got out more than she did. She was a slightly plump woman in her early thirties.
“Kirs! It’s good to see you! How are you doing? Is everything alright? Is Esmund alright? We haven’t seen him in a while.”
“Yeah, he is fine. Out on a job, actually.”
“Oh!” she clapped hands to her chubby cheeks. “That’s so good for him. Spending that much time at the house isn’t good for a man.”
Kirs blinked at the overweight woman. The fuck? “Uh, yeah. He seems to enjoy. We’re spending a lot of time away from the city.”
“That must be nice! I’m sure you’re enjoying a bit of time away from the crowds. Making room for one more?” she reached out and rubbed Kirs’ stomach.
This fat bitch better get her claws off me—
“Whoa,” Esmund’s voice cut in, a sun-darkened hand gripping the rotund cunt pulling her away. “Hands off her,” he said jokingly, giving Kirs a warning look.
“Oh, hello!” the wobbling tower of fat incarnated into a person said, clasping Esmund’s hands in hers. “We were just talking about—“
Es showed teeth, his clenched jaws making a mockery of his smile. “I heard, but we really need to get home.” His eyes flashed noticeably.
Suddenly, the woman seemed to remember Es wasn’t a normal human. “Of course, dear. I’ll get out of your way.” She waddled away, her too tight shirt wobbling as her love handles wobbled.
Then Kirs’ view was obstructed, and the ground was torn away from her feet. She laughed as Es carried her all the way into their home until raspberries on her neck turned to heated kisses.
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Kirs’ fingers tickled the short hairs on her husband’s chest as his trailed a thrilling line down her back.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked, his voice a whisper against her hair.
“It’s not important right now.”
“But I’m curious.” She could feel his grin.
She smiled and wiggled deeper into their mattress. Nice and warm. “It’s kind of a mood killer.”
“Try me,” he pinched her, earning a slap against his chest.
“It’s Saleema,” she finally admitted. “The stories about her are so inconsistent, it’s not surprising people didn’t realize she was the same person. Sometimes it takes minor injuries to make her flee. Other times, she won’t run after sustaining injuries that would kill a normal person. And rarely, it seems she cannot be hurt at all.”
“Cannot?”
“It doesn’t stick,” Kirs shrugged against him. “However that works.”
Es grunted in reply.
“But there are other things. Sometimes she’s as skilled as a Triplet Master, but often more so. Then she’ll make a feat that is literally un-replicable. Every record and tethered says it’s impossible. And her strength. Master Ayvir claimed she far exceeded any master’s strength. Triplet Masters don’t get any stronger, so it’s not just that.”
“Could just be the experience. Ayvir might be as strong.”
“Maybe, but it’s consistent. Most everyone I’ve talked to about the events at the summer estate says the same thing. A stage above them. And Ranvir has spoken of people as well, these Arkrotasia and the woman Kyriake.”
“So it’s possible.”
“But I think that’s the key to beating her. I’ll double check with what you brought along, but… she cannot maintain it, Es. She can fight on a level above others, occasionally. But not forever.”