Balae and Kieren managed to compose themselves before Aya had a chance to speak.
“Excuse us, excuse us,” said the older merchant, attempting to straigten his robes, “yes, yes, I certainly know that house symbol.”
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Aya said, terrified that she’d caused some great offense to this friendly man.
“Nothing’s wrong my dear, it’s just…” Balae began, his eyes trailing toward the device in her hands.
“You carry with you a personal sygil of a house, young lady,” cut in Kieren, “that’s synoptic bronze, and might very be centuries old. It’s priceless.”
“That’s why we were so shocked. It’s not something you simply give!” laughed Balae, although it had a nervous edge, “your mother must’ve been treasured by her family to receive something that precious.”
Aya’s hand retracted slightly, holding the bronze close to her breast, and thinking about the expression of her mother when she’d handed it to her. Had she known it was that precious, she would’ve been more careful with it. Thank the Lost that she’d not lost it in the river when she fell in under the earth.
“Well, my friend,” said Balae, “I think we can be of some aid. However, the city canals are blocked off in preparation for the festival. And I don’t doubt the house of your mother is up to the gills with work! It’d best be settled in the morning when everyone is fresh and rested. Have a good evening, and we can absolutely find them in the morning.”
“Of course,” Lillian said, “thank you so much. Aya, please, if you would.”
“Thank you,” she said, offering a little bow as she was carted away.
“Think nothing of it!” they called to her, as they were taken to another exit from the pyramid.
They were lead up a wooden stare case, into a series of apartments. It was a very strange building, with only a few solid central walls. The rest of the rooms were made of sliding panels of wood and paper. Every room had mats of interwoven reeds that softened the step and warmed the floor.
The place they were led was a partition of two separate rooms, one for the girls, the other for men. There was a large, covered bed that Lillian insisted that Sorore and Aya take, while the housekeeper promised to send for additional blankets for her. As soon as they were alone, the paladin took Aya by the hand and looked her sternly in the eye.
“It wasn’t wise to do that,” she said, “to present your family’s sigil.”
“Why not?” Aya asked, genuinely confused.
“We’re only planning to be in the town for a few days, nothing more,” Lillian said, “whatever reunion you might have would be short, and would likely only serve to complicate matters more.”
“What?” Aya said, holding Lillian’s gaze firmly, “what do you mean ‘complicate’ things? I want to see my mother’s family while I’m here. Why would it matter if it was only a few days?”
“I’ve said my piece,” Lillian said, letting go and turning away to strip her heavy plate.
“No you haven’t,” said Aya, grasping her firm shoulder and attempting to turn her around, “look at me. You’re not telling me something.”
“I have told you everything you need to know. Now, I suggest you get some rest,” Lillian said, removing one shoulder plate and setting it carefully down on the ground.
“Why are you avoiding the question?” she said.
The paladin said nothing, and Sorore stepped forward to sooth the girl.
“Come on,” she said, “let’s prepare for bed. We can talk more about it in the morning, when we’re all less tired.”
She and Aya washed and dried themselves, in basins provided by the housekeeper. She was careful to note that towels were made in Nieth, hand embroidered and used in their great baths. Sorore was first to crawl under the light covers and settle in, turning towards Aya.
“Come on,” she said, reaching out for her in a playful way, “sleep will make things better. It’s so nice having an actual bed.”
“I… don’t feel tired,” said Aya, “I think I’m going outside. Just to the balcony. Am I allowed to do that?”
She gave a sharp look at Lillian, who was in the middle of addressing a cut along her side that had opened.
“Am I going to have to run after you?” she said, returning the look.
“No. Unless the balconies are going to kill me,” retorted Aya.
“Then you may,” she said, turning back to dress her wound.
Aya pushed open one of the sliding panels, walked across the hallway, and opened one of the doors to the balcony. The air here was so delightfully warm, even in the middle of the night. The mountain air was chilly even in the height of summer. The balcony was large, running across the entire length of the floor that she was on, with a solid railing running across it.
She was glad for the railing as she slid her thin legs between the slates, looking out at the dense city before her. Her eyes carried her out towards a cloudless sky, where the moonlight glittered on the dark waters of the sea beyond. The only thing that broke it up was the thousands of vessels of various sizes, whose lamps cast a warm orange glow across the water.
She lay her head on the top of the railing, closing her eyes and letting the breeze flow over here. Even the salty smell of the waters beyond and below was comforting in a way the mountains had never been. There was something deep within her that called to this place - it made sense that her mother had come from this place, and had seemed so out of it in the mountain village.
She wondered what exactly her family was like here, and what they did. Her grandmother was a chief, or was - perhaps she was retired to happy family life now. She imagined a kindly woman in the recesses of advanced age, all wrinkles and grey hair, sitting back in a chair by the fire. She would tell stories of all the happenings of the city, and all the mischief that she’d gotten up to in her youth. Perhaps she’d even take the time, weary as she was, to cook with Aya, and share secrets that had taken a lifetime to accrue-
“Hi,” came a voice, as something sat with a thump besides her.
Her eyes flickered open at the interruption, and there was Frare, his red hair dark in the evening.
“What are you doing here?” she sighed, closing her eyes again and trying to get back to that dreamlike state.
“Got bored. Niche is boring,” he said with his now familiar bluntness, “besides, I don’t like being in those rooms. Too small. I always preferred being… out.”
“And why are you talking to me?”
“Because you’re not boring, most of the time.”
“Thanks,” she said, opening her eyes once more, knowing that the tranquil calm she’d felt was permanently shattered.
“You’re welcome,” he said, either oblivious to or ignoring the sarcasm.
There was a silence for a time, broken only by Frare kicking his feet against the balcony.
“So, why do you think they’re all lying?”
“What?” Aya said.
“The paladins, the trader, they’re all lying,” he said, with perfect confidence, “it’s obvious.”
“Lying about what?”
“You think they were surprised at the device? Nope. That was quick thinking by Kieren. They only reacted after they saw the sigil. So, they were terrified because of who your family is.”
“Oh,” said Aya, the doubts in her head falling into place with the words.
“You didn’t notice. Well here’s another thing,” Frare said, clearly pleased with himself, “Lillian was panicked as soon as you started asking about your family. It was written, all over her face, plain as day.”
“Really?” she said.
She’d known Lillian wasn’t telling the whole truth, but she’d not had the chance to look at her during the exchange with the merchant.
“Yup,” Frare said with a grin, “so she knows, or suspects, that your family is trouble.”
“Huh,” she said.
“Not the first time that she’s kept stuff from us,” Frare said, “I think she pretends to be stupider than she really is.”
“Well, there’s no point to it,” Aya said, closing her eyes once more, “we’ll settle it in the morning.”
“You really think so?” Frare said, tapping his feet on the balcony struts.
“You doubt the hosts?”
“Oh, absolutely. Would you leave it to the morning if you were them?”
“So, you think that they’ve… what?”
“Well, from the way they reacted, it sounds like your family’s cursed. Wouldn’t be surprised if they tried to kill us.”
“What?!” Aya said, her eyes snapping open to try and detect any sense of sarcasm from the boy.
She found him still grinning, but not in a way that suggested that it was humorous.
“That’s ridiculous,” she said, raising her head, “they’re our hosts.”
“And the paladin’s are supposed to be protectors. What kind of protectors lie to their wards?” Frare shrugged.
Aya found that she had no good argument to that, though she did try.
“Although, maybe I’m wrong,” he said, “perhaps tonight, perhaps tomorrow, we’ll see soon enough I suppose.”
“You seem to be making an awful effort to be careless,” she said, noting his dangling feet’s persistent effort to tap out a whole song on the struts.
“I don’t care,” Frare said, “it’s just the way things are.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, “if that’s so, then why did you not bring it up to the paladins, or your sister?”
“What good would it do? With the paladins, they’d just refuse. As for Sorore…”
He looked down at his feet and kicked them harder, as if trying to drive off doubts.
“She gets worried easily,” he said, “I wouldn’t want to make her upset.”
The insight, quite unannounced nor predicated on any physical sight, plopped right into Aya’s head.
“I don’t think you’re talking about your sister,” she said, looking at the boy with renewed interest.
“What? Of course I am. I said ‘Sorore’,” he said.
There it was, the nervous flit of the eyes, subtle, but definite. How could she not have noticed before? It was plain as the nose on his face.
“Oh really?” she said, “then tell me, if things are just the way they are which you certainly don’t care about. Why are you trying to explain them to me? Why even bother, why not just go to bed, and skip the boring parts?”
Frare faltered, just for a moment, but it was enough to seize upon.
“Maybe it's because you’re afraid of the dreams?”
Right on target. His eyes fell, the kicking grew louder, and his fingers began to twitch ever so slightly.
“Well,” he said, “there’s also that.”
Aya blinked - she thought he would bluster, would deny, and yet here he was giving it all up without a fight. Her emotions melted from annoyance and jeering if playful conflict, to a sense of solidarity.
“Yeah, there is,” she said, running her fingers through her hair, “I had one this morning. It was like, an endless lake, mirroring the sky. And there was something big in the water, circling me. It almost… said something, I think.”
The boy was silent for a moment, trying to piece together something to say.
“I did too,” he finally spoke out to the world, as if it was some shameful secret.
“Do tell,” she said, yawning.
He looked at her, and she could see a genuine pang of fear.
“It was a tree, a big tree, bigger than this house, than this entire city,” he said, “its bark was… just… drenched. Red, red everywhere. Waterfalls across its whole length. There was the sound of weeping, from within the tree, so I went closer.”
His face was hidden in his hands.
“I tried to push into the tree, tried to find the voice,” he said, “I got covered, then I realized… it was all blood. The red.”
The boy was trying to choke back a sob at the word ‘blood’. Aya, unable to stop herself, reached over and pulled him into a hug. Quietly, terribly, he began to cry, his shoulders shaking in her arms. They stayed like that for a good few minutes, even after he’d managed to calm himself.
“I’m sorry,” he suddenly said, pushing her away, face burning with shame.
“No, it’s okay, I-” she said, reaching for him as he stood.
A hurried ‘good night’, and he vanished into the corridor before she could stop him. She sighed, and looked out once more to the moon and the silver sea. It was a moment before she realised that a pale light was bleeding through her arms. There was no pain, nor disorientating visions, only the steady pulse of thin lines, etched into her skin.
“Why are you doing this?” she said to the lines, hoping against hope that there might be a response.
There was nothing. Figures.
“I should go apologise to him,” she said, leaving ‘and check if he’s okay’ unsaid to the air.
“She be fine, she always is,” said a voice from behind her.
“Who said that?” she practically shouted.
She whirled, finding only Lillian there with a surprised expression.
“I didn’t say anything, my lady,” she said, looking around.
“I thought I heard… never mind, it was some errant wind I guess,” she said quickly.
Lillian shut the sliding door behind her as she came to sit beside the girl. She looked uncomfortable without her armour on, as if it was a second skin that had simply vanished into thin air. Still, she kept a short sword at her side, along with a significant knife. Aya had no doubt if they experienced any interruptions tonight, a threat would find her just as dangerous as with full plate.
“My lady,” she said, “I feel as if I owe you an apology.”
Her annoyance returned, hotter than before.
“Well? Get on with it,” she said.
“I feel… I feel as if we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot,” she said, her smile weak, “afterall, even I forget that we only meet… my word, less than a week ago. We hardly know each other, and I took you from your home, farther than you might’ve ever been.”
Aya waited for her to continue, her own feet beginning to drum on the struts.
“I know that I seem secretive and unresponsive at times,” she said, “I do withhold information that I think would be harmful to you. Things I don’t think you need to know, and might cause you grief. Others have done the same with me, and I can understand if you begrudge me that.”
“Well, if there’s to be a new spirit of honesty between us,” Aya cut in, with a little more searing sarcasm than she meant, “tell me two things. Just two.”
The paladin nodded.
“One, why did you panic when I talked about my family?”
Her face twisted as she tried to process the question.
“The commander… he warned me that you had a family in Karkos. A wealthy one,” she said, “I don’t know how he would know, but… that’s what he said. He advised me that it would be wise, to avoid complicated the situation further. I agreed with him. What if your family tried to keep you here?”
Aya felt her annoyance give way to astonished fury.
“You- The commander-” she said, “you tried to keep me from my family?”
“I recognize that- It sounds worse than-”
“It sounds worse than it is?!” she said, her voice rising, “You lied to me, tried to stop me from asking? Why? To make it easier on you?!”
The paladin was clearly regretting her attempt to make peace. She raised her hands, trying to placate the anger girl, but there was no stopping Aya as she shot to her feet.
“What about me?” she cried, “did you even think about what I wanted?”
“I-”
“And two!” she said, pointing an accusing finger at the paladin, “what’s the dirty secret you won’t even tell Niche about? The one about how you were sent to the far north with only a handful of soldiers.”
Lillian’s face went white with shock.
“How could you possibly-”
“You think we’re deaf? Do you think we’re stupid?” Aya practically screamed.
She could hear rustling inside the house, perhaps Sorore or Niche were rousing at the noise. She didn’t not care one whit about it.
Lillian’s face was cold, focused, steeling itself from the onslaught of words.
“What I do is to keep you safe,” she said, pulling herself straight, “it is my duty, and my honor.”
“Safe from what? Doubt?!” Aya said.
Anger. Anger was a catalyst. Anger was Emotion. She wanted Lillian to go away, to leave her alone to find her family. Something crackled in the air, something snaked around her shoulders, whispering in her ear. Aya was beyond using just words.
“My lady,” said Lillian, looking at the scars of pale light opening on her hands and forearms.
Before the power that was building up could be released, in what form Aya couldn’t guess, the door was thrust open. Distracted, the pair looked to the newcomers, and found a tall man in brass armour studded with pearls and seashells.
“Lady Aya?” he said, looking directly at her.
“Who are you?” she said, her rage momentarily forgotten.
“I am captain Hilario Dominata,” he said, with a small bow, “of the legion of sea and salt. I have come to retrieve and escort you to the Eisen estate, on orders of your grandmother matriarch Aysatra.”
Balae and Kieren managed to compose themselves before Aya had a chance to speak.
“Excuse us, excuse us,” said the older merchant, attempting to straigten his robes, “yes, yes, I certainly know that house symbol.”
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Aya said, terrified that she’d caused some great offense to this friendly man.
“Nothing’s wrong my dear, it’s just…” Balae began, his eyes trailing toward the device in her hands.
“You carry with you a personal sygil of a house, young lady,” cut in Kieren, “that’s synoptic bronze, and might very be centuries old. It’s priceless.”
“That’s why we were so shocked. It’s not something you simply give!” laughed Balae, although it had a nervous edge, “your mother must’ve been treasured by her family to receive something that precious.”
Aya’s hand retracted slightly, holding the bronze close to her breast, and thinking about the expression of her mother when she’d handed it to her. Had she known it was that precious, she would’ve been more careful with it. Thank the Lost that she’d not lost it in the river when she fell in under the earth.
“Well, my friend,” said Balae, “I think we can be of some aid. However, the city canals are blocked off in preparation for the festival. And I don’t doubt the house of your mother is up to the gills with work! It’d best be settled in the morning when everyone is fresh and rested. Have a good evening, and we can absolutely find them in the morning.”
“Of course,” Lillian said, “thank you so much. Aya, please, if you would.”
“Thank you,” she said, offering a little bow as she was carted away.
“Think nothing of it!” they called to her, as they were taken to another exit from the pyramid.
They were lead up a wooden stare case, into a series of apartments. It was a very strange building, with only a few solid central walls. The rest of the rooms were made of sliding panels of wood and paper. Every room had mats of interwoven reeds that softened the step and warmed the floor.
The place they were led was a partition of two separate rooms, one for the girls, the other for men. There was a large, covered bed that Lillian insisted that Sorore and Aya take, while the housekeeper promised to send for additional blankets for her. As soon as they were alone, the paladin took Aya by the hand and looked her sternly in the eye.
“It wasn’t wise to do that,” she said, “to present your family’s sigil.”
“Why not?” Aya asked, genuinely confused.
“We’re only planning to be in the town for a few days, nothing more,” Lillian said, “whatever reunion you might have would be short, and would likely only serve to complicate matters more.”
“What?” Aya said, holding Lillian’s gaze firmly, “what do you mean ‘complicate’ things? I want to see my mother’s family while I’m here. Why would it matter if it was only a few days?”
“I’ve said my piece,” Lillian said, letting go and turning away to strip her heavy plate.
“No you haven’t,” said Aya, grasping her firm shoulder and attempting to turn her around, “look at me. You’re not telling me something.”
“I have told you everything you need to know. Now, I suggest you get some rest,” Lillian said, removing one shoulder plate and setting it carefully down on the ground.
“Why are you avoiding the question?” she said.
The paladin said nothing, and Sorore stepped forward to sooth the girl.
“Come on,” she said, “let’s prepare for bed. We can talk more about it in the morning, when we’re all less tired.”
She and Aya washed and dried themselves, in basins provided by the housekeeper. She was careful to note that towels were made in Nieth, hand embroidered and used in their great baths. Sorore was first to crawl under the light covers and settle in, turning towards Aya.
“Come on,” she said, reaching out for her in a playful way, “sleep will make things better. It’s so nice having an actual bed.”
“I… don’t feel tired,” said Aya, “I think I’m going outside. Just to the balcony. Am I allowed to do that?”
She gave a sharp look at Lillian, who was in the middle of addressing a cut along her side that had opened.
“Am I going to have to run after you?” she said, returning the look.
“No. Unless the balconies are going to kill me,” retorted Aya.
“Then you may,” she said, turning back to dress her wound.
Aya pushed open one of the sliding panels, walked across the hallway, and opened one of the doors to the balcony. The air here was so delightfully warm, even in the middle of the night. The mountain air was chilly even in the height of summer. The balcony was large, running across the entire length of the floor that she was on, with a solid railing running across it.
She was glad for the railing as she slid her thin legs between the slates, looking out at the dense city before her. Her eyes carried her out towards a cloudless sky, where the moonlight glittered on the dark waters of the sea beyond. The only thing that broke it up was the thousands of vessels of various sizes, whose lamps cast a warm orange glow across the water.
She lay her head on the top of the railing, closing her eyes and letting the breeze flow over here. Even the salty smell of the waters beyond and below was comforting in a way the mountains had never been. There was something deep within her that called to this place - it made sense that her mother had come from this place, and had seemed so out of it in the mountain village.
She wondered what exactly her family was like here, and what they did. Her grandmother was a chief, or was - perhaps she was retired to happy family life now. She imagined a kindly woman in the recesses of advanced age, all wrinkles and grey hair, sitting back in a chair by the fire. She would tell stories of all the happenings of the city, and all the mischief that she’d gotten up to in her youth. Perhaps she’d even take the time, weary as she was, to cook with Aya, and share secrets that had taken a lifetime to accrue-
“Hi,” came a voice, as something sat with a thump besides her.
Her eyes flickered open at the interruption, and there was Frare, his red hair dark in the evening.
“What are you doing here?” she sighed, closing her eyes again and trying to get back to that dreamlike state.
“Got bored. Niche is boring,” he said with his now familiar bluntness, “besides, I don’t like being in those rooms. Too small. I always preferred being… out.”
“And why are you talking to me?”
“Because you’re not boring, most of the time.”
“Thanks,” she said, opening her eyes once more, knowing that the tranquil calm she’d felt was permanently shattered.
“You’re welcome,” he said, either oblivious to or ignoring the sarcasm.
There was a silence for a time, broken only by Frare kicking his feet against the balcony.
“So, why do you think they’re all lying?”
“What?” Aya said.
“The paladins, the trader, they’re all lying,” he said, with perfect confidence, “it’s obvious.”
“Lying about what?”
“You think they were surprised at the device? Nope. That was quick thinking by Kieren. They only reacted after they saw the sigil. So, they were terrified because of who your family is.”
“Oh,” said Aya, the doubts in her head falling into place with the words.
“You didn’t notice. Well here’s another thing,” Frare said, clearly pleased with himself, “Lillian was panicked as soon as you started asking about your family. It was written, all over her face, plain as day.”
“Really?” she said.
She’d known Lillian wasn’t telling the whole truth, but she’d not had the chance to look at her during the exchange with the merchant.
“Yup,” Frare said with a grin, “so she knows, or suspects, that your family is trouble.”
“Huh,” she said.
“Not the first time that she’s kept stuff from us,” Frare said, “I think she pretends to be stupider than she really is.”
“Well, there’s no point to it,” Aya said, closing her eyes once more, “we’ll settle it in the morning.”
“You really think so?” Frare said, tapping his feet on the balcony struts.
“You doubt the hosts?”
“Oh, absolutely. Would you leave it to the morning if you were them?”
“So, you think that they’ve… what?”
“Well, from the way they reacted, it sounds like your family’s cursed. Wouldn’t be surprised if they tried to kill us.”
“What?!” Aya said, her eyes snapping open to try and detect any sense of sarcasm from the boy.
She found him still grinning, but not in a way that suggested that it was humorous.
“That’s ridiculous,” she said, raising her head, “they’re our hosts.”
“And the paladin’s are supposed to be protectors. What kind of protectors lie to their wards?” Frare shrugged.
Aya found that she had no good argument to that, though she did try.
“Although, maybe I’m wrong,” he said, “perhaps tonight, perhaps tomorrow, we’ll see soon enough I suppose.”
“You seem to be making an awful effort to be careless,” she said, noting his dangling feet’s persistent effort to tap out a whole song on the struts.
“I don’t care,” Frare said, “it’s just the way things are.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, “if that’s so, then why did you not bring it up to the paladins, or your sister?”
“What good would it do? With the paladins, they’d just refuse. As for Sorore…”
He looked down at his feet and kicked them harder, as if trying to drive off doubts.
“She gets worried easily,” he said, “I wouldn’t want to make her upset.”
The insight, quite unannounced nor predicated on any physical sight, plopped right into Aya’s head.
“I don’t think you’re talking about your sister,” she said, looking at the boy with renewed interest.
“What? Of course I am. I said ‘Sorore’,” he said.
There it was, the nervous flit of the eyes, subtle, but definite. How could she not have noticed before? It was plain as the nose on his face.
“Oh really?” she said, “then tell me, if things are just the way they are which you certainly don’t care about. Why are you trying to explain them to me? Why even bother, why not just go to bed, and skip the boring parts?”
Frare faltered, just for a moment, but it was enough to seize upon.
“Maybe it's because you’re afraid of the dreams?”
Right on target. His eyes fell, the kicking grew louder, and his fingers began to twitch ever so slightly.
“Well,” he said, “there’s also that.”
Aya blinked - she thought he would bluster, would deny, and yet here he was giving it all up without a fight. Her emotions melted from annoyance and jeering if playful conflict, to a sense of solidarity.
“Yeah, there is,” she said, running her fingers through her hair, “I had one this morning. It was like, an endless lake, mirroring the sky. And there was something big in the water, circling me. It almost… said something, I think.”
The boy was silent for a moment, trying to piece together something to say.
“I did too,” he finally spoke out to the world, as if it was some shameful secret.
“Do tell,” she said, yawning.
He looked at her, and she could see a genuine pang of fear.
“It was a tree, a big tree, bigger than this house, than this entire city,” he said, “its bark was… just… drenched. Red, red everywhere. Waterfalls across its whole length. There was the sound of weeping, from within the tree, so I went closer.”
His face was hidden in his hands.
“I tried to push into the tree, tried to find the voice,” he said, “I got covered, then I realized… it was all blood. The red.”
The boy was trying to choke back a sob at the word ‘blood’. Aya, unable to stop herself, reached over and pulled him into a hug. Quietly, terribly, he began to cry, his shoulders shaking in her arms. They stayed like that for a good few minutes, even after he’d managed to calm himself.
“I’m sorry,” he suddenly said, pushing her away, face burning with shame.
“No, it’s okay, I-” she said, reaching for him as he stood.
A hurried ‘good night’, and he vanished into the corridor before she could stop him. She sighed, and looked out once more to the moon and the silver sea. It was a moment before she realised that a pale light was bleeding through her arms. There was no pain, nor disorientating visions, only the steady pulse of thin lines, etched into her skin.
“Why are you doing this?” she said to the lines, hoping against hope that there might be a response.
There was nothing. Figures.
“I should go apologise to him,” she said, leaving ‘and check if he’s okay’ unsaid to the air.
“She be fine, she always is,” said a voice from behind her.
“Who said that?” she practically shouted.
She whirled, finding only Lillian there with a surprised expression.
“I didn’t say anything, my lady,” she said, looking around.
“I thought I heard… never mind, it was some errant wind I guess,” she said quickly.
Lillian shut the sliding door behind her as she came to sit beside the girl. She looked uncomfortable without her armour on, as if it was a second skin that had simply vanished into thin air. Still, she kept a short sword at her side, along with a significant knife. Aya had no doubt if they experienced any interruptions tonight, a threat would find her just as dangerous as with full plate.
“My lady,” she said, “I feel as if I owe you an apology.”
Her annoyance returned, hotter than before.
“Well? Get on with it,” she said.
“I feel… I feel as if we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot,” she said, her smile weak, “afterall, even I forget that we only meet… my word, less than a week ago. We hardly know each other, and I took you from your home, farther than you might’ve ever been.”
Aya waited for her to continue, her own feet beginning to drum on the struts.
“I know that I seem secretive and unresponsive at times,” she said, “I do withhold information that I think would be harmful to you. Things I don’t think you need to know, and might cause you grief. Others have done the same with me, and I can understand if you begrudge me that.”
“Well, if there’s to be a new spirit of honesty between us,” Aya cut in, with a little more searing sarcasm than she meant, “tell me two things. Just two.”
The paladin nodded.
“One, why did you panic when I talked about my family?”
Her face twisted as she tried to process the question.
“The commander… he warned me that you had a family in Karkos. A wealthy one,” she said, “I don’t know how he would know, but… that’s what he said. He advised me that it would be wise, to avoid complicated the situation further. I agreed with him. What if your family tried to keep you here?”
Aya felt her annoyance give way to astonished fury.
“You- The commander-” she said, “you tried to keep me from my family?”
“I recognize that- It sounds worse than-”
“It sounds worse than it is?!” she said, her voice rising, “You lied to me, tried to stop me from asking? Why? To make it easier on you?!”
The paladin was clearly regretting her attempt to make peace. She raised her hands, trying to placate the anger girl, but there was no stopping Aya as she shot to her feet.
“What about me?” she cried, “did you even think about what I wanted?”
“I-”
“And two!” she said, pointing an accusing finger at the paladin, “what’s the dirty secret you won’t even tell Niche about? The one about how you were sent to the far north with only a handful of soldiers.”
Lillian’s face went white with shock.
“How could you possibly-”
“You think we’re deaf? Do you think we’re stupid?” Aya practically screamed.
She could hear rustling inside the house, perhaps Sorore or Niche were rousing at the noise. She didn’t not care one whit about it.
Lillian’s face was cold, focused, steeling itself from the onslaught of words.
“What I do is to keep you safe,” she said, pulling herself straight, “it is my duty, and my honor.”
“Safe from what? Doubt?!” Aya said.
Anger. Anger was a catalyst. Anger was Emotion. She wanted Lillian to go away, to leave her alone to find her family. Something crackled in the air, something snaked around her shoulders, whispering in her ear. Aya was beyond using just words.
“My lady,” said Lillian, looking at the scars of pale light opening on her hands and forearms.
Before the power that was building up could be released, in what form Aya couldn’t guess, the door was thrust open. Distracted, the pair looked to the newcomers, and found a tall man in brass armour studded with pearls and seashells.
“Lady Aya?” he said, looking directly at her.
“Who are you?” she said, her rage momentarily forgotten.
“I am captain Hilario Dominata,” he said, with a small bow, “of the legion of sea and salt. I have come to retrieve and escort you to the Eisen estate, on orders of your grandmother matriarch Aysatra.”
