When Ciera's eyes fall on me, they're cold, determined. Regal.
So, there is a Lilwreath hiding under the surface, then. Perhaps not a queen, but a strong soul all the same.
Too bad the fate of Tenebris doesn’t move her as much as that of one skilled tailor.
“No. You will give this girl to me."It’s an order. Ciera is unyielding.
Part of me wants to laugh. Beneath cloth and decorum, stripped of our courtesies, we’re beasts, as simple as wolves. And Ciera is not at the top of the hierarchy. Not even close.
I don't like the way she's talking—as though Neb is some commodity that is mine to give. But she's already turning to my sister. "There are different ways of fighting a war, child. Your brother's rangers and my father's soldiers are invaluable. But say, if we send a thousand soldiers into fire without any protection, what then? We do not treat the folk the way human barbarians do their forces—like cattle they're willing to sacrifice."
I still, understanding her meaning. Neb, however, doesn't.
For years, I've served in the military. As a foot soldier, I was given ten fabric charms—a small bird at the heart of a tree—that I had to stitch to my uniforms. They served to reinforce the fabric of my clothing, preventing arrows from hitting true unless they were shot from too close. When I made it to captain, the charms grew bigger, and were accompanied by a stamina charm—a lute.
I never paused to think about who had made them. That they were special and precious seemed obvious. Not every piece of clothing can easily be coated withcharms. Cheap, common cloth will lose them.
The queen means for my sister to serve as one of the royal seamstresses. A considerable upgrade from what she was doing before. And more importantly, this occupation will keep her out of harm's way.
"She's talking about the charms you and Ma sewed on my uniforms," I clarify.
The queen nods, eagerly. "It's grueling, boring work, but terribly essential. We only have three seamstresses capable of such work—me included, and I haven't been able to spare much of my time."
I don't know why, but I expect Nebula to reject the prospect. She's had dreams of battles and blood for years now. To my relief, she nods. "I'd be glad to help however I can."
Ciera squeezes my sister's hands. Now that she’s won that battle, she turns to me. "We've been trying to reach the Sea Lands, but none of the merfolk have approached us—not even a kappa. I fear, as they know we stay away from these parts, they've grown out of the habit to swim the river. I'm afraid we’d have to venture out to the sea to reach them."
"Couldn't we send a bird?" I ask, for the sake of it. If she wants my rangers out, out we will go. But I've relapsed into the habit of questioning things, and I don't particularly want to let it go.
"If we were willing to risk it being intercepted," Nero says. "It's safer to give a message to a merfolk directly."
I concur, but I mislike the notion. Whitecroft is right at the heart of Tenebris—the coasts are farther away than we've ventured in ten years.
I'd have to head such a mission, that's for certain. It wouldn't have mattered a few days ago. Now, the thought of going so far from Vlari for an extended time makes me pause.
In the end, there's only one answer I can give. "I'll gather a team, and leave at once."
The high queen touches my forearm. She's a tactile person, to my surprise. Vlari never seems to need touch like this.
Or perhaps she does. Perhaps she loves contact, and quite simply never bothered to get it from me.
"Wait a moment," Nero says. "Not questioning your rangers in the least, but for a journey such as this, it may be wise to bring a few knights with you. Some seasoned warriors."
I wince. "With all due respect, knights come with cumbersome, noisy armor that would either slow us down, get us spotted, or both. Our aim isn't to fight anyone if we can help it."
Generally, the rangers only get noticed after we've stolen something the humans guard. As this mission doesn't require us to retrieve any artifact, we might go unnoticed.
After thinking for a moment, the queen suggests,"Perhaps not knights, then, but someone with defensive magic? In case the need arises. I will feel better if you're well-guarded, Rystan."
She speaks as though we're friends, and she cares for my welfare.
“I can take care of myself, Your Grace.”
“Be that as it may, your power is a weapon, not a shield. If you’re attacked by hundreds, or thousands, you’ll be glad to have some help—if only for the sake of your rangers.”
She has me there.
I can take care of myself. But what of Samael, Iola, Hayles, Erdun, and whoever else will accompany me? They have little magic to speak of.
