"Until The Fall" - 4/48
Title: Until The Fall
Author: Rissy James
Characters: DG, Cain, Azkadellia, Jeb, Glitch, Raw, Tutor, and some old & new OCs (updated 02.24.09)
Pairing: Established Cain/DG; established Jeb/Az
Rating: M
Summary: Sequel to " Of Light". A year after returning to the Zone, DG sets out to complete the task given to her by the Gale. Soon, she must learn that there is always more to everything than first meets the eye. (updated 02.24.09)
Chapter Four
Late Spring
DG was tired of being an excuse. She was tired of being a distraction. She was tired of having her voice ignored. No... maybe she was just plain tired.
She was alone in a sea of faces. At the far end of the ballroom, she could make out her mother, sitting in her place on the dais, a strange, guiding force. Under this woman's benevolence and protection, this daughter of an exalted line, these people could forget that among them dwelt the Fallen, the vessel through which so much evil flowed.
DG watched her mother, the beacon at the top of the hall. The woman's inexhaustible dedication to rebuilding the Zone stretched so far, DG was uncertain if she properly understood the scope of it. Her mother, through her generosity, through her kindness, through her good name, was doing everything in her considerable power to beg forgiveness for herself, for her daughter, and for her line.
For hadn't the Queen forfeited her Light, her power, to save a mere child? Hadn't she left her country defenseless?
How far back the trail of guilt led, DG wasn't sure she even wanted to know. Probably in some Gods-forsaken corner of the O.Z., a little old nursemaid sat in eternal guilt for having let two little princesses out of her sight on that sunny day in Finaqua.
Looking at her mother now, she wondered if it would be possible for her sister to take the throne in August. If Azkadellia could be the ruler that her mother was, maybe the people would accept her. Hadn't she proven herself during that final battle with the Witch? She'd helped to destroy what had imprisoned her for fifteen annuals. DG hadn't killed the Witch by herself, after all.
As was happening more and more lately, as the anniversary of the Eclipse approach, DG heard the words of the Gale, crossing distances, perhaps just a memory, perhaps something more tangible.
Azkadellia's test comes, the core of it rooted in the kingdom... Her reign shall be her test...
Looking around, she wondered where her sister was. She'd lost track of everyone in the crowd, except for her mother, who never moved. Somewhere, she thought she heard Glitch's unrestrained laugh. Too many bodies to wander through. Her feet ached, and she wanted nothing more than to sit down. But, she'd learned on Farine's Night she wasn't to take any seat but for the one at her mother's side on the dais, and it was a very long walk to the top of the hall, through a gauntlet of strange men wanting to kiss her hand, of fawning nobles, and of polite but pointless conversations with their Central City society wives.
While she was debating her best option on how to make it to the dais, someone behind her cleared his throat, and said quite politely, “Excuse me, Your Highness.”
DG plastered her most charming court smile onto her face, and turned to be presented with yet another handsome young nobleman. With dark hair, glittering dark eyes, she could tell right away this one meant business. With his immediately comfortable smirk, she knew he was neither intimidated by her position or her magic. She'd run into a hundred like him already.
Maybe he had political ambitions. Perhaps his reasons were a little more personal. All she knew was that the look in his eye read very plainly, 'Hey baby, meet your knight in shining armor.'
As she offered her hand, she suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. What none of these poor fools realized was that she already had her knight, and that no well-dressed noble could ever compare. They all realized eventually, though; when she only smiled, but didn't laugh, when her eyes would skip away, when her attention would slip further and further from all their hard efforts to gain her heart. Eventually, it became clear to them all... the heart of the youngest Gale, the daughter of Locasta, descendant of Dorothy, already belonged to someone else.
“I don't believe we've met,” she said pleasantly, resisting yanking her hand back when his lips lingered too long on her skin.
“No, if you'll forgive me, but I've never had the pleasure,” he said with a smug smile as he released her hand. She pressed her lips together; the cocky bastard probably thought the pleasure was all hers. Another noble with an ego, just what she didn't need at the moment.
“What brings you out tonight?” she asked, trying to speed the whole process along. She hoped he would get the hint that she hadn't asked for his name.
He smiled most winningly, gesturing a hand towards the massive throng of people surrounding them. “Like my countrymen, I am here to celebrate the natal day of the most beautiful creature I've ever laid eyes on.”
DG frowned. She'd never heard anything so insincere in her life; she knew it was public opinion that she was not the prettiest of the Gale daughters. “Okay, smooth talker,” she said, a little impatiently, “you should move along. I'm going to save you the trouble and tell you straight out: it ain't happening. Please, enjoy the party and leave me alone.”
She turned away, but he caught her by the hand. “A little high and mighty for a second daughter, aren't you?”
Without answering, she looked down, studying his light grip on her wrist; then, peeked around. No one was watching, no one had noticed, and Hass seemed to have disappeared. She felt the slip of magic before she had the conscious thought of releasing it. A static charge, a white light surrounding her wrist like a bracelet, and then the nameless noble jumped back with a hiss, cradling his offended hand against his chest with the other. Later, when the night was over, she would learn there were repercussions to zapping the Mayor of Central City's handsy son, but in that moment, she didn't care.
She was done.
Stalking away, she pushed her way through the crowd of oblivious bodies. Done. Like Sarah fighting her way through an ocean of unfriendly masks, she threaded and twisted her way to the edge of the room. Someone made a grab for her arm, but she slipped free. Done. She bumped into someone, who then began to apologize profusely for being in her way. She just ignored it, pushed past, away. Done.
Near the east corner by the tall, emerald tinted windows, a hidden door in the gilded wall led to a dimly lit servants passage... somewhere in the intricate design, there was a release lever. Her fingers skimmed the wall, searching, but she came up with nothing. With a frustrated growl, she waved her hand, felt the warmth of Light, and the door burst open forcefully, as if she had pulled too hard. She stepped inside quickly, and walked down the hall, away from the people and the noise, letting the door swing shut behind her.
She was down the corridor and rounding the corner when she heard heavy footfalls echoing in the narrow passage behind her. Tutor, to scold her on her lack of diplomacy, or Ahamo, to drag her back to the celebration. Or perhaps Hass, not about to let her give him the slip.
I'm done, I am not going back in there, she thought to herself as she sped up. All she could think about was how easy it would be to sneak out the gate with so many people coming and going. All she could focus on was a little bit of stolen freedom.
A hand closed on her upper arm, a vice like grip. For what she swore would be the final time that night, she turned around, trying to yank her arm back. But instead of being faced with her teacher, or her father, she found herself glaring up at a very unimpressed-looking Wyatt Cain.
“Where are you goin'?” he asked, quite calmly. The light was too weak, she couldn't read his eyes. But his voice... she had nothing to fear. She never did.
All the fight went out of her. As she slumped against the wall, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart, his firm hold on her arm loosened, and his warm, heavy hand slid up her shoulder to rest comfortably on the back of her neck.
“Where the hell have you been?” she demanded, meeting his question with another, though there was no substantial threat behind her words.
“I got caught up at the Armory,” he said. She frowned at him, refusing to fall into him but wondering how she could stay mad at him when he'd only been doing his job. He'd taken two days leave during early May, but the most she'd seen of him was when he'd stepped into her self-defense lesson with Glitch to give her a sparring partner; the match had left her muscles aching and her entire body sexually frustrated. In a very Ambrosey voice, Glitch had declared them both bar brawlers with no rhythm. Wyatt had stolen a quick kiss after a formal dinner event at which they'd been seated separately, and then he'd been gone again, headed North.
Tonight, following Jeb's little tease a month before, she'd searched the crowds for her Tin Man's familiar, handsome face. Hours of scanning the room, of only half paying attention to conversations, to best wishes from hundreds of strangers as she'd watched for him. But slowly, slowly it had begun to sink in, that once again, Fate or some military obligation had intervened and it just wasn't going to happen. Why she'd let herself dare to hope at all...
They stood in silence, too many thoughts jumbled between them for either to speak a real word. Footsteps coming towards them caused him to pull his hand away from her neck, but only a wine steward passed them, managing a bow as he passed them with a tray of stemmed glasses.
“I want to talk to you,” he said in a low voice, leaning in towards her. His breath caressed the curve of her shoulder and neck, and she fought to keep her head from falling back.
“Hass is going to notice I'm gone,” she said, chewing on her lip. She looked up at him, and then down his body. He'd come straight from the Armory, wearing a vest, a white shirt, and clean, tan pants. If he'd been wearing a jacket, someone at the entrance would have nabbed it. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, he looked comfortable, and she suddenly felt overdressed, watching the glass beads sewn onto her dress shimmer in the weak light.
“I sent Hass home when I got here,” Cain told her. “Been watchin' you for about fifteen minutes when you hightailed it out of the ballroom.”
She caught his eyes. “Did you see why I hightailed it?”
He smirked. “Gentleman is bein' escorted out as we speak.”
She smiled, and relented. She stepped towards him, almost falling against his chest in her sudden desire to be close to him. He smelled so familiar, so good. The sound of his heart beating under her ear was like music; good God, she wasn't normally sappy, but she'd missed him too, too much. But it wasn't completely right. Though his arms had settled around her waist, his embrace was stiff.
“Darlin', this isn't really the place,” he said slowly. “I'd like it if we could talk in private.”
Her eyebrows perked, and she repressed a manic grin. Her heart absolutely leaped in a very strange, almost painful away. “Um,” she said, swallowing down a sudden lump in her throat, “I don't know about private, but I can probably do secluded. Does that sound okay?”
Smiling, he kissed her forehead. “Sounds fine.”
Ten minutes later, she was tucking them into the same alcove Raw had led her to months before - had he really been gone that long? - and drawing the draperies at the archway closed; the same matching carved benches, the same potted tree boasting its little glass ornaments. Small circular lights were set into the dirt underneath the tree, spotlighting it, casting the rest of the tiny room in a pale, ghostly light.
“There,” she said, as she turned around to face him. “Now we've got until Mother realizes I'm gone and releases the hounds.”
Cain looked at her, amused, for a moment. She watched him in return, expectantly waiting for him to speak. When she didn't move, he sighed. “Will you come over here so I can say 'hello' properly?”
With a laugh, she crossed the four paces between them, and threw herself upon him. Propriety be damned; if her dress had allowed it, she would have jumped on him. She just wanted to have him hold her. He didn't disappoint; he pulled her possessively tight, one arm encircling her waist, the other pressed up her spine, his big hand returned to its home at the base of her neck. Letting go of his restraint for the first time since he'd last left her, he clung to her as she clung to him.
In his arms, she shook, and it shamed her. Unsure of why, whether relief, or the encounter in the ballroom, or just her body trying to relax.
He pulled away, studied her face, looking for the changes that always seemed to sneak up on him. She looked the same, the curve of her cheek and the line of her temple and her lips. Her lips; he hadn't kissed her since catching her, but he couldn't, not yet.
DG had also noticed this fact. She leaned her head back every so slightly, smiling at him and focusing her big blues on him, doing what she knew tempted him, what played games with his resolve. “So, why did you want to see me in private?” she asked, so innocently, and yet so suggestively. She let her voice lower to that dangerous, sultry octave, that note a touch higher than a whispered purr.
“DG,” he said slowly, but then his gaze fell immediately away, and she could see something was bothering him, that in the heat of battle he was rethinking his plan of attack. She waited patiently; she'd learned that jumping on him, saying too much would cause him to stiffen, retreat. She'd be back to square one, a detached, brooding Tin Man, all coldness and discomfort. She pushed her lip out, the slightest hint of a pout, but it got his attention, got him speaking again. “Darlin',” he said, his words measured, as he eyed her bottom lip, “I've been havin' a lot of rough nights on the road. I've been missin' you too much.”
She brightened. That wasn't so bad. “I miss you, too,” she told him quickly, “but I don't see why -” She stopped talking when his mouth set in a firm line, and his eyes bore hard down upon her. Her teeth found her lip, sunk in, stifling the words, the questions, the whimper that threatened at his sudden seriousness.
“I don't know how I'm gonna come back to the city, and keep on with this sneakin' around,” he told her. “I'm gonna need to have you in my bed every night,” he said, his voice lowering to a rumble that shook through her. Her breath seemed caught, the intensity radiating off him somehow negating her need to breathe.
What are you saying, she thought, knowing what he needed now was her silence; he sighed, shook his head, closed his eyes, and she wondered if she'd accidentally sent the thought out to him. His hand fell from her neck, and he was pulling back. Her heart was beginning to pound too loud; she wondered if he could hear that, too.
He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a ring.
Oh, sweet Jesus.
Wyatt held the tiny piece of jewelry between them, between two fingers, as if just showing her. Her eyes fixed onto it, mesmerized, but then he cleared his throat, and he caught her eyes, and for the life of her, she couldn't pull herself away from that deep blue stare.
“Wear this,” he said softly, his voice as close to pleading as she'd ever heard it. “Marry me.”
She offered him her hand, as she had so many times that night to so many people, but this time was different, this time the world outside their secluded hideaway had stopped moving for a bare second so that his fingers could take hers, slide the little silver ring onto her finger, its single clear sapphire set in a mount shaped like a crown, flanked by two small diamonds. It caught the dim light, dazzled her as she looked at it, sitting on her finger, so at home.
“I heard its tradition to give a Gale daughter an emerald,” he said, with a hint of a laugh in his voice, “but I figured you wouldn't want to be lookin' at another emerald.”
Her lips curled into a smirk, as the silver in the ring winked at her. “So you thought I was going to say 'yes'?”
Cain shrugged, his voice non-committal. “Hoped.”
“Well,” she said slowly, as she slid her hands up his chest, winding her arms around his neck. He looked down at her as she pushed up on tiptoes. “I do say 'yes'. I'll marry you.”
If he grinned, it was only a flash, as he leaned in to claim her mouth, finally, sweetly. His tongue begged entrance past her lips, to meet with her tongue; a long kiss that made her moan, as both his hands went into her hair, tangling in it as he held her head in place, tipping it occasionally to find a better angle. It was a kiss that lasted forever, or almost; she'd never better understood the expression 'tall drink of water', as she'd never felt so thirsty for someone.
When he broke the kiss, it was to lower his head and place the warm caresses of his lips onto her neck, curving downwards to her shoulder. Her head fell to the side and she caught sight of the potted tree, its branches laden heavy with glass ornaments, all catching the spotlights, glistening like diamonds. Wyatt's teeth nipped her neck, and in that instant, every glass ornament on the tree changed, however inexplicably, momentarily casting a green light that came from nowhere. Bright flashes of green distracted her, but were gone in the next instant, as his lips soothed the offended skin.
She shook her head, closing her eyes. When she opened them again, the green was gone, everything was normal... no, not so, Cain was pulling away from her, thinking she was shaking her head at him.
“Everything okay?”
She turned on a weak smile, casting one last short glance at the tree before looking up at him again. “Yeah, everything is fine.”
Though she didn't say anything outright, everyone eventually noticed the ring. Hass's falcon eye caught the shimmer the moment he'd seen her again, the morning after the ball. Jeb, of course, had known, had probably known since the day he'd come to see her in the garden and had taunted her about her birthday. Azkadellia was next, and gave her sister a rare laugh as they'd embraced. Glitch had done a double take, had squealed in a very undignified matter, and nearly cracked her ribs grabbing her for a hug. Eventually, she'd broken down and shown her parents, as her mother's eyes always seemed to skim hazily over her, not really seeing; her father said nothing at all, and she couldn't pretend it didn't hurt.
More days ticked away busily. Spring melted slowly into summer, the only true change of season shown in the trees of the rooftop arboretum, as the blossoms fell and green leaves sprouted. Claustrophobia was beginning to set into DG, she could feel it settling in her bones, faintly at first but becoming more and more invasive as her birthday passed and she began to miss the world outside the city walls. She'd grown up on a prairie, after all, with so much open space that there had always been room to stretch, run, breathe.
The city was suffocating her, and she seemed to be the only one bothered or affected at all... until one night she came across Jeb standing on the rooftop viewing deck, watching the lake and the mountains beyond. It was then she realized she wasn't the only one who missed the freedom beyond Alta Torretta.
She tried to distract herself. With lessons and the occasional appearance on Azkadellia's behalf, with her sketchpad when she found a free moment, and with her newfound habit of twisting the silver and sapphire band, staring wistfully into space, remembering the feel of his arms around her... interrupted shortly after the burst of green light, she'd ached for him alone in her bed that night. A month after her birthday now, June nearly halfway through, and she hadn't heard from him since.
So she studied. Threw herself into her lessons. Prepared herself for what was to come, and waited for a sign.
DG was staring at herself hard in the mirror, so engrossed in her reflection that she didn't notice the conspicuous absence of the green light in the glass.
“I don't look any different,” she said, sounding disappointed. She turned her head from side to side, scrutinizing the angles of her face. Behind her, she could hear Tutor chuckling with amusement.
“Trust me, DG. You look a great deal different; your hair is red, your skin paler. Your eyes are brown,” he said, shaking his head. “You've grasped this magic phenomenally fast. You should be pleased.”
“I look like me,” she said firmly. Her eyes were definitely blue.
Tutor continued to wag his head back and forth, a little sad at her reaction. “The mirror is reflecting the truth to you because you are the one that cast the spell. I see a red head in the mirror. You might find this hard to believe, DG, but you look like a completely different person. Back me up on this, Corporal,” Tutor said, exasperated as she continued to look at him skeptically.
“You look like a completely different person,” Jeremy Hass repeated obediently, without looking up from his chair by the window, where he sat skimming through one of her history books.
“He's not even looking,” DG pointed out.
Hass looked up from the book then, studying her as hard as she'd studied herself. “Your nose is kind of big,” he said appraisingly, before going back to his reading.
Tutor chuckled at DG's offended look. “With a glamour firmly in place, you'll be able to go wherever you want, and be just another face in the crowd. A huge advantage, Princess! You won't stand out at all... unless the illusion you create is made to stand out If I might say so,” he said, a touch critically, “your hair is a rather distracting shade. Mr. Cain is right to wear a hat.”
She frowned. Even pleased with her, he had to find something wrong with what she'd done. She knew the old teacher had to be hard on her, but his barbs stung anyway.
“How will I know if it worked, if I can't see it myself to make sure?” she asked him, thinking it a very logical question, but he only smiled at her indulgently.
“You felt it, didn't you? Felt that tingle? If you're concentrating properly, you'll know that everything is as you want it,” he told her patiently, ever the tutor. “Just the same as the spinning doll. Show me how the doll spins. Show me a face to hide behind.” She showed him her brightest princess smile. He sighed. “Very funny, DG.”
“Now,” he continued, “this magic isn't meant to hold up for long. For example, all day, and all night. If you attempt to leave it in place too long, it might start to hurt, or perhaps give you a headache.”
“Oh, yay,” she said half-heartedly, and listened to Tutor as he explained the spell couldn't be held while she slept. To be wary of where she let her guard down to rest. The words hidden between the ones spoken, that these were things to prepare her for her journey, to protect herself, to help protect those that went with her.
Growing suddenly sad, losing the focus she needed to keep the new magic in place, she felt the illusion drop. Tutor frowned at her. The rule, she kept the spell up for as long as possible. She might have mastered it quickly, but she'd failed in the long run.
“I think that's enough for today,” Tutor said, and there was no satisfaction in his voice to make her feel she'd done well. She felt adequate, the same as the day before. As she bid her teacher goodbye, and watched him leave her alone in her sitting room with her shadow, she wondered if she'd ever do it completely right. The door closed, the sound having a certain touch of finality that made her shiver.
DG looked at herself in the mirror, shutting herself off from the sitting room, the palace, the entirety of the O.Z; she turned her attention back to her lesson, determined to practice, determined to do better. She studied her reflection; she looked no different than five minutes ago, when she'd been no different than five minutes before that. She was frowning at herself, unhappy, when her reflection shifted, sliding out of focus; when the image sharpened with amazing clarity, she took a step back, startled. The face in the mirror had changed.
The young woman in the mirror looked at her thoughtfully, her face sad. She was so pretty, so much like DG that it was hard to establish the differences, but they were there; this girl was, very plainly, someone else. Younger. While she'd stepped back, the girl stayed put, head and shoulders in the mirror; amazed, DG realized that her list of Strange Occurrences had just been topped. Again.
Hass called out from across the room. “What's wrong?” He'd noticed. Of course he'd noticed. He'd been taught by the very best.
The girl winked, mouthed words that she thought may have been 'Follow your heart,' and shifted again. A subtle change, less dramatic a second time, but DG was still left staring at herself, now completely herself, and very confused.
In all honesty, what could she say? She put a hand over her eyes and took a deep breath; experience told her that sometimes it took a minute to process these kind of mental information. Finally, after a long moment, and more than a few deep breaths, she said “I'm seeing things.”
“What kind of things?” Hass asked carefully.
“I don't know,” she said, unsure of where to begin, with lights or faces or to just shut up all together. “And I'm not sure who would.”
The pub into which the old man entered was dark and rundown. The only windows faced the alley, so dirty and covered in grime that no light was able to permeate the glass. At the very early hour, when only the weakest rays of gray illumination were beginning to cut through the night, this close to the Wall, the district was mostly quiet. The bar was empty, save for a few drunken patrons who'd passed out at their respective tables. The odd bump or laugh could be heard from upstairs.
He spotted the one he'd come to see, situated at a small table in the darkest corner. Walking slowly across the bar, a creep to his step that was more habit than anything, he sat down across from the stranger.
“Good to see you, Jowan,” the stranger at the table said.
“You're the new scout, then, eh?” Jowan said with a gravelly chuckle.
“I thought a change of occupation was in order, and the pay is beyond compare. Well, not really. I've had better. But I'm not complaining.”
Of course you're not, Jowan thought as he looked the new scout up and down. “Well,” Jowan said, sweeping his gaze carefully around the dark tavern now, “I've seen your face around, I can surely say that.” Not a single soul paid them any mind, and the barkeep had been walking up the creaky set of stairs when he'd entered the bar, and had yet to return. They were completely alone; to anyone asking later, they weren't there at all.
It was the soldier's turn to laugh. “That, I'm almost certain, is truth.”
Jowan shook his head slowly. “You're a brave soul.”
“I toe a dangerous line. Sneaking into the city is easy enough, its getting back out thats the fun part.”
The foolhardiness of youth, Jowan knew it too well. Though he'd lived a perilous existence in his younger years, he had a sneaking suspicion that nothing he'd ever done or encountered would come close to the soldier across from him. It didn't worry him as much as it intrigued him, but he'd never been the friendly type, and the stranger didn't look like he was about to start talking.
Jowan was the one supplying the information.
“He wants to know what news.” The soldier was straightforward in his desire; the longer the lingered, the greater the chance of being spotted, and neither were in a position to want to be seen with the other.
The old man leaned back in his chair and considered his comrade. What news... what news out of everything he'd learned would be of use to their mutual master?
“The people of the city are slowly accepting the Sorceress,” Jowan said slowly. “Her new policies on leniency and rehabilitation for criminals of the Possession are surprisingly popular. There's a good chance no fool with a gun will try to assassinate her upon her coronation.”
The soldier smirked. “She falls from power only to be risen again, legitimately.”
“She is not popular, but she is not hated, and everyone knows its huge progress,” Jowan said, leaning forward now to put his elbows down on the table. “Under the guidance of her mother and the headcase advisor, there is no doubt Azkadellia will be another strong Gale queen.”
Quiet and thoughtful, the soldier nodded to the old man to continue, without so much as a word.
“The Queen and Consort parade the Sorceress front and center,” Jowan said. “At all times, she is involved in all aspects of the kingdom. Under heavy guard, she visits outlaying communities. Visits the sick, the destitute. With every good deed of the royal family, they heal the country.”
“Has there been any talk of the Emerald?” the soldier wanted to know.
“No,” Jowan said. “None. Not that has reached my ears, at any rate. And as you know, I am but an old gardener.” The man's voice weakened, and both companions chuckled in the shadows. A loud thud from a room upstairs brought their attention to the activity that still went on around - or above - them, even with the night almost breaking into dawn.
“And the younger Gale?”
“Ah,” said Jowan with a smile of fondness. “Young Princess DG. The girl is a delight.”
“Stick to what's important, Old Man,” the soldier hissed low, the hint of threat in his voice all too evident.
Jowan cleared his throat, surprised at his indiscretion. “Compared to her sister, no one outside the palace sees the younger princess much at all. They keep her busy in the palace with her lessons, trying to prepare her for this life.” He leaned a little closer, across the table, to his co-conspirator. “She does very poorly, but it is not without effort. She seems to cause scandal wherever she goes, no matter how hard she tries to walk the line of her sister. Though her parents have made no formal announcement, she wears an engagement ring on her finger.”
The soldier's eyebrows perked in interest. “A foreign prince?”
Jowan snorted with laughter. “If one is to listen to court gossip, which one in my position is wont to do, its the Tin Man who was her companion during the Eclipse.”
“Of course it is.” The words were cold, clipped.
“Do I detect a hint of jealousy, sir?”
The soldier's glare turned steely, dangerous. “Remember your place, Old Man. I've had my share of a Gale daughter, and they are very overrated. Just another beautiful woman, and women are nothing but misery to any man.”
“I'm sure that keeps you comforted in your bed at night,” Jowan said derisively.
“Where do you get your information?” the soldier asked.
Jowan shrugged. “The same way anyone looking for this type of delicate information would. I watch. I listen. I encourage the gossip and wheedle through it. Not everything the chamber-maids say is idle.”
The soldier nodded his head once, a slight jerk of his chin. “That will do.” He stood, pushing away from the table as he did so. “I'll expect another report soon. I'll be in contact.”
Jowan nodded, saying nothing. Of course, he'd be in contact. Though the new scout had been a surprise, he had to admit as he watched the man walk out of the tavern and into the city night, that the timing of the contact had not been. The Commander was strictly meticulous, as required of his position and a natural trait in his people.
He sighed as he stood, stretching out his old bones before beginning the long, quiet walk back to the palace, and his warm, comfortable bed. The new soldier had been unafraid to ask about the Emerald. The scout before hadn't even had the courage to form the word on his lips: Emerald. The source of the Commander's fury. Those that served him during this period of waiting, the old man did not envy one bit.
The last scout had let it slip that the youngest Gale had promised the militant outlander the Emerald, the most important treasure of her line. How she planned on doing that, Jowan had wondered absently more than once, was beyond him. It was this fact he mused as he left the pub and took to the shadows, and before a minute had passed, the alley was quiet, empty, and still.
Author's Note: Wow, these chapters are getting ridiculously long. You're not complaining! Leave me a comment to tell me how much you aren't complaining. *wink*
Table Of Contents:
1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10
11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20
21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30
31 - 32 - 33 - 34 - 35 - 36 - 37 - 38 - 39 - 40
41 - 42 - 43 - 44 - 45 - 46 - 47 - 48
Author: Rissy James
Characters: DG, Cain, Azkadellia, Jeb, Glitch, Raw, Tutor, and some old & new OCs (updated 02.24.09)
Pairing: Established Cain/DG; established Jeb/Az
Rating: M
Summary: Sequel to " Of Light". A year after returning to the Zone, DG sets out to complete the task given to her by the Gale. Soon, she must learn that there is always more to everything than first meets the eye. (updated 02.24.09)
Chapter Four
Late Spring
DG was tired of being an excuse. She was tired of being a distraction. She was tired of having her voice ignored. No... maybe she was just plain tired.
She was alone in a sea of faces. At the far end of the ballroom, she could make out her mother, sitting in her place on the dais, a strange, guiding force. Under this woman's benevolence and protection, this daughter of an exalted line, these people could forget that among them dwelt the Fallen, the vessel through which so much evil flowed.
DG watched her mother, the beacon at the top of the hall. The woman's inexhaustible dedication to rebuilding the Zone stretched so far, DG was uncertain if she properly understood the scope of it. Her mother, through her generosity, through her kindness, through her good name, was doing everything in her considerable power to beg forgiveness for herself, for her daughter, and for her line.
For hadn't the Queen forfeited her Light, her power, to save a mere child? Hadn't she left her country defenseless?
How far back the trail of guilt led, DG wasn't sure she even wanted to know. Probably in some Gods-forsaken corner of the O.Z., a little old nursemaid sat in eternal guilt for having let two little princesses out of her sight on that sunny day in Finaqua.
Looking at her mother now, she wondered if it would be possible for her sister to take the throne in August. If Azkadellia could be the ruler that her mother was, maybe the people would accept her. Hadn't she proven herself during that final battle with the Witch? She'd helped to destroy what had imprisoned her for fifteen annuals. DG hadn't killed the Witch by herself, after all.
As was happening more and more lately, as the anniversary of the Eclipse approach, DG heard the words of the Gale, crossing distances, perhaps just a memory, perhaps something more tangible.
Azkadellia's test comes, the core of it rooted in the kingdom... Her reign shall be her test...
Looking around, she wondered where her sister was. She'd lost track of everyone in the crowd, except for her mother, who never moved. Somewhere, she thought she heard Glitch's unrestrained laugh. Too many bodies to wander through. Her feet ached, and she wanted nothing more than to sit down. But, she'd learned on Farine's Night she wasn't to take any seat but for the one at her mother's side on the dais, and it was a very long walk to the top of the hall, through a gauntlet of strange men wanting to kiss her hand, of fawning nobles, and of polite but pointless conversations with their Central City society wives.
While she was debating her best option on how to make it to the dais, someone behind her cleared his throat, and said quite politely, “Excuse me, Your Highness.”
DG plastered her most charming court smile onto her face, and turned to be presented with yet another handsome young nobleman. With dark hair, glittering dark eyes, she could tell right away this one meant business. With his immediately comfortable smirk, she knew he was neither intimidated by her position or her magic. She'd run into a hundred like him already.
Maybe he had political ambitions. Perhaps his reasons were a little more personal. All she knew was that the look in his eye read very plainly, 'Hey baby, meet your knight in shining armor.'
As she offered her hand, she suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. What none of these poor fools realized was that she already had her knight, and that no well-dressed noble could ever compare. They all realized eventually, though; when she only smiled, but didn't laugh, when her eyes would skip away, when her attention would slip further and further from all their hard efforts to gain her heart. Eventually, it became clear to them all... the heart of the youngest Gale, the daughter of Locasta, descendant of Dorothy, already belonged to someone else.
“I don't believe we've met,” she said pleasantly, resisting yanking her hand back when his lips lingered too long on her skin.
“No, if you'll forgive me, but I've never had the pleasure,” he said with a smug smile as he released her hand. She pressed her lips together; the cocky bastard probably thought the pleasure was all hers. Another noble with an ego, just what she didn't need at the moment.
“What brings you out tonight?” she asked, trying to speed the whole process along. She hoped he would get the hint that she hadn't asked for his name.
He smiled most winningly, gesturing a hand towards the massive throng of people surrounding them. “Like my countrymen, I am here to celebrate the natal day of the most beautiful creature I've ever laid eyes on.”
DG frowned. She'd never heard anything so insincere in her life; she knew it was public opinion that she was not the prettiest of the Gale daughters. “Okay, smooth talker,” she said, a little impatiently, “you should move along. I'm going to save you the trouble and tell you straight out: it ain't happening. Please, enjoy the party and leave me alone.”
She turned away, but he caught her by the hand. “A little high and mighty for a second daughter, aren't you?”
Without answering, she looked down, studying his light grip on her wrist; then, peeked around. No one was watching, no one had noticed, and Hass seemed to have disappeared. She felt the slip of magic before she had the conscious thought of releasing it. A static charge, a white light surrounding her wrist like a bracelet, and then the nameless noble jumped back with a hiss, cradling his offended hand against his chest with the other. Later, when the night was over, she would learn there were repercussions to zapping the Mayor of Central City's handsy son, but in that moment, she didn't care.
She was done.
Stalking away, she pushed her way through the crowd of oblivious bodies. Done. Like Sarah fighting her way through an ocean of unfriendly masks, she threaded and twisted her way to the edge of the room. Someone made a grab for her arm, but she slipped free. Done. She bumped into someone, who then began to apologize profusely for being in her way. She just ignored it, pushed past, away. Done.
Near the east corner by the tall, emerald tinted windows, a hidden door in the gilded wall led to a dimly lit servants passage... somewhere in the intricate design, there was a release lever. Her fingers skimmed the wall, searching, but she came up with nothing. With a frustrated growl, she waved her hand, felt the warmth of Light, and the door burst open forcefully, as if she had pulled too hard. She stepped inside quickly, and walked down the hall, away from the people and the noise, letting the door swing shut behind her.
She was down the corridor and rounding the corner when she heard heavy footfalls echoing in the narrow passage behind her. Tutor, to scold her on her lack of diplomacy, or Ahamo, to drag her back to the celebration. Or perhaps Hass, not about to let her give him the slip.
I'm done, I am not going back in there, she thought to herself as she sped up. All she could think about was how easy it would be to sneak out the gate with so many people coming and going. All she could focus on was a little bit of stolen freedom.
A hand closed on her upper arm, a vice like grip. For what she swore would be the final time that night, she turned around, trying to yank her arm back. But instead of being faced with her teacher, or her father, she found herself glaring up at a very unimpressed-looking Wyatt Cain.
“Where are you goin'?” he asked, quite calmly. The light was too weak, she couldn't read his eyes. But his voice... she had nothing to fear. She never did.
All the fight went out of her. As she slumped against the wall, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart, his firm hold on her arm loosened, and his warm, heavy hand slid up her shoulder to rest comfortably on the back of her neck.
“Where the hell have you been?” she demanded, meeting his question with another, though there was no substantial threat behind her words.
“I got caught up at the Armory,” he said. She frowned at him, refusing to fall into him but wondering how she could stay mad at him when he'd only been doing his job. He'd taken two days leave during early May, but the most she'd seen of him was when he'd stepped into her self-defense lesson with Glitch to give her a sparring partner; the match had left her muscles aching and her entire body sexually frustrated. In a very Ambrosey voice, Glitch had declared them both bar brawlers with no rhythm. Wyatt had stolen a quick kiss after a formal dinner event at which they'd been seated separately, and then he'd been gone again, headed North.
Tonight, following Jeb's little tease a month before, she'd searched the crowds for her Tin Man's familiar, handsome face. Hours of scanning the room, of only half paying attention to conversations, to best wishes from hundreds of strangers as she'd watched for him. But slowly, slowly it had begun to sink in, that once again, Fate or some military obligation had intervened and it just wasn't going to happen. Why she'd let herself dare to hope at all...
They stood in silence, too many thoughts jumbled between them for either to speak a real word. Footsteps coming towards them caused him to pull his hand away from her neck, but only a wine steward passed them, managing a bow as he passed them with a tray of stemmed glasses.
“I want to talk to you,” he said in a low voice, leaning in towards her. His breath caressed the curve of her shoulder and neck, and she fought to keep her head from falling back.
“Hass is going to notice I'm gone,” she said, chewing on her lip. She looked up at him, and then down his body. He'd come straight from the Armory, wearing a vest, a white shirt, and clean, tan pants. If he'd been wearing a jacket, someone at the entrance would have nabbed it. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, he looked comfortable, and she suddenly felt overdressed, watching the glass beads sewn onto her dress shimmer in the weak light.
“I sent Hass home when I got here,” Cain told her. “Been watchin' you for about fifteen minutes when you hightailed it out of the ballroom.”
She caught his eyes. “Did you see why I hightailed it?”
He smirked. “Gentleman is bein' escorted out as we speak.”
She smiled, and relented. She stepped towards him, almost falling against his chest in her sudden desire to be close to him. He smelled so familiar, so good. The sound of his heart beating under her ear was like music; good God, she wasn't normally sappy, but she'd missed him too, too much. But it wasn't completely right. Though his arms had settled around her waist, his embrace was stiff.
“Darlin', this isn't really the place,” he said slowly. “I'd like it if we could talk in private.”
Her eyebrows perked, and she repressed a manic grin. Her heart absolutely leaped in a very strange, almost painful away. “Um,” she said, swallowing down a sudden lump in her throat, “I don't know about private, but I can probably do secluded. Does that sound okay?”
Smiling, he kissed her forehead. “Sounds fine.”
Ten minutes later, she was tucking them into the same alcove Raw had led her to months before - had he really been gone that long? - and drawing the draperies at the archway closed; the same matching carved benches, the same potted tree boasting its little glass ornaments. Small circular lights were set into the dirt underneath the tree, spotlighting it, casting the rest of the tiny room in a pale, ghostly light.
“There,” she said, as she turned around to face him. “Now we've got until Mother realizes I'm gone and releases the hounds.”
Cain looked at her, amused, for a moment. She watched him in return, expectantly waiting for him to speak. When she didn't move, he sighed. “Will you come over here so I can say 'hello' properly?”
With a laugh, she crossed the four paces between them, and threw herself upon him. Propriety be damned; if her dress had allowed it, she would have jumped on him. She just wanted to have him hold her. He didn't disappoint; he pulled her possessively tight, one arm encircling her waist, the other pressed up her spine, his big hand returned to its home at the base of her neck. Letting go of his restraint for the first time since he'd last left her, he clung to her as she clung to him.
In his arms, she shook, and it shamed her. Unsure of why, whether relief, or the encounter in the ballroom, or just her body trying to relax.
He pulled away, studied her face, looking for the changes that always seemed to sneak up on him. She looked the same, the curve of her cheek and the line of her temple and her lips. Her lips; he hadn't kissed her since catching her, but he couldn't, not yet.
DG had also noticed this fact. She leaned her head back every so slightly, smiling at him and focusing her big blues on him, doing what she knew tempted him, what played games with his resolve. “So, why did you want to see me in private?” she asked, so innocently, and yet so suggestively. She let her voice lower to that dangerous, sultry octave, that note a touch higher than a whispered purr.
“DG,” he said slowly, but then his gaze fell immediately away, and she could see something was bothering him, that in the heat of battle he was rethinking his plan of attack. She waited patiently; she'd learned that jumping on him, saying too much would cause him to stiffen, retreat. She'd be back to square one, a detached, brooding Tin Man, all coldness and discomfort. She pushed her lip out, the slightest hint of a pout, but it got his attention, got him speaking again. “Darlin',” he said, his words measured, as he eyed her bottom lip, “I've been havin' a lot of rough nights on the road. I've been missin' you too much.”
She brightened. That wasn't so bad. “I miss you, too,” she told him quickly, “but I don't see why -” She stopped talking when his mouth set in a firm line, and his eyes bore hard down upon her. Her teeth found her lip, sunk in, stifling the words, the questions, the whimper that threatened at his sudden seriousness.
“I don't know how I'm gonna come back to the city, and keep on with this sneakin' around,” he told her. “I'm gonna need to have you in my bed every night,” he said, his voice lowering to a rumble that shook through her. Her breath seemed caught, the intensity radiating off him somehow negating her need to breathe.
What are you saying, she thought, knowing what he needed now was her silence; he sighed, shook his head, closed his eyes, and she wondered if she'd accidentally sent the thought out to him. His hand fell from her neck, and he was pulling back. Her heart was beginning to pound too loud; she wondered if he could hear that, too.
He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a ring.
Oh, sweet Jesus.
Wyatt held the tiny piece of jewelry between them, between two fingers, as if just showing her. Her eyes fixed onto it, mesmerized, but then he cleared his throat, and he caught her eyes, and for the life of her, she couldn't pull herself away from that deep blue stare.
“Wear this,” he said softly, his voice as close to pleading as she'd ever heard it. “Marry me.”
She offered him her hand, as she had so many times that night to so many people, but this time was different, this time the world outside their secluded hideaway had stopped moving for a bare second so that his fingers could take hers, slide the little silver ring onto her finger, its single clear sapphire set in a mount shaped like a crown, flanked by two small diamonds. It caught the dim light, dazzled her as she looked at it, sitting on her finger, so at home.
“I heard its tradition to give a Gale daughter an emerald,” he said, with a hint of a laugh in his voice, “but I figured you wouldn't want to be lookin' at another emerald.”
Her lips curled into a smirk, as the silver in the ring winked at her. “So you thought I was going to say 'yes'?”
Cain shrugged, his voice non-committal. “Hoped.”
“Well,” she said slowly, as she slid her hands up his chest, winding her arms around his neck. He looked down at her as she pushed up on tiptoes. “I do say 'yes'. I'll marry you.”
If he grinned, it was only a flash, as he leaned in to claim her mouth, finally, sweetly. His tongue begged entrance past her lips, to meet with her tongue; a long kiss that made her moan, as both his hands went into her hair, tangling in it as he held her head in place, tipping it occasionally to find a better angle. It was a kiss that lasted forever, or almost; she'd never better understood the expression 'tall drink of water', as she'd never felt so thirsty for someone.
When he broke the kiss, it was to lower his head and place the warm caresses of his lips onto her neck, curving downwards to her shoulder. Her head fell to the side and she caught sight of the potted tree, its branches laden heavy with glass ornaments, all catching the spotlights, glistening like diamonds. Wyatt's teeth nipped her neck, and in that instant, every glass ornament on the tree changed, however inexplicably, momentarily casting a green light that came from nowhere. Bright flashes of green distracted her, but were gone in the next instant, as his lips soothed the offended skin.
She shook her head, closing her eyes. When she opened them again, the green was gone, everything was normal... no, not so, Cain was pulling away from her, thinking she was shaking her head at him.
“Everything okay?”
She turned on a weak smile, casting one last short glance at the tree before looking up at him again. “Yeah, everything is fine.”
Though she didn't say anything outright, everyone eventually noticed the ring. Hass's falcon eye caught the shimmer the moment he'd seen her again, the morning after the ball. Jeb, of course, had known, had probably known since the day he'd come to see her in the garden and had taunted her about her birthday. Azkadellia was next, and gave her sister a rare laugh as they'd embraced. Glitch had done a double take, had squealed in a very undignified matter, and nearly cracked her ribs grabbing her for a hug. Eventually, she'd broken down and shown her parents, as her mother's eyes always seemed to skim hazily over her, not really seeing; her father said nothing at all, and she couldn't pretend it didn't hurt.
More days ticked away busily. Spring melted slowly into summer, the only true change of season shown in the trees of the rooftop arboretum, as the blossoms fell and green leaves sprouted. Claustrophobia was beginning to set into DG, she could feel it settling in her bones, faintly at first but becoming more and more invasive as her birthday passed and she began to miss the world outside the city walls. She'd grown up on a prairie, after all, with so much open space that there had always been room to stretch, run, breathe.
The city was suffocating her, and she seemed to be the only one bothered or affected at all... until one night she came across Jeb standing on the rooftop viewing deck, watching the lake and the mountains beyond. It was then she realized she wasn't the only one who missed the freedom beyond Alta Torretta.
She tried to distract herself. With lessons and the occasional appearance on Azkadellia's behalf, with her sketchpad when she found a free moment, and with her newfound habit of twisting the silver and sapphire band, staring wistfully into space, remembering the feel of his arms around her... interrupted shortly after the burst of green light, she'd ached for him alone in her bed that night. A month after her birthday now, June nearly halfway through, and she hadn't heard from him since.
So she studied. Threw herself into her lessons. Prepared herself for what was to come, and waited for a sign.
DG was staring at herself hard in the mirror, so engrossed in her reflection that she didn't notice the conspicuous absence of the green light in the glass.
“I don't look any different,” she said, sounding disappointed. She turned her head from side to side, scrutinizing the angles of her face. Behind her, she could hear Tutor chuckling with amusement.
“Trust me, DG. You look a great deal different; your hair is red, your skin paler. Your eyes are brown,” he said, shaking his head. “You've grasped this magic phenomenally fast. You should be pleased.”
“I look like me,” she said firmly. Her eyes were definitely blue.
Tutor continued to wag his head back and forth, a little sad at her reaction. “The mirror is reflecting the truth to you because you are the one that cast the spell. I see a red head in the mirror. You might find this hard to believe, DG, but you look like a completely different person. Back me up on this, Corporal,” Tutor said, exasperated as she continued to look at him skeptically.
“You look like a completely different person,” Jeremy Hass repeated obediently, without looking up from his chair by the window, where he sat skimming through one of her history books.
“He's not even looking,” DG pointed out.
Hass looked up from the book then, studying her as hard as she'd studied herself. “Your nose is kind of big,” he said appraisingly, before going back to his reading.
Tutor chuckled at DG's offended look. “With a glamour firmly in place, you'll be able to go wherever you want, and be just another face in the crowd. A huge advantage, Princess! You won't stand out at all... unless the illusion you create is made to stand out If I might say so,” he said, a touch critically, “your hair is a rather distracting shade. Mr. Cain is right to wear a hat.”
She frowned. Even pleased with her, he had to find something wrong with what she'd done. She knew the old teacher had to be hard on her, but his barbs stung anyway.
“How will I know if it worked, if I can't see it myself to make sure?” she asked him, thinking it a very logical question, but he only smiled at her indulgently.
“You felt it, didn't you? Felt that tingle? If you're concentrating properly, you'll know that everything is as you want it,” he told her patiently, ever the tutor. “Just the same as the spinning doll. Show me how the doll spins. Show me a face to hide behind.” She showed him her brightest princess smile. He sighed. “Very funny, DG.”
“Now,” he continued, “this magic isn't meant to hold up for long. For example, all day, and all night. If you attempt to leave it in place too long, it might start to hurt, or perhaps give you a headache.”
“Oh, yay,” she said half-heartedly, and listened to Tutor as he explained the spell couldn't be held while she slept. To be wary of where she let her guard down to rest. The words hidden between the ones spoken, that these were things to prepare her for her journey, to protect herself, to help protect those that went with her.
Growing suddenly sad, losing the focus she needed to keep the new magic in place, she felt the illusion drop. Tutor frowned at her. The rule, she kept the spell up for as long as possible. She might have mastered it quickly, but she'd failed in the long run.
“I think that's enough for today,” Tutor said, and there was no satisfaction in his voice to make her feel she'd done well. She felt adequate, the same as the day before. As she bid her teacher goodbye, and watched him leave her alone in her sitting room with her shadow, she wondered if she'd ever do it completely right. The door closed, the sound having a certain touch of finality that made her shiver.
DG looked at herself in the mirror, shutting herself off from the sitting room, the palace, the entirety of the O.Z; she turned her attention back to her lesson, determined to practice, determined to do better. She studied her reflection; she looked no different than five minutes ago, when she'd been no different than five minutes before that. She was frowning at herself, unhappy, when her reflection shifted, sliding out of focus; when the image sharpened with amazing clarity, she took a step back, startled. The face in the mirror had changed.
The young woman in the mirror looked at her thoughtfully, her face sad. She was so pretty, so much like DG that it was hard to establish the differences, but they were there; this girl was, very plainly, someone else. Younger. While she'd stepped back, the girl stayed put, head and shoulders in the mirror; amazed, DG realized that her list of Strange Occurrences had just been topped. Again.
Hass called out from across the room. “What's wrong?” He'd noticed. Of course he'd noticed. He'd been taught by the very best.
The girl winked, mouthed words that she thought may have been 'Follow your heart,' and shifted again. A subtle change, less dramatic a second time, but DG was still left staring at herself, now completely herself, and very confused.
In all honesty, what could she say? She put a hand over her eyes and took a deep breath; experience told her that sometimes it took a minute to process these kind of mental information. Finally, after a long moment, and more than a few deep breaths, she said “I'm seeing things.”
“What kind of things?” Hass asked carefully.
“I don't know,” she said, unsure of where to begin, with lights or faces or to just shut up all together. “And I'm not sure who would.”
The pub into which the old man entered was dark and rundown. The only windows faced the alley, so dirty and covered in grime that no light was able to permeate the glass. At the very early hour, when only the weakest rays of gray illumination were beginning to cut through the night, this close to the Wall, the district was mostly quiet. The bar was empty, save for a few drunken patrons who'd passed out at their respective tables. The odd bump or laugh could be heard from upstairs.
He spotted the one he'd come to see, situated at a small table in the darkest corner. Walking slowly across the bar, a creep to his step that was more habit than anything, he sat down across from the stranger.
“Good to see you, Jowan,” the stranger at the table said.
“You're the new scout, then, eh?” Jowan said with a gravelly chuckle.
“I thought a change of occupation was in order, and the pay is beyond compare. Well, not really. I've had better. But I'm not complaining.”
Of course you're not, Jowan thought as he looked the new scout up and down. “Well,” Jowan said, sweeping his gaze carefully around the dark tavern now, “I've seen your face around, I can surely say that.” Not a single soul paid them any mind, and the barkeep had been walking up the creaky set of stairs when he'd entered the bar, and had yet to return. They were completely alone; to anyone asking later, they weren't there at all.
It was the soldier's turn to laugh. “That, I'm almost certain, is truth.”
Jowan shook his head slowly. “You're a brave soul.”
“I toe a dangerous line. Sneaking into the city is easy enough, its getting back out thats the fun part.”
The foolhardiness of youth, Jowan knew it too well. Though he'd lived a perilous existence in his younger years, he had a sneaking suspicion that nothing he'd ever done or encountered would come close to the soldier across from him. It didn't worry him as much as it intrigued him, but he'd never been the friendly type, and the stranger didn't look like he was about to start talking.
Jowan was the one supplying the information.
“He wants to know what news.” The soldier was straightforward in his desire; the longer the lingered, the greater the chance of being spotted, and neither were in a position to want to be seen with the other.
The old man leaned back in his chair and considered his comrade. What news... what news out of everything he'd learned would be of use to their mutual master?
“The people of the city are slowly accepting the Sorceress,” Jowan said slowly. “Her new policies on leniency and rehabilitation for criminals of the Possession are surprisingly popular. There's a good chance no fool with a gun will try to assassinate her upon her coronation.”
The soldier smirked. “She falls from power only to be risen again, legitimately.”
“She is not popular, but she is not hated, and everyone knows its huge progress,” Jowan said, leaning forward now to put his elbows down on the table. “Under the guidance of her mother and the headcase advisor, there is no doubt Azkadellia will be another strong Gale queen.”
Quiet and thoughtful, the soldier nodded to the old man to continue, without so much as a word.
“The Queen and Consort parade the Sorceress front and center,” Jowan said. “At all times, she is involved in all aspects of the kingdom. Under heavy guard, she visits outlaying communities. Visits the sick, the destitute. With every good deed of the royal family, they heal the country.”
“Has there been any talk of the Emerald?” the soldier wanted to know.
“No,” Jowan said. “None. Not that has reached my ears, at any rate. And as you know, I am but an old gardener.” The man's voice weakened, and both companions chuckled in the shadows. A loud thud from a room upstairs brought their attention to the activity that still went on around - or above - them, even with the night almost breaking into dawn.
“And the younger Gale?”
“Ah,” said Jowan with a smile of fondness. “Young Princess DG. The girl is a delight.”
“Stick to what's important, Old Man,” the soldier hissed low, the hint of threat in his voice all too evident.
Jowan cleared his throat, surprised at his indiscretion. “Compared to her sister, no one outside the palace sees the younger princess much at all. They keep her busy in the palace with her lessons, trying to prepare her for this life.” He leaned a little closer, across the table, to his co-conspirator. “She does very poorly, but it is not without effort. She seems to cause scandal wherever she goes, no matter how hard she tries to walk the line of her sister. Though her parents have made no formal announcement, she wears an engagement ring on her finger.”
The soldier's eyebrows perked in interest. “A foreign prince?”
Jowan snorted with laughter. “If one is to listen to court gossip, which one in my position is wont to do, its the Tin Man who was her companion during the Eclipse.”
“Of course it is.” The words were cold, clipped.
“Do I detect a hint of jealousy, sir?”
The soldier's glare turned steely, dangerous. “Remember your place, Old Man. I've had my share of a Gale daughter, and they are very overrated. Just another beautiful woman, and women are nothing but misery to any man.”
“I'm sure that keeps you comforted in your bed at night,” Jowan said derisively.
“Where do you get your information?” the soldier asked.
Jowan shrugged. “The same way anyone looking for this type of delicate information would. I watch. I listen. I encourage the gossip and wheedle through it. Not everything the chamber-maids say is idle.”
The soldier nodded his head once, a slight jerk of his chin. “That will do.” He stood, pushing away from the table as he did so. “I'll expect another report soon. I'll be in contact.”
Jowan nodded, saying nothing. Of course, he'd be in contact. Though the new scout had been a surprise, he had to admit as he watched the man walk out of the tavern and into the city night, that the timing of the contact had not been. The Commander was strictly meticulous, as required of his position and a natural trait in his people.
He sighed as he stood, stretching out his old bones before beginning the long, quiet walk back to the palace, and his warm, comfortable bed. The new soldier had been unafraid to ask about the Emerald. The scout before hadn't even had the courage to form the word on his lips: Emerald. The source of the Commander's fury. Those that served him during this period of waiting, the old man did not envy one bit.
The last scout had let it slip that the youngest Gale had promised the militant outlander the Emerald, the most important treasure of her line. How she planned on doing that, Jowan had wondered absently more than once, was beyond him. It was this fact he mused as he left the pub and took to the shadows, and before a minute had passed, the alley was quiet, empty, and still.
Author's Note: Wow, these chapters are getting ridiculously long. You're not complaining! Leave me a comment to tell me how much you aren't complaining. *wink*
Table Of Contents:
1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10
11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20
21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30
31 - 32 - 33 - 34 - 35 - 36 - 37 - 38 - 39 - 40
41 - 42 - 43 - 44 - 45 - 46 - 47 - 48