Leonidas strode through the streets of Dawnhaven with his left hand in his pocket and his right hand wrapped around the hilt of his [Archon’s Psiblade], while its blade rested on his right shoulder and the [Spatial Backpack] he wore. His blue eyes were idly surveilling the area as the party moved together through the Residential Quarter, toward the Prosperity Quarter, and the main gate of the city. They had considered taking one of the sally gates out, but the concern that it would stain Aylar’s Rite of Ascension with an appearance of blatant favoritism had forestalled the idea.
Each departure at the sally gates was recorded, and nobody wanted to give the Blues even a remote chance to call foul play. Even if they were discovered, his status as First-Sword—as of yet uncontested—meant Aylar had every excuse to be traveling without the Royal Guard.
That was a lucky mistake he’d made, in the end. It covered them nicely.
Leonidas thought the risk was largely irrelevant, but he’d deferred to the Princess-Royal’s wishes and the group had headed off for the main gate.
The route they took through the mid-morning Thronehold was direct, with Aylar obscured as much as possible within the bounds of reason to avoid any unwanted attention. Leonidas himself was doing his best to stand out, to stop anyone from looking too closely at the hooded knightess striding near the middle of their group.
Bardulf chatted quietly with Parnym near Aylar and Leonidas, who was himself more focused on watching for problems than engaging socially. Synthra walked to his left, casually obscuring Aylar, and seemed to be wrestling with her own thoughts—her mind-glow alight with a mix of focus, unease, fierce consideration, and quiet impatience.
He had a feeling he knew what it was about, but he wasn’t about to poke that hornet’s nest—definitely not with Aylar right behind him.
Their travel through the city was relatively straightforward, and they made their way through the manastone streets at a good pace, Leonidas parting the crowd with a mix of projected presence and the occasional red-and-violet crackles of power from his bonded bastard sword. It wasn’t an implicit threat, so much as a guarantee they wouldn’t be bothered—and the sword was almost as recognizable as Leonidas himself, by that point.
He’d even considered summoning his [Archon’s Warplate] and using that as a means to move faster—but the revelation he’d probably be swarmed by adoring Terrans and eager noble daughters had dismissed the idea. Forgetting the fact he’d have wanted to throw himself off a bridge the moment the latter happened, Aylar and especially Synthra would probably have thought he was drawing the eager noblewomen to him on purpose—then blamed him for it later.
As if I want those preening harpies bothering me, he grumbled mentally, while glancing around the crowd still. That’s the last thing I need.
Parnym’s healer insignias were another backup plan he had, in case of issues: a call to make way for a Mender would serve them well, though it’d also raise awkward questions if the wrong people found them. With the Dawn Watch in full effect and the inability to depart in the dead of night due to Aylar trying to avoid suspicion, Leonidas was being extra vigilant. If the Princess-Royal vanished in the night, it would have caused rumors to fly like mad. Visiting the Dusk-Lord at her home, however, once her watch was ended in the morning? That was entirely normal.
She could slip out of Dawnhaven with nobody the wiser, that way.
It was also why they’d avoided using a carriage: they didn’t want to be inspected if using a generic one, and they didn’t want to fan rumors if they used Ceruviel’s. Anyone who saw would naturally assume the Princess-Royal was with the Dusk-Lord, if they knew she’d gone to visit—which the Blues certainly would. That deduction would have rapidly deflated their ability to get a head-start on any would-be pursuers, which Ceruviel was sure there would be.
House Cartellis weren’t the only ones capable of hiring ethically ambiguous mercenaries.
Their progress continued unabated as they made their way through the Prosperity Quarter’s main thoroughfare toward the distant sight of the Thronehold’s towering walls, and Leonidas kept his ears sharp as they moved. The occasional murmur or flicker of surprised recognition in the mind-glows around them told him that his plan was working, but few people seemed interested in bothering the supposedly hair-trigger Apprentice of the city’s most powerful woman.
When a pair of Terran children stopped to gawk at him, held back by their mother’s wary hands on their shoulders, Leonidas flashed the two boys a wink and a smile and saw their faces light up—followed by a small smile and nod of appreciation from their mother.
It was a small thing, but it felt good, and it cost him nothing.
At his side, Synthra shifted closer and spoke in a low voice while they proceeded forward.
“{I had my doubts about this,}” she admitted quietly, her voice a low, feminine purr that seemed as naturally a part of her as breathing, much to his chagrin. “{But it’s working. You’re dressed for purpose, so nobody wants to impede you, and you’re leveraging your rank and position to clear passage. It also draws attention from Aylar, which is good—but what if the Blues decide to be pests?}”
In answer to that, Leonidas pulled his left hand from his pocket and showed her a crest, made in the image of the House Aventus Coat of Arms, and stamped with a stylized Haelfennyr symbol for ‘U’.
“{Ceruviel gave me this, just in case of such an eventuality. I will simply say I am on a direct assignment from the Dawn-Lord, and that should ameliorate any issues. They would expect me to bear Ceruviel’s crest—Uriel’s will shock them into stillness.}”
Synthra eyed the identification token for a moment, and then smiled faintly as her mind-glow rippled with approval.
“{The Duchess never ceases to impress,}” she conceded quietly, and then glanced up at him, golden eyes intent, and voice a little less confident. “{Have you… um, given any thought to what we discussed?}”
Leonidas blinked at her, and then stowed the token while he considered his answer, careful about how he phrased it.
“{I have,}” he said more calmly than he felt. “{I am inclined to your idea, Synthra, but I have my own concerns pertaining to it. It is not the right time to elaborate, but once we are afield and safely away from Dawnhaven, we can find some time for discussion. Is that sufficient?}”
Synthra hesitated for a moment, her eyes flashing with her usual fiery self, and then she seemed to understand the logic in his words and gave a faint nod.
“{It will suffice. I am—I apologize for my outbursts, Achilles. I know I can be, ah, a little… reactive, at times. I would blame my bloodline, but I think that’s just me. I hope it hasn’t colored the way you—}”
“{I like it,}” Leonidas cut in, stopping her nervous ramble dead. “{Your fire, I mean. The excitement of it. You do scare me a little, admittedly, but life without a spark is just a dull monochrome,}” he said, and glanced at her with a wry smile, looking into her wide, faintly glowing eyes.
“{You should not regret your nature, Synthra. I did not give you an answer yet because I have things I must consider, but please do not mistake my silence for disdain. You have proved your courage and your sincerity to me already by your actions at the Arena and afterward. I like you, Synthra. I hope that helps.}”
Synthra took a breath, and Leonidas chose not to stare at the blush that filled her cheeks, nor the way she nibbled her lip in nervousness. It was strange seeing the Sorceress so vulnerable.
“{I see,}” she murmured, finally. “{I dislike making myself vulnerable, Achilles, and I dislike uncertainty more—but my mother encouraged me to be more honest with myself, and with you, if I truly want this to work… and you’re right, now isn’t the time, but—thank you, for your words. It… thank you.}”
If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
Her words were shy, even hard-edged to a point, but conciliatory as well, and she stepped away from him a moment later to resume her stride while properly obscuring Aylar, and idly lifted her hand to nibble on her thumbnail as if deep in thought.
“{Problems, Leonidas?}” Aylar asked from his right, voice barely a whisper, and nearly made him jump. He’d been distracted by Synthra enough that, while he’d been watching other minds, he’d almost ignored Aylar’s. That was bad. The Swordmaiden had neatly cut to the other side of him, away from Synthra, and was still half-using his body as a shield from sight.
“{Ah, no, Aylar,}” he said, taking her cue in the use of informal address, and moving his head so he could speak to her without being overheard. “{Just… considerations and worries, nothing outside the norm.}”
“{She wants you to Court her,}” the Princess-Royal stated simply, with no sound of distress in her tone, but only a calm awareness that somehow seemed worse. “{You are considering it.}”
Leonidas pursed his lips while they strode past a gaggle of Nyrfenn Alterans of various species, who stopped to look at their party with a mix of awe and bewilderment as they passed by.
“{I am,}” he said to her honestly, choosing to stick to his sincerity over any kind of attempt at polite deflection. “{Synthra is a handful, but she is also strangely endearing. I cannot say I dislike the idea.}”
“{You are worried I will be angry with you,}” Aylar surmised, her tone dangerously calm to Leonidas’ ears, especially given the tempest raging in her mind-glow. “{I am not, so long as it does not interfere with what must be done.}”
“{You mean the—}”
“{I am not in the habit of offering myself to men, Leonidas,}” Aylar said quietly, still, though with a steel edge in her voice. “{I chose you, as much because of my attraction to you as because of your Ambition and the political sensibility of the match. Ceruviel has told me of your reservations, as you have yourself, but my words from our encounter hold true. I only wish to be informed sooner, rather than later, if you do not wish to claim my hand.}”
Leonidas sucked in a breath through his teeth and released it with a sigh.
“{None of this bothers you?}” he asked her warily, while keeping his eyes primarily on the people around them as they drew closer to the gates. “{We are neither in love nor, beyond a strong attraction I assure you is mutual, properly involved in any way. When added to my own… issues… it seems as though you are placing yourself in an unenviable position with this idea.}”
Aylar fell silent for a moment at his words, and Leonidas was passively aware of the emotional maelstrom in her mind-glow intensifying for a moment, before settling down to ‘merely’ a bubbling storm again a second later.
“{I have always wanted to marry for love,}” she admitted to him quietly, while keeping her head down and slouching to avoid notice. “{It never occurred to me to do otherwise, as much because of my mother’s example as because of my own wishes—but the alternative before us is a future with Braedon on the Throne, and a potentially disastrous result for everyone in the Colony. I have a duty to the people here, Leonidas, just as you do—at least this way, I would have a chance at love.}”
“{What do you mean?}” he asked carefully.
“{I believe I could come to love you, Leonidas,}” Aylar said simply, and with a hint of quiet self-inflective vulnerability. “{The thought is odd, as I had never considered a time when I would base my purity and future on a belief of possible love, but the words do not feel false. I suppose the only question is if you feel the same.}”
Leonidas had already come to the same assumption, based on their discourse in Ceruviel’s bath, and he had to immediately dismiss the mouth-drying image of Aylar’s nudity from his mind when he recalled the discourse. The childish part of his mind wanted to say he’d fallen for her right then and there, but he was old enough to know the critical difference between love and lustful infatuation.
Could he come to love her?
The Princess was a warm, kind person; he’d seen that himself. She was dutiful, empathetic, and seemed to genuinely want to help and aid those under her authority. She was smart, she was insightful, and she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind—even at personal cost, or while risking the ire of those she addressed. There was something inherently noble, even alluring, about her candor and the unapologetic way she pursued her perception of right and wrong.
But then there was Lyara, and Elatra, and Melredor, and all the pain, memory, and confusing association that came with it. He wanted to say yes, but he was afraid: afraid he’d be loving a ghost of someone else, and trying to make Aylar fit that image, only to end up bitter years later. It was incredibly melodramatic in his own mind, in fairness, but it was also a concern he couldn’t easily brush aside.
She was distinct from Lyara. He knew that, rationally. He’d accepted it.
Whether his heart could handle that distinction was another matter entirely.
“{I do,}” he said to her finally, after setting his thoughts in order. “{Truthfully, I do, but I am not wholly convinced of whether that is because of who you are, Aylar, or because of who I want you to be.}”
The words were delivered quietly, but he could feel the heaviness of his own trauma emanating within him, and judging by Aylar’s mind-glow spike, so could she.
“{Your lost love,}” the Princess half-guessed, half-stated. “{Was she so outstanding?}”
“{She was different,}” Leonidas answered simply, his head flickering with memories. “{Very different. You and she share many things in common, physically as well as in personality, but they are notable because in every other way, you are distinct. My concern, Aylar, is simply that I…}”
He trailed off and grimaced.
“{You are uncertain whether you would love me, or the idea of what I could be,}” she ventured softly, with a surprisingly insightful guess. “{I presumed as much. The way you looked at me sometimes, it felt like you saw me, and then saw someone else through me. It was confusing and disconcerting—it still is, in truth, but not to the degree it once was. I have no desire to be someone’s replacement, Leonidas, nor to be your consolation prize, but I am not confident Dawnhaven will survive without our marriage.}”
Leonidas grimaced at the same time as he heard Aylar sigh, and the Princess shook her hooded head in his periphery.
“{If Dawnhaven is too weak to survive without an accelerated union, it may not deserve to survive,}” he said softly, and drew a sharp spike through Aylar’s mind-glow. Before she could respond, however, he pressed on.
“{We have time, though,}” Leonidas said more confidently, voice still low. “{We have time, Aylar. When we are on the road, I will tell you what I can. I will try to help you understand. I owe Synthra the same, and if we are going into battle together, there should not be hazardous secrets between us. I will shed some light—we can see how you feel after that.}”
The Princess fell silent at his words, and Leonidas wondered if he’d said too much, before she abruptly spoke once more.
“{May I ask one question, then, now?}”
Leonidas hesitated, but nodded.
“{You may.}”
“{This lost love of yours… what would she have thought of all this?}”
Leonidas blinked in surprise at the question, and then mentally paused to consider it. He’d never really thought about it, truthfully. Lyara had always been a woman of mercurial nature, as prone to outbursts as she was to laughter, not unlike Synthra in that sense. She had been fiery and impassioned, bold and decisive, and as compassionate as the most devout of priestesses. The woman had been as unpredictable as a typhoon at times, but she’d possessed certainties that had never wavered.
Finally, Leonidas spoke after weighing the question and reaching a conclusion.
“{She would have slapped me with her bow, kicked me in the posterior, and told me to make you my wife before sundown, or else face her wrath. She was as dutiful as you, Aylar—perhaps for different reasons, but dutiful nonetheless. To her, nothing was more important than her people; not her happiness, not her safety, not even her lineage. She would have done everything in her power to protect them, regardless of her own suffering.}”
His mind flashed to memories of Lyara exhausting herself, taking wounds upon herself, and risking her life in the off-chance it would save even one more innocent soul. He thought of her courage, her ferocity, her brilliant smile, and the determination she’d wielded to pursue what she saw as the right path, no matter the personal cost.
“{I think she would have expected the same from me in protecting mine. I think she would have dragged us off to be married by herself if she could see what awaited Dawnhaven. She would have wanted us to be wed, and called me a thrice-accursed fool for my hesitation, telling me I was an idiot and beating me until I saw sense.}”
Aylar shifted beside him, and a small laugh left her hooded lips.
“{She sounds impressive,}” she said gently, with an empathy and respect that warmed Leonidas’ heart.
“{Yes,}” Leonidas replied softly. “{She was.}”
“{...thank you, Leonidas,}” Aylar said quietly. “{I look forward to learning more.}”
Leonidas nodded wordlessly, and the Princess withdrew as their party reached the final stretch toward the gate. His thoughts felt strangely lighter after the exchange, despite the heaviness of the topic. He’d never honestly talked about Lyara—not that way, not in remembrance of someone he’d lost. He’d recounted his tales to Ceruviel, but some irrational part of him had always done so in the vain hope he’d see her, Caricus, and Bjorn once again.
Something in his exchange with Aylar helped nudge him toward an acceptance he probably never would. It wasn’t enough to alleviate the years of trauma and complex feelings wound within him like a ball of tight rubber bands, but it was progress—a small, unexpected step toward healing that he’d never have guessed he needed.
“{The most important step is always the first, Leonidas,}” Lyara’s voice said warmly in his mind, her eyes atwinkle with the wisdom and mischief they’d always contained. “{It can often be the most seemingly insurmountable, but once you take it, everything else becomes far, far easier.}”
He smiled faintly at the memory as they came to a halt at the gates.
Yeah. You’re right again, Lylly.
Please comment on what you liked or with theories you have!
40+ Advanced Chapters can be found on my .