The following is an original work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book/story are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Chapter 20
As it always happened, time passed as only an immortal can experience it. Months felt like days and years like months. Any humans that had been around during the Masking Ceremony remained only in memory. Meaning no living humans had seen my unmasked face. Portraits of my infancy were the only proof I had ever been without a mask.
While some immortal memories were quite long and detailed, I felt confident that no one could accurately recall my features. Not after one hundred and seven years.
That hadn’t meant I had been given any more lenience where that mask was concerned.
To the same point, little changed, other than training. Finneck continued to train me as much as possible. More than I thought my father had approved. Not that he ever cared to ask after my progress let alone observe.
The dream with the woman in white reoccurred every few years like clockwork. Always on the same night when both moons were at their zenith before the tides were due to change. Other than the moons’ positions, neither that day nor night held any significance in any culture I could find. Scouring the library for years resulted in nothing more than spending entirely too much time deciphering mundane astrological charts and lunar cycles. Uncovering amateur theories as to how the goddess Idun had chosen the location for her Gifting. Again, that led to nothing but wasted time.
Although my attire in the dream would vary. There were also times the woman was able to retain her corporeal image for longer periods. Others she faded only moments after emerging from the trees.
The wolf never left her side, never venturing more than a few feet. I was never able to take more than a handful of steps toward either of them before being held back by some invisible force. That may have been the most frustrating. Somehow, I was convinced if I could just reach her, it would change everything.
Sometimes I would wake up with tears streaming down my face. The woman appearing as usual except deep shadows marred her eyes. Face appearing gaunt and unnaturally pale. Which was quite a feat since she already had skin that resembled the silver moon’s glow. Those times she barely spoke. Seemingly lost and drained. Her emotions broadcast across the meadow hitting me like a flaming arrow.
Those were the times my tattoos barely ached, but my chest felt heavy for days after.
Today was one of those days. The morning the moons began their descent into the lower quadrant and the end of the Iterennal festival.
Struggling to keep any of it from affecting training was futile.
The whole day felt different. I still had to sneak into the training room before the guards took up their posts. Finneck still made every single one of my muscles shake during warmup. My legs wobbled like milk toast halfway through practice.
Even Finneck seemed distracted. And not as in there-was-a-war-out-there-I-needed-to-be-fighting-instead-of-training-a-princess distracted. The Caedum was an ebb and flow of renewed gusto. We were currently recovering from such a flow and moving toward a nice smooth ebb. According to Finneck. Despite sitting on the king’s council since I received the mask, I was still treated more like a bystander.
Finneck’s distraction was something more than his everyday brooding and I was preparing myself for more upset. Because even though my father had promised transparency pertaining to our people and kingdom, I knew many things had transpired that simply didn’t make their way to my ears – purposefully.
There was only one person the king was completely transparent with and that was his adviser, Minister Khayin. The man that listened to the will of the gods and tried to keep King Aesiri in the light of their path. Even if I didn’t think Khayin was part weasel, I still wouldn’t have trusted him. Again, I was only a bystanding trinket that was graciously being allowed to sit on the royal council. The fact that I was actually royal seemed to have no significance.
Sitting on the bench, catching my breath, I finally broke the silence. “Are you going to tell me what’s on your mind or continue to look constipated?”
Releasing the crease in his brow, Finneck ignored my dig.
“Eventually,” he mumbled.
“Eventually as in when-I hear-about-it-from-someone-else-I’ll-want-to-cut-your-eye-out-in-your-sleep?”
Finneck huffed – his version of a chuckle. At least he didn’t look physically uncomfortable anymore.No matter how hard and unbreakable he presented himself, it was no secret Finneck had a bit of a soft spot toward me. One that I really tried not to exploit too often.
I watched his profile, giving him room to think and stoically stew. I couldn’t help but smile which lifted the pressure off my chest slightly. Five centuries my senior, Finneck still appeared as a man in his early forties. Naturally platinum blond hair as white as the Eastern Arenti moon had been tied at the nape of his neck for as long as I could remember. Keeping his clean-shaven face exposed.
At one point I had asked him if he ever let his hair free. He said he had once, when I was a baby. Claiming I pulled it so hard he hadn’t made that mistake again.
Apart from his hair, the only thing to never changed about him was the ever-present hum of power muffled beneath the surface of his skin. What I truly detected was something else I would never share with him. Never mind exposing my ability to detect such things, but Finneck’s avoidance of all things magical was legendary. To expose the possibility of such great power would not be wise for either of us.
“What have you wanted since you were eighteen?” Finneck finally implored. I had to think a moment, it was a loaded question. “You’re going to have to narrow it down a bit, Finn. There was a time I was obsessed with spotting a fire-breathing Drake flying in the skies to claim as my own.”
“You were so heartbroken when you realized they were merely creatures of legend,” Finneck reminisced absently. “Besides, I don’t believe they ever had purple wings no matter how fantastical the depiction.” Lips quirking up for a moment before turning to fully face me.
I knew what he would see. The thin fabric of my shirt stuck to my skin with sweat. Linen pants torn in a few places. Callused hands nervously rubbing the tops of my thighs. Hair sticking out from my braid in random places. The only thing missing was confidence and battle scars.
Still too weak, I thought to myself.
“Legends come from somewhere,” I said trying to hide the sudden disappointment in myself.
“Your father is allowing you to train with the guard.”
Those words strung in that particular order; something I never thought I would hear in my lifetime. Without waiting for confirmation that I in fact heard him correctly, I shrieked with such a shrill resonance, Finneck hunched protectively, surely expecting the mirrored wall to shatter. Instead I threw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“I don’t know how you did it, Finn, but thank you, thank you, thank you!”
Reaching behind his head to untangle my arms from his large frame and set me right. “Don’t thank me. I had nothing to do with this,” he said taking a step back clearly displeased. “I’m completely against the entire thing. This was all the king’s idea.”
“Does he know how you feel?” Finneck nodded. “And it’s still happening?” Another nod. “Are you going to try and stop me from training?”
“Not this time,” he said after letting loose a sigh of defeat.
Squealing with happiness and clapping my hands while bouncing around in a circle, I couldn’t stop myself.
“Under no circumstances are you to ever do that around anyone. Ever. Do you understand, Zahrra?” warned Finneck.
The seriousness in his gaze had me trying to stop the happiness from exploding out my body in every direction all at once. My feet refused to stop their mirthful plight. They danced me right around in another circle before I landed back on the bench with such force that I rocked the whole thing back against the wall. My discarded mask clattering to the floor.
Picking up my old companion, I sobered as the weight of the situation settled on my shoulders and sank deep into my gut. “How is this going to work?”
“You will train unmasked. Tattoos covered. When you step onto the training grounds, you will no longer be the princess. You will lose all that that title ensures. You will be nobody.”
“Nobody,” I repeated in a whisper. The thought was more thrilling than the promise of training with the guard. Sure, there were plenty of stolen moments I fooled myself into thinking I was nobody. Convinced others looked right through me as just another insignificant soul. I was blinded by youth then. I wished I could have said I had been remedied of that malady.
Sitting on the couch in my sitting room, a small fire cackled despite the warmth of the night air. I liked the sound and tranquility the flames brought. Besides, there had been no one around. It took a mere thought to conjure sufficient flames.
Honing my magic in secret since its boost on my eighteenth birthday had been difficult on my own. Many, many mistakes were made. So many mistakes that rumors began to spring up around the castle that a ghost roamed in a few of the gardens in the middle of the night. A ghost that would cause short bursts of intense wind, push or trip those who dared to approach its hiding place, and more than a few times started small fires. Fortunate for all involved, that hadn’t happened in some time.
But worth it. It was one of the biggest secrets I had kept from every soul. Even my ladies-in-waiting. It became the only thing I kept for myself. That and the dreams were a few of the things I had that were truly all mine.
Running fingers over the soft lines of my current favorite slim mask, deep purple with silver filigree embroidered along the edges.
The limited places I was allowed to roam unmasked remained solely behind locked doors.
But tomorrow.
Tomorrow I was going to venture out without it. No pretensions. Nothing. Well, almost nothing. Of course, keeping with the king’s love of stipulations, the line of tattoos along my left side were to always remain hidden. If it wasn’t my face, it was some other part of me.
Returning to my chambers after dinner, one my father conveniently decided not to attend, I found a slightly worn pair of arm bracers complements of Finneck. I immediately slipped them on, pushing up the gossamer sleeves of my gown to my elbows.
Three brass buckles tightened around each wrist and forearm; tarnished and dented from use. The leather was worn but well oiled. A few scratches and nicks decorated the brown leather. They were exactly what I would expect from Finneck and they were perfect.
Engrossed by the blank face sitting on the couch, I barely registered Tessa, Marita’s youngest granddaughter, approaching to let me know there was a bath waiting. Something about baths that fascinated the women of this particular family. A quirk I never challenged any of the woman.
I tried to send her home for the night after she escorted me to my rooms after dinner, while she was ranting about the king’s absence. This woman was always on the verge of spewing treasonous words. Something I appreciated with every bitter syllable.
Regardless of trying to lovingly get rid of her, she flat-out refused.
“So, why has the king chosen now to allow you to train?” Tessa asked as she absently folded towels while I soaked in the bath. An excuse posing as duty to remain in the room no doubt. Couldn’t say I didn’t appreciate the sentiment.
Over the last year, the king’s council, me included, had all agreed it was time to dip into the reserves of Idun’s immortality-giving fruit. After each Gifting was completed, a lottery was held to distribute more of the fruit. The rest was carefully stored away since it was a few hundred years between ceremonies. Our race has survived on those reserves since Idun’s disappearance. Stingy had nothing on the way the reserves had been horded.
It was finally time to use as much as we were willing to add to our guard in a small attempt to match the Fae. Small numbers of Eildun had consistently joined over the centuries. Tired of waiting or just needing more in their lives. What better time to throw in a princess where no one really remembers her face?
Tessa’s question bounced around in my head. Was that really the reason? Timing? Was there more at play that I wasn’t privy to, again?
