Page 7

7

ROWAN

Two days, and still no summons from the queen.

Each morning had started out the same. Being escorted to the palace hall to break my fast, a tour of the palace, and then a respite that Nerys knew I did not need, but gave me anyway to tend to other responsibilities. To end each day, the evening meal.

Spending my days, and nights, with Nerys was nothing to complain about. Although we’d avoided further talk of politics, at each opportunity, I asked Nerys more about her upbringing and shared, as much as I was able, my own. It was the first time I truly understood my grandfather’s warning when I had begun to question why so many of the Keepers went unmarried.

“It is a rare man, or woman, who will give themselves fully to a Keeper knowing, or at least suspecting, they keep secrets.”

We took many vows, but none were as important as our vow of secrecy. The rule was a simple one. Only those with Harrow blood, or married to one with Harrow blood, knew of our existence. Scattered throughout the kingdom, some Keepers were nobles, others in less-esteemed roles, but all existed, at least partially, in the shadows.

Never once had I been tempted to share these secrets with anyone outside my family.

Until now.

When the knock came, I was resolved to have Nerys send a message to the queen, but her appearance erased thoughts of the Tidal Pearl and my mission. I’d seen her elegantly dressed, the gowns she wore to supper each evening taking my breath away. But today, the simplicity of her attire was somehow even more striking. Once again, I was forced to calm a quickened pulse I seemed unable to easily control since arriving at the palace.

Nerys wore a tunic the color of fresh seaweed, paired with fitted trousers in a soft, sandy beige that allowed ease of movement. A silver belt cinched her waist, with a small pouch at her side. Her boots were simple but well-made, and Nerys’s typically loose hair was tied back, strands framing her face, a soft glow of determination lingering in her eyes.

With the quiet confidence of a woman accustomed to navigating the world with poise, her attire suggested a readiness to act when needed.

“I thought perhaps you might wish to visit the training yard.”

I had not seen my weapons since arriving, and would indeed be glad for a training session.

“There has been no word from the queen?”

Nerys admitted she saw the queen infrequently as she typically interacted most often with her inner circle, of which Nerys was not a part, and took her meals in a private chamber.

“None. I sent a message this morn, reminding her of your presence.”

“Thank you,” I said, closing the door behind me as we walked into the corridor. “I was planning to ask if you might do as much today.”

“I am certain she will not keep you waiting much longer. She already knows it concerns the princess. I would think Queen Lirael would be most anxious to learn the truth of her return.”

The queen would not know of my ties to King Galfrid, nor of the true nature of my visit. Before I could respond, Nerys paused and spoke to a servant, asking him to fetch my sword and bring it to the training yard.

“Do you wish to break your fast first?” she asked.

“Not unless you do.” Nerys had already admitted to me it was her least favorite meal of the day. She said, when not assigned to me, she skipped it most mornings in favor of a walk along the sea.

Without responding, she headed in a direction of the palace we’d not ventured through yet. After a multitude of twists and turns, passing countless shallow pools, fountains and waterfalls, we appeared to be leaving the palace building and heading downward. When we finally emerged, the shores of the Marevean Sea were before us.

Here, Thalassarian warriors were already engaged in training, though none used swords. Instead, it consisted of arm and hand movements as they manipulated the ocean waters. I’d seen water magic performed before, but never by so many at once.

“Are there not rules against me being here?”

Nerys seemed surprised by my question.

“Should there be?”

I watched as a man created a tunnel of water, like a mini-cyclone, and dragged it over the sand. He seemed surprised when it fell apart and landed at his feet.

“Thalassarians are normally so guarded.”

Nerys began walking to a nearby structure. Like much of the palace, it seemed to be erected from the sands, its cream color blending seamlessly with the sand on which it sat.

“They are apprentices who have received special invitations to train with Stormcallers. Some from noble families, as a favor. Others who show promise. But all wield basic magic. There is nothing proprietary about their skills.”

As I looked closer, the truth of her words revealed itself. There were even two children among the young ones, Elydorians who had not yet reached one hundred years of age.

As we approached the structure, its thatched roof like many of the huts along the shores of Thalassaria, a man around Nerys’s age greeted us. Behind a driftwood counter, weapons of every kind stared back. The presence of tridents and spears, along with what appeared to be healing potions, reminded me of an armory back home.

“Has a sword been brought?—”

Before Nerys finished, the man produced my weapon from beneath the counter.

“Fine morning, Nerys,” he said without looking at me.

“Indeed, it is. And Caelum?”

“There.” He pointed toward the sea.

“A sword for him as well?”

By the time I worked out what was happening, I had my weapon back and we were striding toward a group of three who practiced water-wielding; only one doing so successfully.

“Caelum is an old friend and a trained swordsman,” Nerys said, explaining as we approached. “An Aegis Commander of the palace.”

He said something to his pupils, who scurried away.

“So this is your human?”

“He is not my human, Caelum.”

I’d been about to say the same. Instead, I bowed to the warrior, who did the same back to me. “Sir Rowan of Estmere,” I said.

“Master Caelum of Thalassaria,” he said, watching me carefully.

Tall and lean, his dark hair, unusual for a Thalassarian, was tied back. With sharp eyes and an angular jaw that looked permanently set, as if the weight of the world had hardened him, Master Caelum would be a formidable training partner. By the look of him, though still haranya, he had many, many decades on me, perhaps multiple centuries.

“No magic,” Nerys said.

Caelum looked at her as a father might. Kindly, with enough reproach that only the recipient could decipher its true meaning.

“How many years of training do you have on me?” I asked him.

Lifting his sword, Caelum said nothing but inclined his head, as if acknowledging his advantage.

Nerys backed away, but she was the only one. Before the first strike, most of those who previously were training had moved toward us. Blocking out the sun, the sound of waves crashing and of the cheers that were raised as we sparred, I relied on my training, hearing my grandfather’s words.

The fight begins in your mind, Rowan. If you hesitate, you’ve already lost.

My father’s words.

Move with purpose, not just strength. The blade follows where your mind leads.

And my uncle’s, one of the greatest swordsmen in Estmere.

A sword is an extension of yourself. When you wield it, let your heart guide its edge.

With every parry and strike, more cheers filled the air. Beads of sweat dripped from my forehead into my eyes, but I ignored them and everything around me but learning this man’s fighting style. Few Elydorians bothered to learn the skill of swordsmanship, their magic much more powerful. Those who did, however, typically were worthy opponents.

Caelum was no exception.

We sparred for some time until, remembering Nerys was watching us, I used a move my uncle showed me once, an unpredictable lunge followed by a swift withdrawal. In response, Caelum stepped back so I did the same.

“You wear no armor,” he said. “Our weapons are not blunted.”

Both facts I was well aware of.

“I didn’t expect to find myself here, with such a worthy opponent,” I added as the crowd dispersed.

“Where did you find such a human?” Caelum asked Nerys, who stepped forward and took his sword.

“He found us. Rowan is here to speak with the queen.”

Caelum didn’t appear surprised by the fact which meant he already knew as much.

“This is about the Aetherian princess?” he guessed.

“It is.”

“They said the Gate remains closed.”

“It does,” I said, glancing at Nerys. She nodded, so I continued. “Princess Mevlida coming through seems to be uniquely related to her standing as King Galfrid’s daughter. What confuses me most,” I said, having admitted as much to Nerys already, “is that your queen must know this. And she also knows my presence here is related to the incident. And yet she does not grant me an audience.”

“She will,” Caelum echoed Nerys’s words. “Otherwise, you’d not have been admitted to the palace. As to the delay…” He shrugged. “Who can know the mind of a queen?”

Both Nerys and Caelum knew more of Queen Lirael’s mind than they shared, of that I was certain.

“Nerys.”

All three of us turned to face the shore as the same servant who’d fetched my sword earlier ran toward us.

“Yes, Eoin?”

If he were human, I’d say the boy had not seen fifteen summers. But most likely, he had been alive longer than me.

“The queen has summoned you both.”

Finally.

Caelum reached out his hand. Since we were in Thalassaria, and not Estmere, the parting was one of deference to me. I shook it, grateful.

“Until we meet again,” he said.

“I look forward to it.”

“Your swords.” The boy, Eoin, reached out both hands. Though reluctant to hand mine over, I did so. Watching him walk off with it, I was about to ask Nerys how he’d fetched it so quickly when she spoke first.

“Come quickly. The queen does not like to be kept waiting.”

“The queen sounds less and less appealing each day,” I murmured for Nerys’s ears only. She pretended not to hear me, just as I pretended not to be staring at her as she walked in front of me. But just as I’d done with Caelum, I vowed to put everything else out of my mind. I was here for one purpose only, and it was not to become enamored with my escort.

The fate of Estmere, of Elydor, rested on the shoulders of those of us who knew what was needed to open the Gate. Whether I liked her or not did not matter. I needed—we needed—the Queen of Thalassaria’s aid.

And it was time to find out how willing she would be to give it.