Chapter 139: Nereida’s Voyage
Nereida glanced at her wife. Aella’s body was tense, as if she were ready to fight. But it was Bassi. He wouldn’t hurt her, no matter how much grief he was fighting. She sat up, slowly, because whatever curse the Ocean Dragon had laid had used up most of her magic and energy, and gave her brother a small little smile. It was meant to be reassuring, but she did not see any change in her brother’s hard stance. She squeezed Aella’s hand tightly, trying to let her wife know it was alright to leave without words, but Aella’s grip just tightened on hers.
“Love, I’d like to talk to my brother,” Nereida said after a moment, when it became clear that Aella was not inclined to let go of her hand. Aella squeezed her hand once more, as if asking if she was certain. Nereida just gave a small nod, and, ever so reluctantly, Aella headed off after the children, after muttering about Damara and honey cakes. Nereida watched her wife leave, and saw how slow and purposeful her wife’s movements were, how Aella looked back over her shoulder three times. She’d come back, Nereida knew, if she called out.
Once Aella had shut the heavy door, Nereida turned to her brother and patted the couch next to her. He stayed standing, glowering down at her. He crossed his arms and squared his shoulders.
“Are you completely yourself right now?” he asked, his voice hard. For a moment, he sounded like their father, and the comparison struck Nereida hard. She took a deep breath. Reminded herself that he was grieving, not angry. She looked up at his scowl, and considered that he was, perhaps, a little angry.
“She’s gone back to sleep,” she replied. “I’m me, Bassi.”
“You weren’t when you leapt from the parapet,” his tone was almost petulant, but he finally sat down on the couch, at the far end, so that he did not touch her. He pointed his knees toward the hearth and away from her. “Nor when you visited the egg. The captain of the guard did not know how to handle it , and came to me. You have to control her, Nerry. She scares our people.”
“Scares her people too,” Nereida offered lightly. But her brother did not smile at the joke. Instead, his frown deepened, and she could clearly see his wrinkles near his eyes. He looked old for a moment, old like their parents, old and broken. But he was not yet fifty, he had life left in him. “I’m sorry,” she added after an uncomfortable beat. She rubbed her hands together, not sure what to do with them, with herself. “I… I will do what I can. Keep her mollified, and contained.” He nodded at that, and then looked away again, over at the hearth fire. A servant came in, and added to the fire. She did not look at either royal, keeping her head down, working silently. Then she was gone, leaving her basket full of firewood behind next to the hearth.
The silence stretched between them, feeling like years instead of minutes, before Basiano finally spoke again.
“You should go. You and Aella both.” His voice was barely even a whisper, and she could hear how gruff his tone was. He was trying not to cry. She sat up, tried to place her hand on his shoulder, but he wrenched away. “I mean it. Go to sea, the Sylphs’ will take our money to get you and your family out of here.” He still was not looking at her, but was instead staring at the burgeoning flame.
“Why?” The word escaped her before she could think, feel anything other than the rejection that felt like drowning. Or like smoke being blown away in the wind. The word came out like a child’s cry, high and hurt.
“Because…” he took a breath, then another, before finally turning toward her. His face was awash with grief, and he looked old and tired. “If you swear fealty to me, Nerry, I don’t think I can ever let you leave. I’ll be a selfish, foolish old man, and try to keep you close. And that will kill you. Or your wife. And I… I can’t… I…” And his words fled him, leaving him only his tears, which he was too stubborn to shed.
Nereida gathered the last of her strength to stand and close the distance between them. This time, he did not pull away as she put her arms around him. Instead he leaned into her and finally let the tears flow freely. She held him and said nothing, not empty comfort, not promises that they would figure it out. Because she wasn’t sure they could. Instead, she rubbed his arm, and let the crackling of the hearth fire be the only sound. She held him until his tears stopped running down his face, and she wiped them away like he was her child.
“You are my brother,” she said, wiping her own tears off her cheek. She wasn’t sure when she had started crying. “And that means more than you being king. If you actually want me to go, we will be on the next Sylph ship out. But… I want to be there for you. I want to stand in your shadow as you take the crown, because it will be heavy. Leevan and Ango will be there. Let me be there too.” He nodded, just once, before he reached into his pocket to pull out a handkerchief to wipe his eyes and nose. The fainting couch shifted under his weight as he arranged himself to wrap an arm around Nereida.
“I don’t actually want you to go,” he managed, his voice gruff. “I just…”
“I know,” she replied softly. “But… maybe you are right about Aella.” She sighed, looking out over the cushion-less couch. Her wife had done a number to their living space. “She’s not married to me by our laws, and if… if she swears fealty to you then she is renouncing her court, her Queen… her cousin.” Basiano groaned.
“I hadn’t considered….” He dropped his used handkerchief onto his lap, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You and your wife are a constant headache, Nerry.”
“I’ll take that as a high compliment from my big brother.” She gave him a weak smile, but he returned it, his own smile shaky and short-lived. He adjusted his white mourning tunic, trying to get it to sit right, pulling at the neck and wrists.
“I’ll have a chat with the Lore Keepers. Someone may have a work around that isn’t exiling her.” He sighed, a sound that rose up from his toes. “I should go. My kids are not doing well.”
“I wouldn’t expect them to,” Nereida replied softly. “If you need… if you need a harbour, to borrow from Aella, I’m here, okay? I love you, Basi.”
“Love you too, Nerry.” He got to his feet, barely catching his handkerchief before it fell to the carpet. He ruffled her hair as if she were a child, before he slowly headed out, his shoulders hunched as he walked. She watched him leave, waited until she was certain he was out of earshot, and then she lay down on the couch and cried into the velvet.
It wasn’t Aella who came to comfort her, but the servant girl who stacked the wood. The girl could not have been any more than sixteen, with her tiny frame and innocent, almost babyish face. She broke protocol; there were rules for how servants were supposed to interact with royalty. But the girl either did not know or did not care. She had blankets and pillows, likely the ones from the roof, and she quietly tucked the blanket around Nereida, and then sat beside her.
“I’m sorry for your loss, your grace,” she whispered hesitantly.
“Thank you,” Nereida managed, as she wiped her tears away. The girl gave her a little smile, sad and lost.
“May I…. may I say something?” The girl practically shook as she spoke, and Nereida nodded. “The princess was very kind. She and I… we shared a birthday. When she found out… she invited me to have cake with her… like I was someone who mattered. And I will never forget that.” The girl sounded near to tears herself, but she smiled at Nereida with a smile as fragile as glass. “Thank you for trying to save her.” And the girl stood up, fleeing the room through one of the servant entrances worked into the wall behind a tapestry. Nereida heard the door click closed. She let out a long, slow breath, sitting up and trying to center herself. She gathered the wool blanket around herself, letting herself feel the weave. She looked at the giant tapestries, each showing an epic in their history, though she no longer remembered many of the stories. One showed the founding of the capitol, with the first human king breaking ground surrounded by his people. She wondered if that long ago king had to struggle as her brother did. Was he loved by his people, or tolerated because there was nothing better?
She touched the heavy, old fabric, felt the individual strands of yarn, and contemplated, for a moment, pulling one to see if the whole thing would unravel. To watch hundreds of years of history be reduced to string on the floor. But the fleeting thought disappeared under her own conscience; this was ancient art, she couldn’t destroy something that someone had taken years to properly weave.
“Mama?” She turned when she heard Egaz’s voice from the doorway. He was alone.
“Did something happen?” she asked, her throat tightening as she tried to keep her anxiety from her voice. By the way Egaz’s face shifted, she had failed.
“No,” he replied, his voice small. “I just wanted a cuddle.” She felt a laugh of relief bubble up, but she squashed it. She could not laugh at her son! Instead, she pulled him into a hug, and they sat on the floor together. He was still small enough to sit on her lap, and so he did, leaning into her like a toddler. She brought her arms around him, holding him tight, as if she could ward off her own fears about his future at court.
It was not long before Aella and Alejo appeared in the doorway, and joined her and Egaz on the floor. No one spoke, though Damara made adorable little noises as she pulled at Alejo’s shirt. The older child sighed fondly, and placed his hand over hers. He hummed a little lullaby to his sister and she settled into his arms. It was only once Damara’s eyes closed that Nereida realized the little boy had been feeding her magic. He looked tired, but proud, as he kissed her fuzzy black hair. She decided to leave the topic alone for now, though she did wonder how often her son was draining himself to feed his sister magic. She had her mothers back, and her grandmother had offered to feed her. There was no reason for him to be doing it.
Aella leaned into Nereida, offering her presence. She leaned into her wife as well, drawing strength from the Admiral’s silent presence. They were together. She did not cry, but simply sat in a pile on the floor with the people she cared most about, listening to the crackle of the hearthfire. Her heart settled into a peaceful contentment, and for once, she did not feel like the world was about to fall in on them.