283 Back like she never left
He shook his head as if what he wanted to say was a bad idea, and instead looked away from her. It was as if he couldn't stand the sight of her for long.
"Try to see if you can get her to come," Zavian pointed at the mirror now being held by one of the guards and stalked off. Neera wouldn't know where in the castle he would be, and as she caught her reflection in the mirror, hollowed-out face, solemn purple eyes, silver hair pinned perfectly into a high bun, she wondered what would be of her if she did eventually find Lydia.
Run away...
Anna's advice floated to her. But she only wanted to run to Zavian, and she had never felt more alone.
….
Freya was back to practice like she never left.
Her aim was impeccable, and she shoot at anything she chose. She shot at a painting at the far end of the throne room, she shot at a glass cup on a tray between the banisters as a maid carried it up the stairs, earning a scream from the woman that only made her smile. She shot at the ripening apple hanging from a tree in the garden, she shot at a rabbit that scurried past her and gave it to the guard to roast and snack on.
When she looked up, a school of birds flew overhead, she squinted her eyes against the sun and zeroed in on one of them.
She drew back her arrow and aimed.
And just as she was about to release it, someone bumped into her from behind, causing the arrow to projectile far off into the grass.
"I heard you were having too much fun," Zavian said behind her.
"And you came to ruin it."
"Or to save you your energy for better purposes," Zavian stepped in front of her. "I called an emergency meeting with all the Dukes to strategize. I need you in on it."
"Barely an entire day out of my bed and I am already back to duties," Freya walked over to her arrow, and Zavian fell in step by her side.
"It feels like I am grappling at loose ends," Zavian said. "Anna would have all the witches together in a few days to reinforce the shield around the portal."
"Yet you feel Aloysius would still surprise us," Freya finished for him.
"You have forgotten Uriel as well."
"Yes, I have another brother. How silly of me to forget the one who shoved a sword into my arm at the first battle," Freya reached for the arrow, and pulled it out of the ground, reaching behind her to tuck it into her quiver. "There is nothing we can do but wait. Every single soldier has filled into the Kingdom, he wants to strike, we are ready."
Zavian folded his arms, his lips pursed in thought. "And the other portal we didn't find?"
"If there is another portal, we won't find it. Sorry, but that's the truth." Freya said. "And maybe the portals we are looking for all along are mirrors. Any luck with your Queen in calling on our mother?"
Zavian shook his head. "She has tried, nothing."
"She should keep trying then, Lydia loves to gloat, she wouldn't miss the chance to do so." She nudged Zavian with her elbow. "You are as cold as the winter blizzards to her. I almost would say she isn't Neera or Lailah with your whole shift of attitude toward her."
Zavian's face gave nothing off. "We are on neutral terms."
"Because of what she did?"
Zavian's eyes fell to hers, and the glare should have kept anyone silenced, but Freya wasn't just anyone.
"That's sad," Freya said, unsympathetic. "I know I get to have you by my side
(1000 words)
more, but you love that woman like a drunk loves his wine. Now you are dealing with the withdrawal symptoms of love."
"Withdrawal symptoms?"
"Engaging yourself in everything and anything just to avoid thinking about her."
"And what would you know about the love of the romantic kind?"
She shrugged. "Sometimes, it isn't what I know but what I observe. And you have presented yourself for observation over many years." She marched back to the castle and turned her head to look at him.
"If you can't stand her anymore, why don't you just let her go?" Freya asked. She scoffed out a ridiculous sound, and continued her journey until she was out of his sight.
….
"My Lord?"
Azriel smiled into his pillow at that voice. He couldn't believe he would miss hearing it first thing in the morning when he woke, sweeter than the melodious birds that swarmed the morning sky to create nature's melody.
Azriel didn't move, and he was called again.
"My Lord?"
He flipped over, and parted the hair falling over his eyes. He was met with the bright face of Pen, and he frowned when he saw her in the maid's frock uniform.
"I believe you asked me to wake you up a little after dawn, my Lord." She said.
"Go and change." He said, his voice still gruff from sleep.
"My Lord?"
"No maid clothes," he told her. "We've talked about this, Pen."
"Oh," was all she said, wiping her palms on the front of the dress. "The dresses aren't practical for cleaning, my Lord."
"Then don't clean."
"I… uhm…I only came to wake you, my Lord. Your water is warm, you should wash up."
Azriel threw an arm over his head, bare sinewy muscles stretching. "And if it gets cold?"
"We'll reheat the water for you, my Lord."
"By you dipping into it, yes?" Azriel's smirk drew across his face. "You are as red as fire when you blush, I am sure it will heat the water right up."
As if on cue, Penelope's cheeks reddened at the comment. Azriel chuckled as he rose from the bed, the chiseled build of a torso from training coming up to Penelope's sight. She caught herself looking too long at him before she looked away, and Azriel liked that his effect still worked on her.
