LAVEN HEPHAESTUS ARVENALDI, II
Maivena peers down at me as I flinch; she cleans and redresses the wounds on my arm and shoulder while explaining that I have a much farther way to go than a week. I mentioned fully walking on my own in a week’s time and she quickly protested it.
“Does that hurt?” She asks, gently squeezing my forearm again.
“No,” I shake my head. “It feels tight.”
“It is your circulation trying to correct itself; it is trying to flow new blood while dispersing the spoiled blood here,” she touches the wound on my shoulder. She grabs my hand and turns it over, three of her fingers press against my scarred palm, they glide upward and directly over the tight spot in my forearm.
Maivena repeats the action a few times over.
I look up at her, and she is thoroughly focused on my arm; her hold is firm yet soft—the press of her three fingers dragging directly in that same back and forth path.
“Who taught you to do this? To be a Healer.”
“Mrs. Patro, the head of the kitchen.”
I nod. “Yes, I know Mrs. Patro. Her cooking is remarkable.”
Maivena gives her usual small smile while still focusing on my arm. “It is.”
“What are your favorites?”
A complete smile this time, my head tilts, wanting a better view—my own stupid grin matching her own.
“She makes my father and I a fish stew at the end of the week; it is full of different potatoes, carrots, celery, kale, onions, and whatever seasonings and herbs she puts in it.” Another drag of her fingers pulls me closer.
“What else?”
There is a shift in her. “Mostly that.”
My eyebrows furrow. “Is that all you like?”
“That is mostly what I eat,” she speaks lowly. “The stew will last my father and me the week; we get replenished again after the five days.”
“What about fruit?” There is ease from the tightness in my arm, but the rest of my body continues to be tense due to this conversation.
“Fruit is a delicacy here; my father and I cannot afford fruit.” Her hands pull from my arm, and she walks away from the bed, grabbing a warm cloth from a rather hot bowl of water. She shakes the fabric over the bowl and steam evaporates into the air as it cools down. She then proceeds to clean the blood from my shoulders.
“When was the last time you had fruit?”
“It has been a while.” Is all she says.
Since before she arrived here . . .
“Your father, how long has he been here?”
She dips the cloth into the water, ringing it out, and cleans more of the skin on my arm. “He came here looking for me; he offered Lady Apolla a hand in working here as long as he could be with me. She placed my father as a Warrior in the Mandem.”
“Do you not have siblings?” I ask as she helps me sit up straighter to clean my back.
“Oh, I do,” Maivena nods. “I have a little brother; he is not here—he lives with my grandparents in Provas.”
“The guards took you from Provas?”
“No, we lived in Xenathi then; my father moved my brother to Provas when we realized it was no longer safe for him.”
It leisurely comes together.
“They brought you here in his place.”
She continues to clean off the old blood on my shoulder.
“He deserved a full life; he needed somewhere to grow, mature, and be safe. He did not need to come here.”
I turn, looking back at her from the corner of my eye. “And you did not deserve all of that?”
“I am older; it was my place to do it. Would you not?”
My blood runs cold at the littlest thought of remembering how I failed to save my sister’s life. I could not imagine the might she holds knowing her brother is safe at home.
“Yes, I would.” I respond, unable to deny that datum.
My sister is already gone. If either of my brothers fell into suffering, I would lay my soul down for them without a beg for return of it. Even if there was a way to bring my sister back to life, I would give my soul over so she could live the life she deserved.
Maivena shifts from behind me to rinse the cloth.
“That does not mean you do not deserve those things just because you were older. You were still young, too young to be here.” Too young being chased after by these perverted men. “Where was your mother throughout this?”
“Both of my parents were away that day; afterward, my mother left with Ira for Provas.”
The water that is being rung from the cloth drips into the water bowl; the sound practically bounces off the walls around us in this silence.
“Ira?” I question.
“My brother.”
It is rare that siblings do not have names that begin with the same letter.
I choose not to question it.
I let the silence sit over us this time.
The only sound is our breathing and the dripping of water into the bowl.
The doors to my chamber burst open, and my mother and Axynth, Amias’s father, come rushing toward me. Maivena makes haste as she backs away to allow room, her posture changes, and her eyes quickly find the floor.
“My Gods, Laven, I told you to be careful!” My mother gasps as she grabs my face and looks me over.
“I am fine, healing over as well as I can be.”
Axynth steps closer, smirking as he pokes my wounded shoulder; I only wince, not giving him the satisfaction of any further reaction. He has a pestering personality just like his child, Amias.
“How did you survive this?” Axynth asks. His face scrunches up as he sees the swelling and redness on my arm. “It is never heard of to come out as yourself after an attack.”
Maivena quickly looks upward, she steps forward to speak, but I beat her to it.
“The blessing from the God’s.” This is not entirely false. “The blessing the day of the Blood Bond Ritual.” I make it more transparent.
My mother grabs Axynth’s arm. “This was what I was explaining earlier, that the boys would not be affected like others because of the blessings. And given Amias’s abilities as a shield, they should not be as harmed as others since part of his blood runs through them after the ritual.
“I am so sorry I could not have been here sooner; the Priestesses need my and Vyn’s help. I came back to town as soon as I–” I grab her hand, stopping her long and drawn-out apologies.
“Ma, I am fine. I have been taken care of better than others can say they have been.”
She touches my cheek again and turns to Maivena, whose eyes are still cast to the floor. She stands from the bed and stealthily walks across the wooden floors to stand before Maivena. Her hand reaches outward, gently lifting her chin.
“Maivena, it is?” Maivena is given that beautiful smile my mother has always held. Even through her worst days, she smiles.
‘I smile because you never know whom you can come across that may need to see it.’ So, she always said when I was a child.
She nods. “Yes.”
“You are General Fondali’s eldest.” Axynth says from across the room.
I look from Maivena to Axynth.
General’s daughter?
Axynth glances at me and back to Maivena.
“I am,” her voice trembles. “My father is the former General of Quamfasi’s Mandems.”
That would make her father high ranking royalty . . . and herself. That is why she looked so well-nourished when she arrived. But, of course, Lorsius did not have the guards take just any girl; they took the eldest female child of a General.
“Well, Maivena,” my mother starts. “You have grown to be a magnificently talented Healer, especially one without education.”
“Thank you.” She nods.
Maivena looks over my mother’s dress. The long purple silk fabric is stitched in gold, just grazing the floor. The sleeves are fitted to her arms and meet at a point, wrapping around her middle finger. Purple has always accented her dark skin, which is why she is seen in the color often. Her light brown hair that was in its coily curls when I last saw her are now in perfect knotless braids.
“We have an academy for Healers—Vuamsati Academy of Healing, in Vuamsati, of course. I would love it if you could visit it with me tomorrow. I can have the boys watch over Laven while I take you.”
Maivena gives her a weak smile. “I do wish I could, but my father and I do not have enough pay for a single class.”
“I do,” Maivena’s wide eyes quickly look toward me. She does not need to speak; her facial expression is already speaking loudly for itself.
“It is the least he could do after you brought him nearer to health. And I cannot allow your abilities to go to waste; we have done this before with other servants when we see their strengths.” My mother’s hands rest on Maivena’s thin shoulders.
“What will I wear?” Maivena asks. “Am I allowed to go in this?”
“I can have that arranged too.” The expression I receive from her is softer; for the first time, I think I can see a glimpse of happiness there. It gleams the longer she looks at me.
“I do believe you can thrive there, Maivena.”
She smiles at my mother, nodding again, not finding any words to say aloud.
“Oh, Axynth.” My mother raises a finger. “We must go; Vyn is waiting for us in my study.”
Axynth smiles while shoving a hand through his white hair. “Yes, she is. It was nice meeting you Maivena,” he looks towards me. “And you, we will discuss High King Stravan’s arrival later; Amias informed me of it just as I arrived back. We will plan when you are in full health.”
I nod at him before he and my mother ascend from my chamber.
Looking over at Maivena, she is already watching me.
Her voice is but a whisper. “Thank you; you did not have to do that.”
“I told you, it is my right to take care of you, and if that means getting you out of here and far away from this palace.” And me. “I will do it . . . you too need somewhere to grow and prosper, Maivena.”
I see a quiver in her chin; she hurriedly hides it and replaces it with a smile.
“Not only for that, but hiding the truth about the Tree of Gods as well. It is sacred to my people; they fight every day to protect it.” Her fingers fumble around with one another. “Thank you, truly.”
“Taking care of you does not mean only taking care of you; it means taking care of everyone else that comes along with you.”
“You are different from the rest; I wish my friends at home could see it.”
I shake my head. “You seeing it is all I care about, I could not give a damn what anyone else thinks of me.”
There is a quiet laugh that escapes her. “My father used to say that to my mother.”
I grin like a fool. “Your father is a smart man.”
“I should finish wrapping your shoulder.” She points.
I begin to wonder how much longer I will need to be bedridden; I am growing sick of having Amias and Morano help me bathe every day.
As I count the days of healing I should have left, I then remember.
Meet me at the East Lake ten sunsets from today. I will be awaiting you in the courtyard; find me in the maple tree.
“Yesterday, did you by chance meet anyone?” The fingers that were quick to work on my shoulder freeze in motion.
“No,” she continues wrapping my arm.
“And what about that letter you received?”
She glances down at me. “How do you know about that?”
I grin. “I know of every letter that passes on to my servants. So, why did you not go?”
She studies me and I could wither beneath her stare.
“Because I do not meet with people I do not know.”
I smirk. “Good girl.”
A sudden, sharp pain shoots through my leg, and I grunt, falling back into the pillows. I have had about enough of this shit.
“Here, drink.” She helps me lift my head and raises the steaming tea to my lips. It is the pain-relieving tea, but also that tea she sedates me with, and that is exactly what it does.
* * *
‘Twelve men, Laven.’ My uncle says as he stands over me. ‘A season here in this prison per man if you do not speak about what you did.’
‘And counting,’ I add.
Lorsius steps nearer. ‘What did you just say?’
I aggressively shake the chains gripping my wrists as I stare into his eyes. ‘Did you hear that?’
‘Yes, I fucking heard that.’
‘Good, then you will hear me when I say Benjamin was not the last. There are plenty more bodies you will never find.’
My father who is standing far off in the corner furrows his eyebrows and his eyes shut as he pinches the bridge of his nose. He has tried to seep into my mind but knows he cannot. I am the one person whose mind my father cannot barricade.
His straight white hair falls around his face as his head cascades forward.
‘I cannot do this,’ Lorsius says turning to his brother, my father. ‘You deal with him, he is your son.’
My father faces Lorsius. ‘If I recall, I never told you to come here in the first place.’
‘My Kingdom is finally well, and my nephew and Heir decides to murder twelve men and I am expected to just not speak to him about it? What does that say about me?’
‘Because he is your nephew you leave it alone.’ My father is now in Lorsius face. Standing a solid four inches above him. ‘Your blood, Lorsius. Not a prisoner, not a captive, your blood. Our blood.’
‘No one is above the law.’ Lorsius says in a hardened tone.
There is rooted hatred laced in those words.
‘Really?’ I question as I stare at the blood slowly dripping down my wrists. ‘Does the law not apply to you?’
‘I do not need to listen to a child.’
‘I would mind myself if I were you,’ my father retorts. ‘That child has killed men stronger than you.’
Lorsius stands there, waiting for us to say another thing.
We do not and he leaves.
My father walks forward and kneels in front of me as I sit on the wet ground.
His hand steadily hovers over my bruised and bleeding wrists, healing them.
‘Why did you do it?’ He asks as the golden hues glowing from his palms reach my hands, ridding them of any pain and injury.
‘You would not understand.’ I mumble a response.
‘I cannot hear you when you mumble.’
I speak louder. ‘You would not understand why I did it.’
He is smirking. ‘Try me.’
‘No,’ I pull from the conversation. ‘Another day.’
‘If you do not speak with me, then who? The boys are only allowed to visit you sparingly, if not ever. You have already refused to allow your sister to see you in here and the both of you are thicker than blood. Your mother and Roaner are comforting Levora at all hours of the day because you are closer to being on death row than being forgiven. ‘There is only me Laven. I have a place to know why my son has lost his fucking mind, and I have even more of a place to know if it was rightful what you did or if you need help.’
‘Get me out of here alive and I will tell you everything. I promise.’
He grips my black and white streaked hair. ‘You are an Arvenaldi, born from the blood of Orviantes. Strong souled. We never die, Laven.’
Before he lets go of my hair, he kisses my forehead and stands. ‘I will tell everyone you give them your greetings.’
Hours have passed since my father has been gone, hours since anyone has been in here. With each hour I have watched the sun fall deeper into the sea as I sit on the edge of the open cell at the top of the tower.
I hear the heavy stone door slide open, I crane my head in the direction and two guards walk in. The same two from last night who thought they could torture it out of me, what I did to their friends.
They near closer. One lowers down, his face hovering right over my own. ‘We will do this every day until you confess.’
‘I hope you have enough stamina for a threat as that.’
He grabs me by my hair and I begin to fight back as much as I can being confined by chains.
My shirt is being torn from me sleeve by sleeve until it is in shreds on the ground.
The sound of cracking whips echoes through the cell and my head is forced to the ground.
‘Laven!’ My name is shouted from somewhere, but I cannot find where.
‘Laven!’ The voice is strangled.
‘Laven, have you gone mad! Let her go!’
Upon opening my eyes and I see Roaner tugging Maivena from my grasp; coming to, I release her neck from my hand. Immediately, she begins gasping for air, a hoarse cough ripping through her as Roaner falls to the floor holding her.
I stare at what I have done. I stare until I am calling for her over her strangled breathing
“Give her a moment,” Roaner serenely speaks to only me. “I think she is aware you were dreaming; she was trying to wake you. Let her regulate her breathing first.”
“How did you arrive so quickly?”
He is slow to respond. “The nightmare went down the bond again.”
“Fuck, Roaner, I am sorry.”
“Do not ever apologize for that. Those guards are lucky it was your father to kill them and not me.”
Roaner touches the back of her neck and I can already see the golden glow in his hand healing her of the damage caused.
I do not dare to look away from her until she finally catches a solid breath of air.
I swallow past the knot growing in my throat. “Maivena?”
Roaner helps her stand, and she fixes the white linen robe that is loose around her shift. I can feel her withdraw as she takes a step away.
She glances upward and our eyes meet.
You know I would never intentionally harm you.
“You were having a nightmare . . . it is fine.”
Roaner looks between the both of us. “I will be in the hall; I can come back to check on you both.” The moment he is gone, I am trying to stand again, but it is no use. Maivena rushes over as my hand slips on the spilled tea over the nightstand.
Her hands wrap around my arm as she struggles to lift me back onto the bed; I gently grab her arm as she turns to clean the mess of tea I made on the nightstand.
“I am sorry, I would not–”
“I know,” she stops me from continuing my apology. “You were having a nightmare. Those reactions are normal.”
“I could have killed you . . .” I choke on my own words, and I see her step closer.
Her eyes are forgiving as they look right back into my own. “But you did not.”
She could never understand this fright unless she knew the truth.
“Do you wish to speak of it?” Maivena’s voice is low as she asks.
And dump my issues all over the woman carrying enough of her own? “No.”
There is a gentle knock on the door and Roaner returns. He puts on a short smile. “Strong tea?”
Maivena nods. “Next time, I would rather you punch me than choke me.” I can feel the playfulness in her words; they pull a smile to my lips and Roaner fights his smile.
A smile in a moment when I never thought it possible. Her dark sense of humor brings light to this unfortunate night.
“That is not funny.” I shake my head, still amused.
“What can we do to avoid such vivid dreams?” Roaner asks.
“No more heavy doses of this tea; it keeps him too far into his sleep.” She cleans the small mess of tea before turning to me. “I will adjust the dosage in the morning.”
The chamber falls quiet, and I look over to her as she throws the dirty rag into the cloth bin.
“Thank you, Maivena.”
“It is the least I could do.”
