LAVEN HEPHAESTUS ARVENALDI, II
NADREXI — SOUTHERN COURT OF QUAMFASI
S leep did not find me well last night. Each close of my eyes soared my mind into sauntering restlessly with irate thoughts, and those irate thoughts woke me every hour. And each moment I awoke, I searched for the body that used to sleep next to me.
I lift from the mattress and rub the tingling sensation from my eyes before I look at the sunlight coming through the windows.
Then the emergent sound of the waterfall rests my mind so intensely that I almost believe I have gotten days’ worth of sleep.
“Oh, you are awake.”
Being rapt with the view of the waterfall ahead of me, I did not realize she was here.
Ivella.
“I brought tea.” She tells from the door.
I hear the soft pad of her foot step into the room.
“Wait.” I call, forcing her to a standstill. “I am bared.”
“Oh, I-I can leave it on the dining table.”
The door does not close behind her. As I turn, I can see her holding two teacups in her hands as she moves down the hall.
You dullard. She was trying to have morning tea with you.
I hear the door to the cottage open and leisurely close.
After I tie my trousers, I leave the chamber to find where she has gone to.
“Laven.”
Roaner walks through the forest and toward the house.
Ivella is crouched near a garden of flowers where hummingbirds which were previously feasting on nectar are now playfully circling her.
“Lord Zevyk and his mothers’ said for the two of us to meet them at the palace. I just met with them so I could be allowed entrance.”
He enters the home and I look back to Ivella, who still holds the attention of nature itself.
“You are here earlier than I supposed.” I say to Roaner after closing the door. “I did not expect that you would be here by this hour; I presumed you would not arrive until tonight.”
Roaner shrugs. “Wanora learns steadfast.”
I smile and gape at him.
Wanora learns new training fast? Or Roaner briskly demonstrated to be here with Esme?
“I heard that.”
“Oh, I am aware that you did.”
I would push for more information on who she is to him, but I could not pry for information on his life when he never does with me.
* * *
Zevyk and his mothers requested that we discuss our arrival over morning meal to discover any possibility of persuading Vallehes and Penelope to allow some form of alliance once more.
The probability of Vallehes and Penelope denying us an alliance is high. I want to stay hopeful, but there is no chance to secure myself within hope. What Lorsius did to their people to rule the mainland is unforgivable. And no matter who I ask, this may continue to be denied.
If Vorian was conscious of the beckoning war, I am sure that the rest of his people are preparing or perhaps already prepared.
Roaner and I walk into the dining room after our escorts open the doors. “High Prince Laven, Lord Roaner,” Lana greets. “It is lovely to meet you. I am Lady Lana, this is my wife, Jorja.”
Lana is welcoming as she approaches. Her dreaded white hair is pinned half-up, revealing her radiant dark skin. Next to her, Jorja nears with an outstretched hand, also introducing herself.
Her handshake is firm before her fair-skinned arm casually circles Lana’s waist. Jorja is attired in trousers, an undershirt, and a vest that is untied. The opposite of what her wife is wearing—a dainty light blue dress with navy trimmings throughout the fabric.
“Let us dine together while we talk. I hope you have not eaten yet,” Lana looks to the table. “The kitchen prepared a lovely morning meal for us to consume.”
“We have not. Thank you for accepting us in this way.” When Courts welcome you with a meal, it is known as the utmost respect for the person coming.
The dining table is full of fresh fruit, bread, cheeses, jams, eggs, and a few foods I do not recognize. However, it is disrespectful not to try nearly everything, so I will be eating it no matter what.
After we have gathered food onto our plates is when Lana begins to speak first. “Zevyk informed me that you were looking for a union. I believe this is because of the intrusion of rogues?”
I nod and swallow my food before speaking. “Yes, do you all know of them?”
“We do,” Zevyk responds. “Vallehes and Penelope were here speaking of them before they left for Xenathi. We have yet to run across any here on our territory, but that does not mean we could not.”
“Agreed.” I speak.
“Laven,” Lana continues. “We could speak with Vallehes and Penelope; still, the chances of reconciliation between our nations are very slim unless your uncle is dead. And your mother.”
Out of nature, I sense Roaner go on defense, I do as well, but I decide for the both of us that this is not the place nor the time for the both of us to murder three people very high in New Quamfasi’s Circle.
“My mother had nothing to do with the crimes Lorsius committed so I would direct you to keep her out of your blames.”
“She may not, but she has not left her position as a Ruler high in stature in New Vaigon, and neither have you. Therefore, it would be challenging for the rightful heirs of the Throne to trust you. Yet, even after all the crimes your uncle committed, you and your mother both still stayed, and your father is nowhere to be found. So, how far would Lorsius have to go to make you leave? And why has he not gone far enough already to make you flee?”
Because I could never flee without Maivena.
I ignore her mention of my father, that is a conversation that we will not be having today.
“A nation can only be as strong as its leaders.” Zevyk adds.
I force myself not to reach across this table and choke him. “I have my reasons.”
“I surely hope there is a good reason.” Zevyk says before sipping the juice in his glass vessel.
“My mate.”
His eyes sharpen as he looks at me.
“Then your reasoning for staying is poor.” He targets. “She should have been all the more reason to leave that God’s forsaken land. But, possibly, you do not care for her enough to get her out of such turmoil.”
Before I can respond, Jorja casually intervenes.
“I am sure there is much more lying behind it than we are being given, Zevyk,” Jorja looks in his direction. “Rest, my child.” She removes her vest that matches her trousers before sitting. “What specifically is there that you need help with, Laven?” Jorja asks.
“My Warriors and people need to be trained, and Nadrexi is known for having the most substantial Warriors of all time. That being said, I was seeking you all out for aid in war training. We have been implementing as much training as we can, but it is not extensive enough.”
Jorja responds first again, knowing that her quick-at-the-mouth son and wife are treading too heavily. “I will speak with Penelope and see what it is that we can do.”
“There is word that the High King of Provas is to come to New Vaigon?” Lana asks.
“Yes, Stravan is to arrive during Summer Solstice.”
“That is soon,” Lana nods before biting into a piece of bread.
Roaner’s senses are on high alert, but he continues to eat quietly next to me.
“You will need to hold a meeting with all Leaders of Voschantai Universe. Call all arms, gather all Warriors. If war is coming to one of the largest realms, it will come to all realms.”
“Correct,” I begin. “But it is not safe for us to hold a meeting with all leaders. What if one of the leaders from outside realms is the person who crafted this disease to destroy us?”
Jorja nods. “I thought of that,” she adds.
Zevyk leans back in his chair as he bites into a slice of an apple. “I will train you, and in return you can train your people.” He announces.
“I will kill him if he hurts you,” Roaner says. “I will make it seem as if it were self-annihilation.”
“As much as I would love that,” I fight the smile threatening to grow. “We cannot do so.”
“Why is that?”
“Because he means something to Maivena. I would not wreck her in such a way.” I would not do to her what she would not do to me.
“If you wish to train together, that is fine by me.”
Zevyk only nods and continues to eat.
“We will discuss the further matters with Vallehes and Penelope.” Jorja says. “Although you may feel as if you are leaving with nothing, you just may not. I will see what I can do for you both.” Jorja gives a faint smile.
* * *
That dreadful morning meal has ended and Zevyk has cleared the Training Grounds specifically for us. He requested that Roaner not attend or be near; I understood because I know he could sense that Roaner wanted his soul for morning meal. But Roaner is never far, I can feel him here, but Zevyk cannot.
“No use of powers.” I say to Zevyk as I toss my undershirt aside.
“No worries,” he smirks, throwing his undershirt aside as well. “That is not how I was trained.”
I quietly laugh. “And neither was I.”
Looking over his build, I try to examine just how resilient he could be—discover what muscles protrude more than the others to determine where his strength lies.
“Was there a reason?”
“I was born with basic abilities,” I stand straighter. “All my life I had no choice but to use hand-to-hand combat as my strong suit, that is until the Blood Bond Ritual when I was gifted partial power from each of my brothers. It just enhanced everything I already had.”
I see that façade of bumptiousness over his frame falter.
As I grew up, my father taught me to fight in the dirtiest ways, especially against those I despise with a burning passion. He taught me enough to kill multiple men, but I will not attempt to kill Zevyk, but I will be using what I was taught.
“Shall we?” I take a step backward, and he does as well.
As we advance forward our swords immediately clang loudly through the forest far out.
This may not be an ideal situation for us both.
It is only known for men to duel for training, war, or to kill the other for the woman they love. However, I cannot let this duel go too far. Ivella will most likely have my head in the end if Zevyk is harmed.
I soar my blade downward, yet I can feel the point of his epee coming toward my skin. The rush of his sword sends a signal of air over my skin, alerting me of what is coming.
Rotating, I shift my sword in my hand and ram the handle of the sword in the middle of his neck. He falls to the ground gasping and coughing.
“That my mother taught me.”
He stands. “Your mother fights grimy,” he pants as he speaks.
“My father trained her.”
“And I trained Ivella.” His superciliousness returns.
“No wonder I needed to teach her so much.”
His rapier slashes outward, and I promptly dip my shoulder, evading his foray.
“How is that you know Ivella?” I ask.
Zevyk smiles. “She was to be my wife.”
Then, again, our swords are crash down into one another, both of us fighting for the intent to kill, but neither of us aiming for death although we wish to.
“You are aware she will wish to stay with me.” Zevyk says breathily as my sword knocks his out of his hand.
Our chests heave up and down as the freshly sharpened edge of my vane presses to the side of his neck.
“We are done here.”
“What will you say when she tells you so? Will you deny her? Or will you demand her to do as you say so she will keep put by your side?”
I fit my sword back into the sheath strapped across my chest.
“You know, I would like to believe that she would stay with me.” I admit. “Yet, I will not tell her what to do nor where to sojourn. That is all her own choice.”
“And you would let her go? No interference from you again.” He tightly crosses his arms, sweat drips from his golden hair and down his arm within the taught motion.
“No,” I shake my head. “I would still be within her vicinage.”
A shudder of resentment streaks within his eyes.
“Why?” His tone is strident as he demands a response.
“Because she will want me around, and I will come.”
“And what if it were only her bed that she called you to?” He asks.
He walks toward his undershirt lying on the ground and pulls the dark fabric over his shoulders.
I should be shocked by such a question, but I am not. I grasped that this was one of the reasons Zevyk feared me. This duel was nothing but an antagonization. I distinguished this going in, and I will not allow him to believe he could bid my bluff.
I know Maivena, and I think I know Ivella as well. Neither of them would crave for another other than the person they are wedded to because she will be smart about who she marries.
“If that were the reason she was to call on me, then that would mean you are not fulfilling her in ways that she knows I can.”
He laughs. “So, then what? You become High Prince Laven, the paramour.” He continues to dig a hole that he will not find me at the bottom of.
“For her? I would become anything she wanted me to be. In the end, it is still me she is asking for it from.” I stand in front of him once more. “You are trying to test me, Zevyk, but what you do not know is that I have grown up with an uncle that has seen me as competition all his life. It will take a long time before I allow you—someone, I do not know—to bring out the vilest side of me.
“If Ivella desired to be here with you, then that is what she chooses. I do not tell Ivella what to do because I want her to do what her mind calls her to. Not because I want to secure her to my side out of pure possessiveness. Nevertheless, Ivella can easily trigger my possessiveness. However, I keep it subjugated.”
He continues to stare through me as I grab my undershirt and throw it over my shoulder.
“Mates are not always sure to stay together.” This is precisely what I expect every man to say who throws themselves at her feet, coveting for a morsel of her time.
I am the one to laugh this time. “You are telling me things I already know. Let me know when you have something to tell me that I am not already aware of.”
“Ivella does not know what she wants, she never has,” he quickly speaks as I begin to ascend. “Only a fool would walk away from making her see what she could have.”
A grin appears on my face as I turn around. “No, only a fool would force her to see a future that is not there.”
“And you see what her future holds?”
“I do not. But I also do not influence myself to be in someone’s future unless I am meant to be in it.”
“And if you are not meant to be in her life?” He steps forward.
“Then so be it.”
Losing her will be my ruin.
* * *
When I arrive at Ivella’s home, she is wrapping a large bathing cloth around her chest as she recedes from her swim near the waterfall.
As I enter, the house is quiet, alerting me that Roaner and Esme are not here like I thought they would be.
“You are back,” Ivella says as she enters. A shift and robe now replace the bathing cloth that she wrapped around her.
She looks over the secured sheath across my bare chest, and then next, the black handle of the sword sitting at an angle on my back. “Were you dueling?” Her eyebrows furrow as she steps closer. She is observing, searching for a wound.
“No, just training,” I say, removing the sheath. “Are you hungry? Roaner said he perused the city on his journey in this morning, and there is a small bakery that sells pastries of all different kinds.”
She glows. “That bakery belongs to my father’s close acquaintance. I used to go there when I would visit here during Winter and Summer Solstice.”
“Would you like to go now?”
“Oh,” she looks around before her eyes meet mine again. “I am meeting Zevyk soon, but I could take you another time. Possibly tomorrow?”
I smile and shake my head. I was expecting Zevyk to send a messenger here while I was gone to ask her for a day of her time.
“Tomorrow, I plan to leave.”
With you or without you.
She walks away to busy herself in the kitchen, and I stay where I am. But then, the subject of our conversation quickly diverts.
“I will be going to the market to buy vegetables for supper. Lana, Jorja, and Zevyk plan to come along to see me.”
“Do you need coin?” I ask.
She responds with the shake of her head as she makes another cup of tea, not meeting my eye any longer.
“No, I will be fine.”
Instead of asking whose money she will be using, I walk to the chamber I am staying in to change clothing.
As I change, I can hear the padding of her feet against the floor outside of the door. I wait to see if she will open the door, knock, anything. Yet, she is only standing there. Contemplating. She does nothing. She only leaves.
* * *
Roaner shouts out my name as I swim by the waterfall; he is standing at the cottage door, motioning for me to meet him inside.
After drying off and putting my trousers on, he sits at the dining table, sipping a glass of dark liquor. Next to him is a freshly opened bottle of whiskey. He reaches for the bottle and fills the crystal glass, and slides it to me.
“What will we do?” He asks.
I do not need to suspect what he is speaking in reference to.
“We wait,” I quietly grunt as the smooth liquor gives a satisfying burn in my chest.
“Do you believe Jorja will be able to persuade Vallehes and Penelope?” His finger trails over the edge of the glass as he awaits a response.
“No,” I confidently respond. “When Stravan arrives we will speak with him of the matters, see if he may be adept in the persuasion of New Quamfasi or if he will come to our aid. No matter what, I am asking for something in return of whatever it may be that he wishes for us to do to find Dyena.”
Roaner removes his cloak and vest, stretching out his arms and resting back into the chair. “Stravan will know we will want something in return. Make him indebted to it.”
“What if it is him spreading this vile disease?”
“Doubtful,” Roaner puts his glass down. “Morano and I both do not believe so. He may have been on rampages over the years, but do not let that skew your vision into believing he would be so hateful he would spread infection. His rages are through desperation. He will do anything to find Dyena, and we will do anything to prevent or win a war.”
I huff. “War and women.”
“They go hand in hand.” Roaner says in a deep tone after swallowing the liquor. “Speaking of women. Where is she?” He asks, referring to Maivena.
Ivella.
“She is off with Zevyk, and I am fathoming that he is courting her all over again.”
“You did good,” Roaner nudges his knee against mine. “Do not give in to such pettiness as his. If Maivena knew of what he did, she would not have gone with him.”
My eyebrows raise. “I do not know; I think she still would go with him. Or, in some way, he would convince her to. They have been apart for a long time and were to wed before the guards took her. Nothing could stop this indisputable time they want together.”
“That is interesting to me.” Roaner precariously says as he swirls the liquor in his glass.
“What is?”
“Their relationship.” He clarifies. “Maivena and Zevyk.”
“How so?”
“Something must have transpired between them beforehand. He can cry and complain about how you should have taken Maivena and left New Vaigon, but he should have been searching for her before her father was. That is if it is true they were to be married. If she had as much meaning in his life as he deems, he would be trapped with her in Vaigon, not her father. Just as Kaden followed Ethel, Zevyk should have followed Maivena.”
I strain to not speculate too abundantly about a situation I do not copiously know.
“Naius was the only stable male figure in Maivena’s life,” he continues. “I understand it is natural he sought to save his daughter, but Zevyk, her awaited husband, that is odd he was not searching before Naius, did not find her, and did not stay. Yet you have tallies of bodies on your hands for men just taking her.”
“Everything within this is very nebulous. And there are one too many questions to ask without intensifying tantrums after every query.”
“Will you tell her now?”
I distinguish that he is hinting at the mating bond.
“No, that would be too evident. She would claim it as me only saying it because Zevyk wanted her as his wife again.”
“Laven,” Roaner leans forward. “What if she marries this jester?”
I throw my head back in laughter. “If I cannot probe her to stay with me without a mating bond, what makes you believe I could when she knows?”
“You doubt yourself. You have barely had time—mere weeks.” His hand throws out as if to gesture the time.
“Well,” I breathe, agreeing. “I am not completely leaving her life.”
“Explain,” he urges as I tilt back the rest of the liquor in my glass.
“Vuamsati Academy, she still holds a place there; they are just awaiting her arrival.”
“And she will need a way there without complications of crossing borders.” Roaner smirks, adding it all together. “What if she chooses to go no longer attend?”
I lift a shoulder. “I will cross paths with her again soon enough.”
Roaner reaches behind his chair, and another full bottle of whiskey is in his hand. He grabs the other that is open on the dining table and gives over the fresh liquor to me.
He stands and leads for the door; I follow behind him while holding the whiskey low at my side.
There is a smile on his face as he gazes out at the glorious view of the Nadrexi sunset.
He nods for me to pop the cork concealing the liquor, and I do.
“What do you dream of?”
I grin. “You know what I dream of.”
He holds out his vessel to mine, and they clank together. “Now kiss it to the Gods.”
Our heads tilt back, taking a deep drink to the Gods in the hope of our reveries being heard and gifted to us.
