NaNoWriMo '09//Wonderland Burning

[caffeine_buzz]

Title: Wonderland Burning Chapter 2 & Chapter 3
Fandom: Original
Rating: PG. Probably. Still.
Notes: NaNo continues and I hate my title but whatevs~~



2.
let that be a lesson to me

The ride back seemed far longer than Alis thought it should be. With one horse dead and another missing -- Vincent’s horse had apparently run off during the fight -- they had to make do with only two horses. Alis sat behind Vincent, while Xerxes had the grim task of carrying Leda’s body on his horse. The pace was by necessity slow, as the horses were carrying double the load, and both Xerxes and Vincent were doing their best to remain vigilant, just in case there were any other men waiting to ambush them.

Alis leaned his head against Vincent’s back, one arm holding tightly to the Book and the other linked around Vincent’s waist. He was loathe to admit it, but the entire affair had left him feeling tired and slightly ill. His body had never been strong, not like Xerxes’. Xerxes had been able to fight, Xerxes carried a sword. Alis had nothing but his Book and Vincent.

“We’ll need to send word to the Duke,” Vincent murmured. Alis could see that his hands were white and shaking only slightly; it was the only indication he gave of how he was feeling about the death of his sister. “We’ll need to find somewhere new to hide.”

“I’m aware of that,” Xerxes said wearily. He had not looked at Alis the entire ride. “I’ll need to go to town, for supplies. We may need camping gear, and emergency supplies. Just in case Father doesn’t send his reply soon enough. We may need to leave as soon as tonight, if it comes to that.”

“If someone did send those men, we should be all right for the night at least,” Vincent said. “There was no way of them knowing that we’d be out this far from the house. They may have been lying in wait there for days, tracking us. If someone sent them he likely didn’t expect them back tonight.”

“Still, we’ll have to be ready,” Xerxes said. “We’ll need to start packing as soon as possible.” He finally looked over at Alis. “I’ll have to get Mother prepared as well.”

Alis stared fixedly at Vincent’s back and didn’t reply.

“Duchess Albarn will not be happy,” Vincent said, sighing. “I can only hope that my lord the duke has been prepared for this eventuality. We have barely been a year at this place, and already…”

“The rumors must be gaining strength,” Xerxes said. “Father’s done his best to convince the people that Frances is his only heir, but, well…nothing stays secret for long, I suppose. He mentioned in his last letter that the priesthood has been getting bolder under the King Regent. Anyone desperate to curry favor with the priests could do worse than finding us.”

“They’re burning witches in the capital,” Alis said, his face buried in Vincent’s back and his voice muffled by the servant’s hair. He laughed bitterly. “They already tried that with me. Didn’t work.”

“Young Master..” Vincent said quietly.

“That has nothing to do with us,” Xerxes said dismissively. “This isn’t the time, Alistair.” He sighed. “I don’t know where we’ll go this time, Vincent. I’m sure Father will be able to find somewhere for us. We’ll just have to be more careful next time.”

“You went beyond the fence,” Alis said in a nasty lilting tone. “Xerxes is not careful.”

“Not now, Alis,” Xerxes said. “I can’t deal with you like this now. Not today, not with Leda…”

Alis closed his eyes and didn‘t reply, his head still buried in Vincent’s hair. They rode on in silence.

He wasn’t sure how long had passed before Vincent spoke again.

“Young Master. We’re back.”

Alis wearily raised his head. Over Vincent’s shoulder he could see the house in the distance.

The farm house was a fairly decent size, the type that might belong to the second son of a wealthy man, who had inherited only the house and the land while his elder sibling took the title and the manor house in town. The walls were all of thick strong wood and there were windows all about that could be opened to let the air inside in summer or shut tight in winter to ward off the cold. Inside there was a comfy living room and a decent-sized dining room, plus a well-stocked kitchen and even a small dusty room lined with shelves that served as a decent library. The duchess’s room was on the far side of the house and could be located easily even from the outside due to the single stained-glass window she’d insisted on bringing along and installing at every place they lived. The window showed a scene of a white lily and a unicorn, Duchess Albarn’s family crest from before her marriage. On the opposite side of the house was a small cluster of rooms, one for Xerxes and one for Alis. Across from Alis’s room was another large room meant as a servants’ quarters. Once there had been actual servants that had traveled along with them from place to place, maids and butlers and a single cook, but at this house the room had been filled only by Vincent and Leda.

Next to the house was a sturdy little stable, though they had only a handful of horses -- with the loss of the other two there were only three left, counting the two they rode on. A few flowers grew determinedly in a circle in between the house and the barn, a half-hearted attempt at a garden. Leda and Alis had started it when they’d first arrived, but Alis had grown tired of it almost immediately and Leda had never been much of a gardener. Behind the stable, hidden from the front of the house, was an old shed, barely large enough for one person to enter, currently empty for lack of any tools or supplies to place inside. The house was surrounded by a wide wooden fence that stretched for miles, and their small handful of cows milled about in the grass near the edges of the fence. The wooden door on the far side of the fence hung open but only two cows had made anything like an escape attempt, and those two wandered about right along the fence’s outer edge. As they got closer Vincent slowed the horse to a stop and, after making sure Alis wouldn’t simply topple off after him, dismounted the horse and led the two stray cows back inside the confines of the fence.

“We can walk from here.” Xerxes dismounted in one smooth movement and began to lead his horse towards the house. “Alis, you too.”

Before Alis could dismount Vincent took hold of the horse for him and began to lead it inside.

“I can walk,” Alis remarked mildly, stretching his vowels again.

“I know, Young Master,” Vincent said. “This will be quicker.”

Alis thought about arguing, but it didn’t seem worth it. He was tired, and the sight of Leda’s body on Xerxes’s horse made his eyes hurt.

They had meant to go to the stables first, to leave the horses and to begin the solemn task of taking care of Leda’s body. But they had hardly passed by the farm house when a figure came running towards them.

“Mother!” Xerxes quickly handed his horse over to Vincent and ran to meet her.

Duchess Albarn had once been considered the most beautiful noblewoman in the kingdom. Eldest daughter of one of the oldest and most revered titled families, her marriage to Duke Albarn had been a grand affair that had solidified economic ties with the neighboring province that had been strained fifty years prior in the civil war. She had been known for her pride and a fierce temper that had been known to cow even trained soldiers.

Those who had once praised her so highly would not have recognized her now. Her face was sallow, with sunken cheekbones and darkened eyes, and the long, slim fingers that had at one time played a harp for His Majesty the king himself had become thin and bony like long claws. Her hair was still swept up in a bun, a style that had been fashionable in her youth, but it was unkempt and haphazardly done. Even her clothes, even the least of them once richly embroidered and bejeweled, had long since grown dull and threadbare from lack of care.

“Xerxes! My Xerxes!” She all but fell into Xerxes’ arms, clutching him close. “Where have you been? I couldn’t find you, where have you been? You could have--you could have--” Her voice cut off and her breathing was ragged. “You were gone. My Xerxes!”

“I’m sorry,” Xerxes said breathlessly. “I’m sorry, Mother. I-I only went for a ride. I’m all right, you see? I’m unharmed.”

“Thank Lael,” the duchess said, half-sobbing. “Praise to Him. You’re safe. You’re safe. I was worried, so worried.”

“I know.” Xerxes swallowed hard and tried to smile. “I’m all right. But…I’m sorry, Mother. We were found.”

“Found?” The Duchess gasped, her thin hands shaking. She grasped Xerxes’ hand tightly. “Found?”

“I’m sorry,” Xerxes said again, looking lost. “Leda’s dead, Mother. She died protecting us.”

“Leda is dead?” Duchess Albarn’s shoulders shook, and her fingers dug into Xerxes’ hand. “But you are all right? Vincent is all right?”

“We’re fine,” Xerxes soothed. “Thanks to Leda, we’re all fine.”

“We must bury her with all honors then,” the Duchess said fervently. “With all honors.” At last she looked away from Xerxes. Her eyes found the body on the back of Xerxes’ horse, and she made a sign with her hands, the sign of a silent prayer to the god Lael. She turned to Vincent and smiled warmly at him. “And you, you are all right, Vincent? You’re limping.”

“A minor injury, my lady,” Vincent said, shifting uncomfortably. “I’ll be fine.”

“Your sister…we will all miss her greatly,” the Duchess said, clasping a hand to her chest. “She kept my son safe. That--that sacrifice won’t be forgotten.”

“I am grateful, Duchess Albarn,” Vincent said uneasily. “If you’ll excuse me, the horses…”

“Of course,” the Duchess said. “We will prepare the rights for your sister as soon as we can. And you, you will protect Xerxes in her stead now, won’t you? You will serve only Xerxes, as your sister did?”

Vincent shifted uneasily, clearly hesitant to reply. The Duchess stared at him expectantly, awaiting her answer.

“I…apologize, my lady,” he said at last. “I serve Young Master Alistair, as I always have. With my sister’s death, Master Xerxes is also of course under my protection as well, but my master will remain your younger son, as it has always been, as your honored husband commanded of me when you took Leda and me in all those years ago.”

The Duchess stared at him out of empty eyes.

“Younger son? I have no younger son.”

Vincent did not reply. Xerxes glared sharply at him and Vincent remained standing rigidly before him, unbowed by the sharp green eyes.

“You don’t have to do that, Vincent,” Alis said quietly from behind him. “It’s all right.”

“My master will remain who my master has always been,” Vincent said stubbornly.

“My husband is your master!” the Duchess snapped. “You would do well to remember that.”

“It’s all right, Vincent,” Alis said again, sliding off the horse. “Tell her what she wants to hear. It’ll be easier that way.”

“Alis, you should go back to the house,” Xerxes said in low tones.

“Of course,” Alis sing-songed. “I’m just making sure Vincent won’t be a trouble-maker. Always trouble, trouble.”

The Duchess was staring at Alis as if she’d seen a ghost, her eyes wide and glassy. Alis turned to look at her and smiled.

“I’m all right too, Mother,” he said quietly. “Leda saved me.” The Duchess stared silently at him, her mouth half-open, still as a statue. Alis took a hesitant step towards her. “Leda--Leda saved me.”

“Don’t speak her name!” Duchess Albarn’s hand flashed out, striking Alis on the cheek, her fingernails leaving two thin red marks. “Beast! Abomination!” She was shaking like a leaf now, her face paler than usual and her breathing growing increasingly labored. “I should’ve--I should’ve drowned you -- I should’ve--you should’ve burned but you still live--demon child--I heard you die but you came back, a changeling parading itself as my son, demon-cursed, faerie-touched--”

“Mother!” Xerxes placed himself between her and Alis. “Calm down, Mother. It’s all right. Just--just calm down. You’ll have another attack.”

“Xerxes!” The Duchess collapsed against him. “My dear little Xerxes…my only son, my only son..my dear Xerxes…” Her chest heaved with suppressed sobs and Xerxes rubbed her back soothingly.

“It’s all right, Mother…it’s all right…” He turned his head to look at Alis, the silent command clear. Get inside.

Alis paused for a moment, swaying back and forth on his heels and wondering if eh should risk a reply. He stared for a long moment at his mother, who was now sobbing openly in Xerxes’ arms, and he felt something inside clench tightly.

--flames and darkness, and the hand holding his let go. He reached out blindly, hand brushing the long fingertips he knew by touch alone, and was roughly slapped away--

Alis looked away and fled inside, ignoring the sound of Vincent calling after him.

His room was spacious and completely devoid of any color. Alis had long since ceased to bother with decoration. He hadn't even unpacked his things from the last time they'd been forced to move. His few possessions remained in opened boxes that were stacked up against the wall. The only thing in the room besides the boxes was his bed that sat in the center of the room. The rumpled sheets of the bed and the few clothes that lay tumbling out of one of the boxes were the only signs that anyone had ever made use of this room for anything but storage.

Alis stumbled into the room and let the door shut behind him. He stood swaying in front of the bed, Book clasped tightly to his chest, looking lost. He was breathing hard and the thin scratches on his cheek stung.

His hands clenched tightly around the Book, and he haltingly made his way to the boxes piled haphazardly in the corner and began to dig through them until he found a pen. Alis made his way to the bed and fell face-first onto the sheets. He lay there for a few moments before finally pulling himself into a sitting position and opening the Book, flipping idly through the pages until he came to the spot where he'd left off. The ink had run a bit on the last exclamation mark and there was a large blot in the center of the page.

"Hey, Leda," Alis said softly. "We never found another word for 'idiot.' And you never hit Xerxes either, and now the page is all messed up. I told Frances she could have all my Books, and now the page is all messed up. Idiot still isn't a good word either. I need another word."

Only silence answered him, and Alis swayed back and forth on the bed, as if listening to music only he could hear. The words on the page seemed blurry and indistinct, and the hand that held the pen was shaking. His pressed the tip of the pen to the page and stared at it, unsure.

"I don't have a word," Alis said. "I don't have any words. I need words, or it won't work. I have to fill up the pages, I have to finish, I have to, I-I--" He shuddered and his fingers clenched tightly around the pen. He took a deep breath and began to write.

Leda died today.

He stared at the words as if they were foreign symbols, then crossed out the sentence and tried again.

Leda died today.

Alis shook his head and crossed out the words again, scribbling over them until there was a dark blot in the middle of the page.

Leda died today.

Leda died today.

It was no use. Alis's hands were shaking hard now, and he thought of Mother and her clawed fingers. Irritably he threw the Book across the room.

"Useless!" he snapped fiercely, chewing on the end of the pen. "Useless. Nothing but useless, useless things. I hate useless things. No one needs useless things."

He rolled off the bed and skittered crab-like across the floor to where the largest of the boxes lay. Inside were stacks of books, all the same size with ink-stained covers and worn pages. Alis dug into the box, pulling out one at random. He held it open sideways, tilting his head to read the first page.

We moved somewhere new today. Father says the old house is a wash, because of the fire.

Alis's face darkened alarmingly and in one swift movement he tore the page out of the book and threw it on the floor. Alis could feel a nasty laugh bubbling in his throat as he began to tear another page.

"Useless things," he muttered. "All of it. Just useless things."

In no time there was a small pile of pages encircling him on the floor. There were still a few stubbornly clinging to the book but Alis tossed it aside anyway and reached in for another. He held it upside down, this time not even bothering to read the words, and began to tear again, laughing quietly to himself.

He was just reaching for a third book when a hand roughly grabbed his arm.

"Young Master." He hadn't even heard Vincent come in. His servant was pale-faced and there was a bandage around his leg.

"Vin-cent," Alis purred, pronouncing the word in two distinct syllables. "I'm busy."

"You'll regret that later," Vincent said gently but firmly. "I think it might be best for you to rest, Young Master."

"Not tired," Alis said sulkily. The sudden manic energy he'd felt before seemed to drain out of him and the book he'd been holding fell from nerveless fingers as he swayed back and forth. "Go away, Vincent."

"As soon as you've rested I'll go," Vincent said, offering Alis a hand up. Alis ignored him and flopped over onto the floor, his head resting one of the small stacks of ripped pages.

"Go away," he repeated plaintively, waving a hand at Vincent as if shooing away a gnat. "Don't you have something else you should be doing? Where's Mother?"

"Master Xerxes is helping her to bed. She...wasn't doing well."

"Of course." Alis felt the nasty laugh boiling up again. "And Leda?"

"She is resting in the library for now," Vincent said, barely hesitating. "Tomorrow Lady Albarn has allowed me use of the grounds. I will say the words and offer peace, and we will burn the body, as is custom."

"Will Mother be there? She won't like you offering praise to your White Lady instead of Lael."

"I have told Lady Albarn that this is a ceremony that must be conducted in private. Master Xerxes will be attending only to help with lighting the fire." Vincent paused. "I think my sister would like if you attended as well."

"I don't want to watch the burning." Alis rolled over so he was facing away from Vincent. "But...I want to hear the words."

"Whatever you wish, Young Master."

"What kind of rights do you have to speak?" Alis toyed idly with a handful of scraps. "Does your White Lady take in the soul and put it at peace or eat it or something?"

"My Lady White Rabbit is a mistress of time, not death," Vincent said. His voice was soft and gentle and Alis closed his eyes, listening to the cadence of it. "The words we speak are only to request her blessing for the passing of her servant, and to offer thanks for the destiny that has been met and fulfilled."

"Is that what you believe? That Leda was destined to die like this?"

"I believe that all things happen for a reason," Vincent said. "That the future is created by the present and informed by the past, and that things that must happen will happen. That's all."

"That's stupid," Alis declared, rolling onto his back. There were bits of paper stuck to his clothes and tangled in his braid.

Xerxes had cut his hair short two years ago, so Alis let his grow long because there was really no other choice.

"I suppose," Vincent said, sounding unoffended. "The ways of gods are not for men to understand."

"White Rabbit's not a god, though," Alis said. "Not like Mother's god. She's a faerie."

"A High Faerie, and so gifted with the powers of a god." Vincent touched the three sigils on his medallion. "Time. Prophecy. Understanding. Divine powers that surpass those of a simple faerie."

"Demon powers," Alis said flatly, removing his glasses and turning them around, straining to see his golden eyes reflected in the glass.

"A power that is neither understood not explained is still not necessarily demonic," Vincent said sharply. "You should know that, Young Master."

"Should I?" Alis laughed again and began to sing, his voice high and lilting.

""Winter and spring, summer, fall
Two twins born in hallowed hall
Silver necklace, golden ring
The eldest, luck, prosperity shall bring
Broken wheel and torn-down wall
Youngest, misfortune, death and plague to all
Sunlight, water, cloud and air
Eldest lives in castle fair
Darkness, moonlight, stone and cave
Youngest takes an early grave."

"That is only a rhyme for children," Vincent said sharply. "Not prophecy."

"Based on prophecy," Alis said, his voice rising and falling as if in song. "Father has the complete text in the library."

"A prophecy from two hundred years ago," Vincent replied. "You shouldn't dwell on it, Young Master."

"Shouldn't dwell on it?" Alis laughed mockingly. "Stupid Vincent. Stupid. Your sister died for the thing I shouldn't dwell on."

"Fear is what killed my sister," Vincent said. "Fear and ignorance. Not a prophecy so old it's become a song children sing in the streets."

"But true," Alis purred. "Two hundred years ago, with the calamity. Seventy, an earthquake. Fifty, with the civil war. And three years ago, plague. And witch burnings now."

"None of which had anything to do with you," Vincent said firmly.

"The plague broke out in Father's lands first," Alis said.

"Because an ambassador from the southern continent brought it with him," Vincent replied.

"Vincent makes up excuses," Alis sang. "Stupid Vincent." He rolled back over on his side so he was facing away from Vincent. "Father will give you to Xerxes."

"Your father may do as he likes," Vincent replied. "It is as I told your mother. I serve you, as I always have."

"But my father is still your master above all," Alis said. "If he gives you a direct order, what will you do?"

"Stand firm in my decision," Vincent said. "Your brother will support me in that. Xerxes doesn't need my protection. His swordsmanship is almost equal to mine."

"But Alis can't have a sword." Alis laughed. "Can't have pointy things, can’t have sharp things. Mustn't be able to protect himself."

"I know Leda was teaching you archery," Vincent said in calming tones.

"But I can't see right, so it's no good," Alis said sulkily. "Father will definitely give you to Xerxes."

"I am not a cat, to be passed around to whomever your father wishes," Vincent said severely. "I owe Duke Albarn a debt for taking in my sister and I when we were young, yes. But it was Duke Albarn himself who ordered me to protect you and only you, and I hold to that promise, not to one demanded of me eight years later. You are my master. That will not change, no matter what your father -- or your mother -- demand of me."

Alis didn't reply, running his hands through the paper scraps again.

"You should rest now, Young Master," Vincent said. "You've had a long day."

"I'm comfortable here," Alis said.

"You'll be sore in the morning. Let me help you to bed."

"I can do it myself!" Alis snapped, then sighed. "I'm fine now, Vincent. You can go."

"Not until you at least get off the floor," Vincent said.

"All right, all right." Alis rolled back over and allowed Vincent to drag him to his feet. He stumbled the few feet across the room to his bed and fell limply onto it. "There, see? Now go away."

"As you wish, Young Master." Vincent bowed and made his way to the door. He paused in the doorway as Alis's tired voice called him back.

"Vincent..." Alis's voice was flat and dull, devoid of its usual strange up and down tones. "You can kill me, if you like. I don't mind so much. If it makes you feel better about Leda."

"You should know better than even to say that," Vincent said severely. "My sister died for you, Young Master. I expect you to protect that life she gave her all to save."

"I was only letting you know, if you wanted to." Alis closed his eyes and buried his head in his blankets. He heard Vincent pause in the doorway for just a moment longer and he could feel the servant's eyes upon him. His hands clenched around the blankets and he thought ruefully of the torn books in the corner. Those would have to be fixed in the morning.

Later, he would have words to write. He would find them somewhere.

Alis waited until he heard Vincent shut the door, and then finally surrendered himself to sleep.




3.
as empty as an emperor

"We give praise for the light and the life."

"Amen."

"We ask forgiveness for our unfaithfulness and our sin."

"Amen."

"We ask blessing for prosperity and victory."

"Amen."

Dinah chewed on his bottom lip and was for once thankful for the dark veil that hid her features. It was important that she be here, she knew. Essential, her uncle had said. The army was preparing for an important conflict, and it would give the troops heart to know that their rarely-seen princess had attended the blessing ceremony.

She knew all that, but she also knew that the ceremony, like every ceremony she had to attend, was boring and long. What was more, they had only been getting worse of late. She knew her uncle was devout, she'd always known that, but he seemed to have grown even more so in the past three years after the death of her parents. Dinah recalled him leaning over her bedside, grasping her thin hands and thanking Lael, over and over again. It was divine providence that she'd survived, he'd said.

The priesthood had certainly been rewarded well for that 'divine providence.' Even Dinah didn't know how much of her kingdom's wealth had no doubt been poured into the priesthood's coffers. And two years ago her uncle's personal spiritual guide, Aidan, had risen to the rank of High Priest. Dinah wrinkled her nose. She had never liked Aidan much. She still recalled the way he'd stared at her when she'd first been able to rise from bed, how his cold eyes had lingered on her scarred face as if the scars were some sort of brand that marked her as a sinner.

Aidan's voice was the one ringing through the hall now. Usually the weekly blessings were held in the palace's own chapel, with its high ceiling and beautiful large windows that faced out into the garden. Despite its size, the palace chapel always had the feel of being an intimate, peaceful space. Dinah was never sure how to think of Lael, the god her uncle so intensely worshipped, but when she was alone in the chapel she felt as if there really was something watching over her kindly.

By contrast, the large temple that served as the headquarters for the highest ranking members of the priesthood felt sterile and unfriendly. The walls were all of cold white stone and the stained glass windows, though beautiful, caught none of the sunlight the way Dinah felt they should, reflected no beautiful colors on the floor. And Aidan, richly dressed in his silk priest robes with the gold filigree that proclaimed his high rank, had none of the charm of old Father Elliot, the priest who had in the past served the royal family. Had served her father, before he died, before her uncle had taken over as King Regent and brought his own staff with him. Father Elliot remained in the palace only as her own spiritual advisor, only because she had convinced Uncle that Aidan was far too busy to deal with her and her "difficulties."

Truth be told, Dinah suspected that Uncle had given in only because he was too busy for her "difficulties." In the palace chapel she could at least be taught without the oppressive veil over her face, and Father Elliot always let her sit down for long sermons. But in public "appearances must be kept", and so here she was, with the veil obscuring her face and a stupid, ostentatious, unnecessary bejeweled scepter that Uncle had made her carry instead of her sturdy wooden cane because the rest of the attending audience would take the scepter to be an accoutrement of royalty, not a crutch that she was desperately leaning on for support.

Her right leg had, in the past hour or so that the sermon had dragged on, gone from "mildly irritating" to "distractingly painful," but she knew that she couldn't sit down. The most decorated generals in the army, not to mention representatives from each of the twelve titled families and all manner of priests of varying ranks, were all attending this ceremony. Her uncle himself stood proudly only a few feet away. The princess could not show any sign of weakness, not in front of such esteemed company, not after Uncle had done his best to be certain only a chosen few knew what had happened to her body as a result of the plague that had nearly killed her. Uncle would never forgive her, if she dared collapse in front of such company.

Dinah tried to shift her weight, biting back a gasp of pain no one could hear over the incessant chanting anyway. Her hands gripped tightly around the scepter, her dark skin contrasting sharply with the bright silver, and she could see them shaking.

Then someone was standing next to her, leaning against her just enough to offer some support. Dinah turned her head slightly and smiled as she recognized Lily's familiar white habit. A nun in the service of the priesthood, Lily had arrived with Aidan and Uncle three years ago, when Dinah's parents had first fallen ill. Lily was one of the few who knew her princess's condition, and had been a loyal servant to her from the start.

Thank you, Dinah signed, taking one hand off the scepter. Lily nodded almost imperceptibly, her blue eyes shining, a few thin strands of blond hair visible beneath her cornette.

It is my duty to serve you, Lily replied, keeping her hands close to her body so that only Dinah could see the signs. Dinah's eyes strayed to her Uncle standing nearby to see if he'd noticed, but he was staring fixedly at the chanting priests. Not that it would have mattered, she supposed, since Uncle had barely bothered to learn a word of sign language. She suspected that, as far as he was concerned, all she needed to do was nod or shake her head and, outside of that, her words wouldn't have mattered even if she could speak.

I think Aidan's going overboard just for show, Dinah signed. This is his big moment.

His Holiness is only doing his best to honor Our Lord, Lily signed back. You should not mock him, Princess. Even if he is a show-off.

Dinah swallowed her laugh, again thankful for the veil that hid her face.

And with a captive audience, Dinah added. Aidan's never been so happy.

You should be paying attention. Lily was still smiling, despite the admonition. This is for the benefit of your men, that they might come home safely.

I never wanted to send them out at all. Dinah couldn't help but sigh, and was thankful no one heard her over the noise. Uncle had become more fervent lately about chasing down heretics. Dinah recalled dimly the times before the plague, when her father and mother had discussed the problem. Most of the higher-ups in the priesthood insisted that heretics were not to be tolerated, but her parents had had their doubts about allowing such open persecution to occur. Their subjects were their subjects, regardless of who they worshipped. Uncle did not quite see it that way. But there was no point in arguing with him, not when she had no voice to argue with and he knew only the most rudimentary signs.

"And now, I ask that the most honored generals step forward to receive the last of the blessings," Aidan's voice rang through the hall. Four soldiers who Dinah recognized as three of the capital's finest general's and her own gray-bearded Captain of the Guard stepped forward and bowed low before the High Priest.

The Captain looks as if he's eaten something nasty, Lily remarked. Her face was turned away, but she was watching Dinah from the corner of her eye and her hands were still moving fervently.

He does look a little green, Dinah agreed. Captain Sinclair's never liked this kind of ceremony. And he told me he hates that armor. He said it makes him look like a bug that rolled in gold dust.

"We ask for your blessing, O Lael," Aidan's voice rang out as a small boy in monk's robes stepped forward, bearing a golden bowl filled with milk. Aidan dipped his long fingers in the bowl and pressed them to the forehead of the first general. "We ask that you imbue these holy swords with your strength and your fire, with your wisdom and your righteous anger." He moved the next general and repeated the gesture. "We ask that you lend them the power of justice, that they may seek out and destroy your enemies." Aidan continued to the third general. "We ask that you give these men power above power, strength above strength. We ask that you give them the speed of your wind and the light of your sun. We ask for power that we might burn your enemies to dust, that we might spill their unrighteous blood in the streets, that we might leave their bones to dry in the blistering heat of the sun."

Dinah could see Captain Sinclair make a slight movement at that, and she suspected that he was trying not to roll his eyes. She swayed a bit, deliberately, and she saw his eyes dart over towards her.

The bones part was a little much, she signed, and smiled as the Captain ducked his head, hiding his own smile.

"Princess!" Lily hissed warningly, but she was hiding her own smile. Dinah gave half a shrug and tried to look innocent before remembering that even Lily couldn't quite see her through the veil.

Aidan finished his blessing and the soldiers rose. Voices rose in song as the four men turned and together marched out of the hall. They were slowly followed by the rest of the gathered generals, then the lesser priests. Following the proper order, the nobles went next, and last the higher priests until only the choir, Aidan and the royals remained standing. Dinah thought of comfortable chairs and quietly cursed ceremony.

The choir's song ended and they bowed to Aidan as they, too, departed. Aidan turned to the King Regent.

"Lord Orwell," he said in obsequious tones, bowing. "We are honored by your presence, as always."

"The honor is all mine," the King Regent replied, his deep voice echoing off the walls of the chamber. "As always. A fine blessing, as to be expected of you, High Priest."

"I am only pleased that My Lord has finally seen reason and begun to bring our fist down upon the heretics of this land," Aidan said. "For too long they were allowed to run rampant under the rule of your sister. Had her faith only been stronger, perhaps that cursed Fabrain would not be so bold as to spread his lies in our towns...and perhaps she would have been able to fight off the plague that took her so tragically."

Dinah's hand tightened reflexively around the scepter. Lily touched her shoulder gently, a silent reminder that this temple was not the place to reprimand the High Priest.

"Perhaps," Lord Orwell said noncommittally. "But come, there are still pressing matters for us to discuss. I require your council."

"I am always your humble servant, my lord," Aidan said. He finally glanced at Dinah. "Will my dear princess be joining us?"

"I think not, I imagine she must be tired." Lord Orwell turned to face Dinah. "The royal coach should still be waiting outside, my dear. Lily will accompany you back to the palace."

Dinah nodded, bowing her head slightly in respect. Lily bowed low and put a hand on her arm to steady her as they made their way down the hall. Behind her, she could hear her uncle and Aidan talking in low, serious tones.

The coach was waiting outside as promised, and Dinah leaned heavily on Lily as they navigated the steps down to where it waited.

This is why I like my chapel, Dinah signed as they paused midway down for her to catch her breath. Ground floor.

"The temple is hundreds of years old," Lily said gently. "It was meant to reflect the genius of the architect."

Not be practical, Dinah replied irritably. She sighed and leaned on Lily's arm again.

They carefully walked the rest of the way down the steps, where the coachman had already opened the carriage door. Lily entered first, and then she and the coachman helped Dinah in. As soon as the door was closed, Dinah drew the curtain. Tossing her scepter to the ground, she reached up and removed her veil, exposing the scars that ran down the right side of her face.

I thought that would never be over, she signed to Lily. I think Aidan added extra verses to the traditional ceremony, just to be a pill.

"You shouldn't call His Holiness such names," Lily admonished. "He is only dedicated, that's all. Though I suppose he is a little...overzealous, sometimes. And possibly a big show-off." She giggled and Dinah laughed silently along with her.

Do you think he made up the part when he was blessing the generals right on the spot? the princess wondered. With the bones and the blood and the burning. I think he enjoyed that part too much.

"I can't quite blame him," Lily said. "He was not pleased that Fabrain slipped his net for a third time. And in the capital, no less!"

Do you think he's still here? Dinah wondered. Uncle swears he couldn't have gone far, but the stories say that man is very like a ghost.

"Fabrain is only a man, no matter what the stories say," Lily said. "He has sold himself to the Faeries, true, but their power cannot match that of Lael. He cannot run forever."

Is he so dangerous?

"He spreads lies and heresy wherever he goes," Lily stated. "There is nothing more dangerous than that. His Holiness worries that he may even be building an army of heretics as we speak. We mustn't allow such things in this kingdom."

I suppose, Dinah replied, looking away. But it seems... She paused, unsure how to continue. My mother said we as rulers should serve all the people, not only those we deem worthy.

"The Queen was a kind ruler," Lily said gently. "But we can't be kind in the face of those who follow unnatural beings that could twist even the natural ways of the world to their whim. I know you don't like the witch-burnings, Princess Dinah, and I don't either. I'm not like His Holiness, willing to use any means to purge the land of these people. But I also believe strongly that we can't allow these heretics to continue poisoning our land. Until we find a better way, we have to allow Lord Orwell and His Holiness to do what they feel is best." Her voice was filled with a sense of calm determination.

I don't have much of a choice in any case, Dinah said. Uncle is ruler of this kingdom, not me.

"Lord Orwell is only steward of the kingdom until you come of age, Princess," Lily reminded her.

So I'm told. Dinah looked away, though her hands continued to move. But few of the guards know my language, and fewer nobles. If I can't be understood, how can I rule?

"There are ways around that," Lily reminded her.

And Uncle won't let anyone see my face or my leg, Dinah added. He says royalty must never appear weak.

"That is only Lord Orwell's opinion," Lily said firmly. "Not everyone's. You know that."

I guess. Dinah didn't look convinced.

The carriage slowed to a stop and Dinah sighed as she put her veil back on and peered out one of the curtains.

We're home, she announced. Finally.

"How is your leg feeling?" Lily asked.

Still sore, Dinah replied. I can't believe the ceremony took so long.

The coachman opened the door and offered Dinah a hand, which she took gratefully. Lily exited after her and took her arm again, leading her inside. The coach had stopped not at the main gate, with its large double doors and intricate detailing, but at the small side gate that led into the garden. Leaning against the inside door was a cane with the images of flowers carved into the wood.

Finally! Dinah took hold of the cane, taking a moment to appreciate the cool, sturdy feel of the wood under her fingers. That scepter wasn't any help at all.

"I imagine not," Lily said. "We'll find something better for next time."

Don't say that, Dinah said with a silent groan. That means there's going to be a next time.

"If your men don't catch Fabrain, there may well be," Lily warned as they made their way across the grounds. Normally Dinah loved to take her time through the garden, admiring the flowers and trees, but today all she could think of was her own room and her own bed. "And even if they catch him, I suppose that won't be the end of it. I heard from His Holiness the other day that another leader has already started making speeches in the southern provinces. Duke Albarn has been doing his best to stop that, but his armies are meager. His lands were hurt worst by the plague, after all, and there have even been rumors that he's hiding twin sons somewhere."

I thought the duke only had a daughter, Dinah said.

"They're only rumors," Lily said dismissively. "I doubt they're true. Likely only more of the heretics’ lies, dreaming themselves up a mythical younger child to rally around. A second calamity would certainly please them."

Dinah had raised her hands to reply when something caught her eye. A quick flash of red and gold appeared for just a moment in between two of the thick trees on the far side of the garden.

"Princess?"

I saw something in the trees, Dinah signed.

"Probably only a bird," Lily said. "You've had a long day, Princess. We should get you back to your room."

Dinah allowed herself to be led back to her room, but she couldn't help but look back one last time as they reached the edge of the garden.

She had definitely seen something, and though she wasn't sure why, she was certain that it hadn't been a bird.