Author's Preface
Jysarra stirred from her reverie as the morning sun stretched long across the room. She felt the heavy, warm press of a body against hers. Her eyes fluttered open to see the mane of chestnut brown hair splayed against the stark contrast of her pale skin. She ran her fingers through Astrid’s hair, then slowly began untangling herself from the woman, careful not to wake her. She grabbed her evening gown from where she had let it fall to the floor last night and pulled it up her frame, a tremor in her hands as she tied it behind her neck.
“You’re leaving me?”
Jysarra flinched and turned quickly to find Astrid sat up stretching with feline grace. She crawled onto the bed, taking a seat next to her, and ran her fingers along her cheek.
“I am. Duty calls, I’m afraid, but last night was fun.”
Astrid leaned into Jysarra’s touch and placed a soft kiss against her palm as it passed her lips. Jysarra smiled at the display of affection, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes, and she pulled her hand back as quickly as she could without risking offense.
“When will I get to see you again?”
Jysarra pulled back and stood to her full height.
“I’m not sure. I must speak with the high priestess, but I will likely be preoccupied for a time.”
Jysarra grabbed the silver bangle from the nightstand and slipped it onto her wrist. She stood there frozen for a moment, staring at the bangle as if it were likely to burn her. The moment was broken when Astrid’s fingers wrapped around it.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
No. And certainly not with you.
Jysarra flashed the same empty smile at Astrid.
“Some other time, I promise.”
She took Astrid’s hand and laid a soft kiss to her pulse point.
“Now, I really do have to go. I’ll be in enough trouble as it is without being even later than I am.”
Jysarra stepped to the door without looking back.
“Blomst and Bue.”
“Pardon me?” Jysarra asked, stopping in the doorway.
“It means Flower and Bow. It’s the name of my shop, well, my mother’s shop. So, if you’re ever trying to find me…”
Jysarra turned just enough that the hint of her lips tugging into a smirk was evident. “I’ll know where to look.”
The door closed with a soft click as she walked out. Jysarra padded down the stairs and straight for the exit, giving White Claw a wave with a subtle flutter of her fingers. She emerged out into Green Market Square, leaving the Fat Dragon Inn behind with every step she took. She walked with purpose through the streets and alleys, though her fingers continually brushed the inside of the bangle where the inscription lay.
Why would Mairen assault a guardsman? What has she gotten herself involved with?
The early morning sun reflected off the bangle as she made her way through the west gate and, while she was glad for the warmth, she said a silent prayer of thanks that the sun was at her back. Emerging into the Noontide District, Jysarra veered off the Tradeway immediately into the alleyways, threading her way through the maze of urban sprawl until she came to the rear wall of the Dancing Dell. She took a running start, vaulted off the wall of the building next door, and grabbed the jagged row of broken bricks where a ceiling had partially collapsed decades ago. She pushed herself up, swung her legs over, and dropped into her chambers to be greeted with a short, sharp scream.
One of her sisters stood clutching at her chest, her breathing on the verge of hyperventilating. She was dressed in a similar but simpler garb than Jysarra’s usual vestments, pockets of dull stains marking the material and threadbare at the sleeves and hems.
“By the Nine Jessie, you frightened me.”
“Well you are in my chambers Nim.”
Jysarra gave a quick look around. Nothing seemed to be out of place, though that wasn’t unexpected. Nim had always been kind to her and she had no reason to suspect any malicious intent.
“Why are you in my chambers?”
Nim laid out the bundle of clothing she was holding tight to her chest.
“I took the liberty of cleaning your vestments.”
Jysarra worked the knot at the back of her neck free and let the evening gown pool at her feet before grabbing it to hang.
“I don’t suppose I could convince you to care for this as well?”
Nim took the delicate fabric in her hands, held it up to show the full silhouette, and wrinkled her nose at it.
“What?” Jysarra asked.
Nim hung the dress on the hook next to the mirror.
“Nothing. I am curious, though, where did you come by this dress?”
Jysarra raised an eyebrow.
“I will have you know that that evening gown was made by one of the preeminent couturiers in Athenas.”
“Well, they certainly do have a…unique fashion sense on the other side of the world.”
Jysarra rolled her eyes, though the hint of a smile showed through on her face. She picked up her vestments and began the tedious task of dressing herself in the various layers.
“If you want to be helpful, you can cinch me up before I lose patience with these laces.”
Nim stepped behind her and pulled at the laces, ensuring a snug though not uncomfortable fit.
“Perhaps I should find a lock so you can’t charm any more Baron's daughters out of their small clothes.”
“By the goddess. That was one time years ago.”
“And Baron Fleischmann has still not forgotten it.”
A smile tugged at Jysarra’s lips.
“And what of Isolde? Has she forgotten it?”
Nim pulled tight on the laces eliciting a sharp breath from Jysarra.
“You're incorrigible,” Nim said, though a smile was threatening to break out on her face as well.
The smile that was threatening to take over Jysarra’s face became a victorious smirk. Nim tied off the laces and immediately set to running her fingers through Jysarra’s hair.
“Your hair is a mess. Sit.”
Jysarra rolled her eyes, but took the few steps to the soft wicker chair set in front of the polished copper mirror affixed to the wall. Nim reached for the brush on the table, but Jysarra’s hand shot out to grab it first. Nim wrapped both hands around Jysarra’s and, in turn, the brush.
“It’s okay. I won’t let anything happen to it. I promise.”
Jysarra let Nim pull the brush from her hand slowly, her fingers lingering a beat too long before releasing it. It was all one piece carved out of obsidian, polished into a gleaming finish. Nim worked the bristles through Jysarra’s hair in long strokes, carefully layering sections and working out knots. Jysarra breathed in deeply and folded in on herself as she let it out. Her eyes fluttered closed and for just a moment she felt her shoulders loosen and jaw unclench, but then her chest tightened and she swallowed hard. Her hand came up to catch Nim’s as she prepared another brushstroke.
“Thank you, Nim, but that should be plenty. Silmariën will have my head already, I can’t keep her waiting any longer simply because I couldn’t be bothered to tend to my hair.”
She took the brush from Nim and laid it down gently on the table, ensuring it was far from the edge and aligned just so.
“The High Priestess isn’t expecting you for another hour. I led the Circle of Song after moonrise. Lindarëa took swordplay.”
Color rose through Jysarra’s face. She turned, slowly, toward Nim and leveled her gaze.
“I don’t need you to cover for me. I am more than capable of defending my actions to Silmariën.”
Jysarra rose to her full height, a head taller than Nim. Her lips curled. Nim took a step back.
“Jessie, I didn’t–”
“Jysarra. That is my name, Nimriël.”
Nim opened her mouth to speak, though no sound came out for a moment. “...of course, Jysarra. My apologies.”
Nim took a wide arc around Jysarra and left the chamber without looking back. Jysarra stood there, rooted in place, her jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. A tremor climbed from her hands into her arms, then through her chest. Her breath fractured, splintering into short pulls. Jysarra braced herself against the wall, leaning on an arm while the other fisted at her chest. Her eyes snapped shut and she began humming, but it came out discordant and wrong.
“I-I’m sorry.” It was little more than a whisper. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t.”
She breathed in deeply through her nose and released a shuddering breath. Again. The full body tremor drained away and Jysarra dabbed at the corners of her eyes. She cleared her throat, drew herself up, and forced her legs to move one step at a time toward the Court of Quiet Judgement, where she knew Silmariën would be. She hastened past the Garth of Song, spotting Nim in prayer among others. Her fingers trembled all over again until she shook it away. The old courtyard was a mosaic of light and shadow as sunlight scattered through the canopy of ivy and leaves overhead. Lindarëa was in conversation with Silmariën as Jysarra walked in.
“Mára arinya, Silmariën. I must speak with you.” She glanced at Lindarëa. “Urgently.”
Lindarëa and Silmariën exchanged a look.
“I was just leaving,” Lindarëa said.
As she passed, Lindarëa folded her hand into Jysarra’s and held it for a beat before moving on. Jysarra closed eyes for a moment, then steeled herself and took the few steps forward to stand with Silmariën.
“Lady Kil’rahel, we missed you at the Circle of Song last evening.”
“My apologies, I Lómelindë Nárëo Lomellindo. I was–”
Silmariën held a hand up.
“Let us dispense with the pleasantries. What is this urgent matter you need to speak of?”
Silmariën busied herself with tending to the blooms growing across the wall. Jysarra thumbed at the bangle on her wrist. Her chest tightened as the words formed on her tongue.
“While I was away last evening I became…involved in the situation in the Eveningstar district.”
Silmariën stopped pruning and looked up at Jysarra.
“One of our kin was there. He had assaulted a guardsman and took his own life.” She held a breath for a beat. “Drow poison.”
Jysarra winced as the word Drow left her lips. Silmariën’s brow furrowed.
“That is unfortunate, to say the least. Do you fear additional scrutiny of the Dell?”
“No. Well, yes, but that is not what I wanted to discuss with you. I found something while I was there.”
Jysarra began to slip the bangle from her wrist. One of the young maids walked in followed by a woman wearing a city guard uniform, though the golden braid around the right cuff and brass clasps denoted an officer of some standing. She recognized the family crest embroidered over the breast: Kiermann. The maid handed Silmariën a sealed parchment. The woman stepped forward.
“I am Lady Kyra Kiermann here on behalf of the Archduchess. I am to conduct an investigation concerning the incident in the Eveningstar District last night.”
Silmariën bowed her head to Kyra, but Jysarra turned and fixed her gaze on her.
“Are you accusing my sisters of a crime?”
“What? No. We encountered two Drow–”
“Dark Elves. We are not Drow,” Jysarra corrected, her tone clipped.
Kyra’s face pulled into a scowl.
“Jysarra, lútien aranen ná coivië,” Silmariën said.
“Úva hortanien nin senya.”
The intent behind the words was unmistakable: defiance. A long, heavy silence lingered. Jysarra’s gaze remained on Kyra, unfaltering.
“As I was saying, we encountered two Dark Elves last evening and–”
“I heard you the first time,” Jysarra said. “I assure you, Lady Kiermann, that the only Dark Elf anywhere near that incident last night was myself.”
Kyra tilted her head, the scowl becoming a puzzling look.
“You are not a Dark Elf.”
The words landed like a brick between them.
“Ilqua nályĂ« ve i ertar. Lá cenil. Lá istal. Ve hĂnar ranyar mi i morniĂ«.”
Kyra’s eyes narrowed. She held Jysarra’s gaze for a beat longer, then turned to Silmariën.
“Enough. Jysarra, you will conduct yourself in a manner befitting your station.” Silmariën’s tone brooked no argument. “Now, Lady Kiermann, how may we be of service to you in your investigation?”
“I will need proof of each lady's whereabouts last evening. I’m assuming you don’t keep any type of ledger of the comings and goings of your priestesses so I suggest that I interview each and every one.”
Just like all the rest. Obsidian skin. Red eyes. White hair. And that is enough.
“We do not track our sisters' comings and goings, but prayer and ritual are performed under the moon here at the Dell. And, as Jysarra has stated, she was the only dark lady not present on the temple grounds last evening.”
Jysarra sneered at Kyra who, in turn, simply gave a subtle roll of her eyes.
“I’d like to believe you, but an official investigation needs more than the word of a high priestess.”
A clear thought cut through Jysarra’s anger like lightning out of a clear sky. She thumbed at the bangle on her wrist again.
“Tell me, if you would, why the need to interview every single Dark Elf here when you could simply look at each of us and be on your way? After all, you did see this Drow that assaulted you last evening, did you not?”
Kyra turned to Jysarra. Her gaze sharpened, not with anger but bewilderment.
“How do you know that?”
“As I said, the only Dark Elf in the Eveningstar District last night was myself.”
Kyra opened her mouth to retort when Silmariën stepped between them.
“As amusing as this has been, I believe we have stumbled into a rather elegant solution that will prove mutually beneficial to both our parties, Lady Kiermann,” she said, turning to ascend the few steps and take her seat in the simple high-backed stone chair.
“As you’ve said, you need proof that none here were responsible for the attack last night, a fact I do understand.” She turned to look at Jysarra. “As Jysarra clearly does not fit the description of your assailant she can be eliminated from suspicion and aid you in the investigation with the purpose of clearing her sisters names.”
“I will not be accompanying her anywhere,” Jysarra said.
“I appreciate your gracious offer, my lady, but a commoner assisting in an investigation–”
“Commoner? You think us so far beneath you?”
Kyra exhaled hard through her nose and turned to Jysarra.
“That isn't what I meant.”
“It's what you said.”
“But it isn't what I meant.”
“Ava tulya, Jysarra. You will be assisting Lady Kiermann in her efforts. Our sisters good names depend on you. Will you abandon them now in this hour of need?”
Jysarra stood straight as a board, her lips pulling into a thin line.
“No, my lady. I will see this done,” Jysarra said, dipping her head as she did.
Kyra watched the brief exchange in stunned silence until, that is, Silmariën leveled her gaze back on her.
“As I was saying, a request of this nature is beyond my authority to grant. While I am sure Jysarra would be most helpful, this would require the approval of the Archduchess.”
Kyra pulled herself up straight, a flicker of satisfaction crossing her face.
“Precisely my thoughts as well. Which is why I'll be sending a formal request to Lady Katarina with haste.”
Jysarra watched as all the color drained from the girl's face. She'd almost feel pity for her if she wasn't so utterly infuriating.
“On second thought,” she said, lifting a finger as if the idea was coming to her as the words left her mouth. “As this is an active investigation of high importance I will accept the responsibility of escorting Lady Kil’rahel through the city during my investigation.”
“Marvelous,” Silmariën said, a rare smile tugging at her lips as the word left her mouth.
Jysarra turned to Kyra. “My hero.”
Silmariën gestured to the maid that had escorted Kyra into the courtyard.
“Rilmelda will see you back to the foyer, Lady Kiermann. Jysarra will be along in a moment.”
Kyra curtsied to her, gave Jysarra a tight smile, and followed the young Dark Elf out of the courtyard. When they were alone again Silmariën focused her attention on Jysarra.
“Speak. I know you too well to believe you have no opinion on this matter.”
A dry laugh escaped Jysarra. When Silmariën’s expression didn’t change Jysarra swallowed and straightened.
“I believe this to be a waste of my time. Let us set aside the fact she is utterly intolerable, she must follow a straight line and hope to stumble upon the truth.”
Silmariën’s face was an inscrutable mask.
“And you would have no such restriction?”
“I would not be breaking any laws if that is your meaning.”
“Yes, surely not. Regardless, my decree remains. You will assist this Kyra in her investigation and prove our collective innocence.”
Jysarra opened her mouth to plead her case, but thought better of it and the words died on her lips.
“Of course, my lady. I will not fail you.”
Jysarra bowed her head and Silmariën returned the gesture. She took a few steps then turned back.
“Please tell Nimriël that…”
Her chest tightened all over again.
“Tell her…?” Silmariën asked.
That I'm sorry.
Jysarra slipped a smile onto her face. It felt foreign. “Nothing. It is nothing.”
Silmariën held her gaze for a moment. Jysarra shifted her weight from foot to foot, her eyes falling to the floor.
“By your leave, my lady, I will collect my things and be off with Lady Kiermann.”
When Jysarra finally managed to pull herself back up, she found a soft warmth in Silmariën’s eyes which was far more disconcerting than her usual implacable scowl. A subtle nod of her head was all the permission Jysarra required and she turned and was out of the courtyard as fast as her feet could take her. She skirted the Garth of Song, making sure to keep her eyes forward and not looking for yet another pang of guilt, and found herself within her chambers once again. Jysarra picked up her component pouch from the desk, ensuring she had a few diamonds within should the unfortunate need arise for resurrection, and said a silent prayer she would not need it while affixing it to her belt. She grabbed her sword and took one last look at herself in the mirror, threading her hair behind her pointed ear.
She took a look about the room and a sudden thought came over her: what if she simply vaulted back out the way she came in and just…left? Perhaps it would be better for everyone if she wasn’t around. But could she live with herself if she did? She took another deep breath in and let it out, a quickly forming habit this morning. She shook off the thought and made her way out of the Dell to find Kyra waiting across the street at the Sacred Grove. She was perusing the flowers outside the temple with a wide smile on her face as Jysarra approached.
“Lady Kiermann.”
Kyra stood and turned toward Jysarra. She was silhouetted perfectly by the mid morning sun, her hair caught in the breeze like dancing flames.
“Kyra, please.”
“As you wish, Kyra. Please, lead the way.”