24

Avad Sud, 2

Ryska woke slowly and her eyes fell at once upon the Twin orb resting in its carved cradle at her window, the very one Valere had pressed into her hands only the evening before.

I am getting you this, he'd said while being entirely too pleased with himself, so that when Abbys swallows you whole in endless academics, you might glance up, remember there are hours still left in the day beyond your books, and thank me properly every single time it saves you from studying yourself half to ruin.

She smiled at the memory of it now, then she rose from her bed and crossed to the window, and there, catching the morning sun properly for the first time since Valere had given it to her, the Twin orb stirred fully to life, no longer the soft and sleepy glow she'd noticed through drowsy eyes only moments before, but something wholly awake now, threads of gold and rose and faint violet was chasing each other slow across its surface, scattering fractured light in a wide shifting arc across the wall behind it.

She remembered, what the vendor had told Valere the evening before, that the crystal was drawn from the deep caves beneath Baily veins of it grown over centuries where light had never once reached, cut deliberate to catch whatever brightness the sky offered, sun or moon alike, and hold it a moment longer than ordinary glass ever could before releasing it again into color. By night, he'd said, it burned differently entirely. pale silver and cool blue instead of gold, as though the orb itself grew quieter once the sun had gone to sleep.

She'd seen it only by candlelight the evening before and thought little of the claim at the time but now, watching it drink the morning sun instead, she understood the difference plainly. It looks nothing at all like it did last night, she thought, almost laughing at her own surprise.

As though I'd been given two entirely different gifts, and only just now discovered the second one hiding inside the first.

Now she understood why the vendor had charged what he had. The orb itself sat no larger than a closed fist, cut from crystal so pale it seemed silver in shadow, cradled in a slender frame of dark, polished wood carved into the shape of two hands cupped gentle beneath it, as though holding something too fragile to grip outright and along the base, fine and easy to miss unless the light caught it just so, ran a thread of old Miranda script.

ઉજાસનો અરીસો

She traced the fine script along the base with one finger; unable to make sense of the Miranda letters herself. She remembered asking him the evening before and remembered his voice sounding the words out for her.

"It's pronounced Ujas no Ariso," he'd said and then he'd told her what it meant. "Mirror of light."

She smiled at the thought and warmth rose along her cheeks, the particular and foolish warmth of a woman who had been given something small and thoughtful and entirely unnecessary and found herself charmed by it regardless of how plainly she'd rolled her eyes at the gift when he'd first offered it.

Erynae woke soon after and studied the orb a moment longer, and then her gaze drifted toward Ryska. Should I ask, she wondered, where such a gift truly came from, and who thought to give it? But she caught herself before the question could fully form, deciding that whatever lay behind Ryska's blush was not truly hers to press for, some things a friend simply let bloom in their own time.

She said nothing and the two of them dressed instead, gathering themselves for the morning's drills, they made their way down to the riverbank with a handful of other girls, the group thinned out as they reached the water's edge. Erynae peeled off with two of the others, the rest with Ryska split off toward the open stretch of packed earth where a few students had already begun their drills.

She set her bow case down and started her own warm-up at the water's edge, rolled her shoulders, worked the stiffness from the arm and it was only once she'd loosened enough to move properly that she noticed Valere further down the bank.

He was braced low over the ground, propped up on his forearms and the balls of his feet, his whole body was drawn into one line from shoulder to heel, she stared at the faint tremble of effort running through his arms as he held himself there against the pull of his own weight. A handful of other students worked through their own forms around him with same strength and posture.

She came and lowered herself down beside him into the same held position.

Valere’s eyes slid sideways sensing presence and there she was. For one dangerous heartbeat, the discipline that had steadied him for years deserted him. His arms nearly gave beneath him before he caught himself and forced his body back into the rigid line.

Discipline, he fixed his gaze upon the river ahead, this is a drill and nothing more. He had held this position a thousand times, he knew the burn gathering through his shoulders, the slow tremor in his arms, the familiar ache that came before the instructor finally called an end.

Yet his mind refused to remain obedient, it supplied images instead. Soft and damp sand beneath them seemed suddenly less suited to drills and far more suited to every thought he had no business entertaining. He imagined turning toward her, imagined drawing closer until there was no space left between them, imagined the golden fall of her hair scattered across the ground instead of gathered loosely behind her.

He clenched his jaw and dragged his attention back to the exercise. One breath and then another, and Valere counted each slow breath as though numbers alone could restore order to his thoughts. They did not, his gaze betrayed him again and he imagined hovering over her, close enough to feel the warmth of her breath, his hands drawing her nearer while the rest of the world faded beyond the walls of the training yard. He imagined the softness of her mouth beneath his, the quiet surrender of her leaning into him, and the simple impossibility of wanting to stop once he had begun.

Gods, he forced his eyes forward. You are a prince of thirteen kingdoms. You are in a training yard; you are surrounded by students. Hold the damned position, he breathed through the strain and returned his mind to the drill for perhaps three heartbeats.

Then the image returned, Ryska beside him, Ryska beneath him, Ryska close enough that the distance between them ceased to exist. Valere swallowed, screamed internally and tightened every muscle he possessed.

The exercise had never seemed so long and the girl beside him had never seemed so dangerous.