Chapter Text
Raya’s hand was stretched out before her and Namaari couldn’t help but smile softly. She took it in an instant, of course. And Raya smiled back, with that hint of mischievousness that had driven Namaari crazy when they were… well it didn’t matter now. Now she just looked radiant, smiling like that. Namaari took a step closer, and Raya laced their fingers together, tugging her along as they walked towards–
But Namaari couldn’t keep her eyes away from Raya, and Raya wouldn’t look away either, and her skin tingling were Raya’s warm fingers touched it. And they walked down towards… Somewhere. They were going somewhere, Raya was speaking excitedly, her lips moving rapidly when suddenly the crackling of static raised the hairs on the back of Namaari’s neck and arms, and she stopped, pulling Raya to an abrupt silent halt too. And then clouds suddenly appeared, curled and darkened above them, and Namaari’s heart faltered as dread drained the blood from her face and her hands gripped Raya’s tighter, and she drew in a breath as she looked up and saw the Druun approach. Raya, unaware, gave her a puzzled smile.
Namaari knew they could run; they could outrun them easily. They could use the secret tunnel, if only she could–
She turned in the opposite direction towards–
Her muscles faltered. She tried to move, tug at Raya’s hand, but they turned to putty, soft and useless. The only response she got was the faint buzz of electricity beneath her skin. Meanwhile, in front of her, as Namaari’s panic grew, she saw Raya finally turn towards the cumulus of clouds approaching, her face finally falling as she seemed to realize what was behind her. And her hand slipped from Namaari’s even if Namaari tried everything in her power to will her fingers to keep a hold of Raya’s, but they failed her.
“Stay back,” Raya pushed her back protectively and she raised her sword – What even for? To slice through a group of clouds? – but the Druun were fast as lightning, and they swallowed her whole in a second. In the blink of an eye, Raya’s figure was lost in the darkness. Namaari tried to run but, again, her body seemed stuck in place, as if the air around her had solidified, trapping her there for her the daemons to swallow her whole.
But they didn’t take Namaari.
They curled and curled around her, but the same solidified air that held Namaari in place seemed to keep them at bay until they just… gave up.
And as the clouds parted and the air cleared, Namaari abruptly realized where she was. The room around her grew tall and cold and clear. The palace’s throne room. Big and airy and suddenly empty standing proud at the top of Fang’s hill, the sun setting far away turning the polished, white limestone columns and floors to fire. She finally could see everything around her, her eyes suddenly opening for the first time.
And right in the center, as the clouds slowly uncurled around her, she saw Raya, her lonely silhouette turned to cold hard rock.
Namaari couldn’t help it. She crumbled to her knees as her chest seemed to cave in and her soul spilled out her mouth in silent, strangled cry. She couldn’t breathe as she felt her lungs start climbing up her throat, her heart stopping, her insides churning, as if her whole body was trying to escape itself, to run free of this feeling curling inside her chest, burning with acid everything in its path. Namaari looked down at her hands, but there was nothing she could do now. Too late.
She sighed, a silent sob choking her, constraining her windpipe long enough for her to panic, to struggle, but not killing. No, that would be too much mercy for her crimes. She tried screaming again, but her voice was silent as she heaved and raged, banging knuckles against the polished floors until there were bloodstains. She cried. She screamed. She raged. She breathed, ragged and pitiful, but none of it made a single noise.
It was oddly liberating, all of a sudden, to see a world as silent and blank as Namaari’s was now. It was like her heart stopped. Like everything just stopped. Not good but not bad either.
To know you did everything in your power and it was enough. It was an odd sensation of both pride and shame.
Because you did everything in your power to destroy the world, not save it. To empty it of anything other than those damned clouds and their static energy, cracking as whips throughout the empty lands, forever after, with only Namaari to bear witness.
Because she’d turned out to be their most loyal and useful ally. Unknowingly, she’d been their most fervent advocate, their crucial puzzle piece in their plans. The one who made it all possible in the end. Who gave the world up for a piece of shiny rock, for an advantage over her equals. And for that, they’d pardoned her life. In return, she was granted everything she’d thought she’d wanted. The world. What an honor, huh?
And now there was no one around to fight anymore. Raya – her first and truest enemy, even if every time Namaari looked into Raya’s eyes the word turned foreign and absurd – her sword bravely clutched in her hands, raised to protect her, looked out into empty space, staring down a foe long gone now.
“No…” Namaari muttered as the stone girl in front of her crumbled to ash and the wind swiftly scattered away her remains.
Namaari woke with a loud gasp halfway out her mouth, clawing at her bed before her eyes were even open, hastily pushing away the covers and rushing out.
“Argh!”
She fell to the floor with a loud thud as one of her feet got tangled in the sheets, and her body tumbled down, her forearm taking most of the blow as she tried to stop herself. From behind her, a soft, questioning purr signaled the wake of her Serlot, Buwan.
“I’m fine.” She called, forcing annoyance even if her voice was strained and her body covered in a thin sheet of cold sweat. She sat up, foot untangled, and rubbed her arm, wincing a little as the pain started to ease away. Behind her, the giant cat rose anyways, softly approaching before levering his face to Namaari’s and rubbing his forehead against her cheek. For a moment, Namaari allowed it, taking comfort in the soft and warm fur of her companion; but after a few seconds she pulled away and nudged at the beast’s enormous nuzzle before forcing a small chuckle, “C’mon you big, handsome boy. Let’s get back to bed.”
Her heart still thudded loudly in her chest, but Namaari ignored it, concentrating instead on leveling her breathing as she fixed the sheets on her bed and slipped inside before the Serlot jumped and cuddled beside her.
Just a nightmare, she told herself as she buried her face in Buwan’s furred coat, although she knew it would do nothing to stop it when it came again. So, she clung to his fur and closed her eyes tightly, and she pretend she was far away in a land without Fang, without Druun, without Dragons and without Raya.
But even then, it would come again. She knew this to be true as she knew her own name.
//
Sunup – Breakfast with Chief Virana.
Early morning – Check-ups with the newest ranks. General Atitaya wishes for a private word.
Late morning – Royal visit at the nursery.
Midday – Lunch with Lieutenant Mawar of Talon (wishes to discuss the outpost you’ve installed a few miles upriver from their western port).
Afternoon – Overseeing the building of the newest installations at the school.
Sundown – Meeting with Sinag and Ramil, both fishermen (wish to discuss the River Laws)
Dinner.
Namaari sighed, inhaling as long and hard as she could and closing her eyes, counting to 10. She held the breath in for a moment longer then, feeling her chest start to vaguely burn before releasing, shoulders dropping. She rolled them back, making sure there were no knots pulling at her muscles before opening her eyes again and looking down at the piece of parchment in her hand, ignoring that gnawing feeling at the center of her chest. The handwriting was clean and clear, Namaari would give her that, but it was ultimately useless.
Namaari’d been a princess of Fang since birth, and as such she’d learned from a young age to keep her schedules clean and organized, and to memorize them the day before.
But then her mother had insisted on the assistant. ‘We’re turning a new leaf, Morning Mist,’ she’d said, ‘There is no need for overworking yourself, for scrambling to feed our people or to keep tabs on everything. It will all be better now. Prosperity. Endless lands to cultivate. You can relax now, my Morning Mist. No more running around in Serlots, chasing bandits and thieves. You will be able to stay here, at the palace, with me, and rest.’
Little does she know that had been my favorite part, had thought the girl at the moment with a sour smile.
So now there was a young, gawky girl, maybe a few years older than Namaari, but no more than two or three surely, following her around everywhere with this little scroll where she wrote down everything and reminded Namaari of something every few seconds. Her name was Chesa. Namaari didn’t like her very much, but she did pity her a bit. She knew she couldn’t be an easy person to assist.
She sighed again, trying to get that pressuring feeling between her ribs under control, but she couldn’t exactly grasp it. This made her angry, but she tried to control that too.
“Whatever,” she muttered after a moment of breathing, putting down the paper and fixing her left bicep’s armband. She turned to the window then.
Ever since she was a kid, she’d been terribly afraid of heights. That’s why when she’d turned seven, she’d personally requested her mother to change her rooms from her comfortable first-floor suit to a room high up on one of the Fang palace’s towers. It used to house astronomers and scientists from all over the lands who studied the skies but who’d, because of the plagues and scarce foods and wars and so forth, stopped coming to Fang a long time ago, thus leaving the rooms unoccupied for what appeared to have been centuries.
It hadn’t helped much with her fear. She still held it close to her heart. But it had helped giving her some privacy, away from all the servants, councilmen and women, generals and lieutenants, and instead close to the stars.
That morning there weren’t any stars, the sun having chased them away a few minutes before, but Namaari still looked up into the slowly brightening sky.
She found herself remembering something then. A pair of eyes, brown and bright and crinkled at the edges from a silent joke only they knew of. Challenging, yet familiar. Namaari couldn’t help smiling along, closing her eyes for a moment.
But then she sighed again and hung her head, clenching her fists. She turned from the window and quickly made her way to the door. Chief Virana was waiting for her and she couldn’t be late for breakfast, after all.
//
Virana was worried. Namaari could see it in the way she looked at her when the older woman thought Namaari wasn’t looking, and in the way she’d try to spark a conversation every morning during breakfast, asking about everything and anything, her brow creasing more and more after every short non-answer Namaari offered her.
But it was unavoidable, in the end. Namaari simply had nothing much to say. And if she did, it always seemed to get stuck on her throat, threatening to bring back what little breakfast she’d managed to swallow with it. She felt like a child again, hiding something that didn’t exist.
So, she simply didn’t.
But Namaari could see the gears turning in her mother’s head, could see the memories and the worry churning in there, of the months after the first betrayal when Namaari’d been twelve. But she was overreacting. Namaari wouldn’t just go mute again. She was older now. She just didn’t have much to say anymore.
Devoting your life to surviving and suddenly not having to survive, but to live, will do that to you, she guessed.
“So,” The Chief of Fang spoke up, making Namaari’s hand still over her bowl of fruit, “Atitaya tells me you’ve been pushing our newest recruits during training.”
“They’re soft,” Namaari retorts, bringing a piece of dalanghita to her mouth, “and I am always like that. They must respect me if I am to be their Chief someday. They also must aim to beat me, and Atitaya, and any other warrior they meet, or else they’ll never work to better themselves.”
“That is true, although I get the feeling you enjoy taunting them a bit more than necessary,” her mother chuckled, a prideful glint in her dark eyes. But Namaari’s hands stilled again, and the piece of dalanghita got stuck to the roof of her mouth as she swallowed hard and averted her eyes.
“Namaari?”
Namaari cleared her throat as hard as she could, gulping down the piece with a sudden dry throat. She stood from the table then, the chair scraping against the floor, “I’m sorry mother. I’ve got matters to attend to. Breakfast was… nice. I’ll see you soon.”
“Wait! Namaari, wait.”
Her mother called, her voice steely steady, but it was Chief Virana’s voice, not mother’s. Namaari froze, one foot already out the palace’s great hall’s threshold. She knew what came when Virana used her Chief voice with her, and she was thankful that day they’d been having breakfast in private.
“Yes, mother?”
“I’m worried, my Morning Mist.” Her voice softened, “You’re so quiet lately, and aggressive. Don’t think I haven’t heard of the Arnis sticks, bastons and staffs you’ve broken during your training sessions. It’s unlike you.”
Namaari didn’t turn around, but she did answer, “I don’t know what you want me to say, Ma. I’m just… agitated.”
“Tell me what is troubling you.”
Namaari sighed.
If only I knew, she thought helplessly, clenching her fists tightly.
“It’s nothing, mother.” She said instead, biting down on her lip as a hand came up to absentmindedly tuck back a curtain of dark hair, if only to have something to do.
“It has just taken some time settling back into the palace. There’s not as much action, I have… energy I need to dispose of, I guess. I’m restless.”
She finally turned, looking into her mother’s eyes in search for a sign that she’d been settled, that she’d believed her. But Chief Virana’s expression was unreadable. She looked back at Namaari with pursed lips before nodding once, “Alright, Namaari, I hope you find your peace. But know that I am her for you. I am still your mother; doesn’t matter how much you grow.”
Namaari smiled and nodded to hide the twist in her chest at her mother’s words. She found she had a billion things she wanted to tell her. But they crowded at the wrong end of her tongue, unable to climb out.
So, she turned and left instead.
//
The fact that Kumandra was now in peace and the tribes were working together towards a connected system did not, in fact, run well through certain people.
“Namaari, duck!”
The girl dropped down onto her stomach and rolled away just as the edge of a spear soared above her, only inches away from her face. She jumped on her feet in a second, her own pair of twin swords clutched tightly as she raised them in a defensive position, her eyes locking onto the four figures in front of her. Behind her, she could hear Atitaya struggling to fight off three more.
Bandits.
“I assume knowing I am the princess of Fang and, should you continue this fight, you will become an enemy of our tribe and as such, be arrested and brought in for punishment, will not make you stand down, right?”
One of the men grunted in response before raising his axe and striking. Namaari smirked, partly excited for the fight, partly annoyed that she’d probably miss dinner back at the palace.
She parried his strike with both her swords, honding him off long enough to twist out from under his axe’s weight and step away, messing with his balance as he forced his axe down on empty air and she quickly turned to the two other bandits who’d approached with raised spears. The fourth stood back with a crossbow, near the forest’s tree line. Namaari didn’t like that.
She met the first spear with her left sword, the strike coming from above and so, her parry coming from below and pushing the shaft upwards while she kicked the bandit’s knee with has much power as she could. It buckled and the bandit fell down, but Namaari didn’t have time to knock he out since her partner was onto her.
He was smarter, staying out of her reach and instead taking advantage of the spear’s long shaft to try and poke her, but Namaari didn’t panic, she simply danced along, avoiding the tip as she observed him, trying to find an in. But he was fast and, soon enough, she run out of time before the one with the axe approached them again, forcing Namaari to pull back with a jump as she tried to face both men at the same time. That’s when she saw the fourth bandit with the crossbow raise his weapon – but not at her.
“Atitaya!”
The other woman raised her eyes just as the arrow connected with her shoulder and Namaari saw red. She immediately charged, passing through the axe and spear with simple yet effective dodges, and attacking the crossbow bearer. The man looked surprised. He raised his empty weapon to try and shield himself, but Namaari had him unarmed and scared so it was easy.
She nocked him out with one precise blow of the pommel of her sword to his temple. The man dropped to the floor like a sack of flour, inert.
Namaari quickly turned back to the rest of her opponents and growled as they approached, swinging a wide arc with her blades to keep them at bay. Even if the girl whose knee she’d kicked was still on the floor, there were still too many to defeat single-handedly; she averted her eyes to Atitaya for a moment and found her, surprisingly, still on her feet. At least that was something. But the bandits around her were closing in. It was a matter of time before she received a well-placed sword to her side, or a spear to her heart. Namaari wasn’t chancing it, she had to finish this right that second.
So, she inhaled deeply, and attacked.
She jumped over the man with the axe. He was much too surprised by the move to do anything about it other than following her with his eyes and turning around in time to defend himself from Namaari’s blade. On the other hand, the man with the spear reacted immediately. He thrust it forward, straight at Namaari’s stomach. She was lucky enough to twist away from it, the axe falling onto the spear as she danced around the man with the axe, twirling like a child in the playground, her blades close to her chest. Once she was somewhere near his back, she sprung towards him and rose her swords, using the butt of both of them to knock him out cold, too.
That left the man with the spear alone, but it didn’t look like much of a problem for him.
“You’re going to die and then that pretty little cat of yours’ skin will adorn the foot of my bed.” He growled.
“You touch my Serlot and your eyes will never again delight in the light of the sun.” Namaari warned as she crouched, her feet firmly planted on the soil and her swords raised in anticipation. Her muscles ached with sweet adrenaline, but her mind wasn’t in the fight, her mind was with Atitaya. She had to hurry.
The man attached. Naturally, Namaari parried with both her swords, crossed over so as to hold the spear at bay. But the man anticipated her move, twisting the spear in such a way that, in a second, Namaari’s left hand was empty, her sword coming to a halt under a couple of bushes about ten feet away.
“Fuck!”
The man laughed before charging again. Namaari jumped to the side just in time to avoid the spear’s tip as it buried in the ground where she’d stood a second before. She reacted quickly, leaning slightly left and slightly back before raising one leg up high and striking.
The kick hit him straight in the face, breaking his nose and spilling his blood everywhere, and making him finally let go of his spear. He stumbled back, but Namaari wasn’t done. She stepped up and with all the might she had, she pushed him to the floor before kneeling down and grabbing his shirt. She dropped her sword then and recoiled her fist before striking the man one last time, his eyes turning white as the blow knocked him unconscious.
She dropped him to the ground and turned.
Atitaya – somehow – had managed to knock out one of the three other bandits, but the other two had closed in and had her pinned to the ground, barely defending herself with her spear.
Namaari didn’t wait. She run, emptyhanded, towards the two women. The one closest to her – a wicked-looking scimitar on her right hand – sensed her approaching and turned, but Namaari didn’t give her enough time to defend herself. She leaned down as she run before suddenly dropping. She slid right beneath her, kicking the bandit’s legs from under her and forcing her to fall right on top of Namaari who was ready to grab the woman’s wrists and twist them until she’d dropped her sword.
“Stand down!” Namaari called, but the woman was vicious, and she pulled and twisted and turned in Namaari’s grip until the younger woman’s hand slipped, and the bandit was free to push Namaari’s face down to the ground and pull her other hand free before standing and kicking at Namaari’s chest.
“Argh!”
Namaari’s head wheezed and churned as her lungs stopped working, black spots dancing patters in front of her eyes, but she managed to see the bandit’s foot recoiling, getting ready for a second kick, so Namaari readied herself in turn. When the woman kicked, Namaari held on. The pain was strong but bearable; having spent so many years protecting Fang, Namaari’d learned to fight through pain. So instead, she concentrated on grabbing the woman’s boot and pulling with all of her might. She fell, again, and this time Namaari was more careful. She scrambled on top of her immediately and before the woman could say anything, Namaari’s fist knocked her unconscious.
“Good job there, princess.”
Namaari, adrenaline rushing still through her bloodstream, turned towards the voice and scrambled to her feet, fists raised, but it was just Atitaya. Her spear laid beside her as she tried to keep herself upright. The final bandit, a girl even younger than Namaari herself with and eyepatch over her left eye, laid unconscious beside her, her nose broken and her face bloodied.
It took Namaari’s dizzy, oxygen-deprived brain a second to grasp what had happened but when she did, she smiled and sighed, which made her chest hurt a lot.
“Shit.” She breathed out, finally relaxing her muscles, her shoulders falling as she walked towards Atitaya to check on her wound.
“Are you alright?” she asked as she kneeled in front of the older woman. Atitaya smiled confidently, but a bruise in her left cheek, and the fact that she was pale, and her eyelids were dropping, didn’t help her look convincing as she muttered, “’S all good, Princess. We took care of ‘em.”
“We certainly did,” Namaari conceded, her eyes expertly scanning Atitaya’s robes to make sure there weren’t any other wounds as her hands undid Atitaya’s shirt to look at the arrow that was still clinging to her best friend’s shoulder.
“Y’know, I always imagined this happening in a much different scenario.”
Namaari absentmindedly chuckled at the absurdity of the comment, her mind focused on her wound, her hands trembling slightly as the amount of blood doubled and doubled, staining Atitaya’s white robes a crimson red. Her shirt was already almost completely soaked through.
“Less bandits?” Namaari asked.
“Actually, more. But I was the one cleaning up your wounds, princess I-always-leave-my-left-flank-open, and you were just oh-so-thankful that, well, y’know…”
Namaari looked up to see Atitaya wink at her and she sighed, turning back to the wound with a shake of the head.
“I thought you’d given up trying to woo me, General. Knowing my feeling weren’t reciprocal.”
“Oh yeah. Do not worry, my Princess.” Aitaya grunted as Namaari pressed a finger around the shaft of the arrow. The skin was red and pulsing, covered in blood and dirt, but it looked like it hadn’t punctured anything important, in spite of the alarming amount of blood. Atitaya tried to speak again but was shut up as Namaari helped her turn a little so she could look at the back and, thankfully, the arrow had passed clean through, “Fuck, that hurt. But no, my heart has given up on its conquest of yours, sadly. Although I keep my claim, we would’ve made a hell of a couple, huh?”
Namaari smirked before swiftly grabbing the arrow’s shaft, breaking it in a single crack, and pushing, her other hand pulling at the tip. Atitaya screamed, but thankfully it was all done in a second, the shoulder now free of any of the arrow’s remains.
“Dragons, Namaari! Warn a girl next time, will you?!”
“Why, so you can whine and whimper right before I do it?” Namaari smiled, turning Atitaya’s shoulder slightly to check on the exit wound. It didn’t look good so Namaari rushed to stand and look for her forgotten pack. Soon enough, they were dressing the wound up with ointments and clean bandages.
“You should dress that thing up, too.” Atitaya commented weakly. Namaari followed her line of sight and found a gash going down her upper arm, blood still flowing somewhat freely from it.
“When–”
“The bandit with the scimitar,” Atitaya commented, “When you were struggling on the floor. You didn’t feel it?”
“So, when are the Serlots coming back?” Atitaya asked, her forehead covered in silver droplets of sweat. She was even paler now, but the wound had stopped bleeding and she’d eaten a few dried pieces of fruit so Namaari wasn’t too worried.
“They aren’t.” Namaari answered as she packed up her bag and cleaned her twin blades she’d retrieved from the dirt after the fight with an old rag. They’d tied the bandits up, too, and had them sitting silently against a tree, stealing dirty looks at the pair of Fang warriors as the sun set behind them.
“What?”
“I sent them home. The bandits were after them, not us. They wanted to skin them for their fur to sell as blankets and leather decorations. I sent them home so once my mother realizes Buwan’s back without me, she’ll send a party to search for us. They should be arriving in a few hours, don’t worry. They’ll get us and the bandits back and then they can be judged for their crimes and you can be taken to the infirmary so they can baby you back to health.”
“I hate you, princess.”
//
“You almost got killed, Namaari.” Virana’s voice rang through the empty bedroom. Namaari sighed, leaning on the hand she had grasping her own knee. She was sitting at the edge of her bed, her sleeping robes already on and everything, when her mother had stormed in like a hurricane.
“Ma, I’m okay though.” She tried helplessly, her own eyelids dropping tiredly as the candle on her bedside table trembled for a moment.
“Going on a day-trip down into unclaimed territory? What were you thinking?” Virana demanded, hands on her hips as she watched Namaari carefully avoid her furious eyes, “Atitaya almost died.”
“It’s not her fault.” Namaari jumped to defend her friend because, well, it was her friend, but also because it was true. She’d been the one to insist her and Namaari go on a small trip down to a cove they used to frequent as teenagers. She’d been feeling extra anxious lately – even worse than usual – so she’d gotten desperate, thinking an old tradition would magically fix her woes. She thought she’d just needed some space from the palace, and to relax with her closest friend, nothing more. It turned out it had done nothing to ease the tension inside of her, and on top of it, Atitaya’d gotten hurt. She never would’ve thought it would end like this.
“I know it’s not,” Virana’s voice quietened for a moment as Namaari looked up, finally meeting her mother’s somber glare, “It is yours, Namaari. I don’t know what is going on with you these days. I understand, I do. There’s a lot in your mind and that is normal. We’ve all gone through so much… But that is no excuse for a Princess of Fang to act with such reckless abandon, to put her General in such danger, to put herself in such danger. What do you think would’ve happened to Fang if they’d taken both your lives?”
Namaari felt her eyes sting so she turned away, closing them tightly before answering through gripped teeth, like a petulant child being told off, “I know, mother. I now see my errors. I will do better in the future.”
But then she heard Virana sigh, “Morning Mist, I am not scolding you. I am sorry if it sounds like that… I was afraid. I am truly worried, Namaari. You don’t seem like yourself. Half the time I wonder if you’re really here or somewhere else entirely.”
Namaari didn’t know how to answer, so she stayed quiet.
When she spoke again, Virana’s voice was much softer and tender, “How is your arm?”
Namaari looked down at her left bicep which was still covered in the hasty dressings she’d managed back in the forest. It was a little dirty, but it still held so Namaari’d refused the healer’s offer to change it.
“It’s fine,” she said, although now, away from all the action and adrenaline, the wound had actually started burning quite a bit. Namaari silently feared it might be infected, but she’d been too busy during her return to actually brave a look.
She felt the mattress dip beside her before her mother’s warm hands came to rest on her shoulder, gently turning her towards the older woman, “May I?” Virana asked. Namaari nodded.
Her hands were gentle but precise as she unwrapped the cloth which was actually stuck in many places with dried blood and dirt. Namaari winced but not once said a word.
Once the wrapping was off, Virana stood and left only to return a moment later with a bowl of warm water, some oils and healing creams, and fresh bandages.
With the same gentle yet steady hands, Virana worked the slow process of cleaning, treating, and then bandaging Namaari’s arm, and Namaari let her. Like a child she felt again, but in the good sense now. She smiled when her mother sprinkled some water onto her face with playful jest, and she sighed, closing her eyes when she applied the scented oils to the skin around the wound, and then down her arm to her hand, and then up her other arm all the way to her shoulders with soft massaging motions, the smells swirling around her senses, relaxing her aching muscles and sore skin, easing the tension behind each and every pressure point. And of course, she winced when she applied the ointment before dressing the gash, now clean and healing.
“There you go, my Morning Mist,” she said, smiling softly at her daughter, her eyes a little sad.
“Thank you, Ma.” Namaari’s voice came out soft and strained, but Virana only smiled a little wider and placed a comforting hand on Namaari’s forearm, “My daughter, I cannot fathom the depth of what you are going through and I apologize for thinking I could. I only wish to help and sometimes… sometimes that desire is blinding. But I see you, Namaari, and I am here for you, when you need it. I love you, my daughter.”
“I love you too, Ma.”
Virana squeezed her daughter arm for a moment before standing, but she hesitated, feeling as if she left now, she was losing an opportunity. So, she turned back and caught the troubled look on Namaari’s face, and it told her she needed the space, so she reluctantly walked away.
At the threshold, she turned, “Oh, a letter arrived from Heart this morning,” she announced, turning back to address her daughter one more time.
Namaari’s head snapped from where it was turned to the window and the sky behind it, “Heart?”
“It’s on your desk,” Virana couldn’t help the smile that crept up her face at the sight of her daughter’s whole demeanor changing, her cheeks slightly tinting red, “Sleep well, Namaari.”
“Good night, mother,” Namaari bowed her head, her hands coming up in front of her to signal the gesture of the gem, “And thank you for tending to my wound.”
//
…and so, with our sights set on this new council, we find ourselves in the absence of a Fang ambassador. Someone with the authority to represent your tribe’s best interests here at Heart, so that, together, we might build Kumandra in agreement and with a constant flow of communication and understanding.
Heart also wishes to personally invite you, Princess Namaari, along to the first council meeting. So that, together, we send a message to all the tribes. The commitment is clear and both Fang and Heart, together, wish to build a future in harmony and balance. With no more war or conflict, no more fighting.
Namaari reread the last paragraph for, perhaps, the twentieth time. She was astounded, aghast, astonished. She was confused and anxious and terrified. She was many things, but she couldn’t manage to unclasp her fingers from the parchment, the signature at the bottom not making enough sense as she read it.
Raya, princess of Heart.
The writing was formal so clearly someone had helped her writing it. But still, it was the first sign of contact from the Heart princess in… three weeks, if Namaari wasn’t mistaken.
And she wasn’t sure how to respond, if she should go or not, how her mother would react. She wasn’t even sure of how she felt about it. One minute she was ecstatic, the next she was terrified, and the next a deep sense of shame invaded her senses, strong enough to tinge her throat with an acid taste.
She wasn’t sure of anything except that she was definitely not sleeping tonight, so she simply picked a robe and wrapped it around herself. Sleep no longer weighing down her eyelids, she sat down on her windowsill, her back to the window’s cold frame. Her heart raced at the height and the sight of the ground so many floors below, but she tried not to pay mind to that. She looked up at the stars instead and, letter still clutched in her hand, a part of her imagined Raya sitting somewhere in Heart’s own palace, looking up at the same stars and thinking of her.