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When Tanith was a kid, she had a dog. Rough around the edges and intense, she hadn’t truly found her place until she joined the knighthood and met Sigrun. For a few years the dog was her only companion, one who could match her barking and keep pace with her, and who taught her the meaning of devotion—a value she wore at her breast and in her every action since.
A commander of the holy guard had no room in their life for pets. The pegasi hardly qualified, as old and revered as they were, their eyes sparkling with an intelligence that, for all the dog’s good traits, Tanith couldn’t say he possessed.
Thus when Sanaki held up her cupped hands and proudly presented Tanith with a lizard, Tanith was speechless. It didn’t help that Sanaki’s small mouth formed an almost perfect semi-circle, her cat-like yellow eyes pulled wide. When the lizard’s head bobbed, Tanith quickly found her voice.
“Apostle Sanaki, please let me release that creature in the gardens. We don’t know if it’s safe, not to mention clean.”
Sanaki brought her hands close to her chest, half-turning away. Her semi-circle had flipped upside-down. “It would take more than a lizard to fell an empress. If you will not let me keep it, I’m sure Sephiran shall.”
Taking a problem to Sephiran was a threat indeed. Her mind already full of more pressing matters, Tanith turned to Sigrun in silent request. Sigrun had sense to spare, and unlike Tanith, the tact to deliver it. She approached Sanaki and fell to one knee. “May I see, Apostle Sanaki?” she asked.
Hesitantly Sanaki held the lizard back out. By now it was beginning to question its captivity, poking a round head over her fingers. The red against Sanaki’s skin reminded Tanith of her nightmares. Yellow spots lined its back, and when Sanaki curved her hands the shadows over the creature’s legs appeared purple.
“Why, it matches you perfectly,” Sigrun said.
“Doesn’t it? Its coloring is truly fit for my companion.”
Tanith crossed her arms. “Likely a warning to its predators that it’s poisonous.”
“My, that is true,” Sigrun said. She held out a hand to Sanaki. “Shall we ask Prime Minister Sephiran if he has a book that will tell us?”
Tanith still didn’t think much of asking Sephiran for help with this, as he’d probably find some way to make a joke of it. Zelgius would see her perspective, but he’d yield to Sephiran. Regardless, she had other things to occupy her day, and Sigrun would not let anything happen to their empress. She let them be.
xxxxxxx
The lizard found its home in a glass containment by Sanaki’s bedside. Tanith threw a fit—keeping poison beside her while she slept? Might as well leave a goblet of it for the next assassin to use!—until Sephiran reassured her he had cast a charm to negate any danger the creature may have posed. Tanith apologized for being presumptuous. Sephiran might lie to play a prank or hide his identity, but never to hurt Sanaki.
It was Sigrun who complained next, as Sanaki insisted upon feeding the creature herself, and digging around for insects hardly seemed empress-like. Privately Tanith was amused that it took that to make Sigrun protest. Sanaki appointed a trusted servant to gather the insects, and Sigrun kept any further reservations to herself.
With the matter decided, it slid from Tanith’s mind until one day when Sanaki summoned her and Tanith entered to find the glass containment beside the throne. But for the bits of rock and foliage decorating it, it stood empty. The lizard sat in Sanaki’s lap, where she stroked it with one finger, her bearing suggesting she held the noblest of cats. Her eyes were not on it, instead shifting sharply between Tanith and a few senators already kneeling, apparently doing their best not to react to the odd sight.
The senators were petitioning for more funds to be allocated to the wyvern knights, Tanith learned, and Sanaki wanted to know what she thought of this. Honored to be called for her opinion in Sigrun’s stead, she temporarily forgot about the room’s unusual occupant, puffing out her chest as much as one could with a bowed neck while she assured Sanaki that her Holy Guard was doing its job well enough. In truth they could never perform too high for her standards, but she could see what the senators were up to; the knights that answered to them held less prestige than the apostle’s guard, and they knew it.
Clearly displeased, one senator took a new tact, gesturing to Sanaki’s lap. “Forgive the digression, but your new pet suits you most marvelously. I can’t help but notice how the golden marks upon its ruby back hope to emulate your eyes.”
Tanith could barely contain her scorn. Even at such a young age, Sanaki could manipulate circles around most grown men. Such a cheap tactic wouldn’t sway her attention, let alone her opinion.
Yet miraculously, Sanaki’s chin dropped toward her moving finger. “Her name is Bolganone,” she murmured. “And naturally.”
“A worthy name! The sight of her struck a feeling within me. Our knights, you see—the bonds they hold with their mounts are as strong as those between you and little Bolganone. Why, she and the wyverns might as well be cousins.”
“Is that so?” Sanaki’s voice blurred the line between dismissive and contemplative, her eyes now following her finger, back and forth, back and forth. Bolganone swiveled her head toward the senator, then away.
“My knights, they come to me often. They fear the equipment they use is uncomfortable for their partners, but I simply can’t afford to furnish them with better.”
The lavender and honey dripping from his tone made Tanith’s jaw clench. “How dare you take advantage of the apostle’s affection? I have it on good authority that your knights refuse to use the methods most kind to their mounts out of sheer inconvenience.”
“Tanith, I have not called for your further opinion,” Sanaki snapped. Then, to the senator: “Is what she says true?”
Her eyes were slits, more cat-like than ever. The lizard made a clicking sound that did not cease for several moments.
Though the senator tried to express ignorance, it backfired, as Sanaki ordered an investigation into the matter. For a moment the chamber was silent. Through largely unspoken agreement the apostle exerted little authority over the wyvern knights in exchange for the Holy Guard’s dominance. She certainly did not break this policy on a lizard’s behalf.
Regardless, Tanith sensed triumph. The senators’ knights were not trained to treat their wyverns with the respect the Holy Guard paid to the pegasi. She doubted Sanaki’s investigation would end in their favor.
xxxxxxx
“How underhanded of them.”
The plain wood bench upon which Sigrun polished her armor contrasted with its golden designs, simple yet elegant swirls that suited her beautifully. As expected, she showed no surprise at Tanith’s story, but her lips pressed together in thought. Tanith leaned against the wall.
“Of course, it will backfire,” she replied, “but I can’t help but think that if the apostle continues to display such a…vulnerability so openly, it will end poorly.”
Sigrun didn’t look up from her task as she listened; her ability to do five things at once was part of what made her a natural fit as captain. This was the most at ease Tanith had seen her in some time. “Is it not our job to protect her from such outcomes?” Sigrun asked.
“Of course. That’s what I’m trying to do. A battle prevented is a battle won; you taught me that, and I’ve engraved every lesson of yours in my soul.”
This time Sigrun’s eyes slid upward, a small smile gracing her lips. “We’ll have to see, later, how true that is.” Tanith had the courtesy to avert her gaze.
Bolganone remained at Sanaki’s side despite Sigrun’s gentle suggestions to keep her somewhere where she could not easily be lost. Sanaki seemed anxious when Bolganone was not in sight, and Sephiran commanded a spirit to keep watch over Bolganone so that she could be retrieved if anything happened while Sanaki carried her about (or claimed he did—Tanith caught a twinkle in his eye), and that was that. Tanith switched tactics to vigilantly watching the senators, which was not something she had to go out of her way to do.
It was almost worth it when Sanaki insisted Bolganone eat alongside her, causing the honored guests at her dinner table to blanch at the lizard feeding on insects while they ate poached fish and white asparagus. Sigrun didn’t seem fazed, though she chided Tanith’s blunt jokes about the scene while they readied for bed that night. Already nursing a headache from a meeting that had dragged on, Tanith only threw a pillow in response. It seemed to be the most eventful that Bolganone’s presence would get.
xxxxxxx
On a sunny day, Tanith yelled at a pair of trainees for taking a break to laze in the heat. In truth, the idea had passed her mind; she used to lie in the shade while her dog panted, his belly as warm a pillow as could be. Just one day to travel to the seaside, entwining herself with Sigrun and letting all of her worries soak into the sand, would be heaven. The fact that she thought so fed her irritation, sharpening her lecture.
A messenger approached at a run, huffing as she called for Tanith. “I’m busy,” Tanith said. “Can it wait?”
“The apostle is calling for you. She says it’s an emergency—”
Tanith shouted over her shoulder for the trainees to report to the stables for cleaning duty.
She found Sanaki away from her throne, barking several orders at once. Soldiers and messengers hurried away to follow them, confusion showing on many of their faces. Tanith weaved through them to Sanaki’s side.
“Apostle! What’s wrong?”
“Bolganone!” Sanaki said. For a second, Tanith thought of the magical tome and blinked. “My companion is gone!”
Part of Tanith wanted to groan at how thoroughly Sanaki had raised the alarm over this. Another part grew anxious herself, her misgivings about letting Sanaki show off something so personal returning. She pictured a ransom note, Begnion’s command in upheaval for the sake of seeing a lizard’s safe return.
“Please, Apostle Sanaki, calm yourself. You keep a close eye on her; she cannot have gone far.” Against her better judgment she thought of asking Sephiran, then remembered he was traipsing around the continent in disguise on some confidential mission. She cursed under her breath.
Sanaki’s face puffed up, the skin bright red, her eyelids twitching. For a horrifying moment, Tanith thought Sanaki would cry. Sigrun would know what to do in response to that face. Sigrun always knew.
But Sanaki had been trained from a young age not to cry, at least not in company, and not over a lizard. With as much dignity as she could muster, she said, “Find my friend, Tanith. That’s an order.”
Something about the words, more than the watery way in which they were voiced, tugged at Tanith’s heart. She remembered coming home once to an empty house, only stray hairs like broken straw scattered across the floor. She’d torn half the city apart to find him, sobbing into his back once she located him trying to snag a piece of meat from the market. She’d been barely taller than Sanaki, and her chin had not stood as high. Sanaki kept her chin raised while Tanith bent lower.
“Do not worry, Apostle. I swear on my honor I will.”
xxxxxxx
Bolganone was not, in fact, the kidnapping victim of a calculating senator. She was not even the intentional victim of a servant sick of scrounging for her bugs. A hapless maid had tipped the cage while cleaning, and Bolganone had apparently slipped under door cracks and over walls until she found the table of nobles having their afternoon tea. A scream alerted the guards to her presence, and those that had been summoned to search for her returned, grumbling, to their posts.
Sanaki placed a kiss on Bolganone’s head and cradled her close to her cheek. For a moment, it was as if she forgot that she was still under the watch of guards and messengers, knights and maids. Tanith stayed respectfully silent. When she glanced at Sigrun, her captain’s eyes seemed to be glittering dangerously.
Sanaki’s head snapped up, her face visibly rearranging itself into its usual shrewd mask.
“Well, that’s settled,” she announced. “Why is everyone dawdling around? There’s work to be done!”
xxxxxxx
The wyvern knights’ grumbling filled the training fields after the conclusion of Sanaki’s investigation. Though it grated, Tanith couldn’t say she didn’t find it satisfying. Sigrun said nothing to that, only that she was glad the wyverns would be treated better under the new mandates.
“Our apostle is so compassionate,” she said. “To care for every creature in Begnion as she does.” She pulled her hair free of its tie. It nestled like a cushion in between her neck and her pale robe. Propped up in bed, Tanith rubbed the scruff at the base of her own neck—it was due for a trim.
“As long as she doesn’t lose focus, it’s all well.” In response Sigrun rested a knee on the mattress so that she could lean over and swat Tanith. Leave your half-empty glass at the door, it clearly said. Tanith grinned and grabbed hold of Sigrun’s wrist, tugging her down beside her. She barely had time to nuzzle against Sigrun’s nape before Sigrun shifted away to rest against the headboard.
“I hope the apostle is all right. She had such a scare.”
Tanith groaned. This was one of the rare times when she’d begrudge Sigrun’s devotion to their empress.
“The incident is over. She’ll be fine.”
It seemed fruitless to try to reclaim her place by Sigrun’s collar, though she caught fainter whiffs of her scent, a bath and vanilla now masking the stables. That smell had never bothered her, as she was already used to burying her face in wet fur.
“I had a dog once,” Tanith said abruptly at the thought. “His name was Sebastian.”
“Oh? You’ve never told me about this.”
“I was a young girl. We were both scrappy little things. But he stuck by me.” Tanith had closed her eyes, smiling despite herself. “It’s hard for me to imagine a newt or gecko doing the same. They make pitiful guards, at that.”
“She has plenty of those already,” Sigrun said quietly. “What she lacks is companionship.”
Absently Tanith ran a hand over the sheets, the way she sometimes did her pegasus or sword hilt (or, back in the day, Sebastian). “You don’t have to tell me that.”
Sigrun caught Tanith’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “We’ll always stand by her—and each other.”
“You don’t have to tell me that, either.”
“But I do.”
There was nothing for Tanith to say.
The silken sleeve that brushed against Tanith’s wrist contrasted with Sigrun’s callused skin. Tanith rubbed a thumb over raised scar tissue while she pondered. Loyal or not, she had to admit they weren’t the friends Sanaki deserved. She’d never been afforded the chance to bond with even noble children. The title of Apostle erected an insurmountable barrier, and though Tanith held only the highest esteem for it, perhaps there was something to be said for Sanaki interacting with a creature to which it meant nothing.
“I suppose,” Tanith said, the lull of fatigue loosening her tongue, “this makes us grandparents?”
Sigrun’s attempt to shove her off the bed roused Tanith, and after a bout of laughter she returned to the crook of Sigrun’s neck, finding a home within it.