Chapter Text
Catriona
“While you were out doing gods know what on the isles for three weeks, Suniva fell to dark wielders. Queen Maraya is dead.”
General Aetos’s words echo in my head as Maren and I walk back to the Quadrant. We’re walking as close to each other as we possibly can, while also carrying the bags we took to the Isles. The brisk wind blowing across the flight field nips at our skin, despite both of us wearing our flight jackets. When Aaric Graycastle catches up to us, I’m still reeling from the news. Queen Maraya is dead, and my uncle is now the King of Poromiel. What. The. Fuck.
“Congrats on getting one step closer to the throne you so covet, Catriona. Looks like we’re both second in line now,” he says.
I can’t quite tell if he’s being sincere or snarky, so I choose not to look at him as I reply, “I don’t know if I covet it anymore, though.”
Aaric abruptly stops walking. “Come again?” Maren maintains her pace beside me. It’s not a shock to her, she’s heard this spiel before.
“I don’t know if I want it anymore. Because ascending to the throne would mean that Syrena is dead.” My voice cracks on the last word. When General Aetos informed me that I’d moved up in the line of succession while we were away, her death was my biggest fear, the worst possible scenario. I hate that I had to put those words out into the universe. I send up a silent plea to Malek to forget that I ever said them.
“That’s…remarkably self-aware of you.” Aaric states, and he’s right, yet I don’t acknowledge it. “But couldn’t she abdicate?” He adds. And while, yes, that is the less morbid option, it still isn’t what I want.
“Theoretically, yes, she could.” And she probably would, which is why I can never ask her. I keep that to myself though. “But I meant what I said in Hedotis, I think Syrena will be an excellent Queen. Your piece of shit older brother on the other hand…” I trail off, not knowing how much further I want to take that insult. Denigrating the Crown Prince to his younger brother is probably not the move right now. Plus, I was raised to be a Queen, and all Queens know that the best insults are those left unsaid.
Aaric grins, and retorts, “Hey now. Halden isn’t a piece of shit, he’s a whole PILE of shit. Give him some credit.”
To my right, Maren makes a sound that’s half choking and half laughter. I try to stifle a smile but don’t succeed. I guess I could have finished my sentence after all.
“So what’s your plan then?” Maren asks, her tone conveying concern. “Would Halden willingly abdicate?” I already know the answer to this question, because I’ve had the unfortunate privilege of spending far more time with Halden Tauri than Maren has.
The grimace on Aaric’s face all but confirms the answer. “No, he absolutely would not. Navarre would be all the better for it if he did though…and if his crimes ever come to light, he might be forced to.” He’s quiet as we walk into the rotunda, which is emptier than usual considering the majority of people are still at dinner.
Once we’ve made it about halfway through without being accosted, he resumes his train of thought. “Unfortunately, I know how this game works. Usually, at least one of his advisors is also complicit in his schemes.” I raise my eyebrows and he shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know how aware or involved the King was, but I’m doubtful that Halden will ever face any form of public admonishment and consequences.
Truthfully, having this kind of conversation with the scion of another throne is a strategically dangerous choice. I feel like there’s more that he isn’t saying, more knowledge that he has that he’s keeping close to his chest for now, and I don’t blame him for that, but now he’s piqued my interest. I could tap into my gift and see what emotions he’s feeling at the moment, but I made a promise to Maren and Trager that I wasn’t going to fuck with any more Squadmates, and that’s a promise I plan on keeping. The rest of Basgiath though…well, they’re fair game as far as I’m concerned. I’ve mostly been on my best behavior whenever we’ve been back, but sometimes I can’t resist.
The three of us reach the stairs that separate the first year dorms from the second and third years, and Aaric turns toward the hallway leading to his room. He pauses right as we reach the second stair and turns around.
“Hey Cat?” A shift from earlier when he called me Catriona.
“Yeah?” I respond, unsure where this is going.
“From one reluctant spare to another, I’m really sorry it happened like this.” His eyes are kind, and the compassion I see in them is far more than I’ve ever seen from his brother or father.
“I am too.” I murmur. I turn towards the stairs, then stop.
“Aaric,” I call out, then wait til he gets a little closer before asking, “why did you run away?” I’m letting my curiosity get the best of me, but it’s a question that ate away at me while we were in the Isles. I’ve spent a decent part of my life running toward a crown, Hedeon only knows what would stimulate him to run from his.
“Because I discovered the truth.” He states, matter-of-factly. “And quickly realized that I was the last one to know, but the first one to actually want to do something about it.”
“One of Queen Maraya’s favorite sayings was ‘those who don’t heed the warnings and acknowledge the mistakes made in the downfall of other civilizations are bound to repeat history.’”
Aaric shakes his head regretfully. “And she’s right. If Navarre falls, it’ll be due to our own hubris and unwillingness to come to the aid of others when they asked us too.”
We’d seen some of Aaric’s diplomatic side in the Isles, or, rather, I saw his diplomatic side in Hedotis and Unnbriel, and relayed my begrudging respect for the Prince after the fact. And while it was impressive, it almost seemed forced, like he was playing a role and molding his answers to what the situation required. What he just said though, I don’t need to use my gift to know that he’s being 100% genuine..
I stare at Aaric, as if seeing him clearly for the first time. Thankfully, Maren steps in to fill the awkward silence. “That means a lot coming from you, Aaric. Thank you.”
I nod in agreement, then add, “if only your father and brother displayed the same level of awareness and humility.”
“But then my father would have to live up to his self-proclaimed title of ‘King Tauri the Wise, wouldn’t he.” Aaric declares, “and what fun would that be, without the irony?”
Maren and I both roll our eyes, and I catch Aaric smirking at us.
“I don’t know what you were like when you were still Cam Tauri,” I begin, “I can’t imagine you were too terribly different, or any less insightful than you are now. But I think Queen Maraya would have really enjoyed conversing with Aaric Graycastle.” I know I definitely have.
Aaric’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I think we would have found common ground on quite a few matters.”
Just then, Kai comes out of his room and spots us down the hallway. He sprints for us and Maren steps off the stairs to give him a big hug. After a couple of seconds, the two of them pull me in too.
I look over Kai’s shoulder to see Aaric give us a two fingered salute.
“I’m going to go put my stuff back in my room and try to relax for a couple of minutes before Aetos Sr. and his cronies inevitably come to drag us all out for one on one interrogations. Hopefully I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
Maren and I return the salute as we extricate ourselves from the group hug. Kai chatters excitedly to the two of us about things we missed, but I’m not really following the conversation. Cam Tauri might have been the one decent Navarrian royal, but Aaric Graycastle seems like a genuinely good person. How interesting.
Aaric’s prediction about interrogations comes true, about fifteen minutes after Maren and I make it back to our rooms. Those bastards didn’t even give us time to grab any dinner. You’d think that they’d want to avoid adding hunger on top of weariness from traveling, but unfortunately for them, they didn’t think that far ahead. I guess we didn’t help the situation by just ‘showing back up at school without any forewarning,’ but it seems the Navarrian way of interrogations relies on complete physical and mental exhaustion creating an environment ripe for the possibility of slip-ups.
Thankfully, considering Professor Kiandra has been one of our Battle Brief professors, General Aetos allowed her to be present for both my interrogation, and Maren’s. Whenever I asked for a bathroom break, she escorted me, and would slip me some snacks. Nothing super substantial, or at least not enough to change my demeanor and make the Navarrians suspicious, but enough to prevent me from becoming hangry. She wasn’t allowed to comfort me as I attempted to recount the painful events on Zehyllna, and the aftermath, but her presence was enough to bolster my courage. My years of diplomatic training did the rest. I was able to maintain the walls around the emotions threatening to break through, but it wasn’t easy. “I will not break down in front of these assholes.” I repeated to myself through gritted teeth during one especially well-timed trip to the bathroom.
It took twelve hours for the powers that be to finally decide that they were satisfied with my account of our trip, or whatever the scribes had written down, and release me. Professor Kiandra escorted me back out into the hallway for the final time that morning.
“How bad is it out there? We didn’t see a lot when we flew back in, and I definitely wasn’t in any condition to take notes. I’m really sorry.” My head drops, partially due to exhaustion, but also because I can’t help but feel like I let my country, and my people, down.
After checking to make sure the door is fully closed, and we’re away from judgmental eyes, Professor Kiandra puts a comforting hand on my right shoulder. “We’ll be updating everyone at the same time once Battle Brief is back in session tomorrow. Unfortunately, it’s not a good update. We desperately need those troops from Zehyllna.” The walls containing my feelings about those troops, and why we have them, are still holding, but just barely.
“And even then, they probably won’t be enough to turn the tide. Are people evacuating? Is Cordyn safe?” I inquired, hoping for even the tiniest shred of good news.
Instead, I watch as Professor Kiandra’s mouth forms a hard line. “Lamentably, our appeals to King Tauri have either fallen on deaf ears, or just been outright refused.”
It’s probably a good thing I’m so exhausted, otherwise I’d be marching myself down to Chantara to find whichever brothel Halden Tauri has bedded down in for the night, and implore a dragon to straight up torch it. I bet Molvic would find it amusing.
Bitterly I say, “I was expecting that, but I’m still disappointed that Navarre remains so opposed to offering refuge to our people. I’m sure there would be a steep price if they changed their minds though. I have a hard time believing they’d open their borders out of the goodness of their hearts.”
The part of me that’s merely a Poromish citizen, not an heir to the throne, still had a shred of hope that things would be different. But I guess it was naïve to have any hope that they’d do the right thing.
Professor Kiandra nods in agreement. “We’ll discuss the situation more tomorrow. For now, go back and rest, Catriona. Your body, your mind, and your soul desperately need it. All of you gave so much of yourselves over the past few weeks, and those sacrifices will not go to waste. You and your fellow travelers are excused from classes today, but we need you at your best tomorrow when we start discussing how to ensure that they won’t. So please, rest.”
I don’t remember trudging back to my dorm room, and I’m out once my head hits my pillow. I sleep until it’s time for dinner, and for the first time in two weeks, I don’t dream about Trager.