Alcina doesn’t remember very well what happens next.She can only recall in blurred snippets of colors and sensations, filling her heart with a blackened char and ice.But what she does remember is this:She remembers running into the fire headfirst.Remembers locating that crumpled, prone form in the center of the inferno and throwing herself at it with a choked, painful sob.Remembers desperately pulling Brendan’s shoulders into her lap, curling over him. The feeling of sorrow, panic, and rage is so strong that it consumes her whole, leaving behind nothing but this dark, black pit in the center of her chest where her heart ought to be.She doesn’t realize, then, that the fire doesn’t burn.That all around her, where the flames lick at her skin, the only sensation she feels is a dull, pleasant warmth.She doesn’t realize, either, that as she cradles Brendan’s unconscious - dead? - body in her arms, the fire slowly ceases to burn him, too.Because all Alcina can focus on, the only th
It has already been half a day since Brendan had been taken.Since Alcina had sat there, in a shocked stupor, crumpled on the ground with no one able to approach her for the snarling, fearsome dragon wrapped protectively around her. Since then, she had sat there, unregistering the coming and going of various individuals as they counted the dead and the living. Her own father was declared in need of critical medical attention.Nearly an hour after the hall had emptied, Alfred and Nordin had managed to coax Alcina gently to her feet and led her to her room, where she sat staring blankly at the wall until she was fetched for the current meeting. But all Alcina can see is the still and unmoving form of Brendan, laying limply in her arms; of Brendan, smelling like soot and ash and cinders rather than his familiar warm, earthy amber scent; of Brendan, his skin covered in harsh burns, with his eyes that wouldn't open to look at Alcina, no matter how much she begged.So, when Alcina's entir
After that, Alcina doesn't bring up the matter of going after Brendan again.But it doesn't matter much, given that she is also not invited to the strategy meetings after that, anyway.* * * * * * * * * * *The following day, Nordin finds Alcina, where she's sitting quietly with Orion out in the courtyard.Alcina had always hated the whispers and stares that used to trail her at home, of the Giftless child who had ruined her family's hallowed legacy.Now, she has a Gift, but she finds she hates the whispers and stares all the more for it.Alcina hears things like 'To think, that dragons have returned- and it is a Clair who is Gifted with them; and Have you heard that the youngest of House Clair does possess a Gift, after all?'Of people staring at her with awe, that's alien, given that it comes from the same eyes that had scorned her in the past.It strikes her how strange it is that she had been an outcast for having no Gift, but now that she has one, she still folds herself away, hi
As always, Alcina paces the floor with near frenetic energy in the hallway outside the meeting room.Duchess Clair had forbidden her from further meetings, citing Alcina's emotional preoccupation to have rendered her unable to participate in the proceedings with the objectivity required of war.There is a part of Alcina that wonders how loathsome it is to be able to speak of objectivity and the greater good.Perhaps Alcina's mother is right, after all, that she is ill-suited to war, given that such concepts are complex for her to grasp. Not when every time she closes her eyes, she can still see Brendan's last, parting smile seared into her mind with a vengeance.It has been two days since Brendan was taken.Since he had been stolen from her.And still, no one moves.Commander Lincoln is tied up in the Western Plains, given the nation has never been more vulnerable than now, when their greatest strength and future king has been taken.Alfred, future Duke as he may be, is nonetheless se
Alcina’s mother, Duchess Clair, raises the suggestion that they do not go after Lord Brendan at all.Given the magnitude of manpower and resources it would take to breach Duke Elton’s castle, particularly given his alliance with Duke Cedric - it is not justifiable, she says, that they should pursue what could very likely be a “fruitless endeavor.”It falls upon the table like a heavy condemnation, though not a single person can claim that the thought had not crossed their minds even briefly.After all, war cannot be fought on emotions and sentiment alone.It must be fought on the battlefield, with human lives and bloodshed, and innocent deaths.War demands of people, then, to quantify qualitative data to use such phrases as the greater good and justifiable risks.It asks of people to set aside that instinctive human nature to value the individual over all else, the kind of impulse that characterizes mankind in his desire to sacrifice hundreds for the life of one beloved person.Each p
In the throne room, Cedric pulls his blade free from Brendan’s abdomen with a sickening, wet, slick blood spattering immediately onto the marble floor to join the growing pool of red.Brendan’s head lolls on his shoulders, his vision blinking in and out from a haze of whites and duplicates, pallor drained almost entirely of color.His hands and legs are bound in a metal chain. There is a metal collar on his neck, which bit into his skin as the blood trips down from there. His hand is covered with black fur, which is sticking together as the blood-soaked and dried on it.His fingers turned into claws, and his razor-sharp nails are fallen at his clawed feet. Cedric took his sweet time cutting them all out. Brendan doesn’t have the energy or a will to summon his magic or power, but a faint black shadow still surrounds him. Trying to protect him from the torcher, from the agony but-The shadows are barely visible to the naked eye as it gets lost in the black fur adorning his body. But it
Alcina climbs down from Orion’s back, landing with a quiet thump.Alcina lifts her chin, eyes flitting over the battalion of soldiers, over Elton, standing in the center of it all, gazing at them with a hungry, manic gleam in her eyes, and her jaw clenches.“I am here,” Alcina says, and it echoes off the walls. “For my husband.”The soldiers react first.They surge forward as though to attack. In an instant, Orion reacts, rearing her head and letting out a deafening, angry roar, enough to make most of them pause.Elton’s hand flies up, halting the remaining soldiers in their tracks.Orion curls protectively over Alcina’s head, and her wings spread with overwhelming menace.“Lady Alcina,” Elton says, a strange wonder in his voice, as though he is hearing and tasting the name for the first time. He takes another step closer, and Orion growls.Elton stills. “Of House Clair.”Elton’s eyes are blown wide as they take in the young lady and her dragon. “It is you,” he breathes. “-who command
Orion lets out an unholy screech as the wave of soldiers threatens to pull her under, and a spear manages to pierce the soft underside of the tip of her wing.The panic in Alcina rises higher, and she feels as though she cannot breathe.The soldiers continue to advance, unminding the dead bodies that litter the floor. It seems as though there is an endless supply of them, pouring in from the double doors, new ones replacing each one that Orion manages to befell. This, Alcina thinks in her bleak despair, is why her mother told her that she is unfit for battle. She was not wrong.Alcina’s hands curl around the chains in her hands, ignoring the stinging pain of her torn skin, and her eyes clench shut when a massive, thundering roar cuts through it all.Alcina’s heart pounds in her chest, this time, not with panic, but with a vengeance.Over the balcony, a huge, looming shadow appears.The soldiers freeze in their advance.And with another ear-splitting, heart-shaking roar of fury, Perse
When Alcina manages to trudge her way to her room in the palace, she has hardly made it past the doorway when Brandon is instantly at her side.Brandon grips her by the shoulders, expression blank but eyes almost frantic in the way they run over her frame from head to toe, as though cataloging any possible injuries. And then, at last, Brandon lifts a hand to rest gently along Alcina’s cheek.Alcina shudders and sinks into it, sighing. “I half feared the Duchess may have buried you somewhere in the courtyard, and I would have to go digging for my wife,” Brandon drawls, teasing and insouciant but with genuine worry in his eyes when Alcina peers up at him.Alcina manages to muster a scowl, though she loses the energy for it right after.Drained, Alcina allows Brandon to help her change into her silken pajamas and guide her right to bed, where Alcina sinks gratefully into the pillows. “I really ought to shower,” Alcina murmurs uselessly, wrinkling her nose in distaste. “I’m quite disgust
The courtyard is a ruined wasteland.Everywhere the eye can see, the ground is shattered into nothing more than rubble, uneven and dusty and jagged with uneven footing.But there is one woman who maintains perfect balance, even as the ground shakes violently underneath her precarious red heels: the Duchess, hair flawlessly coifed with not a single strand out of place, even four hours into their training session.She lifts her chin, and a massive, tapered boulder, narrowed to a lethal point, separates itself from the ground.And then, it goes shooting forward, soaring through the air to hurtle towards the two figures hovering in the sky. Alcina sees it coming and grits her teeth as Orion dives sideways in a spinning tumble to avoid it.The Duchess straightens up.All of a sudden, the ground falls still.The silence that follows feels oddly deafening in Alcina’s ringing ears, after hours of its cacophonous din. She, too, straightens up, peering down at her mother in confusion. The Duc
“Survive.”It is all the warning Alcina gets before the ground erupts.That is the only word that can be used to describe the way the earth shifts and jagged little spears come hurtling upwards, all around her, tall enough to pierce Orion’s underbelly should she be standing over one.With an enraged shriek, Orion hurries to take to the air, and Alcina has to scramble to hold on as she frantically takes off.When she is airborne, and Orion has steadied herself with measured, powerful flaps of her great wings, the ground finally stops shaking.Again, she finds her mother standing effortlessly even amid the ruins she had created. “You were lucky, before.” When Alcina had recklessly charged into Elton’s stronghold alone, with nothing but an untrained dragon and a flimsy sword. “The soldiers then had been wholly unprepared for the sight of a dragon, and had been too stricken to react.”She lifts her hand once more. “But you will not be so lucky the next time. And you must be prepared, to f
Somewhere far, far below the grounds of the Western Plains, is an elaborate passageway of holding cells, built of heavy metal bars and lit only by the sparse torches.The dungeons, though no one quite likes to use the word.The dungeons have long been empty for years, having only been used once in recent times. And only briefly, too, given that the inhabitant had been quickly disposed of, once all the information had been extracted from his mind with Lord Alfred’s Gift.Today, the unused torches in the dungeons have been lit once more, for a new guest.It is a young woman, hardly older than twenty, her features lovely and delicate in violent contrast to the grimy holding cell she has been chained to. Everything about her seems like a sacrilege, here, in the dank walls of a dirty underground prison; as though she is something that does not belong in a place so dirty and murky.Even the color of her hair - pale pink locks, vibrant even in the darkness of the cell - stands at odds with t
Alcina watches wordlessly as the Gifted medic heals Brendan’s palm. She stares intently at the white glow emanating from the woman’s hand, as she hovers it over Brendan’s burned palm. Slowly, the reddish hue of the burn recedes, until Brendan’s palm has returned to its normal state.Alcina wishes she could have been born with a Gift like hers, something that would allow her to chase away the bruises and ailments and scars on Brendan’s skin; not something that would hurt him. Human nature, she realizes, is greedy beyond all belief. How many years had she yearned for a Gift, any Gift, she remembers wishing desperately in these very halls? And now that she has been graced with one, she yearns for something more, still.With a respectful bow, the healer excuses herself, leaving just the two of them in the otherwise empty room. Alcina doesn’t move from her perch, sitting ramrod straight in her chair. Stares at Brendan’s hand, every fiber of her being longing to reach out for it so that
Alcina sips dutifully at the glass of water Brendan had forced upon her, eyes doleful as she peeks up at him from underneath her lashes.Brendan stands over her, arms crossed, not unlike an ominous guard watching with keen eyes as if to ensure Alcina truly is drinking the water. They had hardly made it to the closest parlor room from the courtyard entrance when Brendan had promptly sat her down on a chair and ordered a terrified attendant to fetch a pitcher of water.Alcina sips obediently at her second glass now, shoulders slumped both in exhaustion and misery as she glances up at Brendan through her drenched bangs.“Why do you look as though someone has slaughtered your childhood pet?” Brendan demands.Alcina recognizes the terseness of Brendan’s awkward attempts at caring for someone, but cannot help the slight grimace all the same. “You were watching, weren’t you?” she says sullenly, mouthing at the rim of her cup. “I was terrible-”“You were not terrible,” Brendan begins to say,
Two hours in and Alcina is already exhausted.It is midday, now, and the sun beats harshly down on her back, thoroughly drenched with sweat. The wind whipping at her face and limbs from Orion’s movements as she darts through the air does little to cool her down, perspiration dotting her temples and her hair matted to her forehead and neck.Alcina can barely hold on to her sword as it is, while still maintaining her tenuous hold on one of Orion’s spikes to steady herself on her back.A pair of arrows whistle as they just barely miss her cheek, her hair whipping upwards from the projectiles spinning past her just a millimeter away from her skin. “Pay attention,” Percy says from the ground, where he stands, perfectly relaxed with his hands tucked into his pockets - not at all unlike the form he’d assumed, that day of the ruinous wedding.Darla, seated beside him still in her panther’s form, licks her lips in a manner that sends a shiver down Alcina’s back.She yelps, then, as Orion jerk
Back in the Western Plains, a Commander General continues his vigilant observance throughout the night, long after all the castle lights have been extinguished.Alone, he sits, eyes sharp as he assesses each unobtrusive corner of the room.It is none other than Lord Brendan’s own private study, a room that is locked and forbidden to all those aside from the lord himself, and his most trusted advisor: the General who has tasted only the sweetness of victory, each time he has stepped onto the battlefield.Lincoln tilts his head.And then, in a motion too quick for an ordinary man to catch, seizes the dagger laying innocently across the desk, and hurls it across the room.It sinks itself into its target.A gasped expletive fills the air.Lincoln picks up a second dagger, its blade gleaming under the single line of moonlight spilling in through the sliver in the curtains. This, in the next breath, he throws with lethal accuracy.“My, would you look at that,” he says cheerfully, brightly.
“No.”Alcina fumbles with the straps currently adorning Perseus’s broad back the contraption that, she claims, is meant to strap a person in. Brendan stares at it with an unmoving expression.Alcina pouts.Brendan remains firm. “You do realize,” he drawls. “That I am, technically, still in recovery, yes?”Alcina winces.“I don’t know about you, but I’m rather certain that falling hundreds of feet to my death is not what the healers advised for a speedy recovery-”Alcina whines at him. Stomps her foot, even, in a way that Brendan resolutely does not find at all endearing.“You won’t fall,” she says. “I have been practicing very hard this entire week, at flying with Perseus!”Brendan raises a solemn brow. “You mean to say that this is a newly acquired skill that you are attempting to pass off on me, then?”Alcina flushes. “Brendan,” she wheedles. Brendan briefly spares a moment of appreciation, anew, for the two older brothers who have raised this petulant little thing, all these years