She had been there. Been there when she watched him carefully climb over the wall between them and the world. She had put her elbow on the parapet, a thoughtful expression gently mirroring the cogs turning inside her mind.
The heir to the Five Realms just slipped past the guards with nothing but a rucksack and his horse. He had dodged his destiny, his people and his wedding due to be held in the morning. To the rumored beautiful daughter of the Emerald Isles. The same girl whose face wasn’t sorrowful but amused. She returned to her provided quarters, calling the handmaiden she had brought with her from her homeland.
“Should we go after him, my Lady?” Laura asked, hovering by the long cord that would call all number of soldiers and servants with one tug.
Astra smiled, sitting in front of her vanity table, “No. I have much better idea.”
Laura eyed her mistress with distrust. She knew this was not going to be fun for her.
.OoO.
Arthur tripped Luke, watching him fall to the side as he took the sword aimed at his friend’s head with his own blade. Luke looked up at the clashing swords, rolling to his feet and running to protect Arthur’s back. Their team was doomed. Three of the five in their team were already tagged out. Meanwhile the other team still boasted all five of their members.
“No head shots!” Their instructor scolded, “do that again and the match is suspended.”
Soren rolled his eyes but tapped Jasper with his boot, “oi. We didn’t rig this just so you could disqualify us. We win this we get first pickings of what Barracks we get to graduate to.”
“Oh, they’re admitting they’re villains now.” Luke laughed, pinning down another teammate and tapping him out. Soren glared at Ben who shrugged, dragging his feet out of the ring while nursing his elbow.
“Going after the smallest cadet and the outcast. How original.” Arthur added, grinning through his sweat. “Do you also make babies cry Soren? With that face I wouldn’t be surprised.” Athur was the smallest. But lithe, as though he had been a cat in a past life. And just as vicious. Luke braced himself as Soren slammed into him, digging his feet into the sand as the big guy roared over him.
Arthur rolled his eyes and pulled Luke out of the gridlock, letting Soren’s momentum carry him almost out of bounds.
“You don’t always have to face the bull head on.” He chided, “there are other ways.”
“Not how I was taught.” Luke mumbled.
Luke had to unlearn a lot of old habits. His speech, his gait, his expectations. The night he climbed over that fence and left for Knight School he had left with little more than emotional baggage. This school was but one of the many in the empire. This one was near the docks in case something went wrong. Like detection.
But so far, almost two years in, no one had come looking for a runaway Prince. The most important prince on the continent. It was his literal blood that kept the shadow beasts from evading. Kept the countries surrounding theirs in prosperity and protection. Only one per generation was blessed.
Search parties had of course been sent out. Many had been questioned. Many had brought in fake replacements. None could pull it off. Lucas was labeled as the Coward Prince. A foolhardy, useless princeling.
Lucas was now Luke, his golden hair had been changed to brown, almost black. He wore a charm that also changed his eyes to brown. A gift from a magi’s apprentice. One that poor acolyte regretted bitterly.
Luke wanted to rewrite his path. Arthur would say the path was already built, it was up to them what action they took and who they asked for directions.
Another sword tap. Arthur bounced out of the way, grinning at Soren whose face grew red and angry as another teammate walked.
“Oooh, he looks angry.” The small boy announced, “or an allergic reaction, maybe?”
“Shut UP!” Soren yelled, “I’m going to pound you into the dust where you belong. Get out of my face migrant.”
Arthur looked at him with mock surprise, pulling back his sleeve to show the dark skin on his forearm under his plating, “am I… not from here? Am I… from the islands? How can you tell? It’s my blinding good looks isn’t it.”
Soren yelled, throwing up his face to scream into the sun. Luke calmly used the distracting performance to tap another of Soren’s teammates, Jasper giving him a small smile before leaving. They weren’t all bad. Just heaped expectations sewn into their skins since birth. Luke understood that more than anyone.
Now it was just Soren, Arthur and Luke. Arthur had already tapped the other two out while they tried to get out of Soren’s way.
Soren looked around at his predicament, wildly swinging his head around to see his teammates disappear into the lockers. They had been at it for over an hour. Of course they were finished.
Luke frowned thoughtfully, eyeing the bully. “This seems… extreme. Even for Soren.”
“Whatcha thinking Lukey boy?” Arthur inquired.
“He could be drugged… or charmed.”
“Here? At the academy?” Arthur eyed the bigger boy, “… performance enhancing charm? You’d think the school would’ve tested him for that.”
They hadn’t checked Luke when he shoved the appearance changing charm under his sock. “…Maybe.”
They separated as Soren ran at them, picking up a fallen shield as he charged. Luke grunted behind his shield as Soren slashed, grabbing sand and throwing it in Soren’s face. Soren roared, turning to the sound of Arthur, holding up his shield to stop the upper cut.
“Wait,” Arthur said, he ducked under Soren’s sword, pulling a cord almost hidden in his apprentice sash. Hanging off the black cord was an ancient symbol of ferocity and power.
“Oh no.” Arthur muttered, pulling his face back as he clutched it.
Soren turned to being pickpocketed, snatching it out of Arthur’s hands. The smaller boy grimaced, running around and grabbing Luke. As he ran, he pulled out a diamond hilted dagger hidden in his undershirt, throwing it at Soren. It glanced off the pendant, slicing it in half.
“This… was not how I wanted things to go.” Arthur grimaced, holding his other hand under his armpit.
“What’s happened?” Luke asked, glancing back at Soren who began to growl and hiss. “What was that charm?”
The instructor finally noticed something was off about Soren, walking over to investigate. The teacher gasped and stepped back, blowing the warning whistle around his neck.
“Get a battle magi!” the instructor yelled, unsheathing his sword, “that’s a cursed charm.”
The two boys reached the benches situated behind the sparring grounds, Arthur hissing as he pulled out his hand. Where he had grabbed the charm was a big black, bubbling wound.
“Ogres teeth! That looks bad.” Luke said in a panic.
“Luke,” Arthur breathed, “we’re friends you and I.”
“Can we not talk like you’re dying. It’s a cursed mark. We must get you purified.”
“Promise me.” Arthur begged.
“You’re my best friend, Art,” Luke replied, wrapping the wound in his sash, “You cut away at my lone wolf bullshit. You’re important to me. I’d do anything for you.”
Arthur doubled over, his pain shadowed by the now animal screeching coming from the sparring grounds. A small crowd of teachers were surrounding the area, some herding curious spectators away from the scene.
“Good.” Arthur whispered, “remember that.”
At the words he collapsed, caught by Luke who shouted for help. As he yelled the sound of broken glass echoed around him. Before his eyes his friend shuddered, his short hair growing and lightning to starlight. He grew hot to the touch, burning Luke as he clutched at his friend.
A priestess flew down the incline towards them, alarm in her features as she took in the shuddering, burning up Arthur.
“Oh, my.” She murmured, taking him into her hands. She unwrapped the wound, clasping hands with the unconscious Arthur. She began to recite words of healing and purity, taking back her hand to cut it with a diamond dagger from her hip. The moment her blood touched Arthur he began to scream.
The priestess frowned, “this is no ordinary black mark. I do not have enough magic in my blood for this.”
Luke closed his eyes. If they waited too long his friend might become a wraith. Or worse.
He put out his hand for the dagger, wiping the blood from it on his shirt. Then he pierced his own hand. The heady smell of copper filled the air between them. The priestess at once caught the notes of power. Of royalty. She looked long and hard at him.
He ignored her as he squeezed his blood onto the wound, watching his blood curl and change colour from red to gold. The Priestess recited the words of purity and protection, the black mark receding.
“I need to take…” she looked at the shining silver-white hair, the softening features of her charge, “him to the infirmary. I think it best you come with me.”
Luke nodded numbly, watching as the priestess whispered another spell and picked up Arthur, almost dancing as she walked towards the infirmary. Luke followed closely behind.
He had just given up his freedom for his friend. A wild animal walking back towards his cage.
.OoO.
Luke woke to a hand on his head. He lay with his head on the bed, his chair pulled up as close as it could be. Arthur lay there. What was left of his friend anyway.
The priestess had promised them forty-eight hours. She had looked upon Luke’s devastated face, still bruised from a well-placed elbow during the match. Just enough time for a chat. Or a plan.
Anger, confusion and fear swept Luke up in a hurricane. His body felt too small. But at the touch they were all swept away. Under a rug or out the window he wasn’t sure. Only that Arthur wasn’t dead. He wasn’t a wraith. He was still here.
“This isn’t the first time we’ve been here,” Arthur smiled, wincing as he felt his day old bruises. “Remember when you fractured both your legs when you caught me off that scaffolding?”
A smile hovered on Luke’s lips, “Soren had set half of it on fire during an exercise.”
He opened his eyes, looking up into Arthur’s eyes. No longer brown, but a glimmering bluey green. The colour of the sea when the sun shines on it. His face remained severe and heady. Same nose. Same mouth. But softer, angled up in a way that left no mistake. Her dark skin made her features doubly striking. Midnight with streaks of starlight.
“You’re… a girl Authur.”
“I am.”
“You’re…”
“A Starlight chosen of the Crescent Islands.”
Luke made a face, “I was going to say beautiful. But yeah, that too.”
They both looked away, both seeing the wall slowly being bricked up between them.
“No.” She said, grabbing his face with her bandaged hand. “I did not spend years learning swordplay for you to be awkward with me. I did not spend two years for all intents and purposes a boy for you to take back your promise. You are my best friend.”
Luke scratched his head in her hands, caught in the fire of her eyes. “It’s just… I did things with you that no girl should see. I told you things no girl should know. And all this time… you weren’t who you said you were.”
She smiled at the irony, shoving back her silver hair behind her head in annoyance. “The body is different. But Luke… the person inside is the same. Same loves and hates and habits. I still love peanut butter more than my own family. I have always loved making pictures out of clouds. I was never less than I am with you. Perhaps, I was even more me than I was before you.”
She reached out her hands and he gave his, letting him stroke the scars and calluses, the same ones on his own hands. He looked up and looked at her properly. At the hardened skin, the athletic build, the steady look in her eyes. He had somehow known all along there was more to her. The way she would watch the sea with a longing so deep he wanted to drown in it. There was always music there quietly playing between them. Just never sung along with. But he knew the words. He loved them with his whole being.
“Who are you really?” He asked. “You knew I was hiding things. You knew I wasn’t telling you everything.”
“I thought if I became a boy, you would let me in close.” She said, “I thought if I were a boy, you would believe my intentions. I would take whatever you gave me. I wanted freedom too.”
They looked at each other, truly at each other. Luke knew then. He knew she knew.
“I am Lucas, Everhart Attebbery. I was heir and holder of the golden blood.” He whispered.
“Why did you run that day?” She asked, sitting up. He helped her, pulling up her pillows. She thanked him with a smile, settling in.
“I felt… trapped.” He stood, suddenly unable to stay still, “Married at seventeen? I am not a breeding stallion to continue the line. I am a person. I hadn’t even met her. She was my picked equal and I was expected to tow the line. I needed more. I saw within myself a weakness that didn’t deserve to rule, let alone drag someone else into that mess. So… I left.”
She beckoned him closer, her love for him making her glow from within. He watched her with quiet awe, tracing her face with his eyes. He found himself wanting to reach out, to reconnect through what this change had wrought.
She took a deep breath. Her voice was higher, melodic, “I am Astra Elfin Durand, daughter of the Crescent Isles and chosen bride for the Heir of the Continent.” As she spoke, light caught her hair and eyes, taking the breath out of Luke’s lungs. She enchanted his heart simply by her gaze.
“If I had met you two years ago, I would never have left.” He murmured.
“Oh,” she grinned, breaking the moment, “I knew your choice wasn’t because of me. I’m a delight.”
He laughed. A true laugh that made even the dust about them feel lighter.
“You are a scoundrel.” He replied, leaning forward to cup her face. “Would you still marry me? Even knowing that I snore?”
“I fixed that,” she shrugged, “I just kick you in the side and you stop. Everyone in our dorm is indebted to me.”
He laughed again, taking off his boot. He reached for the cord tied around his ankle under his sock, snapping it off. He held out the cord glimmering in a purple shimmer, coiling it in Astra’s hand. Before her eyes his hair slowly lightened into gleaming gold, his mother’s blue eyes staring back at her.
“Anymore secrets?” He asked her, “this is the time.”
She leaned closer to him so they shared breath, a moment from touching noses, “Just one.” She murmured, smiling, “I think I’ve been in love with you for over a year.” And she caught his lips with hers, giggling when he stood and leaned into the kiss.
He leaned over the bed, bracing himself as he deepened the kiss. “We are going to have to beg for forgiveness.” She murmured against his lips.
He broke the kiss, looking down at her, “I’ll beg whoever I must for you.”
“Ironically, you’re going to have to ask your father for permission. Not mine.”
He laughed, turning to see an anxious priestess escort some very official people into the building.
Luke slipped his hand into hers, folding them together, “Tell me to run and we will run. Tell me to stay, and I will stay.”
Astra looked at him, cocking her head to the side, “stay, my Luke. The people’s Lucas.”
He smiled at her, pulling back to stand before the incoming mayhem. She saw something inside him, something keener than a blade and sharper than wit. His golden hair glimmered, even with sand in it. He was not walking around in his father’s shoes anymore. He had chosen his path.
“Good morning, Alder.” Lucas smiled, meeting the old adviser’s eyes head on. “I am so glad to see you. Tell me, what brings you to the training halls of Red Mane Academy?”
Alder looked at Lucas, saw him standing protectively before the daughter of the Cresent Isles. They shone together, silver and gold. Not the same boy who he had locked himself inside his room. Not the same girl who had hidden from court.
A King and Queen in waiting.
ns216.73.217.39da2
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