Kastali Dun

Saffra scowled, turning away from the sight over her shoulder. Commander Daxton stood exchanging blows with Bedelth, shirtless and glistening. They dove at each other, fists flying, faces snarling. Despite Bedelth's draconian advantage, Dax was a formidable opponent...for a human.

Her scowl deepened.

Maybe if he'd been more—more than human—the poison would not have left him in shambles. But he wasn't more, was he? The dark thought had frequently nagged her, even before the incident. A human's lifespan against hers, that of a powerful Mage. She would live for hundreds of years.

And what of Marcel's concerns? The potential that the poison had reset his body to a stage before...before what? Kane's interference within the keep, his stretch and influence, was unknown to all of them. What if...?

No. She shook her head, pushing away the thought, and fired another arrow.

But there was was no telling, was there? Who could be trusted and who couldn't? Humans were Kane's vessels of choice. Easily manipulated. How well had she truly known her beloved? Why did Marcel have any reason to suspect him?

It wasn't raining, but it may as well have been. She glanced up at the sky. Dark clouds sat heavy above her, leaving the air thick enough to drink, even despite the chill of autumn.

Maybe she didn't know Dax at all, even if they were meant to be married. Dax had been eager with her all those years ago—perhaps too eager—when he returned from the Gobelin Wars. He had singled her out. It had always made her feel special. Women fawned and preened over him, but she was the one he wanted.

She avoided another glance over her shoulder. Seeing him with Bedelth didn't help her focus. She'd come here for a distraction, not to be distracted. The practice grounds were usually the one place she found peace.

She snorted. Peace. There was no peace. Not in this world.

Taking a deep breath, she nocked another arrow and let it fly, trying to ignore the memories of Dax filling this place. His time spent training her. The way he often found her here in the early hours of dawn. The conversations they exchanged, getting to know one another.

Gods, she'd been so naive to believe in happy endings.

The arrow landed off target. She groaned. Her movements were deft as she repeated her actions over and over. Each time she emptied her quiver, she went to the target and collected her arrows to start again. Twenty. Fifty. One hundred. She lost count. Her arm ached deep in her shoulder. She welcomed the pain, pushing on.

The sun neared the horizon. The sounds died down around her, sharpening her focus. Clashing metal disappeared. Cries of excitement and frustration fell away. The day was coming to an end, and those on the grounds were retreating to the keep or barracks for the evening meal. She didn't dare look over her shoulder again. Dax was there or he wasn't. Either way, she could do nothing about it. So she fired another arrow.

"Still here?" Her arm twitched as Bedelth appeared beside her. The arrow missed its target.

She spared him a brief glance. His tunic clung to his sweaty chest, outlining the rigid muscle that lay beneath. The kind of muscle a human would never obtain.

She sighed, caring little for the sound of frustration. "Have you come to distract me?"

He chuckled. "I thought we had already done plenty of that."

She cringed. Had it been that obvious? She threw him a glare but said nothing. Instead, she nocked another arrow, pulled, and released. This one hit the target's center. "Why are you here, Bedelth?"

"Daxton and I always practice in the eve—"

"No. Why are you here? Beside me."

He was quiet long enough to make her regret her words. He didn't deserve the sting of her tongue. She had known Bedelth for many years—since coming to the capital. He was one of the few steady figures, like Cyrus, whom she allowed close. She and Bedelth were both from Austar, and perhaps it was that commonality that made him more familiar. Especially after leaving her home and family behind. It had created something between them, and while she was rarely one to lose her temper around others, it was all too easy just now.

"Push me away all you like, Lady Saffra, but I'm not going anywhere. It is my concern for you, as always, that brought me here. I wanted to check on you. How are you feeling?"

"Fine, Bedelth." She exhaled. "I'm fine."

His expression softened. The warmth in his eyes, the way he lingered over her, forced her gaze away. There was too much concern in his expression.

"Did he...did Dax ask about me?"

"He did not. Nor did I broach the subject. It makes him uncomfortable when I mention you—as you know."

She pushed down a sob, avoiding his gaze. Some words, like these, were near impossible to bear.

"Saffra..."

The sun's low rays bathed his warm skin in a golden glow. She hated herself for allowing her eyes to linger over him, to appreciate him. "I don't want to talk about it. Leave me."

He crossed his arms. "And when would be the right time? Hmm? In another month? In two? After you've allowed your grief to rip you apart? As if it hasn't already started that process. You cannot go on like this. I understand what it is to hope. But seeing you like this. Seeing you suffer..."

"So I should just give up?!" she hissed. "It that it? I know what you would say, Delth, and I don't want to hear it."

He perked up. She wasn't sure why she'd said it, why she had used a nickname she hadn't used in years. Not since her and Dax had grown close. He once called her Saff, too.

He kept his voice low. Controlled. "You think you know, Lady Saffra. But I'm not sure that you do. You are a mage. Even if he one day remembers, the pain will always be there. He will age, grow old, die. You will keep living. Two hundred years. Three hundred. Four. How old was our last seer before she passed? And you are already more powerful. Who knows, you could live nearly the span of a Drengr."

"You think I haven't considered the consequences?" She roared, losing control entirely. Her breath came in heavy drags.

Bedelth didn't so much as flinch. "I am sure you have. Still, it hurts me. To know that this is your struggle—your life. You will hate me for saying it, but I am glad this has happened. It will hurt less than watching him wither away in your arms."

"How?!" she screeched. The full force of her rage seared her blood. She clenched her bow in one hand and an arrow in the other. An arrow she was close to plunging directly into his chest. "How can you say something so awful? He's your friend! I'm your friend—"

"As my friend, I owe you honesty. How many people have I watched age and die?! Do you forget what I am? Have you stopped to ask if perhaps I am speaking from experience?"

As quickly as the fire roared, it was followed by ice. "You...?"

A flicker of despair crossed his features, quickly replaced by impassivity. His voice came out flat. "I know what it is to love, Saffra—to love and have that love ripped away by the ravages of time. Perhaps I know better than most." He sighed. His shoulders fell.

"I don't want your pity, Bedelth."

He snorted. "What makes you think I offer pity?"

"Because the alternative is much worse."

His jaw flexed. "You think so, do you?"

"Don't think I haven't missed the signs. The way your eyes find me, the concern you've shown, and let's not forget your request to escort me to the ball—a ball I had no intention of attending. But how could I say no in front of everyone?! Not when you put me in such an uncomfortable situation. Was that your plan all along? Force me to accept?"

"You make me sound awful."

"I'm grieving, Bedelth. I'm still grieving. And here you are, trying to take advantage of a convenient situation."

But was she? Could someone grieve a person who wasn't dead? It seemed almost silly to say it.

"Is that really how you think of me, Saffra? After all these years? That I'm some vulture, waiting to swoop in and snatch you up in my claws?"

"A dragon perhaps."

"Really..." His voice was flat.

Her chest tightened. "Yes. No." She turned away. She was being unfair. Bedelth had always been a friend, and if he wanted to be more, he had never pushed the matter. He'd been nothing but supportive to Dax and his career. It was Bedelth whom Dax had to thank for the promotion to commander. For every step of his upward rise.

"It is not illegal for me to care for you, Saffra. Hate me for it if you wish."

"I don't hate you." The whisper tumbled from her lips. The hopeless despair of Daxton's situation slammed into her, yawning out before her like an abyss. "I just want him back, Delth. I have counted every single day since the attack. Every single day. Nothing changes. It hurts." A sob broke free. She stifled the next to keep from crying in front of him. She was the king's seer. Not a child. "When do I move on? And why do I feel awful for even considering it?"

For the briefest instant, she craved comfort. She wished he would take her in his arms, as awful as she felt for wanting that. For wanting him to hold her. She missed the feeling.

He merely gazed down at her and frowned. "There is no answer I can give. You must do what feels right for you." He hesitated. "Know that I am always here for you, if you need me."

She pushed back the lump filling her throat and nodded. "I know," she whispered at last. But there was something else. Something she needed to know for certain. "Delth...do you...do you have feelings for me? Is that why...?"

He squeezed his eyes closed before looking at her again. "It would be unfair of me to say yes."

"But do you?"

He sighed. "Ask me when you have decided what to do about Dax. Until then, I will give you no answer."

Her mouth opened and closed. What he'd just said, wasn't that answer enough? What did she expect? Better yet, what did she want?

"I should go. You know where to find me if you need me." He turned to leave, then faltered, turning back. "I meant to tell you, the king wishes for your presence tonight during our Shield meeting."

She frowned. "Aren't those private?"

"Claire will be there—and Desaree and Jocelyn." She gazed back at him, blinking. "I will see you later," he added, departing. She watched him go, noticing the slump of his shoulders, the way the sun's dying rays threw shadows from his retreating figure across the grass.

She went to the target and retrieved her arrows. Her mind was lost in thought, plagued, tortured by the onslaught of emotions Bedelth dredged up.

"Just what I needed on a day like today," she muttered, growing angry anew. How dare he make her feel so...confused! So...guilty.

She bent to collect her quiver from the ground and stilled. The edges of her vision faded. "No..." The word was barely a whisper. She blinked, but everything turned black.

A new world swallowed her whole. An enchanting world—drenched in green foliage and mist. A forest unlike any other. Old in years beyond measure. Permeated with magic of an ancient kind. She placed a hand over her thumping heart. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light, darting back and forth. There was no escape, nowhere to run. Everything looked the same and yet different. Young and yet old. She turned in circles. Her breathing increased, chest heaving. She took a staggering step and a chime of laughter split the air, pure and light.

But it calmed her. A trickle of water dragged her forward. She parted the foliage and gasped. There was a woman, covered in Sprite markings, sitting upon the gnarled root of a monstrous tree. A tree so tall its top was lost in the mists. She laughed again. A picture of resplendence as she brushed her long hair over one shoulder and smiled at Saffra. Her face was familiar. Too familiar. Saffra's eyes narrowed.

"Welcome," the Sprite said, her voice hypnotic.

"You...you can see me?"

"I see all things, Saffra." The Sprite reached down and scooped water from the spring at the base of the tree's roots, letting it trickle through her fingers.

Saffra's eyes darted to the pool before returning to the woman's face. "Who...who are you?"

"That is unimportant. You should ask, rather, why you are here."

"Why am I here?" The words were a mere whisper.

"To deliver a message."

"For whom?"

"You already know."

Saffra opened her mouth, then closed it. "Is this...am I having a vision? A dream?" But she had never communicated with anyone in her visions and dreams. "I'm hallucinating, aren't I?

"It is neither. It is both. It is everything." The Sprite spread her arms wide, laughing again.

Saffra swallowed, glancing down at the spring. The water. She was so thirsty.

"Ah, yes. Once you have tasted the waters of the spring, they will always call to you, as they do now. But now is not the time for a drink." Saffra paused, mid-step. "You must listen carefully, for we haven't much time. Are you ready?"

Her nod was more of a jerk. The world went black. Words rang in her ears, over and over, like the clanging of a bell. Pounding, reverberating. Words she could not forget. Important words. A message. One that must be delivered.

She opened her eyes and found the darkening sky above. She was laying in the grass, blinking up. The Sprite's words were still there, unforgettable. She groaned and clutched her forehead. Waves of nausea raced through her, as if she'd truly been transported all the way to the forest and back, and her body was dizzy from the movement. She turned over and vomited into the grass.

The practice grounds were empty, thank the gods. She got to her hands and knees, then stood. The Sprite's words continued to echo through her mind. Her neck and shoulders ached something terrible. From the fall? From all the arrows she'd fired?

A message. She needed to deliver a message to Claire. Dusk was already upon her. Ignoring the adrenaline pounding through her body, she grabbed her things and sprinted to the dining hall. Claire would be there. If she didn't hurry, the doors would close. She couldn't wait. This couldn't wait. Claire needed to know.

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