Esterpine

Talon fidgeted with his antique coin, eyes flicking over his surroundings. He and Bedelth occupied a private sitting room provided by Queen Jade for their own personal use. Those among his entourage had been likewise accommodated with spacious quarters.

Like all the rooms in the palace, the floor, walls, and ceiling were made of crystal. Crystal! As cold and calculating as those who had constructed it. But the furnishings were warm—small comfort that was—in hues of green and brown.

"Maybe they aren't coming," he muttered, rolling his coin between his fingers. He and Bedelth were waiting to meet the young woman credited with rescuing refugees from Kaljah. "You would think Prince Feowen was traveling halfway across the kingdom to find her."

"Patience, my king. It has not been that long."

He grunted before returning his attention to the coin.

Nearly ten more minutes passed before he heard voices. Then a loud knock at the door. He slipped the coin into his pocket and stood, adjusting his crown as the doors swept open. Bedelth came to stand beside him.

Prince Feowen entered, trailed by a woman intent on huddling behind him. "As promised," the prince announced, bowing his head. "The woman we discussed." He stepped aside. "Jeanine, this is King Talon. King Talon—Jeanine."

Jeanine came into view just as her foot caught. She stumbled. His gaze narrowed. Clumsy as she was tentative?And they'd called her a warrior!

Yet, she was dressed like one, forgoing the usual attire of a female. His eyes lingered over her dirtied clothes, worn boots, and the sword belted to her waist. His rogue thoughts went to Claire. They'd likely get along—the two of them.

With very little grace, Jeanine dropped to one knee, bowed her head, and then muttered something unintelligible about how she was pleased to meet him.

The side of his mouth twitched. "You may rise," he said. She did, keeping her eyes downturned. "I am honored to meet you, Jeanine. Prince Feowen has told us much of your bravery."

Her face reddened. "The—the honor is all mine, Your Majesty. I had not...I did not expect...that is to say..."

"Please, be at ease. Come, sit." He conducted her to a nearby chair then turned to Prince Feowen. "I appreciate your assistance, Prince. Do not let us detain you."

Feowen's eyes narrowed. "I had planned to remain."

Jeanine's eyes bolted to Prince Feowen before darting away, settling on her hands folded in her lap.

"That will not be necessary. These are kingdom affairs."

Long seconds passed in which they held each other's gaze, then the prince nodded at last. "Of course, as you wish. I will wait in the hall."

Jeanine's throat bobbed and she managed a nod.

Talon took a seat across from her, Bedelth beside him. He noticed the way her eyes darted. She looked everywhere but him. Others might have found it offensive, but he was all too used to it.

"This is Bedelth," he said, hoping to put her at ease. "One of my Shields. He has served me faithfully for over a hundred years." Jeanine's eyes widened a measure.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Jeanine," Bedelth said.

"Likewise," she croaked, then pursed her lips, looking appalled with herself.

"No doubt you are wondering why I have requested an audience with you?" He studied her.

"I..." Her face turned a darker shade of red.

"I certainly expected someone bolder," he said to Bedelth.

"Patience, my king. People fear you, remember?"

She cleared her throat. "I am surprised, was surprised, when Feowen, I mean, the prince, told me that you wished to speak with me." She glanced up at him for the first time. Her eyes lingered over his scars. But she did not balk. Good.

"I would have called upon you sooner, had I been told you were here." He considered his next words carefully. "Queen Jade told me everything a few hours ago."

"Oh. Yes." Her hands fidgeted.

"You have been through a great deal. Gobelins are no easy enemy to stand against, yet you have done it. I am told that your bravery saved many lives."

"It...It was nothing, Your Majesty."

"I disagree."

Her gaze fell to her hands again. "Anyone would have done the same."

"I disagree again. It takes a good deal of courage to stand in times of danger. I can only imagine the chaos brought to Kaljah. Fear cripples the best of us, but to act in spite of that fear? That is another matter entirely." Her throat bobbed; she dared another glance at him. "I am convinced that in this, you have shown true bravery. For that, I wanted to thank you personally. So...thank you."

Her face turned its deepest shade of red, yet. "Jahl helped too," she muttered.

"Yes, we have already spoken to him. While I found his story compelling, it was your deeds that stirred my emotions." He glanced at Bedelth before continuing. "Your actions were heroic, unquestionably." He hesitated. "Jahl also told me of your father. Is that his sword?" He glanced at the sword at her waist.

"It...it was."

He stood, hand outstretched. "May I?"

She blinked up at him. And blinked again. Not quite comprehending.

"His Majesty wishes to see your sword, Jeanine." Bedelth's voice was a smooth rumble.

"Oh...of course." She awkwardly rose and handed it over. Her movements were surer now. Perhaps it took a weapon to rally her confidence.

He took the sword and held it against the light. It was like looking at something for the thousandth time. There were hundreds of thousands of weapons just like this in the kingdom. A soldier's sword.

Stepping away to give himself room, he swung the blade several times, cutting through the air with ease, trying it out for balance before he returned it. "A fine blade that—I am glad it has served you well."

"I had hoped it would do more..."

He bowed his head. "I am sorry for the losses you encountered. War has a way of taking the people closest to us, those we love the most." His mind jumped to his parents, and he hated that.

Returning to his seat, he inquired into Kaljah's welfare, asking about the villagers, their journey through the forest, and future plans. Jeanine explained much of what he already knew, that they would remain in Esterpine until it was safe to return home. Though, he got the feeling she did not plan to return home with everyone else. He couldn't blame her for it.

When it was clear there was little else to discuss, he said, "It is my duty as king to reward bravery and valor. Is there anything you might want? I will grant you a boon of your choosing. You may request anything, so long as it is within my means to give."

This was not a thing he often did.

"That is...you are too generous, Your Majesty. I couldn't possibly..."

"The king does not make such offers to anyone," Bedelth said, his manner frank.

"What is written on your heart?" he asked, trying to bring her from her shell. "Surely you have unspoken desires. A worthy match for a husband, perhaps? A home in the city of your choosing? A place to live in the capital? You need merely name it and it is yours." He paused, his eyes taking in her appearance once more. "On second thought, maybe some clean clothing? Did the Sprites not offer you something when you arrived?"

She snorted and her stiff mannerisms crumbled. "Oh, they did. Some pretty feminine gowns. I'm afraid they don't know me at all."

He couldn't help his smile. "Very well then. Clothes it is. But I will not count that as your boon. Anything else?"

"It is a generous offer, to be sure. What...what if I am not yet certain? Would it be too much...I mean, may I have some time to think about it?"

"Very well." That she did not make demands spoke volumes to her character. Most females in her shoes would have requested a husband without hesitation. Or money. Or a lavish townhouse in Kastali Dun. "Do keep in mind that I depart in a few days' time."

She nodded.

They escorted her to the door. Bedelth hesitated, hand hovering over the knob. "It is rumored that you are quite skilled with the sword. How about a match or two before our departure?"

Surprised by the offer, he caught his Shield's eye, lifting an eyebrow.

Bedelth shrugged, offering a toothy grin. "What? I always like a good challenge."

"But I am human," she said. This earned a chuckle from both of them.

"I am well aware of your...physicalities. Doesn't mean it cannot be fun. What say you? Care to match your kingdom sword against the Sverak of a King's Shield?"

A smile curled Jeanine's lips, speaking more about her personality than the entire visit had. "Since you put it that way, yes. I accept. How about tomorrow?"

"Done!" Bedelth opened the door. Prince Feowen loitered in the hall, eyes burning a hole through the door where they'd been standing.

After a round of polite farewells, he was glad to have his privacy back. The day had been tedious—the entire visit to Esterpine tiresome. Assemblies in the queen's throne room, meetings with her advisors, conclaves with Sprites from around the forest. It was more than he cared to endure, but it was necessary if he was to change a relationship that had persisted for tens of thousands of years. And Gods above! Reyr had been right about the food.

He glanced around the room, an itch of restlessness taking him. They had no further engagements until later. He'd hidden away plenty in this parlor at the queen's behest. But with the word out of their presence, there was no need for further hiding. He'd already given their other escorts leave to explore.

"I think I will take a walk," he announced, glancing at Bedelth. "I need to clear my head."

Bedelth stepped forward. "You want company?"

"No. Not this time. Don't bother yourself—go do whatever you please. If I'm not back in a few hours, then you may worry."

Bedelth nodded.

He discarded his crown on the table beside the sofa and descended through the belly of the palace. He wasn't one to fear heights, yet when he took the great staircase circling the cavernous crystal chamber, his stomach lurched with each glance down.

The uneasiness dissipated once he was outside. With the news of his arrival no doubt spreading like dragon fire, he had no reservations. He walked openly through the city, letting his presence be known. As suspected, few of Esterpine's Sprites showed any surprise.

Soon the settlement grew sparse, the trees more densely packed. Only then did he find himself truly alone. He followed a worn dirt path and continued deeper into the foliage, careful not to stray.

The forest pressed in around him, confining. He exhaled, long and slow, forcing his breathing to steady. What did the Sprites see in such a place? Smothered beneath the canopy. Give him wide open sky and empty space, never a cage.

He slowed and blinked, looking at the foliage around him. Vines twined about trunks and bushes. Mist swelled in hidden pockets between trees. Bugs chirruped. Water trickled somewhere beyond. Flowers bloomed everywhere, their scent like a strong perfume wafting over him. He couldn't deny the beauty. The richness of color. Was this the reason Claire loved it here? Longed to return?

No, he shook his head, clearing his thoughts.

She liked it for other reasons—reasons he hated to admit. Reasons that had everything to do with the Sprite marking he'd discovered on her skin. She had Sprite blood. Queen Jade confirmed it, much to his distaste. He had a hunch that the queen was happy to deliver the verdict. Her eyes had burned brighter upon delivering the news, as if she knew it was a blow to his ego. That the woman who'd saved his kingdom, ferrying the Dragonstones safely across an entire expanse of land, wasn't a mere human, but rather, a rival of the Drengr. Even if she wasn't entirely Spriten.

But this wasn't what truly bothered him about her. A frown pulled his eyebrows together. Claire was mystifying. She defied his understanding. After hundreds of years on this earth, hadn't he figured females out ages ago? Their likes and dislikes. Their motivations. Desires.

He harrumphed, the sound disturbing the quiet around him.

Was he completely wrong in his assumptions? Or was Claire simply different than most? Or...was his entire understanding flawed on both counts? He ran a hand through his tangled mess of hair. Probably the latter! Hundreds of years. And what did he know?

He stepped forward and parted a cluster of vines, continuing along. Chirping bugs fell silent at his passing, continuing their song once he was several steps past.

He did know one thing about her with certainty. Claire would have loved it here, with him, walking beneath the trees. Exploring the path under his feet and where it led. Like an adventure—just the two of them. She'd have enjoyed that.

Yet another snort escaped his lips.

What was happening? What in the name of the gods was wrong with him? He tried pushing her from his mind, instead thinking back to his meeting with Jeanine. Like Claire, Jeanine had been different than what he'd expected. Quiet. Timid. Fidgety. But that was all an outer shell. One that required a blunt crack to crumble away. He was sure Bedelth would bring her out of it. From all he knew, there was a true warrior lurking beneath her flighty personality.

Jeanine's behavior wasn't so different from most upon meeting him. Subjected to his presence, to his scars in close proximity. Her reaction shouldn't have surprised him, given the small village she'd come from. Yet, he couldn't help but yearn for a normal reaction, one free from fear and disdain for the markings on his face.

He paused, caught by the sight of a flower in its struggle. He ran his fingers over its silky blossoms. A soft pink wild rose clinging to a vine. Fighting for its place in the forest. Claire was a fighter too. Her first reaction to him couldn't have been more different than the rest of the world's. There was no hesitance. No shyness when she confronted him in his throne room. She stared him down, shards of ice in her green eyes, daring him to do his worst.

And he had done exactly that—his absolute worst. Gods! What had come over him that day? So blinded by his rage.

Even though Jeanine had been a complete opposite to that, he knew better than to underestimate her. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice. Besides, he was certain that exteriors aside, both Jeanine and Claire possessed similar qualities. Perhaps they might even be friends in another life. Or this one, if their paths ever crossed.

Jeanine had risked much to save her village, ushering women and children from Kaljah. She could have taken a horse and fled. She could have left her people to fend for themselves. Left them to a terrible fate.

Instead, she stayed with them and fought for them, even when the Gobelins overtook those fleeing. It was exactly what Claire would have done. Exactly what she already had, but in a different way. Claire had sacrificed her own safety to flee her home. All so that she could help protect Dragonwall from Kane. A genuine smile settled on his lips.

Yes, not so different at all.

The forest grew more ominous around him. Its beauty grew too. The trees were joined by massive amounts of undergrowth, at peace with the plants that overtook the roots. Embracing the flowers that settled in comfortable companionship with them.

Another vined plant caught his attention. It had large, plate sized leaves with massive buds, some as large as his fist, all closed. He had seen something like this before—clinging to the fringes of his memory. He gravitated towards it, allowing his hand to hover over the closed petals. The underside revealed a deep purple, almost black.

"They're night flowers." He all but jumped from his skin. An ethereal voice spoke behind him. He snatched his hand away and inwardly cursed at his lack of awareness.

He found Princess Taylynn wearing a bemused expression. "They only open when night falls," she added. Even though it always seemed to be night in the forest. He didn't bother to state this.

"Right. I thought they looked familiar." They grew in the Queen's Garden atop his tower. After his mother's death, he refrained from visiting, assigning a gardner to maintain it.

"Would you like to see its petals?" Taylynn cocked her head, regarding him.

He frowned. "If the flowers only open when night falls..."

"Here—" She went to the trunk of the tree and began to sing before he could stop her. He froze at the sound of her voice, no more than a whisper at first, growing surer with each word.

It wasn't the kind of song he was used to. More coaxing than anything. A beautiful invitation, full of reverence and longing. He blinked.

Gods above!

She was speaking to the plant. These tree lovers really were an odd bunch. And this was proof.

Ana myrtah callohma, stalle edah hallodah luth.

Ana itzallia vahxah, stalle edah hallodah luahth.

Ana tunil kevjahi ana loah, stalle edah hallodah luth.

Ana realoah skina heiloh, agamaera Elduin, stalle!

Stalle hallodah ana myrtah, blathia myrtalla, stalle edah hallodah ana myrtah.

He tilted his head. The words were familiar, but not. She sang about the night. Of shadows and moonlight and stars. He gazed in disbelief, as one by one, the petals began to open, infected by the beauty of her song. He'd heard tales from fishermen of mermaids and sirens, females who could sing a man into enchantment. This felt much like that.

He couldn't so much as move.

Each flower revealed its brilliance. A luminescent light purple interior that pulsed and glowed with dim recognition. He stared at them, his gaze transfixed. Their beauty was just as he remembered, transporting him back to his childhood. To the times his mother took him into her private garden to scold or speak with him.

"I have heard tell that the Sprites sing their magic, but I never truly believed it," he said when she finished.

"Music is magic, King Talon. It is the ultimate path by which energy flows. What better way to conduct it than through one's voice in song?"

Her gaze left him uneasy, as if he were a child, young and inexperienced. Behind her, the flowers began to close up.

"What do the words mean?" He cleared his throat. "They were beautiful."

"There is no way to translate them without destroying the true meaning, but let me see..." After a long pause, she began to sing again. This version was not nearly as ethereal as the last.

"The night begins to fall, come forth and greet it.

The shadows grow long, come forth and greet them.

The moon rises in the sky, come forth and greet it.

The stars twinkle bright, celebrating Elduin, come forth.

Come forth to greet the night, oh flowers of darkness, come forth and greet the night."

Talon glanced back at the flowers. This time, they did not open.

She watched him. "You must find it strange that I encountered you here outside the city. I must apologize for my mother's behavior earlier today."

He grunted. "Any particular instance? Or all of it?"

She smiled a knowing smile. "She means well, I promise you. My mother is...The Sprites have long disdained the draconic races of this world. You know this. Dragons were created by our enemies. You cannot fault my people for their doubt, nor can you blame them for refusing the use of our warriors, should the need—"

"I never expected your warriors, Princess. Hoped for it, yes, but never expected it. I know enough to know you cannot live well or long outside your forests. Your mother's confirmation today solidified my beliefs."

"Oh." Taylynn laughed, the sound of it tinkling from the trees. Even the nightflowers twitched in recognition. "My mother deals in absolutes. But there are ways, yes, there are ways. How do you think Queen Isabella managed?"

"She was mated to King Eymar. It was their bond that allowed—"

"No. That is a common misconception. Sprites can and do survive outside the walls of our forest. Quite well, if needs be. Even I have done so on occasion." Something in her expression begged explaining. "The secret is not well known, but it can be accomplished if the proper observances are followed."

"What do you mean? That there is a chance we might have your warriors after all?" A sense of hope bolstered his mood.

"That...among other things. Know this. While my mother may not support you in the ways you would like, I will."

His frown deepened. "You would go against your mother?"

"Move against her? How could you say such a thing? My mother and I both want the same thing. Just...in different ways. Our world is spiraling out of control, King Talon. Surely you have seen this? Look at the Drengr—your people are a dying race." She sighed. "Balance is a precarious thing. One simple push could mean the ruin of all. Such has been the path since the Awakening. Some believed destroying the dragons would fix this. You know of whom I speak. And how wrong she was!" The princess halted, looking around as if remembering herself. "It is getting dark. You had better be on your way."

Without another word, she faded into the gloaming. The mists swallowed her whole. He gazed after her, dumbfounded.

There were few things in this world that truly frightened him, but the forest came close. The idea of being lost within left his skin crawling. She was right, it really was getting dark.

He fled back the way he had come, careful to follow the path he had taken. All the while, Princess Taylynn's words echoed in his mind. What did she mean about balance? Yes, it was true that the Drengr's numbers were dwindling, but what did that have to do with anything? Most of all, how could she know such a path had been carved since the Awakening? What path? His? Dragonwall's?

All these thoughts and more chased him. He did not breathe easier until he saw the twinkling lights appear between the trees. His heart did not slow until the city was wrapped around him once more.

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