Gavri grunted. “I’ll take that creme thing over the porridge. But considering we’re going to Dun Mozg, maybe preparing for war isn’t such a bad idea.”
She frowned. “Why is that?”
Gavri leaned in, her braid falling over her shoulder. “Veron didn’t tell you?”
She wiggled aside on the blanket until there was enough room to sit, and then she motioned to Gavri, who looked about warily before lowering.
“He told me about Queen Nendra, who’s the most famous warrior among the dark-elves,” she said, preparing another cup of passionflower tea.
“She is,” Gavri replied, but with an exhaustion that could be a decade old. “And her queendom sits on the largest arcanir mine we’ve ever known. A really important one, worth almost any sacrifice to gain access. Dun Mozg prides itself on its weapons, and its soldiery.”
Arcanir? That certainly was useful against the Immortali beasts. She handed the ready cup to Gavri, who accepted it with a raised eyebrow. “He also said his brother Zoran was chosen as her consort because of his prowess among your people in Nightbloom.”
Gavri inhaled deeply, turned the cup in her hands, and nodded slowly. “Oh, yes,” she said. “Zoran’s… prowess… is well known to me.”
It didn’t seem like Gavri meant battle prowess.
She swallowed, pouring the boiling water.
It overflowed, and Gavri caught the kettle’s handle.
“Y-you and—” she stammered.
Gavri set the kettle down. “Once upon a time.” She sighed. “I was a very ambitious kuvari recruit. And he was one of Nozva Rozkveta’s most accomplished warriors. The math told me I needed to best him to prove myself. I did, and…” She shrugged a shoulder.
Frozen, Aless stared and stared. Never had a sentence needed finishing more than Gavri’s. “And what?”
“And for eight years, we tired each other out in the training yard and in the bedchamber,” Gavri said with a grin, then took a sip of tea.
“Eight years?” How had they been together for eight years, eight long years, and yet he’d ended up Queen Nendra’s consort?
Gavri nodded and took another sip. “What’s in this?”
“Passionflower,” Aless blurted, then motioned for her to continue.
“Passionflower? Like the aphrodisiac?” A skewed stare. “Are you—”
“No! Holy Mother, no!” Aless cleared her throat, gathering her composure as some glances turned her way. She was not drinking it for that. “While it is a mild aphrodisiac, it also soothes the nerves.”
Grinning broadly, Gavri shrugged again. “Whatever you say.”
“So what happened?”
“Nendra bested the previous queen of Dun Mozg, and she needed a consort. Queen Zara offered her the best.” She sipped her tea. “You know, this stuff is really starting to grow on me.”
“Just like that, and he was gone?”
Gavri nodded. “He was. As a prince, he would never be able to make the Offering to anyone but royalty.” She sighed. “But then Prince Veron found me in the training cavern and asked me to spar. And then the next day, and the next. We became friends, and then Queen Zara assigned me to his guard.”
So Veron had seen Gavri after losing someone she loved, and he’d befriended her. That sounded like him. She smiled warmly.
A gentle shiver stroked up her back, and when she looked across the camp, Veron was looking at her while he brushed Noc. She’d been earning Noc’s trust lately, at least, with a couple apples here and there, and fables Mamma had read to her about unicorns and fey horses. If only Veron’s trust could be recovered so easily.
Gavri followed her line of sight and started. “I… I should go.”
She rested a hand on Gavri’s knee. “No, stay, please.”
Across the camp, a long, silky black tail smacked Veron in the face. He eyed Noc sheepishly and mumbled something to him.
As she smiled, a soft laugh bubbled next to her. Gavri’s. But it soon faded.
“What happened between you and Veron? You don’t speak to each other anymore.”
Gavri set the cup down, tucked the braid over her shoulder, and fidgeted with its tip, her gaze downcast. “I… violated his trust.” She took a deep breath. “I lost Zoran in an instant. And when Veron was betrothed to you, I expected… a lot. After the wedding, after your… dress… the reaction from your people wasn’t invisible.”
She lowered her own gaze. “I know. I regret that.”
“It was between the two of you. I know that. But… I just wanted him to rebel against the marriage, too. I didn’t want him to be understanding and reasonable and diplomatic as he always is. I wanted him to fight back,” she said, clapping a hand on her thigh. “He wouldn’t, so I… intervened. I badmouthed you and told him I’d given you a tent when I hadn’t, just so you could seem spoiled. Well, more spoiled.”
A half-laugh escaped her before she could stop herself, but Gavri met it with a fleeting grin.
“I probably deserved it, Gavri.”
“Oh, you did. But he didn’t. He didn’t deserve me betraying him. He’s not Zoran, and you’re not Nendra. And you’re—you’re not what I expected.” She chewed her lip a moment. “A bit spoiled, yes, but you actually care about nurturing peace between us and the humans. You tried to get them to accept us in Stroppiata, first with the mask thing, then at the shrine. I judged you too soon, and I was wrong.”
Speechless, Aless could only give a nod.
“Veron doesn’t let people into his heart easily.” Gavri drained the tea and placed the empty cup before her. “Nozva Rozkveta was once at war with the light-elf queendom of Lumia. Veron’s father, King-consort Mirza, killed the light-elf consort in battle, but we lost, and Lumia took many of our people as prisoners. Lumia threatened to kill them all unless Queen Zara delivered Mirza in exchange. Before the message got to her, Mirza had already decided to deliver himself. Regardless of the queen’s wishes. Veron caught him leaving, and Mirza smiled. Told Veron he was going hunting and would return soon, so there would be no commotion, no fight. And then he left for Lumia, where he was executed before the light-elf queen released our prisoners.”
The words, though spoken aloud, felt like air. Thick, dense, suffocating air, pushing in closer and closer until she could barely breathe.
Veron’s father had gone against his wife and queen, had sacrificed himself for her, for their queendom, for Veron… But in doing so, he’d hurt his son, to the core, leaving a wound that had lasted for years, and maybe a lifetime.
“Veron was destroyed. Utterly destroyed. To his mind, Mirza had betrayed him, his entire family, because they’d loved Mirza and he’d ignored that to turn himself over. I don’t think Veron ever forgave his father, and his trust, once broken, is unrecoverable.”
Unrecoverable. The word hit her like an arrow, and she shuddered.
Gavri moved closer. “But he sees something different in you,” she whispered. “Something special. And I… I see it, too.”
Aless eyed her. “Too much passionflower tea, Gavri?”
A hearty laugh. “Not that. Although I’m certain it would help.” She waggled an eyebrow.
Holy Mother’s mercy.
“I mean… You think in an unusual way. At first, in your capital, you were using it selfishly. But then… on the way to Stroppiata, and when we were leaving, you handled matters in ways we usually don’t. And Veron is a warrior, too, but he wants to see more peaceful means, diplomatic means, all he ever seems to dream about. And then here you are, as if you’d stepped right out of one of those dreams.” Gavri pulled away, biting her lip. “If you’d been a dark-elf, you would’ve been perfect.” A wink.
Smiling, Aless elbowed her. Every now and then, Veron looked at her for a while, contemplative, but kept his distance other than during their daily archery lessons. To his credit, she could now sometimes hit the target. Sometimes.
But what they’d had in the garden… That hadn’t returned. And despite his contemplative looks, it might never return, no matter how much effort she put in.
But I won’t give up. She’d earn back his trust no matter what it would take.
“I’m going to go see if I can help with that chestnut mush thing.” Gavri rose.
“Porridge.”
“That.” Inclining her head, Gavri took her leave.
Well, if they were having chestnut porridge for breakfast, at least they’d be prepared for the queendom of arcanir and soldiery tomorrow.
Veron watched Aless in the Dun Mozg tunnels, her staring, her gasping, her awe. She was impressed, and she would only be more impressed when she arrived in Nozva Rozkveta.
Perfectly circular, the rippled tunnels stretched through countless miles of solid rock, linking the dark-elf kingdoms. No one but a Dun Mozg dark-elf knew about direct Gates between the queendom and the sky-realm, but the tunnels were used by every queendom, and he well knew how to get to Dun Mozg through them, even if it was taking them an hour so far on horseback.
“They’re massive,” Aless whispered, and her voice carried. “How can you be sure the—the earthmover wyrms—are gone?”