Part 8
"Disappearing Acts" (Part 1)
Three Years Ago...
She fiddled with the carved ribbing along the wooden scepter in her hand. It was part of the formal accoutrements of a princess, along with the tiara set upon her head. This was nothing compared to the long golden scepter borne by Azelie, nor the grand golden diadem gracing her gleaming red hair--she looked even more queenly than she ever did as the Paragon.
Zayra shifted uncomfortably as her Gift thrummed along her arms, driving her muscles to reach out and lay hold of Azelie, to sap her of all her inexorable beauty. She'd complained in Zayra's hearing before about the way her Gift caused people to perceive her as "perfection incarnate", that everything she did was absolutely the perfect way, and everything fit her perfectly, and no one gave her a hard time--while Zayra would gladly receive such sentiments, as opposed to being shunned for the occasional fits of aggression, or the lapses back into the cold, calculating manipulator she used to be.
The cool hand landed on her shoulder, and she focused on its touch, leaning her head over so that he could raise his fingers and caress her cheek while all eyes focused on the new King and Queen.
Steady and soothing like a gentle river, that was Beren for her. He neither feared her nor judged her for the outbursts, and since the wedding he'd even taken to reminding her of the little things to be grateful for when she felt her patience grow short.
Steady and soothing like a gentle river, that was Beren for her. He neither feared her nor judged her for the outbursts, and since the wedding he'd even taken to reminding her of the little things to be grateful for when she felt her patience grow short.
Thanks to Beren's subtle motivations, Zayra had found a moment of clear-headed charitableness to voice the issue that she'd seen plaguing the kingdom.
"It's the Gifted people that are coming forward, now that the Seramis family is back on the throne, and the Abnormals have withdrawn and they're no longer meddling in the affairs of the Realm," she had said to him a week ago, when Beren was still the "sitting King" while everything was still settling and recovering from the massive upheaval that had just happened.
"Yes?" Beren had barely looked up from all of the mounds of policy changes and tax raises the Royal Council had instituted to solidify their power over the people, coupled with the amendments and decrees the Clissander twins had used to take over--an unwholesome mess of power-grabbing and over-complication for anyone to try and decipher, much less an actual king who didn't need all that legislation to effectively wield authority that was rightfully his! "What about these Gifted people? It's a good thing they're practicing their Gifts more openly, right? We'll finally get the integrated society Father always intended."
"Yes?" Beren had barely looked up from all of the mounds of policy changes and tax raises the Royal Council had instituted to solidify their power over the people, coupled with the amendments and decrees the Clissander twins had used to take over--an unwholesome mess of power-grabbing and over-complication for anyone to try and decipher, much less an actual king who didn't need all that legislation to effectively wield authority that was rightfully his! "What about these Gifted people? It's a good thing they're practicing their Gifts more openly, right? We'll finally get the integrated society Father always intended."
Zayra wagged her head. "Haven't you been reading the reports from Edri about the state of the garrison, the Peacekeeper forces, and the dungeons? The whole criminal justice system was corrupted when Kaidan and Javira convinced the Council that it was in everybody's best interest to either try to control the Gifted, or get rid of the ones they couldn't control, by trumped-up charges or outright imprisonment." She gestured over to her own desk, piled high with such reports and maps and letters of her own. "Integration is a marvelous sentiment, and I'm all for allowing the Gifted to live and work and thrive on their own terms, but you and I both know that, as much as we'd like everyone to get along, there are those Gifts that are more of a hazard for the standard living communities, not because the Gifted one is a threat to anyone, it's just the nature of the Gift. Some Gifts make people uncomfortable, and others are useful but can get very much out of hand unless you already know how to protect yourself against them."
"Like Jaran's 'leck-trick power?" Beren suggested with a smirk, trying out the new-fangled terminology that Lizeth's studies had developed.
"Like Jaran's 'leck-trick power?" Beren suggested with a smirk, trying out the new-fangled terminology that Lizeth's studies had developed.
Zayra chuckled at the memory. It had taken patience and careful repetition to introduce the concept of "electricity" to their vocabulary, but at least now they could understand better how Jaran's Gift was about more than just bolts of lightning and flickering glowlamps.
"Yes, that," Zayra had replied. "Or someone like Erlis, who keeps sprouting dragon-scales at odd times, if she's been healing too constantly without proper rest. It's something we've learned to live with, because we understand the Gifts, but there are still so many unGifted who might react badly to someone who could transform into a dragon at a moment's notice."
Finally, Beren had turned away from his desk, and faced his new wife, giving his undivided attention to the situation she presented. "All right," he said. "You've identified an area that definitely needs work if this is going to be a functioning kingdom. Have you come up with any possible solutions?"
Zayra nodded. "One that will actually solve a secondary problem as well." She pulled out a map of The Realm and pointed to the Wilderness, the wide, barren eastern region that covered almost a third of the entire kingdom. "This land has been wasted for so long, used for banishment and isolation--but it's good land. Korsan lived there long enough to know. Instead of shunning it and using it for a dumping ground or treating it like it doesn't exist, though, what if we used that land," she overlaid the map with another she'd drawn, with quadrants parceled out over the whole area, "as a safe place for Gifted people whose neighbors have turned them out, to live and thrive and work on controlling their abilities, or just to conduct themselves the way they like without fear of harming those around them, since they would also be Gifted."
Zayra nodded. "One that will actually solve a secondary problem as well." She pulled out a map of The Realm and pointed to the Wilderness, the wide, barren eastern region that covered almost a third of the entire kingdom. "This land has been wasted for so long, used for banishment and isolation--but it's good land. Korsan lived there long enough to know. Instead of shunning it and using it for a dumping ground or treating it like it doesn't exist, though, what if we used that land," she overlaid the map with another she'd drawn, with quadrants parceled out over the whole area, "as a safe place for Gifted people whose neighbors have turned them out, to live and thrive and work on controlling their abilities, or just to conduct themselves the way they like without fear of harming those around them, since they would also be Gifted."
A smile played around Beren's face as he looked at the map. "Gifted people can learn to equip themselves with their Gift, rather than suppress it or hide it," he said. "And unGifted people can learn to see the Gifts for their unique abilities, instead of fearing all Gifts as dangerous merely because a few of them are."
"That's our cue," Beren's whisper tickled her ear, drawing Zayra back to the present. She heard the crier announce their names, and she stood amid a flood of applause, putting on a smile while the presence of so many different Gifts--most of them suppressed, for the sake of the crowd--tugged at her psyche, made her body feel like a fly trapped in a spider's web, being pulled in many directions and yet unable to move. She curled her fingers around Beren's hand, and he understood her desperation, intertwining his fingers with hers for a more secure grip. At last, they could withdraw and prepare for the grand feast. At least when she was eating, those impulses managed to disappear.
He chuckled. "Zay, it's only been a week! I've had a lot of other things on my mind."
Her clear eyes fixed on him. "Well, I haven't!" she pointed out.
"I think it's a great idea," he murmured as they took their seats beside the new King and Queen of The Realm. "But now that Jaran is King I want to run it by him first."
The tension climbed, and Zayra felt her heart racing in her chest, pounding all the way up to her skull. "Why? He's your younger brother--"
"Because he's king, Zayra; these things need to go through the proper channels."
"Proper channels? Why couldn't you have started something back when I told you? He wasn't King then!"
"Zayra..." Beren's eyes flashed a warning to her, but Zayra was already feeling the burden of suppressed Gifts, and trying not to lose control.
"Must we always play second fiddle to those two, now? We're the elders, and we have plenty of power and rights on our own--"
"Hush, my love," Beren gave her hand a squeeze. "We will talk later, I promise."
Zayra glared at the lovely Queen sitting resplendent in the seat of high honor. That should have been my seat, the old voice she couldn't quite ignore whispered to her heart. The Paragon takes all of it for herself. She takes and takes, with no one to stop her... She's always in my way...
>>>>>>>>>>
Present Day
Princess Zayra paced one front of the map of Wildhaven. Her birthday was tomorrow, and Beren hadn’t said a word! Every year, he wouldn’t even think about her birthday until they all celebrated his; every year, he swore that he wouldn’t let her birthday pass him by this time; every year, the day came and went.
Zayra stamped her foot and shook her fist at the portrait of the two of them, painted just after their wedding.
“I’m not getting any younger, you know!” she snarled. “And neither are you! We only have so many of these days left!”
Zayra stamped her foot and shook her fist at the portrait of the two of them, painted just after their wedding.
“I’m not getting any younger, you know!” she snarled. “And neither are you! We only have so many of these days left!”
“Oh!” Zayra whirled around at the sound of the voice, but she only had a quick sighting of the red hair and twinkling eyes before Queen Azelie herself turned heel and walked briskly back the way she had come.
“No, wait!” Zayra bundled her voluminous skirt in her arms, and made a few steps after her. “I need to talk to—“ the hallway stood empty.
“No, wait!” Zayra bundled her voluminous skirt in her arms, and made a few steps after her. “I need to talk to—“ the hallway stood empty.
Zayra rolled her eyes. “Great, just great! Everyone’s avoiding me. What have I done to scare everybody off, then?” The crushing shame of doing something to alienate people without even realizing it threatened to close in around her.
It’s not like you’re enemies or competition anymore, the voice slithered in again. For pity’s sake, you’re actually family at this point! Why does she still avoid you if she’s the one wearing the crown? Is she afraid that you’ll take it from her?
It’s not like you’re enemies or competition anymore, the voice slithered in again. For pity’s sake, you’re actually family at this point! Why does she still avoid you if she’s the one wearing the crown? Is she afraid that you’ll take it from her?
“That’s just ridiculous,” Zayra muttered. She marched down the hallway to give Azelie a piece of her mind, Queen or no.
She saw a flash of red hair, but it was only Javira, coming in from the gardens. She stopped and bowed to Zayra. “Good morning, your highness.”
Zayra sneered, well remembering how this one sought to control her when she was weak and too overcome by her Gift. “What do you want?”
Javira blinked. She’s probably wishing she could still read my thoughts! “I was, um, looking for the King. Have you seen him recently?”
Zayra snorted. “No, I haven’t seen him at all since breakfast. Haven’t seen my husband, either!” Just the mention of him made her heart pound faster. What was going on? “But whatever it is, maybe I can—“
Zayra sneered, well remembering how this one sought to control her when she was weak and too overcome by her Gift. “What do you want?”
Javira blinked. She’s probably wishing she could still read my thoughts! “I was, um, looking for the King. Have you seen him recently?”
Zayra snorted. “No, I haven’t seen him at all since breakfast. Haven’t seen my husband, either!” Just the mention of him made her heart pound faster. What was going on? “But whatever it is, maybe I can—“
“No.” Javira didn’t even let her finish before turning her down. “I just need to talk to King Jaran.”
“Fine!” Zayra huffed, and flounced off toward the side of the castle. What business did Jaran have in them garden, anyway, that couldn’t involve someone else? It had been three years—there wasn’t an affair going on with either the King or the Queen, was there? Did Javira see something and wish to either confront or inform?
Not knowing was the worst feeling.
Not knowing was the worst feeling.
“Madam!” A guard called out behind her and Zayra stopped. She turned to address the soldier coming up behind her. “What is it?”
As before, the person speaking to her seemed very keen on speaking with someone else. “A package just came, and I’m instructed to give it to the Queen.”
Zayra stared at the box. “It’s almost the anniversary of their coronation,” Beren had said. Someone was giving Azelie a gift for becoming Queen, while nobody paid any attention to her own actual birthday?
Zayra reached for the box. “I’ll bring it to her—“
The soldier’s hands never left the box. “I’m sorry, your Majesty, but my orders were to—“
“YOUR ORDERS ARE TO GIVE IT TO ME NOW!”
Zayra reached for the box. “I’ll bring it to her—“
The soldier’s hands never left the box. “I’m sorry, your Majesty, but my orders were to—“
“YOUR ORDERS ARE TO GIVE IT TO ME NOW!”
Zayra stumbled back, overwhelmed by the flood of Gifted energy that had exploded out of her. She hadn’t meant to assert herself into this situation that probably didn’t involve her, but the box was in her hands now, and the white-haired soldier stood before her with a blank expression on his face. She delivered her command, feeling like the Mad Queen all over again. “Return to your post and forget this ever happened.”
Immediately, the soldier pivoted about-face and returned from whence he came.
Immediately, the soldier pivoted about-face and returned from whence he came.
The surge of power ebbed, and in its place it left only guilt. Hadn’t she promised never to become That Person anymore? Zayra scurried away time her private parlor and closed the door securely behind her.
“I was The Queen,” she whispered to herself. “I was Queen for much longer than Azelie was! I was better at it, too. I’m more a Queen than she ever could be.”
Zayra bit her lip and drew back. What was she even saying? What treasonous lies just slipped past her lips? Zayra left the box on the small table in the middle of the room and turned to the door. She needed to find Beren to calm her down again.
“On the other hand...” She found herself retracing her steps to the ornate gold box that gleamed in the morning sunlight. “Azelie hardly wears any jewelry anymore, after everything she went through as the Paragon. She’d probably never wear something like...” Her fingers flipped open the clasp, and Zayra viewed the contents of the jewelry box. “This,” she finished, pulling out the gorgeous red pendant on the long golden chain.
Put it on, Whispered the voice. Just the once. Then you can put it back and no one will be the wiser. Just to feel like a Queen again. Not just a princess—a QUEEN.
The chain felt cool around her neck. The clasp clicked closed behind her neck and the weight of the pendant settled over her bodice...
The parlor stood empty and still, as empty as the box that lay open on the table.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Velora stood in the middle of the clearing, Sable at her side. She called up every ounce of her wolffish senses, smelling, tasting, hearing, sight, to try and find where her ranger had gone. The trail of his mad dash behind the Wyrmling ended right where she stood, with nothing to tell her why, or how, or where he’d gone after that.
“Anything?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Not even a flicker of the Wyrmling. I’ve combed the entire forest, from the lower reaches of the Harbor to the Wildhaven boundary line.”
Velora narrowed her gaze. “Wildhaven? Show me.”
Velora narrowed her gaze. “Wildhaven? Show me.”
The Wind-Gifter led Velora down through the forest paths till they reached the tall hedges that marked the edge of the Gifted community.
“See this?” he waved his hand, and a compact breeze stirred the leaves. “Everything stops right here. I can stir the winds on this side, and I can reach across and stir on the other,” he thrust his hand into the hedge to demonstrate his point. “But I cannot extend back to one side from the other.”
Velora winced when she saw the shimmery gold threads Spruce taught her to look for. They wanted her to keep it secret from as many people as possible, for as long as she could—so why were there so many things that just kept crossing from their domain into hers?
“It’s a portal, Tristan,” she explained.
“It’s a portal, Tristan,” she explained.
He stopped in the midst of tying his hair back. “A what?”
Velora paced along the barrier, careful not to cross it. “Gavin must have followed the Wyrmling right through it, which means he’s—“
“What part of The High Prince is ready to declare war on the mortals so you’d better not do anything to set him off is so impossible for you to understand?”
Velora stopped short of colliding with Spruce as he stepped out of the unseen veil into the seen world before them.
Tristan cried out in surprise, but Velora crossed her arms. “That wasn’t my fault!”
“But it was your man!” The Elf seethed. “He’s made a mess of the magic that protects us, so unless you want to suddenly be responsible for the unimaginable evils that might spill out through the breach, I suggest you find a way to fix what is broken.”
Velora clenched her fists as Tristan melted into the background. “How do you expect me to fix it? I have no magic—you have your Wyrmling back, why do you also keep Gavin prisoner?”
The Elf crossed his arms. “You can start by handing over the man who stole the dragon in the first place.”
“I don’t know anything about that!”
“I don’t know anything about that!”
“Then, my dear Warden, you had better learn, because he’s just stolen the Wyrmling as well, so if you don’t find this man and the dragons he stole, then Aspen will have his war, and he’ll start by executing your ranger.”
“HE WOULDN’T DARE!” Velora snarled, feeling the wolf within her lunging and snapping, longing to sink her fangs into his skin, to claw his face to ribbons. She’s show him an execution!
“HE WOULDN’T DARE!” Velora snarled, feeling the wolf within her lunging and snapping, longing to sink her fangs into his skin, to claw his face to ribbons. She’s show him an execution!
Spruce only shrugged. “That’s the situation. You have no more leverage, I’m afraid.”
Velora glanced to the side, where Tristan waited at a respectful distance. “Fine,” she snapped at Spruce. “What can you tell us about this man?”
Spruce shrugged. “He moved faster than any mortal we had ever seen, even the Blessed. He seemed to have metal arms, though I don’t see how that could be possible—“
Spruce shrugged. “He moved faster than any mortal we had ever seen, even the Blessed. He seemed to have metal arms, though I don’t see how that could be possible—“
Tristan nodded and leaped away.
Velora turned back to see Spruce watching her closely.
“Don’t screw this up,” he muttered, and slipped back through the veil.
“Don’t screw this up,” he muttered, and slipped back through the veil.
Velora rubbed Sable’s head and groaned. Gavin would be the sort to accidentally stumble his way into an inter-dimensional incident!
“A man with metal arms, huh?” she mused aloud. They didn’t have many of that sort in the Realm, and someone who could behave like a Gifted (or “Blessed”) person, without actually being one...
Velora headed toward the northwest road, beckoning to the wolf beside her. “Come, Sable. I think it’s time we had a talk with our renegade Harbor Watch.” After all, she thought, She did disappear for about a year and came back with upgrades and improvements and many devices that no one in the Realm could have ever thought possible—her “Gift” isn’t quite a Gift. “Maybe she’ll know something about our mystery man.”
Velora headed toward the northwest road, beckoning to the wolf beside her. “Come, Sable. I think it’s time we had a talk with our renegade Harbor Watch.” After all, she thought, She did disappear for about a year and came back with upgrades and improvements and many devices that no one in the Realm could have ever thought possible—her “Gift” isn’t quite a Gift. “Maybe she’ll know something about our mystery man.”
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