Chapter Eighteen
Roadside Manners

 

“Vera?” 

“Hmm?”

“Oh thank the stars, you’re alive.”

“Thanks to you, I should think.” Vera looked up. Her voice, and Aesling’s, had sounded like she was underwater. She was in the grove, seated against a tree. Her eyes were heavy, like she’d just woken up from a nap. It was still a bit hard to focus, and her vision swam. “Aesling?”

“Here,” the Melia said as she stepped from behind a tree holding a handful of nuts and berries. She offered some to Vera. “I was worried, Vera.”

“I’m sorry,” Vera said. “I just… had to. I couldn’t let Flaveo get hurt.” 

Aesling sat down next to her. “Have a berry,” she said, then sighed. “Don’t put yourself in harm’s way like that, Vera. I can heal you, but there are limits to what even I can do.” They both sat in silence for a moment, chewing. “Just be more careful. Please?”

“I’ll try,” Vera said. “But even with how they’ve been treating me these past few days, they’re still family. They took me in. Raised me. Taught me everything, you know? If I hadn’t caught that, it would’ve split Flaveo’s skull, and Caerella would have never forgiven herself.”

“I know,” Aesling said. “I am sorry. Truly.” She looked up at the trees, blooming gently, all kinds of flowers budding between the bright greens, then gently put an arm around Vera’s shoulder. It was a strange gesture, and not one Vera knew how to respond to. 

She’d never been on the receiving end of much physical affection. Both Flaveo and Rubicus had been standoffish, expressions of fondness being relegated to words and punctuated only by the occasional slap on the back or nudge on the shoulder. Caerella’s touches had only ever been very distant, a tap on the wrist or a nudge of an ankle when teaching her how to fight. 

There had been the occasional girl who had wanted to get in close, some days. Back at a barracks or town festival, they’d sidled up next to her. Vera had never known how to respond. What she’d taken for warmth had been a request for more that she had not been able to reciprocate. 

This was none of those things. This was only what it was. A hand on her shoulder. A reminder that she wasn’t alone. That she was safe here. The presence of someone closer to her than any other person had the capacity to be. She leaned into it gently as they both relaxed back against the tree. Aesling wasn’t particularly large, but she was taller than Vera, and that offered a sense of comfort and safety she wasn’t familiar with. It was a sensation she hadn’t experienced since she was very little.

“Do you think Caerella will be okay?” she asked quietly. The last thing she’d seen of her had not given her much to hope for. A wound like that was likely to be fatal. Her diaphragm, her heart, her lungs or all three had likely been pierced. She’d seen enough fights to know that any of those were not something easily walked away from. 

“I do not know,” Aesling said. “The woman is full of magic, both mine and the Cavean’s. The two could have collided and already weakened her. Or they could have canceled each other out. But there’s a chance.” She tossed the last few of the berries in her mouth. “There’s always a chance. Magic is wild and unpredictable.”

“Explosive, too,” Vera said grimly. “Destructive.”

“Only yours,” Aesling replied. She sounded almost offended. “Humanity has never deigned to afford magic its due respect. They found only the most rudimentary ways to use it and did not examine any further.” Vera felt her tense up a little bit. “Magic such as mine does not destroy as freely and readily as yours. But it still does as it wills.” She looked at Vera. “But that means there is hope. Because if nothing else, it desires growth.”

Vera tried to smile, to let Aesling’s reassurance really seep in, but she was having trouble holding onto that hope. “Thank you,” she said. “With luck, she’ll live.”

“You look crestfallen,” Aesling said, “and not just out of worry. Speak your mind, Child.”

“If… if she recovers,” Vera said, “the three of them will be together again.” Subconsciously or not, she found herself emphasizing ‘them’. Aesling caught onto it, and ran a hand over Vera’s hair. 

“There is hope there too, Child,” she said. “You are not as alone as you believe yourself to be, and your friends are not as distant from you, as scared of you, as you think they might be.”

“But what if they are?” Vera asked. “What if they never accept me for who I am now?”

“Then that is how these things are,” Aesling said. “Some folks come into your life and walk with you as far as they will go. Others are with you until the end. You can’t know which is which until you’ve reached that end.” She held Vera a little closer. “Though it’ll hurt, of course. But not all will fear you to change.” A smirk played on her lips. “Clarus will not. You’ll still have him.”

“Not really,” Vera sighed before she realized what she’d said. She grew a little red in the face. “I — I mean that I won’t have him. Not — not that I want to—”

“Vera,” Aesling interrupted, “I do not know who it is that you’re keeping up this deception for, because it certainly isn’t for me.” She stood up and pulled Vera upright too. “I have no claim over Clarus, Child. He is his own man. All life is fleeting, and human lives more so than most. To pretend that these relationships are any different, and should be possessed…” She shook her head. “I’ve no interest in such a thing.”

“But it doesn’t mean that Clarus thinks this way, Aesling. He’s a Prince, he can’t—”

“I believe that he’s set to be King, actually,” the Nymph interrupted. “I doubt there’s a lot he can not do. Besides, with you on his arm, nobody would know I’d be right there with him, would they?”

The thought of Clarus walking down some royal hallway with her on his arm, wearing some dress that was more expensive than any she’d ever seen, was barreling through her mind like a wild steer. Her heart felt like it was trying to escape out through her throat. Though technically she was not in a real, physical space, that was hard to really believe, considering she found her hands shaking and her skin noticeably hot. “But I — He —”

“We’ll speak when you wake up, child. But I’ve seen how he treats you. Not me. Not the body I live in. You.” Aesling put a hand on her head. “I’ll speak with him, but when it comes to Clarus? I think he’s in your future, and mine.” 

All Vera could do was squeak for a moment. It took her longer than she would later dare to admit to drag herself back together. She liked to imagine that she was realistic about her future, and even tended towards pessimism. That said, she also couldn’t stop thinking about it. About Clarus in a few years, by her side. Ten. Twenty. Seeing the world together. Watching sunsets and night stars and the sunrise after. Of her hand in his. His arms around her. His sleeping breath on the back of her neck…

“Vera, we do still share a mind while we’re in here, and while I do not actually disagree — all of that appears amazing — you may want to… take a deep breath. Before you lose yourself in those daydreams. Besides, I think someone wants your attention.”

She could tell. Her chest hurt. Her everything hurt. That’s how she knew she was waking up. She heard her name, spoken softly, through the haze of pain. His voice. Ugh, she realised she probably looked like a mess. She’d barely survived, after all. She tried to open her eyes, but they wouldn’t budge. “Ugh,” she groaned, and immediately regretted it. Breathing hurt, let alone speaking. 

“Try not to speak, dear Vera,” Prince Clarus said. “This may be cold for a moment.” Even though she’d prepared herself, she still drew a hissing breath when the cold rag went across her face, and her eyes fluttered open. They were in a darkened tent, and he was quite close, his eyebrows knit together in concern. He lowered his voice. “I see Aesling’s helped you heal substantially, but still, do not move too much. I do not wish to see you hurt.” She could see his jaw tense up. 

“I’ll be fine,” she whispered. “Thank you, Clarus.” A blush spread on her cheeks as she addressed him so casually, and she smiled a little at her own daring. The Prince seemed to have noticed too. 

“You only called me that once before, Vera,” he said, his voice still quiet. “Am I to understand that you no longer see me as royalty? You wound me.” His face split into that roguish grin that made her weak in the knees. It was good she was lying down.

“Maybe I simply prefer the sound of your name,” she said, then made the mistake of laughing softly. “Ow.”

“Much as your honeyed words are a balm, I would ask that you keep silent a mite longer, Vera. You’ve healing to do.” He lifted the bandage on her shoulder. “I suspect you’ll be in traveling shape in less than a day, however. Aesling is doing divine work.”

“Speaking of which, Clarus,” Aesling said after swapping out quickly with Vera, “I believe you and myself should speak.” His eyebrows went up, and then he smiled when he recognised the eyes of his love. 

“Anything, my Aesling. Speak and I’ll listen. Talk and I’ll answer.”

“It’s about Vera,” Aesling said. Internally, Vera started to panic. While she’d stepped aside after the Nymph had requested to front, she feared more would be said out loud than she was entirely comfortable with. “Trust me, child,” Aesling reassured her, then turned her attention back to the Prince. He nodded, waiting for her to proceed. “How do you feel about her?” Then something impossible happened. Something magical. He stammered. He sputtered. He blushed. 

“I — I — To be entirely and, and, entirely frank with you, my Aesling, I have to admit that I am quite put on the spot here,” he said, and Vera had to suppress a very distinct sense of satisfaction at his bashful response. 

“I know,” Aesling said. “I’ve only seen him like this once before, and… well…” She left that thought and the implications thereof hanging in the mindspace between them. Vera was glad she was taking a backseat at that moment. 

“If I am entirely honest,” Clarus said, clearing his throat, “I find Vera to be a strong, capable young woman. She’s wittier than she lets on, has a sharp, tactical mind, and cares deeply about her friends. Every action I see her take speaks to her character.” Vera, of course, was wishing for death to take her away under the barrage of kindness, exacerbated by Aesling’s playful mockery. 

“I know all this, my love,” Aesling said, “but that’s not how you feel about her, is it?”

“Please,” Vera squeaked, “no more. I concede defeat!”

“I… find all of those traits… as attractive as the… rest. Of her.” Every word slowly and deliberately chosen fell out of his mouth, and Vera was certain she’d never recover. 

“Thought so,” Aesling said with a smug grin. “Well, carry on and do as your heart wills, my love.” 

“I… You are certain, Aesling? Know that the last thing I want is to cause you—”

“I’m certain, love. Now please, excuse me, I must rest if I’m to heal this body properly.” Vera slipped back to the foreground, and she knew the Prince had seen it in her eyes. They looked at each other, neither of them saying anything, and both of them red in the face. There was a noise outside, and both were grateful for the rescue. 

“What’s going on out there?” Vera asked. “Is Caerella okay?” Clarus grimaced, worrying her a moment. 

“Yes,” he said, “and no. She has been… combative.” He pulled the tent flap aside, and Caerella’s crystal clear voice rang loudly through the tent. 

“—m telling you she has spoken to me of it, and I have no intention to let you two old bastards ruin this child’s life only because you’ve never meaningfully connected with anything you couldn’t eat, drink, fuck or fight!” Vera had never heard her so angry before. Saints, she’d never heard Caerella so emotive before. 

By comparison, Flaveo’s response was positively muted. “Caerella, that isn’t fair at all! The boy is just—”

“One more word from you,” Caerella hissed, “and I will snap you like a toothpick, Flaveo. And you!” There was no response from Rubicus, but Vera knew he was next on the chopping block. “Why didn’t you oppose his mindless fantasies? You know who Vera is. It took me one look.”

“I saw him… her... die, Caerella. I did not want to believe.” Rubicus sounded tired.

“Do better, Ruben,” the woman said. “We’ve raised her. Even if she hadn’t told me how she’d felt years ago, we knew she wasn’t alright. We called her Stoneface, for fuck’s sake. Now look at her! I recognised her eyes in an instant, and in one moment she showed me more hope, pain and happiness than she ever had in her life. She is clearly happier now.”

“Caerella—” Flaveo said, and then there was a loud snapping sound, like someone stepping on a twig. “OW! BY DOSE!”

“I warned you, Flaveo. I do not need use of both arms to put you in your place. Now sit down, before we wake her up.” 

Clarus moved the tent flap back in place. “As you’ve heard,” he said, “she’s been…” He made a vague hand-gesture. “At least she and I see eye to eye, although I worry she may attempt to flay me if she fears me a threat to your safety, so I should step outside. 

Vera nodded. “I understand,” she said. Then, at great pain, she reached out and carefully touched his hand with the back of hers. “Thank you.”

“No need,” he said, then reached over and ever so softly planted a kiss on her forehead. “Get some rest, Vera.”