Those who deride others as soft haven’t known true hardship.

—Dyni, Bodyguard and former assassin

 

Phaeliisthia’s descent into Ess’Sylantziis was met with a whirlwind of activity from those on the ground. Out from the Emerald Palace, taaniir in shining armor slithered in an orderly fashion, led by multiple taanzh. At the front, and whose green-plumed helmet glittered with more than just metal, an utaan moved confidently. A general of the Royal Guard—perhaps the general. Did Sire summon them?

While their appearance unsettled me, I could, even from a great height, tell the roles apart. That tiny little bit of comfort in knowledge helped ease my thoughts even as I felt Kyrae and Ssiina’s hands over mine. I was not the ssen’iir who’d left this city, or the unsure, nervous girl who’d arrived and been whisked away a year ago.

Soon enough, I’d be hssen. Well, openly hssen.

I was, in all ways but law, an adult now. A woman of learning—and of power. My eyes flicked to the dark corners of alleys, hiding against the midday sun, and I realized I was ready to be nearer that source of strength. Strength I could rip away from its dark master and make my own.

“Are the guard’s Sire’s doing, or the Jii’Hssen’s?” Ssiina asked, her voice straining against the wind.

“Your sire’s I expect and hope,” Phaeliisthia rumbled in reply. “I do not imagine Tyaniis will be pleased, but we had planned for this contingency.”

I kept watch over the rim of the saddle as Phaeliisthia banked, turning as we descended lower. From the Grand Temple, I saw ssyri’ssen arriving—of various ranks. Though, they looked more impromptu, and their numbers were fewer.

Phaeliisthia banked again, and I saw the sun shining bright before we leveled out. Around us, great wings heaved, and we slowed. After a moment, we touched down, us three sisters facing the Palace.

Between us and the gates were the lines of royal taaniir, headed by whom I presumed to be an utaan. Up close, I could see that her helmet was ringed with a band of glinting emeralds, and the rich green feathers of the large lania’el’s plume were each longer than my arm.  But I didn’t see Sire.

“Where is Hssen Tyaniis?” Kyrae asked, careful with her titles just in case anyone caught what she was saying.

“I do not know,” Phaeliisthia answered in a voice that echoed of magic and I guessed could not be overheard. “Again, we have planned for this. That woman in the lead, the one preening more than the bird whose feathers she wears ever did, is in charge of the royal guard. Her name is Lyantii, and she has pledged herself to Jaezotl and Ssyii both. You may trust her—at least superficially. Moreover, I believe that ‘guard’ your sire is so fond of is lurking nearby.”

I didn’t understand why Phaeliisthia gave Dyni’s title an odd emphasis, but I didn’t think it was wise to ask now of all times.

“I trust Dyni with my life!” Ssiina hissed, her tone acerbic.

“I never said you shouldn’t,” Phaeliisthia replied curtly. “And we’re out of time to argue. Disembark, and let Ssiina take the lead. Remember that, as of now, only she is hssen.”

I swallowed nervously, then took a deep breath. Power. Surety. If I didn’t look as meek as the assembled crowd wanted, too bad.

I kept my head held high and slid down from Phaeliisthia’s saddle onto the sun-warmed stones, helping Kyrae on my way down. Ahead of us, Ssiina was already coiling up, rising higher on her lower body so she held her head above Utaan Lyantii.

The utaan in question was a surprisingly genial-looking woman with a dark complexion, deep brown scales, and a wicked scar across her nose. Looking past my sister, she made a sweeping gesture. Reflexively, I followed her fingers and saw the ssyri’ssen stop short. I expected Ussyri Noksi until I realized she must still be traveling the Hssyri, not yet returned from spending Tuo’Antzin in Uzh.

Instead, I saw an unfamiliar face—a lania’el woman with fierce eyes and an unusually pale complexion. Her vestments made her out to be ussyri, however, and she spoke. “How many times constitutes a violation of treaty?” It took me a moment to realize she was talking to Phaeliisthia.

The serpent dragon heaved a massive shrug, but she did not take her elven form. Whether it was to annoy the ussyri or preserve her identity, I didn’t know. Either could be equally true for Phaeliisthia. Perhaps both were.

Utaan Lyantii hissed. “Provided she does not enter the Grand Temple or the Emerald Palace, and provided she does not incite heresy or sedition, she is not in direct violation.” Her voice was loud and intense, with a surprisingly pronounced upriver accent.

The ussyri bristled. “The spirit of the treaty rather than the letter!”

“Enough,” Utaan Lyantii started.

Phaeliisthia interrupted her by taking off with a great leap that shook the ground and caused Kyrae to stumble. My elf sister caught herself between me and Ssiina. The ussen, meanwhile, watched Phaeliisthia leaving and let out an undignified hiss before turning sharply away—enough that her lower body passed over her tail—and bidding her entourage to follow.

It was a weird feeling not being the object of ire in a situation. It felt wrong, especially given all the secrecy and conspiracy we’d surrounded ourselves with. Unthankfully, my and Kyrae’s time out of the spotlight was over before it could truly begin.

“Off!” barked Utaan Lyanti sharply. “You!” she snapped and my head whipped around, eyes meeting hers before I remembered to look down. “Off! You may not touch Hssen Ssiina without—”

“It’s fine,” Ssiina interrupted, her voice full and regal. “We have lived in proximity for some time as students of Phaeliisthia. I am certain it is an error born of familiarity and I honestly do not mind helping a friend.”

At the same time, she made no effort to help Kyrae back onto her feet; I did that myself. It’s just for appearances… It still rubbed me the wrong way—especially Utaan Lyantii’s attitude. I wonder if she’s the type to apologize with extreme formality, and whether she will do so once she learns just who she snapped at.

The thought mollified me long enough to catch Ssiina continuing, “I wish to meet with Sire Tyaniis.”

“I am afraid that will not be possible at the moment. Come, I will explain.”

Frowning—no sneering, and oh Ssiina was good at it—my hssen-raised sister followed Utaan Lyantii. Without hesitation, I trailed after her, Kyrae by my side. Sire can’t meet with us?

“Your… guests will have a room prepared for them to wait inside.”

Ssiina offered a half nod that barely moved her earrings. Meanwhile, I wanted to scream. There was no way in Jaezotl’s name we were going to sit idly by out of the loop again. Right? For now though, mindful of the presence of the crowd and similarly astounded I’d so often failed to have such mindfulness, I followed along.

But I did not follow meekly. I met the gazes of the royal taaniir as we slithered through the too-perfect garden. Kyrae as well did not lower her head. In return, we received glares and hushed whispers. My shadows twitched from under bushes and behind trees, listening and wanting desperately to slap something.

For Ssiina’s sake, and only for Ssiina’s sake, I held back. Unfortunately, I was not calm.

Sire cannot meet us. I wanted to know why, at least in part, because I now knew of Sire’s dishonesty. That she said she wouldn’t kill on my behalf and did anyway. A practical, learned corner of my mind asserted that she may have had to, that it could have been us or them—be the cause assassins or cutting words.

I drowned it out, too frustrated at this whole situation, at playing the poor, meek little girl. Feeling my fangs click down, and Kyrae’s hand squeeze sharper, I tried to relax.

But relaxation wouldn’t come. The shadows inched along, their chill creeping closer.

Who were they to treat me like this?

My shadows barely noticed the form that dropped from a tree to land next to me, but I felt the cold of a metal blade against my upper ribs. I tensed, and the bronze blade moved into my view—the blunt edge had been pressed against me.

Before I could speak in my confusion, the figure spoke to me. “You’re tense. You’re angry. You should be, but remember your lessons—and I am deeply sorry for my actions.” Her words were soft enough that I almost mistook them for the breeze.

I glanced over at the familiar voice and saw Dyni’s smiling face, framed by short, black hair. The small lania’el slid off me and waved at Kyrae who glared daggers at her. Only then did the taaniir seem to take notice. So much for training—or is Dyni that good?

“Dyni,” Utaan Lyantii acknowledged without turning around. “Need I remind you that guests of hssen are to be treated with the utmost respect, regardless of any personal distaste?” I had a feeling Dyni wasn’t the one with personal distaste. “Or has your time playing nanny for Ssiina and librarian for my taaniir made you forget decorum?”

“No, Utaan,” Dyni answered with a formal bow.

We’re supposed to trust Utaan Lyantii? I wanted to slap her, not trust her! Dyni, however, gave both me and Kyrae a warning glare and I managed—just barely—to keep my mouth shut. That the shadows over the path darkened was certainly just happenstance.

For the remainder of the walk to the Emerald Palace proper, I alternated between staring at the back of Ssiina’s head, and sharing frustrated glares with Kyrae. I felt almost more like a prisoner being escorted than a “respected guest” by the time we arrived. Awful, but familiar.

At least we’re here ahead of whatever Geliss and Deziiya are planning.

The moment we entered the palace, Ssiina was separated from us—or rather, we were separated from her. I gave my best dissatisfied, imperious glare as I coiled with Kyrae and Dyni in a small, familiar room. It wasn’t the same room we’d been in before, but the décor—fine lounges and cushions with tea and food set out and ready—was familiar. Bright paint over smooth stone nearly made up for the lack of a window.

“Where’s—”

“May we speak freely here?” Kyrae cut me off, clamping a hand over my mouth.

Dyni shook her head, eyeing a ring of wooden trim part-way up the fitted stone wall. She uncoiled and moved a lounge over to the trim before lifting it and placing the base against the wall. “No eyes, but there are ears.”

Kyrae nodded and let go of my mouth. I hissed a sigh.

Dyni started moving her lips and I didn’t realize at first what she was doing. Not until Kyrae responded in kind, pointing to herself as she spoke.

“We may mouth words in Elven,” was what I took her to say—in Elven of course.

Hesitantly, I nodded. My Elven was… accented at the best of times. But it wasn’t like we could do the same with a language that didn’t involve the use of one’s lips.

Seemingly satisfied, Kyrae turned to Dyni and made a series of exaggerated mouth movements. Dyni responded, and I struggled to follow along. I did, however, catch enough to get the idea that she was asking about our sire’s whereabouts, using “Hssen Tyaniis” just in case.

“Soon,” Dyni mouthed. “She returns this evening.”

Relief blossomed in my chest, but anxiety quickly followed it. I was still mad at our sire for deceiving all of us. But… I would be willing to forgive—I couldn’t believe she did it out of any reason other than love.

A—bizarrely—surprisingly warm feeling, that. Someone killing others for me.

“What next?” I mouthed. It only took two tries.

“You wait here. A meal will be brought, and bedding if Hssen Tyaniis’s return takes too long.”

That reply took longer, but eventually I got it.

“Won’t they be surprised if we’re sitting in silence?” Kyrae asked.

Dyni raised an eyebrow and mouthed back “So?”

I snickered at that, and felt through the shadows for a moment. The walls and the feeling of some kind of other pressure in the Palace dampened a lot of my senses, but I could sense rooms around us, one of them dark, and several with movement.

I stopped just short of doing anything. What’s the point of these powers if I can’t use them?

In a flash I remembered a familiar alley, and a familiar snake that held my attention until I’d passed out. Shivering, I pulled my senses back. The risk isn’t worth it. Not yet.

I would make these powers mine. And then…?

And then I’d live life as hssen. Perhaps even take the throne myself one day. And if I did, I wouldn’t have the same tact and restraint as Ssyii. There would be blood.

I shook away the thoughts—wasn’t I against this? Or did I just think I should be against that kind of violence. Did my sire know that?

So many questions, so little time.

We worked silently through the provided food, after tests for poison from Dyni and Kyrae both. It wasn’t long until boredom set in. In a small space, void of conversation and windows, my thoughts roiled, and I felt my hearts beat in time to the pulse of the shadows. Kyrae’s hand fell on mine, and I squeezed it back.

A knock on the door, and a familiar, curt voice, startled us. “Ssyrin Jii’Hssen Ssyii Ssyri’jiilits wishes to see you.” Utaan Lyantii seemed to bite back words questioning why. Probably why she had been sent to get us.

Dyni moved and opened the door for us. I caught the referential bow she gave Kyrae and me, hidden behind the door.

“Your attire is unsuitable for the presence of the Jii’Hssen. Follow. You will be bathed and changed.”

I thought back to Aunt Ssyii hugging me and Kyrae in our traveling clothes and I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes or flick my tail.

“Yes, Utaan Lyantii,” Kyrae answered for us.

“Good. Do not make me repeat myself.”

I had to move quickly to catch up, and Kyrae was practically jogging as we followed Utaan Lyantii through corridors and down a ramp to a hall that tasted of moisture and perfume. All the while, Dyni shadowed us.

“In here.” Utaan Lyantii gestured to an entranceway out from which a thin cloud of steam poured. “Remember your place—the servants in there are to be respected as you would ussen serving you. Am I understood?”

I nodded—respecting someone was easy enough provided they offered me the same. Kyrae followed my gesture, and Dyni motioned for us to go inside. I led the way, and turned the corner to find a bathhouse far more opulent than the one Onussa had taken Kyrae and me to years ago.

Phaeliisthia’s estate used personal basins filled from a naturally warm spring. This… well perhaps it used a similar source. But it was massive: easily more than ten times my length on the long side, and deeper than Kyrae was tall. A room-length mural of a serpent-filled jungle scene reflected in shimmering fragments on the surface of the water.

Steam gave the whole space a post-rain haze, and I saw other, smaller pools to the side, more doorways, stone lounges of all shapes, and wooden racks of towels and oils set into the walls. One of those oils was currently assaulting my nose and tongue, and if not for its strength, I wouldn’t at all have minded the scent.

From the mist, and the direction of the shelves, slithered two figures I should have been ready to see again. The same two who’d met us in the Grand Temple right after I’d woken up from nearly dying. The encounter hadn’t been a pleasant one, and I couldn’t stop a scowl from forming.

It didn’t help that I didn’t remember their names.

“May we speak freely here?” Kyrae asked.

The male servant, the older of the two, pressed his hand against a sigil on the wall and it lit up. Soon, the sound of water through stone pipes dissipated. “Utaan Lyantii will ensure we are not interrupted, even if she’s not privy to all the details.” He followed the words with a bow that kept going until he rested his forehead on the ground, tail up as he lowered his entire upper body in obeisance. “My apologies for the grave mistakes of our first meeting, Hssen Issa and Respected Kyrae. I am Kyen; I would not expect you to deign my name with remembering.”

“Hssen Kyrae,” I corrected. “Regardless of the factuality of the title, I expect you to address my sister as such. You may rise.” The words came with surprising ease, my mannerisms slipping into patterns ingrained by lessons.

Next to Kyen, the woman mirrored his gesture. “And I am Lissti, Hssen Issa and Hssen Kyrae. Please allow us to prepare you to meet Her Radiance, the Jii’Hssen.”

Kyrae and I shared a glance.

“Rise, Lissti,” Kyrae said. “We place ourselves in your care. Please pay particular attention to my shoulders and lower back. Issa is squeamish about her spine near where her scales start.”

I hissed playfully at my sister, and turned back toward the two servants—my two servants. “I trust you to treat us well. Perhaps good treatment and information could atone for past wrongs.”

Both of Sire’s servants looked at me with wide-eyed surprise. Yes, I am the same thin waif you met in a back room of the Grand Temple. Or… am I?

I smiled at my sister even as I flicked her ankles with my tail tip for giving away a weakness. Yes and no were both the answer, but… who I had been versus who I was now wasn’t a distinction I cared about.