Chapter 42
He felt jittery. He had been practicing, making sure that his foot work was good, that his hands were where they were supposed to be, and that he could deflect effectively. He had become pretty good at sword fighting, but was he as good as Henry?
Henry was the gold standard. He seemed to be able to do anything without even trying. He could start a fire from logs he found on the forest floor, he could dip his fishing hook into the water and pull out a fish immediately. He could lift heavy stones on his own without help, and he could always beat Seneca in a sword match.
But today was the day. He would beat him, while Krista was there to see it.
Over the three years, he had seen Lady Krista three times, about once a year. They had been biding their time, gathering favor in the secret conversations held behind closed doors. Soon they would be making their move and mobilize their forces. Within the year, and after 19 years of waiting to get her revenge, his mother would finally be able to claim her rightful title. Or rather, Seneca would.
He felt better about fighting Henry today for one simple reason, and it wasn’t all the practice he had been putting in; Henry had a cold. He was sneezing and looked tired, but he could still hold a sword, and he had promised to fight Seneca once Krista got there.
Even though Seneca had only seen Krista three times in the last three years, he still had corresponded with her through letters, and he had a pretty sizable crush on her. In the least, he had respect for her. She thought like a diplomat and politician, knowing just the words to say to make people agree with her. She balanced secrets and open truth very well, and Seneca hoped that he would be able to tell if she were saying what he wanted to hear or if she was telling him the truth. She was to be his wife, after all. They shouldn’t hide too much from each other, especially if they were going to go far.
Henry lumbered over, sniffling as he did so. His shoulders drooped, and Seneca could almost feel the ache coming off of him. “Are we ready? As much as I’d like to say I can do this all day, I’m not feeling the best…”
“Perfect Henry not feeling his best?” Seneca mocked. “I thought you were impervious. I thought you would lose to a girl before you lost to a cold.”
“It’s very hard to fight something as invisible as a cold, but maybe you should ask your mom about invisible things. She can’t seem to see you.” Henry threw back. Normally he wouldn’t stoop to Seneca’s level of insults, but he hurt all over and just wanted to go home and sleep.
“I guess I’ll lose to you before I lose to a girl,” he continued. “But that begs the question, who’s better? A girl or you?”
Seneca could take his insults. Barnabus had jeered him for the majority of his life, as had his peers and teachers. Seneca just used it all as fuel for his anger and motivation. One day, they wouldn’t be able to tell him what to do. They’d have to listen to him, and if they didn’t they would be worse than exiled or executed.
If they got that far.
“We can’t fight yet, Krista isn’t here. And if I were to beat you and she wasn’t here, I wouldn’t get the credit I deserve.” Seneca explained.
“Look, why don’t you summon me when she gets here. Then it may be more of a fair fight, and I won’t feel like spilling my breakfast on the ground.”
Seneca looked him over. A small bit (small, mind you), felt bad for him. He knew all too well how nausea and a pounding headache could make you feel less than your best. If he didn’t want to show that he could marr the perfect reputation of Henry so badly, he would feel even more pity and postpone the duel inevitably until he was at his best. But opportunities like this didn’t come around very often. Perfect Henry had a nearly perfect immune system.
“Fine, I’ll send for you when she arrives. Don’t- die or anything.” he shooed Henry away, turning his back. It was getting late in the afternoon, hopefully Krista would be arriving soon. This far from the capital, it was hard to predict the travel times. She could run late, or if she had good weather she could be early.
She certainly wasn’t early.
~*~
After five days of sailing, Gloria, Aubade, and Rufus touched the other shore. Aubade looked like he was going to jump out of his skin from excitement, while Gloria shivered. It was colder in the Mainland than on the Islands. She had heard from other refugees about the temperature, but she hadn’t realized that it would be autumn when they arrived. The air felt frigid.
Rufus and Aubade hadn’t talked much while she had been awake, besides chatting about people that seemed to have little consequence that they both knew. But she had heard them whispering when they thought she was asleep, things she couldn’t hear but they obviously didn’t want to tell her. The further she had gotten from the Islands the worse she had felt. What the heck was she doing? She didn’t know anything about the Mainland. It wasn't taught in school as the Mainland was seen as something far away that was dangerous but couldn’t hurt the Islands. It was reminisced about once in a while in small groups, but her parents hadn’t told her about nearly anything. Not the people, not the customs, not the mannerisms. Sure, once in a while her mom would say things like “We never used to do it that way,” or “That wouldn’t fly…”
So here she was, standing on a cold beach, the sky was overcast, and she felt very much like a stranger in a strange land.
“Angus! Marco! We’ve arrived!” Aubade shouted out. Gloria looked at him, startled that he had made such a loud noise on a deserted beach. If the scarce clips she had figured out from what he had told her years ago and what she had been able to pick up from the hushed conversations he and Rufus had held, the Church was at active war with the king and his supporters. If it was found out that they sided with the king, they could be captured or killed. Who knew what extremes the war had come to?
Two male figures came out of the brush. They seemed strong and dirty. Gloria would have guessed they were soldiers.
They jogged over to the trio. “Your return has been long awaited, Blake.” the one with the darker shirt said.
“I’ve been gone for three years, I’m happy to be home. How long until we reach the capitol?” Aubade asked, not wasting time on pleasantries. This struck Gloria as odd. This isn’t how you greet a long parted friend. With her, Aubade was warm and affectionate, but with the people he had previously known he was calculated.
“About three weeks. The patrols are increasingly frequent, so we’ll have to get some cover quickly before we’re seen.” the lighter shirt man answered.
“Very good, let’s go. No reason to wait.” Aubade picked up his bag, prepared to follow them.
The darker shirted man hesitated. “Who is she?” he asked Aubade. Gloria stiffened, but Aubade seemed unfazed.
“She’s my love. The reason for my being.” he said. The response was given so casually that Gloria was shocked. She didn’t see the recognition in the other men’s faces at his response, as if they were expecting that answer.
Aubade started walking without the two newcomers, and they quickened their step to keep up. Gloria was suprised at how solid the ground was. The ground of the Islands was all made of sand, and her legs were used to the ground shifting, but here the ground stayed still. The trees cast long shadows and their closeness felt odd to her. The trees on the Island weren’t that thickly populated.
They hurried towards the brush, hoping they wouldn’t be seen and attacked.
~*~
Three days had passed since Krista was supposed to have arrived, and Seneca was growing restless. The last thing the movement needed was to lose a supporter, and his future wife. Why wasn’t she here? Had she been stopped? The patrols around this area were in their support, she wouldn’t have been stopped. But what if she was stopped before she made it into their borders? What if she was in trouble?
The possibilities kept Seneca up at night, try as he will to sleep. No one said anything about her absence, and they didn’t seem bothered, though he couldn’t imagine that they didn’t notice and hold some anxiety.
His mother was busy organizing plans for their first invasion, sending and receiving new information to her contacts. She hadn’t slept in days, only closing her eyes when she couldn’t keep standing anymore. A part of him knew he should be worried for her health, but the soldier in him knew not to ask questions and just follow orders. He didn’t want to be shouted at again about how he didn’t know better than his mother or Barnabus, and to have his ears boxed again. Best just to avoid them both when they were busy.
“I need to go and look for her,” Seneca said quietly while pondering at the foot of Henry’s bed while he dozed.
“What?” Henry asked, tilting up his head.
“I need to after her. To make sure she’s ok.” Seneca said clearer. “What if she was captured? We should ensure her safety.”
“Your safety is more important than hers. I’m sure she can take care of herself.” he grumbled as he set his head back down.
“But she knows too much to fall into enemy hands! What if she gives up our position? What if they hurt her?” Seneca imagined someone maring that beautiful skin of hers and he felt sick.
“I’m sure she’d kill herself before it was an issue. She’s a smart cookie. Stop worrying.” Henry kicked the footboard of his bed, and Seneca was sure he meant to kick him but couldn’t reach.
“I have to make sure she’s safe.” Seneca stood up, staring at nothing as if he hadn’t made his mind up fully.
“Listen, loverboy,” Henry looked like he would be sick if he sat up, but he did anyway. “You can’t go after her, you’re too important. Have someone else do it. You’re needed here. Heck, I’ll do it if it means you stay here where it’s safe.”
“You can’t go, you look like you’d make it a mile and fall over and take a nap, if not fall over and die.” Seneca protested. “Relax, I’ll be gone for a few days, nothing extreme.”
“I can’t let you go alone.” Seneca opened his mouth to protest, but Henry’s face was set. Seneca changed his attitude to aloof as if he couldn’t care either way.
“Fine, but I hope you don’t slow me down. You… pull yourself together, I’ll get some provisions from the kitchen.”
Yes! A new chapter! Hopefully next chapter will be even MORE exciting! And- andandandandand! I plan on revealing at least one identity, possibly more!
And yes, Henry is based on Henry Cavil.
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