Heirot

The monkey looked at Ren curiously and then hopped from Tenara’s shoulder to Ren’s chest, clinging to his silk Hajaran clothes. The princess giggled softly, scratching the creature’s head. “She likes you,” she said. “I had to feed her dried fruit for a whole day before she climbed on me.”

Tenara stepped into the room and sat in the second chair. She fiddled with her skirt, plucking at the embroidery. “Did they happen to discuss the, eh, the army leaving?”

She knew they were having issues with the entire advisory council agreeing to the declaration. Her father didn’t need them to agree, of course. But he, so far in his rule, had always tried to get a majority approval of his decisions before enacting them. Some of the advisors were still petitioning to have Tenara give a testimony of what happened before they voted, though none of her parents were keen to put her in such a position. Eventually, her father would sign the declaration with or without the support of his court, because he intended to punish Arken by any means necessary, and only time would tell what that would do.

Tenele shook her head. “It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about the day. I can let you rest.”

Ren walked very slowly to his seat across from her, arms awkwardly at his sides to avoid upsetting Tenara's guest. "Please stay, Princess. I'm happy to share anything you care to know, and... I am concerned about you. Your only Ivis is not at your side. It is unhealthy for a Yurivis to be alone. Please speak with me whenever it pleases you."

The monkey chose the moment to investigate his ear with one of its small fingers. He yelped and turned his head out of reach, so the creature took hold of his nostril instead. Ren rolled his eyes in alarm to Tenara.

“Oh,” Tenara gasped, sliding to the edge of her seat to help pry the little thing off him. She tucked it up against her chest. “Sorry. Inquisitive little thing. I should probably return her in the garden. Especially before my maid sees her.” At least it wasn’t a snake this time.

Tenara sat back slowly, occupying the monkey’s attention by waving strands of silver hair in its face, tickling its nose.

“You help a lot,” Tenara said softly, and he did. There had been at least two nights where she’d asked if she could sleep in his bed because she had woken from a nightmare and hers had felt large and empty and… well, scary. Which felt like a horrible thing to think of her own bed, as it had never been a source of fear before. But Ren’s presence brought her comfort, and she knew it wasn’t any different from climbing into an older brother’s bed after a bad dream. Only, she was a grown woman…

“I was just curious if they had managed to get a consensus on the war declaration or if Papa was going to sign it without one,” she said, feeling settle well in her chest like heavy stones. “Just curious. That’s all.” The monkey sprang out of her hands and back into Ren’s lap.

Ren settled himself with a quiet frown. "Not yet. There are several aides recommending to go to Arken with a list of demands for reparation, rather than declare war outright. The biggest point of debate is whether to view the crimes against you as committed by a few individuals acting on their own, or to hold Arken itself accountable. Because the queen's sons do not seem to have acted in coordination with each other, it is hard to say. None of them can prove the motives of the dead."

He glanced up at her expression. "There seem to be several supply delays due to sandstorms, especially of wool from the east, so they will not be equipped to mobilize an army through the mountains right away, regardless."

Tenara nodded. She eased to the edge of her seat and reached out for the monkey again, but the creature scurried away, up to Ren’s shoulder, then behind his neck and under his hair. “Sorry,” she whispered, and climbed the rest of the way from the chair to hunt the creature down.

“That’s unfortunate about the delay,” she said, though she didn’t sound as if she thought that. She wondered what type of reparations the advisors were suggesting—what was her pain worth to them? Not that she cared. It wasn’t worth an army of young men, that was for sure.

The monkey clamored out from under Ren’s hair and up his head, until it wrapped itself around one of his pretty gold horns. Tenele gasped, and hurried to gently pry the creature off. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll take her back outside.”

Ren sucked in a breath and tried his best to sit still. The sudden weight on his horn made him shiver. "It's okay, Princess. She is your friend... I am the one who should leave," he stammered.

“She’s not really a friend, Ren,” Tenara said, trying not to laugh. “At least not as good a friend as you.”

The princess managed to gently pry the monkey off. She disappeared out his main door, walked across the corridor to a window, and placed the monkey on the ledge overlooking the garden trees. Then, she returned, apologizing once more.

“I think Havitharon would have had a stroke if that had happened to him,” she said, smiling as she sat in the chair again. Her smile softened, and she looked wistfully off behind him, at his billowing curtains. “Do you think they are alright?”

Ren's carefully maintained polite demeanor gradually fell away as they spoke. It wasn't the first time she'd called him her friend, and each time she did, he found himself slightly more convinced by the idea. The suggestion that her creature friend might witlessly climb on Havitharon Ruthe's horns brought a twitch to his lips.

Then, of course, was the inevitable question. The one that kept them both awake at night, that drove them to make excuses at every meal and withdraw from the various trivialities the palace staff kept preparing to cheer them up. Were they alright?

Of course, Havitharon was involved, so it was hard to imagine their safety being compromised. But Ren hadn't forgotten the look on his master's face as he'd left. Laurius's hollow, casual goodbye gave Ren the impression he was somehow putting on the most difficult performance of his life.

He didn't bother trying to provide Tenara and answer. Neither of them would be reassured by it. "Actually, I did find some more tomes that reference the Citadel," he said eagerly, rising from the chair to dig some books out of the pile on his desk. He knelt beside her chair and spread the pages out on the coffee table before them. "I was surprised that they kept lists of their graduates for each year. Laurius's is here. And, in the same book," he pointed to the small portraits sketched into the pages. "The sisters are here. They attended at the same time."

"Also, an award was given that year. Teams of four compete to achieve the greatest magical innovation. The award that year was for a sword capable of augmenting its owner's strength. Sound familiar?" He pointed to another book that was open to a magical schematic. A sword covered in runes was drawn, with detailed instructions, and at the bottom, a credit. "There are four people credited. The sisters, Laurius, and someone called Cian Parker." He went back to the yearbook and turned to a different page, and indicated the entry at the bottom. A smiling portrait of a sharp-nosed man with hair in short, wild curls. "Same year. His specialization: Ancient Texts."

He waved his hands over all the books, as if embarrassed by his longwinded explanation. "Anyway, I was thinking. We know the sisters can't read that book. If they truly did still have it, and brought it to the Citadel as Laurius suspects, who do you think they would approach to decode it?"