[ May ]
"Your magic is too fragile. It breaks easily." My teacher, Spring, tapped my chest. "Feel it move from here and manifest it in your palms. You've done this before, Ruith." He crossed his large arms, withdrawing a distance to observe me.
With a deep inhale, I closed my eyes, a method to connect with the magic inside of me. And I attempted again to form a large trident. The image was tangible behind my eyes, so I also pictured the gold of my magic rushing through my blood and manifesting in my hands. I felt something firm and opened my eyes.
"There it is!" Spring cheered hoarsely. "Now, attack me with it."
For a moment, I felt victorious. Because I had never trained to increase my magic ability before my brother died, I had only manifested small weapons before. Never once had I created one of a decent size. Even my trustworthy spears were pitiful.
I took a step, and Simon's absence tormented me as a curse would. My heart sank levels, and my magic scattered like dust.
Spring's huff provided his disappointment. Round and indifferent lilac eyes belonged to him, but they doubted me now and accused me of having not tried hard enough. Spring had lived a millennium and spent most of his life traveling between provinces to instruct light magic users native to the Meadow Province how to wield their magic ability. He was the best teacher the Meadow Province would ever acquire as he'd been settled here for the past two decades.
Anxiety pinned my feet to the smooth floor of this training room.
My lack of ability would be regarded as a token of ungratefulness. If Spring were to report to my father my poor performance, he would punish me. Force me to endure a night out in the rain or lock me in a cold room until, out of fear of never experiencing the sun again, I learned how to wield two tridents. But magic didn't come innately to someone who didn't have an interest in using it for violence.
"Are things going well?"
Taegen entered the practice room through the outdoor entrance. The infant evening sent a cool breeze after him, feathering through the wispy strands of his long ponytail. He was clothed in a dark linen button-up that made his white skin appear bountiful with blushing colors. His maroon cape—different from the one Elion had decorated—was only shades away from his stained lips.
A dutiful look belonged to Taegen always. His thin brows were graceful but strict over his diamond eyes, and his face angular to represent strength. He was unapproachably handsome. The epitome of how a guard should look. But what many could not see was that Taegen, my royal guard, was gentle. He cared about me more than my father ever had. And his expression could soften levels that he'd only reveal to me.
Taegen glided across the smooth wood floors. His towering height required Spring, who was shorter than me, to look up at him. Spring's lilac-colored eyes opened some. "The boy is getting worse. He may be in the room with us, but his spirit is elsewhere."
With a nod, Taegen acknowledged me because he'd never discuss me as if I wasn't in the room. "I've noticed, too, that you've been distracted lately." Looking at Spring, "Please be lenient with him. He did just lose his brother recently. Something like that can dimmish someone's spirit."
I lowered my head. "Let me try again. I'll do better this time."
Spring sighed with an air of annoyance. "It's already evening, Ruith. I have two other students to teach and a family to get home to. We'll resume next week. Get your head in the right place."
My heart felt the zap of his words. If Taegen had not been here, Spring would have called me incapable, weak, and useless. Everyone has lost someone, he would have probably said. But it had not been one person I'd lost…but two.
Spring had always been severely tough on me, but I never witnessed him act that way with anyone else. I could not understand it. Why did my teacher resent me so much?
When I returned to my bedroom, Taegen took beside my desk and observed me. "You're worried about what Spring will tell your father."
As a royal guard, Taegen should encourage me to own up to my failures and offer loyalty to improving. However, tough love existed outside the realm of Taegen's beliefs. Solely nurturing, compassionate, and trusting love were the pieces that connected his heart.
I dragged my finger across the wooden desk. "Spring won't need to tell him anything. My father knows I'm inadequate. He'll pull me for a lecture on his own."
"A lecture for you is a lecture for me, lovely. I'll only advocate for you."
That made me frown and meet Taegen's eyes. "You can't keep getting involved, Taegen. I don't want my father to retaliate against you out of anger." I blinked sadly. "If he can get over Elion's death so quickly, he expects me to. I can't keep using that excuse to explain why I'm inadequate. He should recognize I'll never be as fluent with my magic as Elion was."
Taegen's jaw tensed at that. After all, Elion had been his mate. So, how the king disregarded his passing fueled a rage in Taegen that he did well to hide. But my eyes would catch the glint of cutlery he'd crush beneath the dinner table and how he'd look at the king behind his back like he wished to kill him.
A deep breath relaxed him, and his sharp eyes shimmered knowingly. "You are not your brother, so never mind how quickly learning came to him." A pause. "And it isn't just Elion's death that affects you, Ruith."
I scoffed incredulously. "Since you know about the human, why do you not stop me from seeking him out?"
Taegen kneeled before me. "Your father believes dictating your every move will be how you become a successful leader."
"And what do you think?"
For a moment, he pondered the right words. "If you do not have your own experiences, you will not grow the wisdom needed to know what is and isn't a bad decision."
I parted my lips to speak, but Taegen raised a pointed finger. "Remember, a decision does not become wrong if everyone disagrees. It becomes wrong when it dismisses the moral conditions you've created in your heart. Your brother taught me that, you know."
"Why are you telling me this?" I asked quietly. Grateful I was for Taegen's words, but I was undeserving of such leniency just because he was fond of me.
When Taegen smiled, his eyes were dazzlingly green. "Because I believe in your judgment, Ruith. Even if I am not to support it." He picked up his sword and stood. "It should rain in the human world today. I think enduring it would be a punishment your father would be satisfied with."
An excuse.
I smiled. "Thank you, Taegen."
****
My usual basket of fresh fruit rested beside me in the grass. And I was seated by the lake again, beneath the overhanging rock to protect me from the impending rain. Even if Simon no longer showed, this spot I still adored. It was special to me.
Here had been where Elion and I would spend hot summer days away from duty. And in the winter, we'd dance on the frozen lake. Taegen would relax against the nearest tree and watch us with affection in his smile.
But Taegen didn't come here anymore. Not since Elion had died.
This spot, hidden from the world and abundant, had always been ours. And now, I had no one else to share it with. Crossing my legs, I closed my eyes. In a few hours, I'd return home. It wouldn't be fair to keep Taegen out in the conditions that were to come.
The wind tickled small, noisy ripples across the lake water. It was a refreshing sound that effectively lulled me to a light sleep.
Hours later, I heard a rustling. My eyes fluttered open at a gentle thud. And my heart, which had buried itself in my gut, climbed through me and nestled between the sorrow and grief in my chest. Simon kneeled before me, retrieving something from his worn satchel. I almost believed my exhaustion had me hallucinating.
"Simon?"
You came back.
"I didn't mean to wake you," he spoke in that gentle voice that I had desperately missed, "but you were crying again." He offered another package of tissues, like the one he'd given me as a gift. I had lost them.
I wiped my eyes and pretended the tears had not been there. It must've been the thought of my brother that had triggered them.
"It was the rain," I said.
The rain hadn't even started, but even so, Simon pulled a tissue from the pack and pressed it to the falling tear beneath my eye.
And he agreed. "I guess so."
Carefully, not too fast because if this were a hallucination, I didn't want to be pulled out of it, I returned my gaze. I studied Simon closely in the dark, using the moonlight reflecting off the lake water to see him. It was dark beneath his eyes, bruised almost, proving he was exhausted, sick…or both.
And the playful sheen that had once coated his doe eyes was gone. The Simon before me seemed gravely mature and dull.