Patience

Rosaline is annoying. Also, Zayric and Eliza meet for the first time. Snarky dialogue ensues.

 

When Tam and Cypress had climbed the stairs and were out of sight from their comrades below, Tam pressed a steadying arm against Cypress’s back.

“You look like death warmed over, Cy.” Tam informed him lightly.

“Fitting, as that’s how I feel.” Cypress replied, his voice a little strained and scratchy. He opened the door to their room and sank down onto his bed, the pallor in his cheeks seeming to increase against the deep crimson blankets.

Tam sat on the edge of Cypress’s bed and looked calculatingly down at him. “The Sickness?” He asked, serious now.

“It certainly feels that way. I didn’t know it set in so quickly.”

“There’s a lot we don’t know. It’ll pass, though. Think you can make it?”

“I’m sure I can. It’s just a bit of discomfort after all. And what kinds of Keepers would we be if we couldn’t handle a little discomfort?”

“Sane ones?” Tam suggested. “Honestly, Cy, I still can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“As I recall it was your idea.”

“Cy, that was when we were twelve and all we had to do was say the Keeper’s Oath every now and then and go around doing good deeds.”

“And this isn’t a good deed?” Cypress asked incredulously, wincing and holding his stomach.

Tam waved his hands. “It’s a good deed we could die for. More importantly, it’s a good deed you could die for and you’re the only heir. Have you ever really thought about that, Cy? I mean, really thought about it? If something happens to you, your father will have no choice but to declare war to get the Queen back. Your family line’s never been off the throne, not for hundreds and hundreds of years!”

“Maybe that’s a good thing.” Cypress retorted hotly. “I don’t like monarchy! It’s too contrived. It’s not fair to everyone! Just because you’re born into royalty doesn’t make you a good king.”

“That’s true, but you were bred for royalty. Your family’s been the wisest and the most powerful fairies in the kingdom through every generation. We’ve had our tussles with Calassi in the past, but they always instigated them and we’ve always defended ourselves. In fact I doubt we’ve ever had a really bad ruler that’s from your line. It’s all worked out up to now.”

“It’s still not fair.” Cypress muttered, turning on his side. “It encourages high and low classes. And everything in my life is planned. How I act, who I meet, who I marry…”

“Don’t bring Carina into this.” Tam said sharply. “You’re lucky to have Carina. She’s easily the most beautiful girl in the kingdom and she loves you desperately and--” He took a breath, opening his mouth as if he were about to say more, but then he stopped himself and was silent.

The young prince’s attitude softened at once. “Of course I’m not complaining about that. Carina…” His voice trailed off, a glazed look falling over his face. “I just wanted to do something different.” He continued softly, straining. “Something to help the kingdom.”

“You can help the kingdom by ruling it well.” Tam murmured darkly.

Cypress might’ve been offended, but he was far too tired to show it. He did turn his face to look into his friend’s deep blue eyes, a look of pain and puzzlement plaguing his features. “I thought this would help the kingdom. I can’t stop the war if I don’t know the whole story. If King Clementias finally decides to embargo our food supply…”

“Yes, yes I know. War will begin and people will die. I know. This is all we’ve been hearing about for the past two years. It’s been long and hard for all of us. But here we are, gallivanting off into an adventure we know nothing about with people who hate us and want us to die. If Clemantias gets both you and your mother captured, your dear old dad’ll have no choice but to declare war. But right now you’re down in Calassi, you’ve got no wings, you’re sick and we have no idea what we’re doing or even where this alleged "Dove of Calassi" is. This is a pretty bad situation, Cy. And what were you intending to do, anyway? Break in and rescue the Queen?”

“I intend to do what we were assigned to do.” Cypress responded faintly, his eyelids drooping in want of sleep. “The Council must’ve assigned her to me for a reason.”

 

*

 

Chancellor Larch’s feet paced silently against the soft floor of the palace. The cloudlike surface beneath his feet sprang back into position with every nervous step he took. How long would it take? He wondered pensively. Where would they be when the precious prince doubled over in agony and was attacked by the ravaging Sickness? Would they seek the care of a Calassian physician or would they return? He was fairly confident that the prince was far too stubborn in his ways to come back to ___. He’d made sure of that himself. Ever since the prince Cypress was a young child Chancellor Larch, only Governor Larch then, had provided books and stories involving the Keepers and their heroic deeds. The child was hooked by the age of seven. As Cypress grew, Larch’s rank had climbed until he was one of the King’s royal advisors and overseers of the state of the kingdom. Now his position was nearly perfect. No one would detect his presence in the scheme at all, but yet so much could go wrong. If they found any remnant of the poison in his body… Larch shivered to think of it. Fairy executions were highly uncommon and when they did occur they were extremely humane, but high treason against the royal family was the worst crime any fairy could commit.

The Dove of Calassi ploy had been brilliant. Having been to Calassi himself several times during the two years of tension, he had often heard the nickname. Despite herself, the young, shy daughter of a rich state official had managed to become famous, even after her father died and the estate had been inherited by his second wife. Her life was interesting enough to attract Larch’s notice, and he knew that it would certainly pique Cypress’s curiosity as well. And that was the beauty of the scheme. He was sure that Ellyra herself could do nothing useful. She was just a girl. A pawn. But her name held mystery, and mystery was the key. It sounded important, and because it did, and because Cypress had always trusted Chancellor Larch, he would believe anything. Tamarisk was clever, cynical and more than likely would catch on, but his official reassignment had been to protect Cypress while not interfering with his mission, a mission that would be fruitless no matter what they did. Larch chuckled, in spite of his nervousness. Both boys were far too stubborn to listen to one another, even when one of them spoke sense. He shouldn’t be worried. Cypress’s optimistic idealism would be the death of him. But if it wasn’t…

“Chancellor Larch?”

Larch turned swiftly. “Ah. Yes Cadagi, what’s the news?”

Cadagi shook his head solemnly. “It’s bad news, Chancellor. My spies have returned with little to tell. The prince and the boy discovered a girl in the forest and took him to the beast prince’s castle, where they are residing together. That’s the only information they could garner before they were forced to leave. The guard between Calassi and ____ has been tripled. It wouldn’t be wise to keep sending people down in pursuit of information or we may get caught.”

Larch sighed heavily. Today was not his day. “I’m sure if—when the prince dies the whole kingdom will be informed. Until then we’ll have to wait.”

Cadagi’s face twisted in a smirk. “But it’s no matter, sir. When the prince is dead war will be immanent and we’ll regain everything we lost.”

Larch suppressed an annoyed groan. Though he was a good henchman, Cadagi tended to get on his nerves. He often forgot that the war was a matter beyond simple bloodlust and vengeance. “With any luck, Cadagi. Now go back to the throne room before the idiot king misses you.”

“Right away Chancellor.”

Larch closed his narrow eyes for a few minutes and breathed deeply through his nose and mouth. He needed to relax. As risky as the plan was, there were elements of it that were foolproof. Cypress was isolated in Calassi and no contact would be made with him. He would have no way of conveying his distress until it was too late. And the poison… the poison was much too strong for him to survive. The royal blood had become weak over the generations, and that was Larch’s saving grace, but he had to teach himself not to depend on it. He exhaled. Now it was time to go back to work and wait, praying that nothing would possibly go wrong.

 

*

 

“I can’t believe she managed to get herself so lost she couldn’t find her way back again. That’s so typical of her, don’t you agree, Guildria?”

Eliza rolled her eyes and swung Rosaline’s ornate saddle into her chosen mount. She made it a point not to listen to Rosaline’s inane babbling, and devoted complete attention to her task.

“Er… isn’t it rather a shame that she’s lost?” Guildria asked. “I mean, at least Ellyra found shelter. And finches too! Isn’t that lucky?”

Rosaline scoffed and opened her mouth to pass a judgment, but Eliza cut her off.

“Ellyra? There’s been news from Ellyra?”

Rosaline glared. “She sent a letter that we got this morning. What’s it to you, stable girl?”

Eliza gritted her teeth against anger, but managed to force a smile. “She’s my friend Lady Rosaline. I’ve been wondering what’s become of her there’s past two days.”

“You would be." Rosaline sniffed. "She’s been an idiot. She went and got herself lost in the forest somewhere and happened to stumble upon an aviary to send a letter.”

“An aviary?” Eliza frowned. “Where did she get the paper to write the letter?”

Rosaline waved this comment away. “Save your trifles for someone else, stable girl. Is my horse ready yet?”

Eliza tightened the saddle into place. “Just about, my lady.” She informed her with patently forced patience.  “Pray, did the letter say anything else?”

“I don’t see why a stable girl should know—” Rosaline began, but Guildria had already begun to interrupt.

“From her letter she was walking down to Raynar and got lost. Some thugs dragged her off the path.”

Eliza almost dropped Guildria’s saddle. “Thugs?”

“But she was rescued!” Guildria went on dreamily. “By some roaming people. She didn’t go into a whole lot of detail.”

Eliza relaxed and clipped Guildria’s saddle onto her horse. “Do you know where she is now?”

“No, but we assume she can get back on her own. She’s got help, after all.” Rosaline snapped. “Are you almost done?”

“Almost, my lady. Patience.” Eliza turned back to Guildria. “What of the finch?”

“Oh, it’s beautiful.” Guildria said, smiling. “We’re keeping it in our own aviary.”

“You’re not sending a reply with the original bird?” Eliza asked in amazement.

Rosaline grabbed for the reins to her horse. “No.” She answered discourteously. “That will be all, stable girl.”

Eliza’s eyes flashed in anger and she resisted the urge to smear horse dung all over Rosaline’s fine riding clothes. “Yes, my lady.” She muttered with only a trace of resentment, and slipped out of the stable.

Eliza hastened hers steps to the aviary and it didn’t take her long to distinguish which bird must’ve come from Ellyra. Purple finches were a rare and intelligent breed, the only species of finch genetically strong enough to carry a letter and smart enough to know where to send it. Mistakes were made with this method of communication, but using a purple finch was one of the surest ways to make sure one’s message got through.

“Now where’s that thing,” Eliza muttered to herself, casting about for some hidden object. A few minutes of searching revealed a crude harness made of some long woven pieces of twine and a little metal hoop fastened securely to one end. “Perfect.” She faced the cage.

“Hello, sweetheart.” Eliza crooned as she carefully opened the door and extended her hand to the little bird, which obligingly hopped on to her finger. She drew it out and stroked its feathers gently, keeping one hand cupped over it in case it should try to fly away prematurely. Some skillful maneuvering allowed her to close the cage again, and she clamped the metal brace to the finch’s right leg. “You’re going to help me find Ellyra.” She informed her tiny captive. “But not yet.”

Eliza returned to her little empty cottage and scribbled a hasty note for her parents. There was no sense in worrying two sets of parents about the whereabouts of their children, not that Lady Lynette was likely to care much about Ellyra. After some hesitation, she grabbed some bread and some nuts, a few of which she fed to the finch, who accepted them gratefully.

Soon girl and finch were traveling down the path to Raynar, following Ellyra’s trail. “All right little finch.” Eliza said. “Take me to my friend.” She let the bird flutter off of her hand and Eliza followed its tug on the string.

A few hours of walking led Eliza to a hidden path, on that was small, but used. Was this the trail Ellyra found? Eliza wondered, amazed. It’s so far off the main path! She didn’t have much time to reflect on this, however. Her sensitive ears distinguished the sound of hooves making their way through the forest and she stopped short, stepping to one side of the path to see who was coming.

When the animal in question came into view Eliza noted that the horse, a sturdy bay, was holding a man. Her eyes widened and a slight smirk tugged her lips – the man was Prince Zayric himself. What a pleasant surprise. She thought delightedly, and called out to him.

“Keep your heels down!”

Zayric, who had been slumping in his saddle, immediately straightened up and looked around. Spying Eliza, his grey eyes narrowed. “Who are you that would criticize your prince?”

“A lowly stable girl.” Eliza told him, pretending to curtsy. “One who obviously knows more about riding than you do.”

Zayric reined his horse when he drew level with her. “What are you doing here? No one knows about this path.”

“You seem to.” Eliza observed casually. “What’s a prince doing in the thick of a forest? That’s rather suspicious, don’t you think?”

A very slight flush colored the prince’s high-boned cheeks. “That’s none of your concern. I suggest you return to your hovel, peasant girl.”

Eliza smiled slyly. Although Rosaline got on her nerves, she’d learned how to handle such verbal abuse. “But I am a lady in distress!” She moaned dramatically. “How do you know I’m not lost and alone in the woods?”

“Well you’re obviously alone.” Zayric conceded, “But you move too purposefully to be lost. Now, I ask you again, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, so first it’s, ‘go away peasant girl’ and now it’s ‘oh tell me what you’re doing?’ Make up your mind, my dear prince. Which is it that you want?”

“I want you to answer the question.” Zayric snapped. “Your parents must’ve been barbarians not to have taught you to show respect for your prince.”

“Oh leave my breeding out of this. If you must know, I’m looking for my friend. She got lost in the forest some time ago and I’m searching for her.”

“Why down this particular path?”

“I have a helper.” Eliza tugged on the string and reached into her pocket to tempt the finch down with some nuts.

A small gasp escaped Zayric’s lips. “That’s a purple finch.”

“How very observant of you.” Eliza said mildly, feeding it.

“Where did you get that?” Zayric demanded. “Commoners don’t have purple finches!”

“They do if they’re lucky enough to receive a letter that was delivered by one.” Eliza pointed out. “Which we were. Well… Lady Lynnette was, but—”

“Ah so you stole the bird from the house of a lady!” Zayric said triumphantly. “You’re nothing but a little thief!”

“Am not!” Eliza shot back, flustered. “I took the finch because Lady Lynnette wasn’t sending it back and expected Ellyra to come home on her own. It was stupid of her, so I’m making it right.”

“Ellyra…” Zayric thought for a moment, then groaned. “Not that awful girl in brown? The mourning dove?”

Eliza’s fists clenched in anger. “You think that just because you’re a prince you can insult anyone you want? Ellyra’s my friend and I think she’s lovely. You’re just too blinded by pride and arrogance to see that.”

“What I think has nothing to do with you.” Zayric replied sternly, unfazed. “What makes you think you’ll find her anyway?”

“This purple finch had to come from somewhere.”

Zayric was silent for a few moments, leaving only the wind in the trees and the scattered calls of the few birds that still remained the only sounds to be heard.

“I know where she is.” He murmured.

“Liar.”

“I do. She’s got to be with my brother. That’s the only place she’d have gotten a purple finch.”

“Your brother? What, the lost prince? The one that’s supposed to have been turned into a hideous—”

The slap across Eliza’s cheek came fast and hard.

“Don’t you dare insult my brother!” Zayric’s voice trembled with fury, but Eliza’s eyes were set in defiance.

“You insulted my best friend. So far we’re even.” She paused and rubbed her stinging cheek. What kind of breeding did you have, hitting a lady? Even if she is a peasant girl! Honestly! Eliza thought fiercely, but she was already treading on thin enough ice that she kept these thoughts to herself. Aloud she said, “Is that we’re you’re going then? To see your brother?”

“Yes.”

“Then it seems we’re going to the same place. We might as well go together.”

“Why would I sully my honor by traveling with a peasant girl?” Though the words of the comment were insulting, the force that had been behind the previous insults wasn’t present in this one.

“You’re honor’s suffered through talking to me for ten minutes.” Eliza reasoned. “I think it can handle a little more. Besides, you’ve got no one else to travel with.”

Zayric hesitated. “All right.” He conceded. “But if you so much as breathe a syllable against my brother—”

“Keep your mouth shut about Ellyra and we have a truce.” Eliza promised. “Now, are you going to give me your horse or do I have to walk?”

One of Zayric’s eyebrows quirked. “Why would I give you my horse?”

“I may be a peasant, but I’m still a lady. Have you no chivalry at all? Plus, I could teach you how you’re supposed to ride.”

Zayric stared at her, taken aback. Then, without another word, he swung himself from his horse and stood aside.

“Why thank you, my prince.” Eliza said merrily, impressed, despite herself, that her ploy had actually worked.

“Anything to keep you quiet.” Zayric muttered.

Eliza laughed and seated herself in his saddle, straightening her back and keeping her heels down in the stirrups. High above her head, the finch chirped.

“Do you know the way?” Eliza asked, soaking in the delicious irony of looking down on the tall prince from her perch.

“By heart.” The prince replied.

“Oh good.” Eliza tugged on the string once more and released the finch. “He can fly home, now.”

“Can we go now, my lady?” Zayric asked mockingly. “This has taken long enough.”

“Patience, dear prince.” Eliza said as she settled in. After a moment she urged the horse into a moderately fast walk. “I’m following you.”

"As well it should be."

 

Author's Note

I am inexplicably proud of the Zayric-Eliza dialogue here. Is it too forced? I personally found it a lot of fun to write, so hopefully that's helpful.