Cantral The Entra

He's funny... he's blue.

Fendan steps carefully down the creaking stairs before sunrise, he nods to Ramet and I as we chat at the table and heads into the kitchen. Clangs come from the kitchen and muttered swear words, but Fendan returns moments later with a steaming mug almost the exact same blue as his hand.

"Good sleep?" Ramet asks, and she repositions her chair so Fendan is in her line of sight.

Fendan glares at her, she needn't have asked the question, dark blue circles sit under either eye. "Terrible... this house creaks and groans—"

Ramet smiles. "Were you scared?"

Fendan groans. "I'm too tired for you."

"You love me really."

"I like you, marginally." Fendan clasps his cup with both hands and takes a sip.

Ramet's grin widens. "You love me, I've seen the way you look at me."

"Cantral—" Fendan yawns "—make her stop."

Ramet leans back in her chair and folds her arms, like she's just getting started. "Maybe you should make me stop." She laughs as Fendan's head hits the table.

I jab her in the ribs with my elbow. "Why do you enjoy winding people up so much?"

"Just one of my talents," Ramet says. "It would be a shame if I didn't enjoy it. And I think Fendan is my favourite person to annoy. That's a compliment. It means I like you."

Fendan lifts his head and takes a sip of his drink. "I wish you didn't like me. You do realise I'm your commanding officer? We're not friends."

"If we're not friends—" Ramet stands and walks round to Fendan "—why am I hugging you?" She wraps her arms around him. "You pretend to be harsh and serious, but that isn't you, underneath you're a nice person."

Fendan rolls his eyes, but he gives Ramet's arm, that's wrapped around his chest, a half-hearted pat. "Now, get off me."

Ramet releases Fendan from her grasp and gives him a hearty slap on the back.

"Who's a nice person?" Zafira says, as she trots into the dining room.

"Fendan, apparently," I say and flash him a smile.

"I know! I like him a lot, he's funny ... he's blue." Zafira smiles as she sits at the table. "So, Fendan, I think my mother will listen to you, but we should all present a united front. Of course—" she shakes her head and the beads in her hair jingle "—there's a chance she'll still say no, in that case," she looks at Fendan, "you need to take charge and tell her I will be helping you, that your success depends upon me."

Fendan nods as he drinks his tea. "It seems as though you have given this a lot of thought."

"I have."

"You're a perceptive girl," Fendan says, as he places his empty cup on the table. "What do you believe my answer to be?"

Zafira's head creases. "But why? You let Cantral do loads of age inappropriate things when she was a child, she killed someone when she was twelve!"

"And now I am a responsible adult, who will not place another child in harm's way." He smiles, as he pulls his hair from around his face and ties it back. "Aren't you pleased I've seen the error of my ways and changed?"

"I can get in Haroc's head—"

"That is not a place you should ever wish to go. The answer is no, do not push the subject."

"Or what?" Zafira says and an edge slips into her voice.

When I was a child, a remark like that would have caused Fendan's anger to surge and his fist to swipe for me. But here, now, it doesn't appear to faze him. Has he changed? Has he grown from the man, who was too in touch with rage? Or is it different being challenged by a child who is not his?