CIRCE

ix

Lonan grits her teeth as she links her bracelet around her wrist. She should've listened to Saanthi and Tannier. Her knuckles are stiff and reddened, eating away at her joint strength. She should've stayed in the guest quarters to rest. However, their find in the library lingers in her thoughts. Eos, mother of the four winds. Could those four winds be wind mages? It draws Lonan's curiosity to the Sun-Dried Desert, though cut off by Orende in their command of the mountains, she has no idea what lies there in the modern day.

Even if she did, though, Lonan knows she's in no condition to make such a long and arduous journey. Just one more night. One more push, and then she can find an excuse to rest, even if only for a little while. She tries to link her other bracelet, but an ache throbs in her knuckles and she curses beneath her breath.

"May I?"

Lonan glances up to Tannier, who has made his way to her side. He holds out his hand to take her bracelet, which Lonan hands over with a quiet thank you. Tannier just nods and fits her bracelet around her wrist so gently, mindful to be soft as he always is.

He helps her to dawn her diadem, a golden headpiece crafted to resemble a sun. He pins her hair around to keep it in place, quick and seamless. Ever since she told him of her autoimmune goetitis, after she had missed their typical morning meeting one day, Tannier has been helping her with the little things on her bad days. They had never spoken about it outright. He just saw her struggling to get ready one morning and helped wordlessly, beginning something that is now intrinsic to their routine.

Tannier offers his hand to Lonan.

"Ready?" He asks.

Lonan sighs softly, but she manages a smile anyway as she takes his hand and rises from her seat.

"If I have to be," She says.

Lonan tucks her hand into the crook of Tannier's elbow, and he leads them to the door of her bedroom. However, he pauses right before he opens it and turns to her, those sea blue eyes of his soft and shimmering like gentle waves.

"I know it might not mean anything some guard, but you look beautiful," He says.

Lonan's smile grows bright, warmed a lightness that lifts her heart for just a moment.

"Considering that guard is you, Tannier, I would say that means everything."

Hearing other's thoughts on herself has always been difficult. Lonan likes to think it doesn't bother her, but they do, each and every time. They have since she was little. Since she had become old enough to be a recipient of criticism, always reprimanded for failing to live up to her mother. Other's thoughts, or at least the ones she had been privy to, have always been some form of criticism. Except for Tannier. He's only ever been kind to her. Truth be told, Tannier has always kind of been the exception.

Tannier smiles, a look so soft on his face. Tender, almost, as he stares down at her. Lonan can only think of how she likes his eyes, so deep and shimmery.

However, King Arawn's gala calls to them and takes priority. Murmuring from the other side of the door draws their attention. The rest of the envoy is ready, at least by what it sounds like. Tannier's smile falls into iron-born somberness. He opens the door and leads them out.

✧ ˚ · .

A dull pain takes to Lonan's hips as they proceed to the gala. She doesn't let her veil of carefully crafted indifference slip. Not when she stands at the head of the envoy. However, she has to shift her gait as she tries to find the last painful way to stand. That, Tannier catches on to.

As they stop before the doors of the ballroom, Tannier leans in to her and murmurs;

"Will you be alright?"