The Changeling

3

Cazar Shcomou became a veritable beehive of activity prior to the feast. Ezren took responsibility for their travel arrangements.

Cetlali handled most preparations in the keep.

She could have even thanked Ezren for the opportunity when Zeger arrived back at Cazar Shcomou. He rode through the gates with armored Rangers at his back, looking triumphant and devilish with glee when he saw her. She got to spend the rest of her time not attending to his father, planning a magnanimous feast with him.

Overzealous as usual, he had endless conversations about flowers and decorations.

He asked her about every single minute detail until all her favorite things felt like nightmares.

She could hardly say no to him. He was so eager for her help. He wanted her opinion on all ten courses of the meal and she swindled him down to four. With a permanent grin and wild enthusiasm, he kept her drowning in laughter.

It had her face feeling like it'd been ages since she'd used the muscles needed to smile. The

only grimness came when Cetlali had to be the unfortunate messenger between Zeger and Ezren. As they were often 'too busy' to interact with one another, face to face.

The mechanics of the transition went smoothly. She and Zeger planned the celebration with near expertise. Between the two of them, it turned out exquisite and extravagant. Noble clans from the surrounding lands spilled into the keep to pay their respects to Ezren and pledge their allegiance to Zeger.

The night was peaceful until about halfway through.

Cetlali had been on the dance floor with Merlo, spinning and laughing her night away as if it were her last. She had missed the discussion between Ezren and Zeger. The most she caught were snippets of whispered threats and expletives. At the tail end of their tiff, Zeger stormed away from his father with a shout. He found a drink server right away and double fisted goblets of wine for the rest of the night. Ezren, however, seemed to have wisps of

smoke curling off his blonde head. He was furious.

Zeger turned glum, refusing to dance or talk or do anything but drink. Ezren stared daggers whenever Cetlali tried to talk to his embittered son. She retreated to her rooms for the night and hoped to get some sleep before the bonfire, especially since she was leaving for Epoubodaz in the morning.

When she woke up with the next dawn, there was a tightness in her stomach she couldn't stand. The dawn could be a treacherous thing when a person felt indebted to the night. Zeger hadn't come to get her for the bonfire like he said he would. She slept the whole night through, but her limbs were heavy, her chest and back ached, and her fingers were shaking. The chest in the corner of her room that once blocked the secret entrance sat packed and stacked with all the rest on the opposite wall. Her stomach lurched again, the twitch beneath her shaky breath. She laid in bed, counted to one hundred, and made sure her tears wouldn't fall.

She got up, slogging her way through getting dressed. Surrounding her was the room she spent her life in, stripped bare and locked away in boxes. It made her feel impermanent.

Having one final stroll through the small space made it difficult to keep her wits about her. She should look forward to such an adventure, but all she could feel was dread.

She left her organized items to be taken to the carts. In the kitchens, she organized Ezren's morning meal and arranged for a different attendant to take it to him, along with her apologies and excuses. Next, she made her way out to the stables to see to the baggage train and the attendants prepared it. She talked with several of Ezren's appointed staff about its organization. Both those who would and would not be coming were all eager to serve their Vassal for one last time in his ancestral home.