Feather Light

Chapter Two

Feyrith didn't bother himself with such thoughts any further. He pushed the thoughts aside and dressed himself. He had relieved some of his stress, but since Vaeril had stormed away, leaving the rest of his stress behind, Feyrith decided to relieve the rest with some archery practice.

Though Ildale was a city suspended in the air, just like any other kingdom on the ground, there was a training area for the soldiers. It was placed in the west corner of the enclave. It was a wide area of mostly trees. There were no platforms in the archery training area, as the elven archers were trained to fight from the trees.

Hours seemed to fly past Feyrith as the whistling sound of arrows soaring through the air and the satisfying thwack of the arrows meeting the enchanted targets carried him away from his troubles. He leaped through the branches, firing arrows left and right at the targets placed just low enough that they would not be noticed by travelers.

His small body was agile and quick. His steps were as silent as the wind, his aim as true as ever. By the time he finished, Aymar stood on the platform, quietly waiting to be noticed.

"Sire, it is time for supper," Aymar said.

"Right, prepare a quick bath for me, I will be there in just a moment." Aymar nodded his head and scurried away. Feyrith sighed, leaping through the branches until he reached the platform. He put away his bow and quiver. The walk back to his room was quiet. His room was in the center of the enclave, in the Royal circlet. The throne room, temple, and royal quarters were all placed in the center, with civilian rooms and guard towers surrounding it.

When Feyrith arrived in his room, Aymar had finished preparing his bath. Lavender and rose petals floated in the water, steam drifted up from the water. The tub was inlaid in the floor. Limestone steps led Feyrith into the warm water. He dipped himself into the water, lowering himself until his head was submerged. When he lifted himself from the water, Aymar was waiting, a cloth covered in lavender and mint-scented suds in his hand.

Feyrith sighed as Aymar washed away the dirt of the day, of the memories of his mother, the argument with Vaeril, and concerns over what his father was doing. By the time Feyrith was done with his bath and had made his way to the dining hall, supper was nearly over. Haryk sat in his seat, finishing the remnants of his plate, though he mostly pushed the last few peas around, not really bothering to eat them.

"You shouldn't play with your food." Haryk turned his head to look at Feyrith as he sat. "I was just thinking is all."

"What about?"

"I shouldn't say," Haryk turned his head from Feyrith, as if the very sight of him would force him to spill his thoughts.

"Haryk,"

"Father said something troubling the eve before his departure. He said something about a possible peace treaty and how if it gets signed..." Haryk didn't need to finish his sentence for Feyrith to know its meaning. If the peace treaty was signed, he would wed an orc. A son of the orc chief.

It all made sense now. Why his father had been so admit about Haryk becoming Incycita. Why he had been told to learn how about pleasure. Why his father had not told him where he was going, likely out of concern that he would be opposed to marrying an orc for peace.

Feyrith laughed bitterly. He said nothing for the rest of the meal. The other elves in the room left promptly after finishing their plates, bowing their heads to Feyrith and Haryk before they did. But Haryk stayed in his seat, eyeing Feyrith cautiously. He wasn't supposed to tell his brother, their father had instructed, or rather ordered, him to wait for his return.

"You don't have to sit there and watch me eat," Feyrith said without looking up from his meat pie. "I won't tell anyone that I know. If you want, I'll even act surprised." Haryk didn't react, but he felt exponentially more guilty. Even more so, he felt angry at their father. But there was nothing left to be said. There was no going against their father's decree.