She felt blessed, like the Stars themselves had granted her this. There was no limit, no rules or constraints. She was boundless; she was home, safe and secure in his unbreakable embrace.
~
Shackled in an abrupt and demanding upbringing, Althera is...
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The stares of the guards were only like flies swarming over Rhaye's head as he watched the two women sending strikes and blocking blows, their grunts of effort resounding around the dungeon. It was an untraditional sight, their unceremonious movements a disgrace to the litheness of the noblewomen. But they dodged and whirled and spun so swiftly and vigorously that his breath was immediately stolen when he walked into the dungeon.
The cloak he had given Althera lay discarded on the stack of hay in the corner which had been no doubt placed there to cover up the vomit and other vulgar substances he refused to let his mind linger around.
He hadn't really paid much attention to Zephyra's nimbleness until now, and a sense of contentment rose up inside him. She moved perfectly, letting the air guide the flow of her limbs; letting her steps become light and gentle like snow falling to the ground; letting her eyes and ears lead her and capture everything that floated past her. Her icy countenance and steadfast fluidity all showed him that she was a natural warrior, born to be free and strong and bold.
Althera, however, was hostile and audacious, her twists and turns being rougher than Zephyra's. She held a dagger in her hand and was lunging at her continuously, managing to only land a few strikes that merely grazed Zephyra's skin and didn't cause any damage. But she looked different, fought different – he'd never known she could even fight to begin with. She just seemed to him like a girl that needed protecting.
His heart swelled and he bit down on his tongue, clamping down the pain that sped down his body like razors. His stomach contorted fitfully, and he had to lean against the wall and cross his arms over his chest to mute the discomfort. It felt as if something was ingesting his guts, guzzling down the remnants of his intestines. His stomach screwed up again. He curled forward slightly. The guards stayed still, eyes forward.
And before he could scream out, he held his head high and marched back out the door, his chest and stomach and limbs flaring up like fire and ice clashing.
The dungeon doors closed behind him.
~
It was always a mystery to Valentine about the happenings and events that took place in the dungeons. The guards had reported no abnormal behavior, which did little to assure him. He tried not to dwell too much on the fact that Rhaye usually accompanied Althera there for her visits and had basically insulted him when he instructed the guards to open up the doors for them. But it was hard, and he found himself ambling down the halls, the dungeon doors directly in front of him.
The guards were standing in front of the door as always, hands on swords and looking bored as ever. He felt bad for them on some days, knowing their days were spent staring into space with nothing to do but hold their ground before the seemingly most dangerous place in the castle. And occasionally having to break some rules to satisfy a certain prince.
They didn't see him when he came toward them. Maybe their minds were occupied – which would most likely be the case, for nothing worth speculating ever occurred here.
Or maybe it was the fact that as Valentine was heading for the double doors, they abruptly burst open and shook the guards, alerting them. They spun, weapon out, and a man clad in a red and gold tunic marched out, tan face a mixture of pain and anger. His ocher eyes fixed on Valentine, only several feet away, and for a heartbeat, they just stared at one another. He felt a muscle in his jaw jolt.
Rhaye.
If he had been there in the dungeon, it meant Althera was in there, too. What she was doing, he had no idea, but it exasperated him more than it should that his cousin had just left her in there, storming out and looking as if the roof of the place had collapsed. Rhaye's eyes glistened in the light before he turned, speeding down the other hall, hands balled up into fists. Valentine made himself face away from his disappearing back.
The guards had finally noticed him and bowed at the waist, mumbling apologies and greetings he scarcely acknowledged. They scrambled after him when he strode into the dungeon, but he paid no heed to them as he drank in the sight fierce before him.
Althera and Zephyra – a name he had asked for the day she barged into his office – were sparring, a dagger between them. It wasn't a friendly competition to prove each other's talents, but rather a faster and deadlier tournament that put all his most elite guards to shame. The sight played itself in slow motion, letting him recognize and memorize every little movement.
Althera's arms were like willow branches rocking the surface of a lake as she pivoted and stretched her hand out to press the hilt of the blade into Zephyra's chest, avoiding any real damage. But the rebel dodged expertly and pushed a palm out to the girl's wrist, twisting her to the side. She stumbled but regained her posture before shooting a glare at the smiling Zephyra. Then, her eyes flickered to Valentine.
It was as if the whole world just stopped breathing. A shadow so dark and frosty settled around him, blanketing his heart and forcing his mind blank. Her gaze was like the midnight moon on a hill of grass, vibrant and stunning. But there was a fire in that beauty that caused him to suddenly want to whirl around and flee. He didn't and held Althera's gaze.
"Carry on," he heard himself mutter.
Zephyra didn't bother looking over her shoulder at whoever just spoke and merely grabbed the dagger and readied herself in a stance with bent knees and a slightly hunched back. He didn't know whether to be flustered or acceptant at her indifference to him, but he couldn't blame her either way. He had trapped her here – he had to pay the price.
Althera was much better and efficient on the defensive. She didn't have to be so fluid and feathery with her arms and legs. Zephyra, on the other hand. Was the exact incarnation of agility as flexibility as she stuck blow after blow. Althera dodged and deflected, her body acting like a reflexive shield, blocking and fighting back. Her opponent's smile was filled with delight and approval. He had never seen anyone fight so faultlessly.
The wind howled out from the barricaded window at the top of the cell, weaving around their heads and toying with the locks of their hair as they swung and stepped and spun.
