Light of the Heavens

XXV. Child of Spring Leaves

Days turned into weeks as Vassa and Seben adjusted to the addition of Rhujag to their lives. The orc rolled out a mat on the floor of the living space between their rooms so neither of them had to give up space, steadfastly refusing to make use of a couch. He was a constant presence around Seben and just the towering bulk of the orc made people consider their words and, more importantly, actions beforehand. Vassa hadn't finished her research through Sarom's libraries about dark magic, so she wasn't quite prepared enough to travel to the High Kingdom to peruse theirs, at least not yet. Soon.

It was almost too comfortable for Vassa. Both Rhujag and Seben wore on her resolve to be alone like moss growing over a stone. It was hard to contend with the thrill of excitement that came to the daily weapons training or the warmth and comfort that was reading in the same room as Seben.

If she was being honest with herself, it wasn't that being close to anyone reminded her of the torturous days with Lysaerys. It was entirely the opposite. Her memories of the Winter Court were those of isolation even when surrounded by others. It was something she struggled with constantly, the contradiction between what her experiences had taught her and the realities of the people beyond her homeland. There were no Sebens in her old world, there were no Rhujags—no softness, no warmth, no compassion.

But maybe her vision of even that was distorted by the hands that shaped her perception, her sense of self. Maybe even among the undying thrones, what she had been through wasn't normal.

Vassa wrapped the cloth over her face as those thoughts tormented her. When she was finished, she flipped the mirror around only to meet her own conflicted green eyes. She didn't like feeling this way. It was almost like frostbite, painful and uncomfortable easing of ice after so long feeling nothing at all. She felt like a monster behind a mask when she was around them, some twisted thing that could parade in the sunlight but never belonged. The poison flower of a strangling vine, the seer had called her. Oracular vision at its most accurate.

Seben's knock sounded on her door, an unspoken reminder that she was probably taking too long. "Vassa, it's been hours," the young woman whined on the other side of the door.

The masked woman's lips tugged into a smile as she opened the door. "How very dramatic for a woman waiting ten minutes. Patience is clearly the purest virtue you hold," Vassa said dryly. It was hard to keep a sardonic edge to her voice at Seben's unbridled joy. There was endless beauty to be found in the glow of that smile. The apprentice fire-speaker's joy was so...alive. Fragile, fleeting, but as stunning as a sunrise over the Sea of Pearls.

Rhujag chuckled from his position leaned against the wall. "She was bouncing up and down waiting for you," he said.

Vassa envied the orc's effortless good humor and the warmth to his voice. Neither were something her thorns allowed her. "That does not surprise me in the least."

"It's the largest festival of the year, Vassa. In Sarom," Seben said, too excited to be truly irritated. "Can we go already?"

"Do you have Naji?" Vassa asked pointedly.

As if in answer, the djinni drifted into the room, distracted from his investigation of the bath's heated waters. The creature of smokeless fire wore his favorite form, that of a slim man composed entirely of flame with particular heat giving what looked like three eyes a bright glow. Two were in the place of a human's, a third in the center of his forehead. It reminded Vassa of a spellguard's tattoos, the symbol of the inner eye that allowed one to both see and affect the weave of existence in Leyan magical tradition.

"He'll be fine around so many people?" Rhujag asked, eyeing the djinni with definite respect. The orc understood the destructive nature of fire instinctively. He had only ever seen Naji docile, but conducted himself with the utmost care and respect around the fire elemental.