CHP33

“I think it’ll be ok,” Zaien said as Briel stood proud and waited for the council to call him in. They were angry over his intrusion into the palace because of the longstanding tradition that it not be opened until the lovers united once more. Briel had neglected to tell them the new information.

“What’s the worst they could do? Jail me?” Briel laughed, clearly his own nervous chuckle, though the swagger of Acryan occasionally came through. But not yet the mind of him, that came in waves and flashes.

“They could keep whitewind on the throne, you know?” Zaien grumbled

“Fat chance. Once Sai’s back, they’ll be all about it again. Feathers, once it has anything to do with Sai, everything will be overlooked.” Briel tucked the drawing up under his arm. Something strange nagged his mind concerning Seneya the more he thought about it. He heard her speak, and the accent was not thick like his own kind. Her English flowed natively. Above all, though, he saw the slenderness of her and the weakness in her form.

“Watch the counsel when I show this image and don’t say her name. Something definitely isn’t right, but I want to hold my tongue on theories.” Briel stared down at the paper for a moment.

“Well, now’s our chance.” Zaien led the way as they stood before a long table full of old Anael men with creased eyes and drawn wings.

“So, you know why we’ve called you here,” Whitewind said from the head of the table. He shook his head, disappointed in Briel on a fundamental level and had all the regret in his eyes of a parent about to spank a child.

“Yes. I believe I opened the lovers’ palace, intruded into Acryan’s studio, and slammed the door in your assistant Kiers’s face.” Briel answered truthfully and succinctly. Unfortunately, this did not seem to earn him any reprieve, and Zaien kicked himself for allowing Briel to speak.

“And it’s quite obvious you feel no remorse, Briel. You know that place is off-limits until Acryan is fully yours and Sai has been found.” Whitewind shook his head again, still disappointed.

“Not in the least, sir. Acryan and I were one at that moment, and I had a vision of Sai.” Briel kept his expression neutral.

Zaien scanned the elders, and Briel’s eyes remained trained on Whitewind. A few chairs creaked as they muttered in stunned whispers, staring at Briel with eagerness. Whitewind scoffed in disbelief.

“I highly doubt you’ve found her, Briel. It’s wishful thinking. We don’t even know if she made it to the age of reason for us to find.” Whitewind said, shaking his head with forced sympathy. Sai had always been found in all the thousands of years and hundred reincarnations that Acryan had lived through.

“No, I have not found her. I have glimpsed her and heard her song.” Briel laid down the drawing, more finished than the last Zaien had seen it. Her hair had been done in with golden tones over wet strands. Her hair held red in it, yes, but not the vibrant orange of the Phoenix. Her eyes weren’t the same eyes that he had colored so green before. Briel had recolored them a rich violet. They were believably realistic in the scheme of things.

“Any idea where she is? A name? Who has her?” Whitewind stared at the drawing lazily; a flicker of something, maybe relief, passed his face.

“None.” Briel’s brow furrowed.

Zaien wanted to correct him, but Briel withheld information for a reason. If they didn’t need to know a name, Briel didn’t need to tell them.

“Well, Briel. This is the reason you invaded the palace against tradition?” Whitewind pushed the drawing away.

“As I said, Acryan was leading the charge at that moment, and the only place we knew of at that moment was my…our…his studio.” Briel stumbled on the words and spoke more slowly. He fought himself in a transitional moment, eyes searching in frustration.

“People forgive him. The moments are drawing closer with him, and he’s struggling without her yet. It will be a while before the changes go through.” Zaien patted Briel on the shoulder conciliatorily and garnered sympathetic glances from the council.

“It’s going to be a difficult journey these next few months, Briel. We understand.” Whitewind’s look migrated to something more friendly. Briel nodded as he moved to grab the drawing. Nobody stopped him as he pulled it back. Briel clutched to it, and his aura spiked. That feeling of joy emanated from him, such a transition away from the hurt.

“Never you mind. I think we need to discuss allowing you other privileges in the coming months, Briel. As Acryan takes over, and your bloodline is true, we need you on the throne.” One of the elders said quietly. Kiers and Whitewind went strangely silent and impassive.

“As you wish,” Briel said with a short bow. “New thrills will be welcome to distract me. I’m chasing dandelion seeds in the wind, trying to grasp a piece of her.”

They dismissed him, and Briel slipped away to the hall of paintings, Zaien at his side. “You get the information that you need?”

Briel toyed with his teeth again then cut his eyes to Zaien.

“We need to speak to Revik.” Acryan’s voice said, low and metered. The gleam in his eyes and aura of Joy spiked unintentionally, but he did nothing to stifle it.

“I believe he haunts the hospitals this time of day.” Zaien glanced out of the hall’s windows and onto the grounds. The hospitals stood just outside the area where they allowed Briel to travel.

“Bring him to my quarters. I believe I’ve injured myself.” Briel bit down over his lip with a sharp twitch of his head, and blood dribbled down his chin. “I’ll be in my quarters. Hurry.”

Briel tossed his head back, his messy hair falling about his shoulders as his braid slipped free. The blood spread in a tender rivulet down his neck to the v of his robes. He flicked his tongue over the injury, navigating the split, spread the blood, and leaned forward to let it dribble over his robes. That would have to do.

Briel stumbled off towards his quarters at a brisk pace and avoided the gazes of people as he passed. He set an impressive scene. But, of course, Revik would come.

Briel made it to his sparse room, white brick on stone floors, no décor, a canvas bed, a small nightstand, and a cabinet for his robes spread out in a meager array. Briel sat heavily on the side of his bed and sank into the covers in wait for Zaien to come.

Thankfully, Briel didn’t have to wait long before Zaien ushered Revik in and slammed the door behind him. Briel held another drawing rolled up in his hand, a slightly different version of what he had shown the council earlier.

“You’ve bitten your lip fairly bad. Was it necessary to have me do it?” Revik scoffed.

“I do not wish to have a scar, Revik. You remember how much I dislike scars, especially on my face.” Revik’s brows rose, and he tended to Briel, using much more caution than he had with Shythe the other day. Finally, Briel’s lip sealed, the pain fading, and Revik turned without so much as a word.

Zaien blocked the door.

“What is this?” Revik backed away a step. His gold-green eyes glinted as his peaceful aura spiked.

“A chance to corner you.” Briel licked over his lips and wiped his hand over his chest before grabbing the drawing and holding it out to him.

“What is this?” He unrolled the paper, brows furrowed, intent, staring at whatever he had been tricked there for. An aura of calm and peace suffocated the room. Zaien pushed himself back up against the door, and Briel grinned.

He stared at the picture, hands shaking, then glanced up as his face went pale.

“I’ve not seen her since she was three, and Whitewind took her,” Revik’s voice choked, and every inch of him shook.

“And her name?” Briel waited patiently.

“Seneya,” Revik said the word like a swear and turned his head away. His eyes flooded with tears.

“I thought as much.” Briel stood and crossed his arms.

“If you find her… Tell her I’m sorry.” Revik blinked the tears away.

“Will you not tell her yourself?” Briel tilted his head.

Revik ran his hands through his hair for a moment and glanced around. Then, he swept his way to the bed and propped up his leg before parting the strips of linens on his right thigh. A single sigil sat there ‘Fel.’ “My bondmate died. I need not tell you more to put the pieces together.”

“Thank you, Revik. And you have no idea where I might find her?” Briel contained himself as he asked, a tremble over his shoulders as a realization overcame him.

“None. She was taken from me to be safe until she was of age. If I tell you more than that, I am dead. But please, if I’m caught here talking to you, there’s so much that’s going to be jeopardized.” Revik glanced about cautiously.

Briel nodded and let Zaien release Revik. “After all, you were only just here to fix my lip.”

“I’ll look forward to seeing him again,” Briel said with absolute certainty.

“We don’t know anything more now than we did hours ago.” Zaien sighed miserably.

“We know that Sai’s reincarnation is Seraph.” Briel’s breath panted shallowly, and his aura of joy unfolded about him.

“Excuse me, what?” Zaien froze still.

“Fel, Felice Hailblaze.” Briel shook his head.

“Boy, isn’t Queen Lyra going to be pissed.” Zaien shuddered.

“Yep.” Briel flopped back onto his bed and rubbed over his lower lip. A small divot parted the skin. “Suts. It’s going to leave a scar.”