“You’re the last, Rendrys. Let’s end this,” Lord Elanreu said. Hand extended, he reached for her, the look in his eye bent toward murder, while the smile on his face exuded friendliness.

“No,” she sneered, defiant. She saw him for what he was at last, and clasped the orb to her chest, eager to deny him both prizes. To his astonishment, she vanished.

Chapter 47

Trynneia followed Regent Torvas through the estate, evading the glare of Rex, who trailed them while his companion had gone in search of the Lord and Lady of Briarthorne Estate. The Regent’s pace was brisk, and she struggled to keep up after the wearying day she’d already had. She’d changed her clothes into another light, loosely fitting tunic and trousers Shallin had given her, along with a pair of sturdy boots.

Unhindered by his odd embrace of Trynneia’s short sword, pinched between his elbow and side, Regent Torvas strode purposefully toward the exit. Eyes drawn to it, Trynneia already pondered how to get the weapon back from him, though couldn’t muster a reason why. As they neared the foyer, she heard an awkward, hurried shuffle.

“Regent Torvas, how kind of you to visit!” Lady Desdemona called, her clarion voice ringing down the hall. He stopped and huffed, turning to her.

“The Regency’s patience has worn thin where you and your brother are concerned, Desdemona. I’ve come to claim Her Grace and return her to her rightful place in the Atrium.” The shuffling quickened.

Trynneia turned and saw her, still wearing the clothes soiled by her brother’s blood, hair disheveled. Lady Desi’s eyes were red and swollen, and Trynneia knew she’d been crying. Clearly she was trying to hold herself together in a show of strength.

“Must you leave so soon? I’d only just gotten word you’d arrived,” she hedged, trying to stall him.

Torvas glowered, looking down at her as she clutched her shawl close. “Where I go and how long I stay is my own business, Desi. You would do well to remember that.”

“I’m well aware, Regent. I merely wished to extend the courtesy of our home,” she offered. Trynneia caught a hint of fear in the woman’s voice, along with a sense of urgency. No halo blossomed around her, however.

The itch caught in her throat and spread to her chest, and Trynneia coughed over and over, wheezing between gasps as she clutched at the witch’s runes that bloodied her tunic anew, fumbling for the totem. Regent Torvas looked aghast, Lady Desdemona put her arm around Trynneia’s shoulder, and Rex stood there, hand upon his weapon. Shallin and Lord Elanreu made their way toward them from the other end of the hall.

“Her Grace’s corruption eats at her,” Torvas declared loudly. “See how it cripples? The Regency has to deal with this issue, as well as arbitrate her capability to dissolve the Regency and assume her duty.” He looked at them all. “I seek only to return her to the Light.”

“Look to yourself first, Regent Torvas,” Lord Elanreu said as he arrived, leaning upon Shallin for support. “Perhaps she needs the Light. Perhaps she does not.” He sighed. “Your Grace, what can he offer you that I have not already provided you?” He asked Trynneia.

Trynneia looked at him, and touched him lightly upon the neck where she’d tasted his blood, such an odd fit that had taken her. Not even a blemish remained. Even so, she could feel it as it coursed just under his skin, ebbing and flowing in time with his heartbeat, and a thrill passed through her runed fingers. He grasped her hand in return, gently.

“Lord, I must do this. It’s for my peace of mind. You of all people know what I’ve been through. What I’ve seen. What I’ve…what I’ve done.” Tears beaded up in her amber eyes. “All I see are faces now, and feel their pain. My pain.” -rend and tear- -there is only death for you- -seek your absolution-

“That is why you must stay, Oathbreaker,” came Elanreu’s simple reply. His pulse quickened, and the white aura surrounded him with its streaks of yellow and red. Safety, it implied. Almost she relented, but steeled herself. Regent Torvas bristled.

“The blatant disrespect you show her Grace is contemptuous, Lord. Need I remind you-”

“No,” Trynneia cut in, looking instead at Shallin, who appeared defeated. “It is time for me to seek the Light, Regent Torvas. I’ve strayed too long.” She paused. We can bind them all, and you can run. Flee this place, and seek us out. Use us! Nearly coherent thoughts, not raving, spoke to her. Trynneia shut her eyes as they continued. They cannot hold you or bind you to them. You are beyond them, Trynneia. Your duty is your purpose. Your purpose is your duty. “Shhh,” she whispered to herself, trying to stifle the voices.

“Your Grace,” Elanreu continued, “Remember the education I’ve provided you, and consider what it means,” he added, his meaning unmistakeable. It’s all a fucking game to them, she understood.

Trynneia fondled the totem with her free hand, watching swirls of color looping around each of the people nearby and tamping the desire to feel for them, even as the blues, browns, and reds dizzied higher into the air and drew her gaze. Short of breath from her recent exertion as well as the coughing fit, she gathered her thoughts. There is no shame in using us, Trynneia. Let us take you from here. Let us guide you, the voices urged.

“Stop, I don’t want your help,” she said to them. “Please, quiet,” she continued, then realized what she’d done. She blushed.

Nonplussed, Regent Torvas took her words as tacit rejection of Lord Elanreu, and entreated her. “Clearly she has no desire to listen to you or stay any longer,” he said to him. “Your Grace, come along.” He reached for her.

She nodded and withdrew her hand from Lord Elanreu’s grasp. He let her go, but searched her face. “One month, and you break an oath to me. Over and over, it seems to be your fate.”

“I swore you no oath, Lord,” she replied. His aura darkened into the deep blue of midnight, shot through with flecks of crimson that evaporated into dots that streaked violently away from him.

“Go to the Light then,” he said gruffly. “I will maintain a place for your return. If this is who you must become.” Elanreu crossed his arms. “I pray the Light shines upon you favorably, and that you find your absolution.” His aura brightened once more to whites and yellows.

“Shallin.” Lady Desdemona spoke up. “Go with Her Grace.”

“She needs no assistance other than myself,” Regent Torvas said.

“You rode in on a horse, but clearly her experiences have left her weakened, both physically and emotionally,” Desi continued. “She will ride in one of our carriages, and Shallin shall assist her.”

“You overstep.” Regent Torvas glared at her.

“And you do not show the proper reverence towards a Lightblessed. Or have you forgotten your duty, Regent Torvas? She will ride in a carriage, or not go at all. This I must insist on.” Lady Desdemona folded her arms and stood next to her brother, imperious.

She is safe, trust Shallin. She can protect you when you return to the Atrium. -kill her fast- -hunts shaman- -abomination!- Follow us, let us lead you to salvation. More voices, stronger and more urgent than the rushed whispers, all sounding the same, but the messages differed. Which to trust? Regent Torvas shrank inside his aura, blood red shrouded in black. So similar to how Elanreu’s had recently been. Anger pulsed from him so palpably she could feel it throb in her own veins. Lord Elanreu nodded in agreement.

“This is my home, Regent, and my sister merely echoes my own sentiment in this. Allow me to extend this courtesy for Her Grace. She is always welcome here,” he smiled.

Torvas sniffed. “It has been a long time indeed since your services were required, Lord Elanreu,” he said with disdain. “I will discuss with the Council the need for this school. Perhaps it has outlived its usefulness at last.” His thinly-veiled threat only elicited chuckles. “There may be no place here for her to return to, even if she ever desires it.”

“Good luck with that, Regent,” Lord Elanreu laughed. “I’d like to see you try to take this school from my dear sister. Her Grace is like a daughter to me,” he said, an edge entering his voice. “When your Light has seen her for what she is, I pity you,” he countered. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

“When the time comes and the corruption is lifted, I assure you that her Grace will no longer crave your succor,” spat Torvas. “Watch your back.”

It’s all posturing, the voices continued. Neither side cares for the other, but we can show you a new path. -destroy your enemies- -all who surround you are weak- -take what you deserve- The Light needs you. Reject them, and give in to us.

“I don’t want to give in,” Trynneia answered.

“Your Grace, it’s not giving in,” Regent Torvas replied. “You said it yourself that you’re ready.” Still holding her sword tucked, he extended his free hand once more. “Come, let us find this carriage.”

Shallin walked up to him, calm as a spring morning, bowing briefly. “Regent, may I have her short sword? No need for you to carry that.”

“Girl, don’t you think if I wanted you to carry it, I would have asked by now?”

“Pardon, Regent, but it’s my duty to bear Her Grace’s burdens, as Lord and Lady of Briarthorne’s chosen representative.” Trynneia watched Elanreu smirk as Shallin continued her reply. “You may be a servant of the Light, but in this, I serve Her Grace.”

“Regent, give her the sword,” Trynneia commanded, feeling the darkness around him grow oppressive. “I go with you willingly, I ask that you remember your place,” she explained. She had not thought before to exert her implicit authority, though she still did not feel right about it. -make him weep- Assert yourself, Trynneia. -break his spirit- This is no less than what you’re due. -burn him with the Light- Learn to serve.

Annoyed, he let it fall to the floor, taking care to avoid its bounce. “Retrieve it then, servant. I do not wish to stay here any longer.”

“We also do not wish you to stay any longer, Regent,” Lord Elanreu smugly replied. “Take our carriage and go. May the Light illuminate your path,” he finished. Trynneia would have almost smiled at his sarcasm if the voices hadn’t begun to unsettle her with their mixed messages.

Am I losing my mind at last? She wondered. Shallin fell in at her side, having retrieved the weapon. They interlocked arms but shared no other discourse as they followed the Regent to the courtyard. Another servant brought around a carriage, the same one she had traveled in before. As it clattered up, a silent thump thump echoed in the back of her mind. It’s not heads, she reminded herself.

“You bring nothing with you, girl?” The Regent asked Shallin.

“I pack lightly,” came her curt reply.

“Don’t expect us to provide you anything,” he warned as he stepped inside after the two young women.

“I wouldn’t dream of being an imposition, Regent. I can take care of myself.” Shallin sat next to him, across from Trynneia. “Nothing you do concerns me, Sir.”

There is a road of fire, and a road of dirt. -bleed him- There are other paths besides. -trust in the Light- Where you go is your choice, or you could go nowhere at all. -you have no place, Oathbreaker- Trynneia shook her head. Insistent they came, more coherently than she’d ever experienced. She pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Are you alright, Your Grace?” Shallin asked, leaning over to squeeze her knee lightly. Trynneia looked at the scars disappearing up the other girl’s sleeves, criss crossing her arms. The same pattern mirrored on her own hands and forearms, now. Regent Torvas looked out the window.

“I just wonder if any decision I make is ever right. Do you ever feel like that?” she asked Shallin.

“Let the Light guide your decisions, Your Grace, and it shall never lead you astray,” Regent Torvas offered. His aura pulsed in waves, crimson and onyx.

“It’s a lengthy ride back to the Atrium, Regent. I would be honored if you would teach me the Regency’s views of the Light. Will you prepare me to present myself before the Illuminari Council?” The onyx vanished, overwhelming her with crimson and the smell of copper.

“It would be my pleasure, Your Grace,” he smiled, but there was no earnestness in his appearance.

Shallin took out a whetstone, and began to sharpen Trynneia’s sword.