Wern, Fir of Marla: 29 Xiven

Rejoining the pitiful parade left Kayin feeling emptier than he thought it might. Tidesa tried to ask him simple questions, but her words just bounced off of him and into the light afternoon chatter of the village. He fought the urge to turn around and try to catch sight of Dania again.

“Nothing will ever be like it was, will it?” he found himself asking aloud. The guards that were previously assigned to him now carried baskets full of, what Kayin figured, was absolutely useless stuff Sepik didn’t need, just wanted to have. The most valuable things the meager village could have—and she just got all of it.

Tidesa put a gentle hand on Kayin’s shoulder. “No, Kayin. Nothing will ever be like it was. And that’s a good thing.” Was it? Everyone dying was a good thing? Never seeing Dania again was a good thing?

A cold gust of wind made him suddenly aware of how hot his face felt, how his eyes burned and stomachache returned. As he and Tidesa approached the wagon, Kayin felt more eyes turn to him. At least he only looked like a prince when he was forced to—when it was too difficult to just assume he was some normal person.

People still didn’t pay as much attention to him as they did Sepik, though. One trio of girls, a little younger than he, murmured to one another at the very edge of the thin crowd. They kept their eyes right on Sepik, hardly blinking, fidgeting in their rags as the princess pointed for another dress she wouldn’t wear to be added to her new hoard.

One guard heaved a cloth bag onto his shoulder, then grabbed another.

“With all this, she’ll fix the economy,” the guard muttered a little too loudly.

Sepik announced, “Maybe I will!” She glanced behind herself, as if searching for the voice that said it, before she added, “Because everything is amazing now!”

Kayin rolled his eyes and slumped his way back to behind the wagon. His assigned guards also carried bags and baskets. Was he allowed to get things, too? Could he maybe ask for some stuff to be sent to Dania?

Before he could ask anything, Sepik continued addressing the crowd: “I’ll be Queen, and I’ll fix everything, and—and I’m happy and smart now! And everyone’s happy now!” As she said this, the tallest girl of the trio let out an “ugh.” This, at least, was something Sepik ignored as she demanded the parade return to the castle.

This seemed to dismiss all of the onlookers, too. People didn’t bother looking at them the second time they came around. It was a faster pace, a more direct route, and the minute the wagon cleared the threshold of the kingdom’s courtyard, Sepik demanded the gates shut.

Sepik remained oddly still while the guards and servants moved around her; some organizing the haul from the village, some caring for the horses or pulling the wagon into some other part of the courtyard. Kayin struggled to watch what everyone did, to see where all the stuff went or what the horses were going to do next. It was almost as if they acquired even more servants at the village, too, with how crowded it was all of a sudden. And although he lived amongst all of these people, he could have sworn he saw at least one new face.

Kayin eventually uprooted his aching feet from the grass patch he stood on and started his way toward the stairs of the castle entrance, only to pause at the sound of sniffling. Sepik sat on the stone bench under the tree, her face streaked with tears as Tidesa hovered near with tightly laced fingers.

He had to strain to her hear, but after taking a couple steps closer, he heard Sepik say, “B-but why? Are they jealous of me?”

Tidesa gave an unconvincing shrug. “Maybe.”

“B-but I’m gunna bring the Golden Age! Why don’t the like me?”

The words fell out of Kayin’s mouth before he could stop them: “You want a list? Do you know how long that would take?”

At first, Sepik let out a sound of surprise, stared at him like she usually did, but instead of shouting something at him, she let out a small wail and crumpled in on herself.

“Kayin!” It was as if Tidesa’s shout and the surprise at Sepik’s sobs physically pushed him back. “Get. Inside. Now.” She didn’t have to tell him twice, with the way her teeth didn’t even part to speak to him. An awful burning spread from his chest to his extremities. He shook out his hands, as if it would lessen the pressure, and spun around to go through the castle doors.

The pain in his stomach returned. Frowning, Kayin started his way toward the dining room. Maybe his stomach hurt because he hadn’t had anything to eat since this morning. Or maybe he was allergic to parades. Or Sepik.

But the awful lump in his throat gave him little hope that a snack would help. It was as if he could hear Aunt Aayin tell him, “Your tummy feels bad because you were mean. You won’t feel better until you apologize.” Well. Maybe he’d think about that if the snack didn’t end up helping.

On the opposite side of the dining room was a swinging door servants used to collect the food they prepared. And, although, he didn’t see anyone leave or enter this room, it slowly creaked back to its resting position.

“Um, hello?” he called out as he approached the door. He held out his hand to push it open, craning his neck to try and see around it before he fully pushed. “Who’s there?”

Through the door was what he expected: the kitchen. A large, stone room with marble slabs for preparing food, piles of flatware and cutlery, pots and pans, and a big fireplace against the north wall with plenty of space to cook. And, on the east wall, another door that led to food storage. A door that just latched closed.

People didn’t normally avoid him, but maybe—maybe they heard how mean he was acting and didn’t want to be near him. Still, he approached with light footsteps, and reached out.

“Um, excuse me—” He pushed the door open, to the long and skinny room with floor-to-ceiling shelves of preserved food and supplies. The candles that hung from the ceiling were playing tricks on his eyes. Against the far wall, where servants hung aprons and leaned brooms, he could have sworn he saw a guard. But in one moment he saw her, standing there in leather with a sword on her hip, and in the next, nothing. Nothing but aprons and brooms and dried berries, mushrooms, jerky. Jars of whatever those buzzing things were, bottles of weird liquids.

The stale wood and spices stained the air in here. He hoped that maybe smelling some food would get him to be hungry, but now he was far too distracted. What would a guard be doing in the pantry, let alone hiding?

Kayin rubbed his eyes with the back of a hand and stepped further in, squinting against the shadows of the shelves. Nothing back there, not the yellow and white aprons or the tan brooms, resembled anything like a person.

“Is someone…?”

Kayin almost jumped out of his skin when Tidesa spoke from behind him: “What are you doing?”

He gasped, clutching his hand to his chest, and looked back to Tidesa. Her expression hadn’t improved since he came inside. He pointed to the collection of aprons against the wall.

“Someone was here…but she just…disappeared. She looked like a guard.” Weirder still, is when he looked back to where he thought he saw her, one of the aprons that was hanging was now on the floor.

Tidesa’s tone, taut, was laced with warning. “Kayin, don’t try to distract from what you’ve done.” He didn’t mean to groan out loud, but he did. This didn’t help him, clearly, because now Tidesa stormed around him, blocking his view from the set of aprons he now stared at. “Kayin, look at me. I told you to behave and—”

“What, are you going to pretend this person didn’t exist either?” She got her wish, he now looked up at her. “That it was you?”

“Your attitude is beyond unacceptable!” Normally, when Tidesa put her hands on her hips and yelled at him, it didn’t work very well. But right now, he flinched. He couldn’t even look her in the eyes.

“Y-you could at least let me look—” His search was again interrupted by the sound of the door opening.

“What are you looking for, a heart?” Sepik, her face swollen and splotchy from crying, stood tall and held the door wide. “You won’t find one. You can’t even grow one because you’re too ugly and mean.” Well, now he didn’t feel bad for what he said at all.

“Go away, Sepik! Nobody likes you!”

“Kayin, calm down.” He almost forgot Tidesa stood behind him, yelling at him seconds ago for saying this exact sort of thing.

“But she—”

“At least I’m going to bring people to the Golden Age!” Ugh, that again? Kayin rolled his eyes at her. He went to say something else, but Tidesa interrupted: “Kayin, don’t.” He didn’t say anything!

Sepik continued her rant, to the point where he hardly heard her words. More about how great she was going to be, more about how he wasn’t needed. It made his skin so hot that it prickled, loosened the stomach ache that brought him here in the first place. He settled with staring at the different jars of food on the shelves, just waiting for his heart to stop beating so fast, waiting for Sepik to be done.

“You’re not even needed! You’re just going to sit there and be useless and cruel like Prince Sahtin—!”

He wasn’t sure when he even picked it up, but now all Kayin was aware of was a cold jar in his hand, vibrating from something that buzzed inside, and then the absence of it accompanied with a crash. Shards of glass rained from the door beside Sepik, and from the mess flew out large, black bugs. Sepik’s scream was louder than anything he’d ever heard before.

“No! Cover yourself!” Something plopped on his head, now. Scratchy, oil-stained burlap. When he tried to pull it off, Tidesa shouted: “Cover yourself!” Before he put the apron back over his face, he was able to catch sight of the woman wrapping Sepik in an apron, shoving her out the door as the girl struggled to get those things away.

With his face and arms under the apron, Kayin ducked and ran toward Sepik’s screams, into the kitchen, until he physically ran into one of the counters.

“Get her to the doctor! Besta stingers!” Tidesa shouted to someone on the other side of the room. Kayin lifted the burlap, just enough to see Tidesa at the swinging door. She had already cast off the apron she used to stop the things from stinging her; and now that Kayin let his slip off, he could see at least a dozen fingernail-sized bugs with their stingers lodged in between the loose threads. That would have been his face if it weren’t for the apron.

Kayin let out a shout and threw it on the ground. Tidesa was at him in less than a second, pulling him out and into the dining hall without waiting for him to respond. She didn’t even look at him, just gripped his arm so tightly it would surely bruise.

In the dining room, a guard stood at the ready, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“There’s been an accident. Take him to his room,” Tidesa commanded. “No one in our out until I say. Guard outside his door until I release you.” She didn’t take kindly to his hesitation. “Now.”