Chapter 9
“Of course, you have to look after her,” Eliza said after the briefing when Nathaniel was able to find a quiet moment alone with her. “It's after six p.m.”
“Then why would you tease me like that?” he cried. “You knew?”
“Nathaniel,” Eliza leaned into him. She was almost as tall as him, and his lips were just inches from hers. “This is your duty; this is your first Tiro. We always knew that a time would come when your attention had to be elsewhere. And while I admit that I am surprised by its suddenness, I am prepared for it. The fact that she's Jeffrorian, though, makes me smile. It's almost like she is–”
“Ours,” Nathaniel leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips. It was sweeter to him because it was forbidden and stolen. He would never take this moment for granted. Eliza's slim body relaxed into his, and he circled his arms around her slim waist. Despite her years, she never became less attractive. Every time he saw her, he wanted her more. “Oh, Creator, I want to be with you.”
“There will be time,” she assured him. “You never were one for patience.”
“I was never one for patience because it was always now or never,” he answered. “We don't have the luxury of time on our hands. Either someone is always coming, or you are always busy.”
“That I am,” Eliza answered. “But even with rebels attacking my planet, I can still find time. I rise early – before dawn, you know that. And dawn these days is around 6:30 a.m.”
“Oh.” He suddenly understood. “Oh!”
“Think you can wait the night?” she asked. “Before you drift off to sleep?”
“If you are on the other side of the darkness, I can stand anything,” he answered, kissing her one last time. Then, he paused, trying not to intrude on her thoughts. “You aren't worried about the attacks, are you? We can take care of you and soothe any situation.”
“I'm not worried,” she answered. “I just don't want a black mark on my rule. For generations, my family has ruled here almost flawlessly. I don't want to be the one to make a mistake.”
“You won't,” he assured her, kissing the top of her head. “And I'm sure you are not the first to find it difficult.”
Eliza's pride flared up. “I'm not finding it difficult,” she assured him, pulling back. “I'm fine. And I should get to bed.”
“Eliza,” he called after her, but she was done for the night. Heading into her inner chambers, her maid closed the door behind her. Nathaniel wanted to put his head through the wall. Instead, he gathered his composure and cleared his head, stepping out into the hallway. Desmond had at least agreed to give Sienna a palace tour so that Nathaniel could set up a security detail. Now, they were returning, and his young Tiro looked exhausted. “Took you two long enough.”
“Nathaniel, a moment,” Desmond said, as they joined him. “Sienna, stay here.”
“What's the matter?” Nathaniel's heart rate rose in his chest as he stepped out of the room. He was picturing a current attack on the throne room or a bomb about to detonate.
“You are to be up all night, yes?” Desmond asked, and Nathaniel shrugged.
“Sure. That's guard duty, isn't it?”
“I don't think Sienna can breathe properly,” he said, and Nathaniel's jaw dropped.
“Sorry, what?”
“She won't open up to me, but you can watch her and see. I don't know how serious it is. It could just be the new atmosphere, or she could be ill. Be vigilant.”
“What am I supposed to do?” Nathaniel asked, in a panic. “She…I…”
“Nathaniel, I will be right down the hall,” he replied. “And you are as trained in first aid as I am. In addition, she is your Tiro as much as mine.”
“Desmond, you can't just leave me to deal with this,” Nathaniel cried.
“I can,” Desmond replied. “But call me if there is a serious issue.”
With that, he turned and left, leaving Nathaniel completely baffled. He knew that Nathaniel was strong enough to deal with these things on his own, and he also knew that Nathaniel had a loud voice, so he could shout down the hall anytime he needed. It was not an ideal situation to be in when there was a tense environment, but that was a reality they had accepted.
Nathaniel turned back to Sienna, watching her as she settled into an armchair. She knew they were on guard duty, and she knew they were expected to stay up all night. She had read about such things in her quest textbooks, where witches sometimes guarded the royals and other persons of interest for days on end.
Her chest was tight, and her cheeks felt tingly. She felt dizzy, and she was grateful to not be moving. It was a feeling that she used to, although she couldn't figure out what it was. That was the problem; no one knew how to tell her what to do to feel better. She often just played her cards and hoped it didn't land her in the hole.
Nathaniel sat across from her, watching her intently. Her eyes shot up to his, expecting criticism, or perhaps anger. He was always so angry, and he seemed to make it clear that he wanted to be elsewhere.
Now, though, she saw a different look on his face. She saw concern, something that she hadn't seen in the entire time she had known him.
“Okay?” he asked, in Jeffroian, and her eyes widened. She knew that he must have a few words, but she didn't think he would actually communicate with her in it.
“I don't know,” she replied, and he paused.
“Apples?” he asked, at last.
“No,” she said, confused, “You didn't let me have them on the ship.”
That took him a very long moment, and he missed half the words. So, instead of trying to understand, he skipped to another theory.
“Oranges?” he asked, remembering the dessert. She nodded.
“Yes?”
Nathaniel shook his head, his mind whirling. “That's something about you and natural food,” he said, mostly to himself in Basic. “Every time, I've noticed, you feel sick, and your magic tries to escape.”
Sienna watched him, trying to strive for understanding. The truth was, she got the feeling Nathaniel didn't want her, and it didn't make it easy to talk to him.
“Why is that?” he asked, and then sighed. “Why am I doing this? Wait a moment.”
He got up, striding toward the bedroom door. She noticed the fact that he didn't knock. He simply strolled into Eliza's chambers. There were a few moments of silence, and then their gentle voices. Within minutes, Eliza came out.
Sienna was surprised to find that she looked almost nothing like the grand queen on the platform. She was beautiful still, but she looked much simpler. Her hair was in a knot at the back of her head, and her eyes were free of makeup. She wore a white nightgown, and she looked almost plain, nonchalant. She even held herself differently – more simply – as she stood beside Nathaniel. Eliza clearly had no qualms with Nathaniel strutting into her bedroom, or seeing her in this state of undress.
“Sienna,” Eliza said in Jeffroian, dropping down to her knees, “were you fed apples and oranges at school? Things like that, before you came to Nathaniel?”
She nodded. “Yes, of course. Not apples, but lots of fruit. They said we needed to be strong.”
Eliza paused, looking back to Nathaniel. “And your magic always danced, like this?” she asked, picking up the girl's hand. It was cold and sweaty underneath Eliza's long, cool hand, her nails perfectly manicured. By contrast, Sienna's were broken and cut, her nails bitten.
“Yes,” Sienna replied, and Eliza sat back on her haunches.
“You could be right, Nathaniel,” she said, at last. “It's a sound theory.”
“But how do I test it?” he asked. “Aside from deny her anything that grew?”
“Well, that's what you do,” Eliza replied, as Sienna leaned forward.
Nathaniel saw it first, the slight slump of the shoulders. He dove forward before he even processed what was happening, preventing her from knocking her head on the floor. He caught her tiny body in his arms, drifting to the floor in one smooth motion as if it had been planned all along.
Her eyes were already fluttering open, and he suspected that she had just fainted. Her life force was as strong as it always was, and he could feel her heartbeat under his hands, always weak, but there.
“She's all right,” he said to Eliza's immediately concerned face. “She's all right.”
“What was that?” she asked.
“They told us that she faints frequently.” He looked up to Eliza. “Magic can do that to you if you can't keep it under control, which hers clearly isn't. It gets to your head, and you just pitch forward. That's why we train so hard.”
“I just thought you were all strict,” Eliza tried to smile at him. Here, away from the public and the harsh judgment of her governors, she was soft, quiet, and kind. “Are you all right, little one? Can I get you something?”
“Water?” Sienna managed, and Eliza nodded, getting up to go back to her chambers. In the silence, Sienna looked up at Nathaniel and managed a single word. “sorry,” she said.
“Sorry?” he replied, in shock. “What do you have to be sorry for?”
She gestured around, and he shook his head.
“This isn't your fault,” he answered. “Don't worry about it.”
She said a stream of words, and he looked to Eliza, who returned to the room just then, a water glass in her hands.
“She thinks she's going to ruin this quest,” Eliza said as she handed over the water glass. “Which–”
“Is not the case,” Nathaniel said quickly. “Tell her, Eliza, that that is not a concern. Desmond and I can take care of you and Sienna at the same time.”
Eliza translated to Sienna, who looked calmed by the words. Switching back into Basic, Eliza looked up to Nathaniel. “Look at you, acting like a protective Maestro.”
“Nonsense,” Nathaniel answered. “Anyone would do the same.”
“Anyone would catch her,” Eliza answered. “But not everyone would offer her comforting words on top of it.”
Nathaniel looked away, considering this. She was right, of course. Eliza was always right.
‘Maestro.’
“What?” he looked down at Sienna. Eliza scolded him.
“She didn't say anything.”
“No, she…” He met his Tiro's eyes and realized what had just happened.
She hadn't said anything with her mouth, but with her mind. She had spoken in his mind, which was rare. Usually, the only time such a bond was found was between a Maestro and Tiro.
‘But we aren't bonded,’ he thought quickly. She and Desmond were getting there because he could clearly understand her more than Nathaniel could. But Nathaniel hadn't even tried to form a connection with her.
A small smile came across her face, and she knew he had heard her.
‘I can sit up?’
The bond didn't operate in any particular language. It was just a knowledge, a certainty, of what the other was thinking. Neither of them needed vocabulary in the other's language to communicate.
‘Yes,’ he said, hesitantly. ‘Sit up slowly.’
He had never spoke to anyone but Desmond with his bond. It felt odd – different. But it didn't feel wrong like he thought it would.
He wasn't sure yet, but he thought it might feel right.