AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Isael's response was made without turning back. "That is a shame. I suppose he'll have to express his concerns to me directly."
Color crept in the elf's cheeks. "Perhaps, but I will speak to him again. You know he is quite fond of me and he trusts my judgement. I sing your praises to him."
Cera barely noticed Isael's curt farewell, or the way Fioris began to slow, recognizing her dismissal. She was preoccupied by an odd sensation, a strange sense of wrongness at the back of her neck. It was as if a fly had settled onto her, except when she moved her hand back, there was nothing but her own smooth skin. A few seconds passed, and then the feeling began to dissipate.
"Come," Isael said again, ivory fingers brushing at the air in a beckoning gesture.
He wanted her to walk alongside him. Cera wanted that as well. After all, they had done it the night before. But now, just moments after being reminded of her lowly heritage, walking alongside Isael seemed like an affront to all decency.
Still, Isael had given the order. The granddaughter of an Ateran selondis could not very well argue with the grandson of a god.
She trotted to catch up to Isael, surprised when he favored her with a warm look. Or at least, what passed for warmth on his austere features.
"You look tired," he remarked."And when did you last eat?"
It was a measure of her tiredness, and perhaps of her general overwhelm, that Cera caught herself too late.
"Last night. I overslept this morning and there was no time for breakfast."
She was not so addled as to have replied in his language, but the damage was done. The second she realized her error, she sealed her lips and looked straight ahead.
"Nonsense." He had switched back to Ateran, but the faint tinge of amusement in his voice told her that her slip-up had not gone unnoticed. "You must not let Maewyn drag you about until you have rested and eaten. She is there to serve and protect you, not to manage you."
Cera wondered at that. It hadn't been fully explained to her what Maewyn's role was. Sometimes she seemed like a guard, other times she reminded Cera of a stern governess. Never once had she struck Cera as a servant.
"I'll keep that in mind, my lord."
It felt strange, speaking to him so formally after the evening they'd spent together, but she couldn't dare be presumptuous.
"How did your training with Maewyn go?"
"Training?"
She hoped he wasn't referring to the advice she'd received on conception, mainly because she didn't want to recount the details of it to him.
"She did not give you any instruction on magic?"
Caught off guard, she looked up at him. "You told her about last night?"
"Not about everything," he said. "But she is aware you're manifesting magic. It was important that she knew. As much as I'd like to, I cannot be with you all of the time, and you need someone to watch over you while you learn."
As much as I'd like to...
Cera's mind had stalled at that part, not only because of the way it made her heart flutter, but also because there was a certain rightness to the words. Like so much that had happened in the past day, she couldn't fully articulate what it meant, except that she had the vague sense that he was being sincere.
She noted that they had taken a divergent path, one that veered toward the northern end of the vast gardens, rather than back toward the castle. She was by no means an expert on the layout of the grounds, but Cera felt certain that the high lord was deliberately meandering with her.
"May I ask what you do?" Cera asked, partly curious, and partly wanting to shift the focus from herself. "I know that you are the high lord of your people, but I'm not sure what that entails."
She anticipated a vague answer, or at most a broad overview of his responsibilities. Instead, Isael offered her a detailed description of his typical day, which often began before the sun had risen.
Not only did he shoulder the responsibility of being the high lord, he was also the de-facto lord of Viranhildr, overseeing the citadel's day to day operations. He was also still Lord of Ishvalier, the northernmost territory of Esryia, and Isael's birthright. Although the territory had been largely vacant for several centuries, there was no shortage of men and beasts that tried encroaching on the land.
When he wasn't handling the unique challenges of the day, Isael was holding council with other lords or their delegates, or he was meeting with members of his personal cadre, a group of loyalists that managed sectors of his territories or gathered information for him.
"And once a week I must hold court," he said, sounding as if he were winding down. "Sometimes I mediate public debates, but it's primarily a time for receiving petitions. You could join me next time, if you'd like."
Her brows lifted. "Join you while your countrymen petition you?"
