Love and Tenacity

Chapter 5

As Desiree and Quinn dozed off by the fire, Ember filled Juvenis in on their situation.

“What are we going to do?” asked Juvenis as Ember wrapped it up.

“I think that for now, the best thing to do is keep them safe and let them decide the next step on their own. They may want to make a run for the east and live in anonymity. I wouldn’t blame them if they did.”

“Nor would I, but would they do that? I don’t know either of them well, this is the first time I’ve ever even seen Annabelle, but I know tenacity and I see it in their eyes. They would not leave things unfinished any more than you or I would. If they would, then they don’t deserve power.”

Ember nodded and sat back. “Do you think they’re strong enough to do what is necessary for victory?” she pondered after a moment.

“I don’t know,” Juvenis responded immediately. “But as we are now, we won’t stand a chance even if they can handle the pressure. Oliver is going to take power, probably already has, and he’ll have an army under his thumb. He may not be a particularly strong leader, but that she-devil in Alsius is, and she won’t tolerate a revolution. There will be war before we win, and much death.”

“Well, you haven’t had a problem with that in the past,” muttered Ember, and Juvenis allowed herself a slight grin.

“When are you going to tell them who the dictator of Alsius is?” Juvenis asked after a moment.

Ember shook her head and replied, “Not yet. It’s not useful to them right now, and neither of those two needs any more stress.” They both looked at the sleeping girls near the fire. Quinn had pulled her knees up to her chest and burrowed her face into the soft chair, whereas Desiree was splayed out like a ragdoll that had been tossed aside.

“They’re so young,” Juvenis said softly, gazing at their unlined faces. Asleep, Quinn relaxed her royal bearing and her face turned child-like. Desiree, tiny in height already, looked not a day over sixteen.

“Aye,” replied Ember. “I haven’t felt this old in quite a long time. How old is Desiree now, twenty-one?”

“I think so. That would make Annabelle eighteen, and Oliver maybe twenty-two. The fate of our home is in the hands of children.” There was a moment of silence.

“We need an army,” Ember murmured. “Alsius will send troops to aid Oliver the moment they hear that the princess is alive and plotting, and there’s no way we can stand against them alone. I don’t know how powerful they think I am, but I’m not that strong. Artemae needs a revolution.”

Juvenis considered this. “Who are our allies? The watchers?”

“Them, and I think maybe the nymphs.” She saw Juvenis’ skeptical look. “I know, but even they would rather team up with humans and fight than just let their land be flattened. I think that Quinn would be charitable to them; she doesn’t seem the type to take what rightfully belongs to someone else. Even some of the bounty hunters aren’t all bad, at least the ones outside the influence of Caleb Meyer.”

Juvenis shuddered at the name. “What do you think of his brother?”

“Jude?” Ember frowned. “Not sure. I know that he’s in charge of some of them, but Caleb has a pretty strong hold over him. Still, even with his forces we’re still incredible outmatched. We’ll have to rely heavily on guerilla warfare.”

“The people might rise as well, you know,” said Juvy. “I know that we can’t count on it, but the peasants are smarter than the capital thinks. They understand the ramifications of Oliver’s ascent to the throne. I doubt that they would be able to unite and rise up on their own, they’re too heavily policed, but if the watchers and some bounty hunters unite and act as leaders, their wrath added to that of the nymphs may make even Alsius wary.”

“We may even have some influence within the Royal Guard,” Ember said, her tone becoming more hopeful. “Quinn – that’s what Annabelle’s going by – said that Scott Watson was in on their original conspiracy. If he lives, he may be able to shift some of the soldiers in our favor. He has a brother – Alfie, I think. I believe that he is a knight as well.”

Juvenis grunted in acknowledgement and sat back to pull off her boots. Ember pulled her hair over her shoulder and started absentmindedly unbraiding it. The snowy locks were a stark contrast to her still unlined face, hanging thick and wiry over her shoulders. She and Juvenis both stared into the fire, Juvenis’ hair so black it blended into the shadows behind her.

“We’ll see what news Ella brings us, and then we’ll lie low. Quinn should get to know her people before going after the throne anyway. I don’t think she understands quite how bad it’s been for them. The only reason our people aren’t starving is the traffic of travelers either coming in from Sinder or coming to me for cures.”

“When I went to Vestal a couple of months ago they had people hanging in front of the courthouse,” Juvenis replied darkly. “I knew some of their faces. They were good people. One, Breanna, I believe, gave me food before I came across you. She had a baby when I last saw her. I doubt it lives.”

Ember rubbed her hand over her face and rose from her place. She pulled soft blankets from the backs of the chairs and laid them over Desiree and Quinn before heading toward the ladder to the loft. Juvenis remained near the fire for an hour longer, dark eyes fixed on the dying flames. Early in the morning, she too rose and climbed to the second story.

*************

The next morning, all four rose and dressed early. Ember leant Quinn an old dress of hers, soft and deep blue with a silver, metal belt draped around her hips. The belt consisted of carefully crafted rings strung together on a strong silver cord; Quinn fingered the patterns on the rings as Desiree braided her hair. The fabric of the dress was soft and beautiful, clearly expensive. Desiree was far shorter than either of her hosts, so Ember promised to ask Ella to bring up some spare dresses or breeches when she next visited.

Desiree and Quinn sat at the wooden table in the center of the cabin and Desiree took a good look around for the first time. Ember had opened the shutters over the many windows, and light poured in and lit up every corner of the small space. The floor was wooden and worn and covered in soft rugs, and all of the furniture looked simple, but when Desiree looked closely, she could see little patterns carved into the frames of the chairs and around the edges of the tables. All of them were similar, so she judged them to be made by the same person. The large hearth was swept clean and already had a low fire burning brightly in it. Over the flames, two candles rested in silver holders on a high shelf. Between them sat a frame containing a small, incredibly detailed painting of a man.

The drawing held Desiree’s eye, and she went to get a closer look as Ember puttered around the kitchen and Juvenis went outside to get more logs. She quietly described it in detail to Quinn, who had her head cocked to the side. The man in the drawing looked to be in his early forties, and he was very handsome. His hair was short, and his face was open and friendly with a wide smile and little lines around his hazel eyes. Desiree thought he looked a little like Ember.

“Hungry?” Ember’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts. Desiree turned to face Ember, feeling somehow guilty when she realized just how closely she had been examining the drawing. Ember, however, seemed undisturbed.

“That’s my father,” she said, setting down plates of sliced fresh fruit and soft bread. “I painted that not long after he died several years ago. He was a weapons maker in a coastal town called Ithaca. You may have heard of him, Quinn, he made your father’s sword. His name was David Whitaker.”

“Oh, I do know him!” Quinn exclaimed. “I do not believe I ever met him, but my father spoke of him as a dear friend. I did not know that you were his relation.”

Ember hummed an affirmative. “I believe my father saw your father as something of a son. That connection was the only reason that I could get Desiree a place in Mulciber and was allowed back later to heal you. I was afraid that my reputation had somewhat tainted his memories of my father, I’m glad to hear that’s not the case. David Whitaker was a good man.”

“I’m sorry you lost him,” Desiree said sincerely, and Ember hummed again, a soft, sad smile gracing her kind face. They ate in silence for a while, and then Ember seemed to pull herself out of her reverie.

“Now!” she said, clapping her hands and startling Quinn. “Let me see about your eyes, dear princess.”