Kastali Dun

Jeanine found the hilt of her sword as she spun on her heel, confronting the darkness beyond...and the shadow that had been tailing her. Her eyes narrowed. She sighed, relaxing her grip. "You're following me," she said. Not a question—not really. She should not have been surprised, after all.

The shadow shifted, moving into the light. Prince Feowen, still in his armor, moved closer, turning to lean casually against the wall. "Was I that obvious?" He almost sounded bored, but she knew better. Even when they were alone, he often hid his emotions behind casual or playful words.

"You aren't unintentional, Feowen." Like all Sprites, he was a master of stealth when he wanted to be. He'd made his actions obvious on purpose. He'd wanted her to know that he was following.

She willed her shoulders to relax, willed her stomach to untie itself. That didn't happen. She'd been tied up, twisted tight, since the news of the impending attack had come. What should have been a beautiful time, the celebration of a king and queen coming together, a celebration of love and the welcome of a new age, was tarnished, marred by impending danger.

She felt that danger, like claws digging into her skin, gripping her tight.

"You've been sneaking out of the castle," Feowen pointed out. "At first, I thought nothing of it. Curiosity got the better of me." He shrugged, again, casual.

"You could have just asked," she muttered. Truthfully, she'd hoped he wouldn't notice.

"Ah, but where is the fun in that?"

"If you must know, I'm looking for Jahl."

"Oh, I know."

She hesitated, then frowned. "Well, then." She turned on her heel, carrying on down the street towards the edge of the city. She'd been casually searching guardhouses around the city since arriving in Kastali Dun. She didn't want to ask outright. The gods only knew it would have saved her time. Time she rarely got to herself, especially now.

"You are going in the wrong direction," came Feowen's deep, lyrical voice.

She stopped and let out a sigh, staring straight ahead as she said, "You know where he is, don't you?"

The sound of his footsteps squelching in the mud signaled his approach. He stopped beside her, mirroring her stance, then smirked that infuriatingly smug smile of his—that she secretly loved so much—as he glanced sidelong at her. "This is the part where you reward me with a kiss, for being so thoughtful."

"A kiss?" She tutted. "Just for that, you're never getting one, you stubborn prince. Where is he?"

"You truly wish to reconnect with him? After the way things ended?"

"Careful, you sound a little jealous." She lifted her eyebrows. It was easier to tease and play when danger loomed. It helped disguise the churning in her gut.

Feowen snorted. "Jealous? Of a—?" He wisely stopped himself. "Oh, all right." He sighed. "He's been stationed at the east gate, sector two."

A needling thought crossed her mind. Her eyes narrowed. "You haven't spoken to him, have you?"

"Upon my honor." He placed a hand over his chest, bowing slightly. "Haven't even made my presence known."

She hesitated, nodded, then set off. Feowen kept pace beside her. Despite the late hour, the city was a flurry of activity around them. People rushed about to complete last minute tasks. Estimations put Oshea's forces at a mere two days away. Since the alarm had sounded, she'd hardly had a moment to breathe; she and the others had been occupied carrying out all manner of tasks delegated to them by their rulers. It helped with the nerves, but only just. Never mind trying to sleep when an army loomed on your doorstep.

But they'd done all they could, assessing food stores, instructing the general populace on how to take shelter, adjusting guard rotations, soldier regiments, stockpiling weapons, bracing the walls for a siege, and all other manner of precautions. She'd been sent scrambling from one side of the city to the other.

For long minutes, she walked in silence, Feowen beside her. She had too many thoughts like flurries in her mind. If she let herself think too much, her stomach threatened to upheave itself. She almost snorted. That's all she needed, to spew vomit all over the street in the sight of the city's inhabitants.

"We'll be all right, you know." Feowen reached for her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. She glanced down at the connection between them, then swallowed. Would they be?

How could he promise such things? His sister wasn't even certain. She was the one who could often see the future.

"Jeanine." He stopped, using her hand to turn her until she faced him. "The capital city has never fallen. There have been attempts throughout history, a few more serious than others. Kastali Dun has always and will always stand proud against our enemies. This isn't the first time the Osheans have made a move against the Drengr monarchy." She didn't answer. His grip on her hand tightened. Normally, her chest would have fluttered with the contact, with the feel of him. Instead, all she felt was discomfort. "I won't let anything happen to you—you know this."

Her jaw tensed. She hardened her features, feigning more strength than she felt, and said, "Your queen—our queen—should be your first priority. Not me."

"Such bravery," he tsked. "You've the heart of a lion. My lion." Feowen's eyes danced. "How, might I ask, do you propose I protect our queen while she's flying up in the sky with her king. Hmm? Shall we ask Talon to hitch a ride?"

She ignored the whole lion thing—as cute as the endearment was, she certainly didn't feel like a lion—and snorted.

"There now, see? It will all be okay."

"No. No it won't." Perhaps he couldn't see it the way she did. She was human. All it took was a single lethal blow, and that would be the end of her. Feowen could take blow after blow and he'd survive. For him to promise that she'd be oaky felt laughable. She had no intention of hiding. She'd face their enemies head on. That came with a certain level of danger, and no promises for the future.

Not for the first time, her doubts about what she and Feowen were to one another roared to the surface. This was why their being together was careless, dangerous.

A rare flash of concern crossed Feowen's features, as if he could read her thoughts. There in the streets, regardless of those who scrambled past them in the midst of preparations, he reached out and took her face in hand. "Jeanine," he urged. "You are scared, and you are granting that fear power over you. We are going to get through this—you and I. And we will have many happy years together. The rest, we will worry about another time."

She blew out a breath. "I have this feeling, this dread, that something awful is going to happen. Not...not about me, I don't think." Feowen's head tilted. The gesture was so normal for him. She'd seen it a thousand times when he was curious, or thoughtful, or contemplative. "Maybe it's...it's nothing. Just the eve of battle."

The last time she'd faced dire circumstances, it was to lead her village to safety. There he'd been no warning. Maybe it was better that way. All this waiting, preparing for the worst, was agonizing.

How was it possible to have too much time, and not enough time all at once? Not enough time to prepare, but too much time to worry. That worry was eating her alive.

Feowen's hand wrapped around the back of her neck, pulling her against his armored chest. Hers had been left in her room. She was off duty and while she loved the regalia, she hadn't wanted to wear it meeting Jahl, assuming that she might find him.

Feowen kissed her forehead, letting his lips rest there. The familiar comfort of his touch spread through her, calming. "I watched you face an army of Gobelins—fearless. I know you are afraid now, but when the time comes, it will be that same courage and bravery you had then, rising to the surface."

She exhaled. Nodded. Closed her eyes.

Standing there, beneath a dark starry sky, as the Drengr swooped overhead, she allowed Feowen to hold her for just a moment more while she collected herself. Then she squared her shoulders and stepped away.

***

Jahl was exactly where Feowen had promised. She caught sight of him from the shadows, standing with a group of guards before the eastern gate. City watch patrols had quadrupled. More shifts, and more guards on shift.

For a few minutes, Jeanine simply stood there, Feowen beside her, watching her childhood friend. Memories flashed before her eyes. Moments they'd spent together, sparring, hunting. So many happy moments, despite the circumstances, despite her bitterness towards Kaljah and her parents for taking her from the life she'd grown comfortable with.

She'd felt less and less of that emotion since discovering the Sprites, finding a new place. But sometimes things triggered it, and it resurfaced. She'd hated her mother and father's decision to remain in a backwater village after she'd experienced such vibrant life in Lincastle. Jahl was, perhaps, one of the best things to come of her time in Kaljah. Then he'd abandoned her, gone off and chased his dream to make something more of himself.

She didn't blame him, not entirely. Still, it hurt. That he'd left her so easily.

"I can return to the keep, if you'd rather talk to him alone?" Feowen's voice pulled her from her thoughts.

"Oh." She considered. "No, I'd...I'd like you to stay." She glanced at him in time to see his brief nod. Then she sighed and strode forward, navigating the people who crowded the area, even at this late hour.

News of an impending attack had sent the city's inhabitants into a panic. The time before a siege was always dangerous. Looting and crime increased as people tried to take whatever they could before barricading themselves within their homes. Many residents tried to flee the city in a chaotic mass, requiring extra guards at the city's gates. The capital, under the protection of the king, with its massive walls, was the safest place to be during a country's invasion. It was too unsafe for unarmed, unprotected citizens to escape out into the surrounding countryside with an unpredictable enemy on their doorstep.

The Oshean soldiers, when they arrived upon Dragonwall's shores, would sweep through the surrounding lands, burning and pillaging. Any village within a day or two's march from the city was especially vulnerable. Hence, many of the king's Drengr had been evacuating villagers and town's folk, bringing them into the capital. They'd set up makeshift shelters, tents mostly, crowding courtyards like the one Jeanine now passed through as she made her way to Jahl.

They could not predict exactly where the Oshean ships would land, so they took as many precautions as possible. That included pulling soldier regiments from surrounding areas. Which meant the city was also playing host to an increase in troops.

The distance between her and Jahl disappeared. He was in conversation with a couple of guards beside him, a concerned expression pulling his brows together. He didn't notice her approach until two of the guards stopped speaking mid-sentence, then gaped at her—no, at Feowen beside her—and elbowed him. His head swung in her direction. She caught a brief moment of surprise, before his expression softened. He mastered himself quickly, schooling his features, hardening them.

Her stomach dropped. This...this had been a bad idea. They'd parted on bad terms.

Yet, seeing him there in front of her, for just a moment, everything that had happened disappeared. It was just the two of them. She didn't hesitate then, bridging the gap between them to throw her arms around his neck, despite his armor. "Jahl," she breathed, hugging him.

They'd been best friends for more than a decade. That sort of bond didn't just disappear after one bad conversation. Beneath her arms, Jahl was rigid. Then, ever so slowly, his arms came up and around her, holding her. He gave her a quick squeeze, then dropped his arms and stepped from her embrace.

It wasn't the greeting she would have preferred, but it was better than cold indifference.

"I heard you were in the city," he murmured, looking her up and down, as if searching for the telltale armor worn by the Queen's Guard. Armor she'd left behind to avoid drawing too much attention, which hardly mattered now, with Feowen at her back.

"I...yes." A sinking sensation filled her stomach. "When did you find out?"

"Not long after you arrived." Something flashed in his eyes. Regret? Shame?

"You didn't..." She glanced at his companions, still gaping at her and Feowen.

"All right, you lot. Clear off. Give them some privacy," Feowen growled before doing the same. She sighed with relief.

Now alone, she said, "You didn't come and find me?" The needle of hurt in her chest spread.

Jahl's throat bobbed. Closer, she could see how much he'd changed even in a couple of months. He was broader, more muscular. He filled out his armor nicely. "I did not think you would wish to see me."

She failed to hide her surprise.

"You're a Queen's Guard now, Jeanine. A godsdamned Queen's Guard. I wasn't exactly..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Wasn't exactly tactful—when I took my leave."

"I've been searching for you for weeks," she hissed. "And you knew..." She blew out a breath. There was no point in getting angry. "Is it...are you well? They are taking care of you? You are happy?"

He hesitated, as if reluctant to abandon their previous topic. "Yes. Happy. Well. I'm...I'm seeing someone." His eyes darted over towards Feowen, who stood far enough away to give the illusion of privacy, hands behind his back, gazing up at the sky as if it held the most interesting sights. Jeanine knew well enough his Spriten ears would pick up the entire conversation.

"You are?" she blurted, surprised, shocked even, but...happy.

Jahl sighed. "I shouldn't have left the way I did. I was...Jeanine you were my best friend." Her chest cinched tight at the use of his words, were, not are. "But I felt things for you beyond what a best friend ought to feel when such feelings aren't returned, and it wasn't fair to you. I...part of me thinks it was because you were there, we were close, it was convenient. When I saw you with...with him,"—his eyes darted towards Feowen again—"I got jealous."

"I know," she managed, the words coming out a whisper.

"Leaving was necessary, to clear my head, to figure myself out, to get my life in a place I wanted it. It made me realize that even though I believed myself in love with you, it wasn't the kind of love that lovers share."

She gaped at him, mouth dropping open at the L word. She regained her composure and said, "I'll always love you as a best friend, even a brother."

"The feeling is mutual."

A whoosh of breath left her lungs. "Then...we can still be friends? I don't...I don't want to lose that—our friendship I mean."

The corner of his lips twitched, but his expression held firm. It made her realize how much he'd changed. How much more of a soldier he was now. "Still friends, if you will have me. I promise to conduct myself better in the future."

A weight lifted from her chest, one she hadn't felt the immensity of until it dissipated. She'd been carrying it subconsciously since his departure. "I want to be angry with you still," she blurted. "For abandoning me, for keeping your distance despite knowing I've been here weeks, but..."

He eyed her cautiously.

"But," she continued, "we have a battle on the horizon, and that puts a lot of things into perspective."

"If you are here to clear the air because you think something might happen to me—" He lifted a brow, and she recognized the sarcasm for what it was.

"It's no joking matter," she managed.

"I'll be careful, I promise. I'm more worried about you. Fighting for the queen? Had to go and outdo me, as always." This time, his eyes danced.

She huffed. "Will I get to meet this lady friend of yours? Once this is all over?"

"Deal." They eyed each other, before he stepped forward, this time taking the initiative to hug her. "I'm glad you came and found me," he said into her hair.

"Me too," she managed, forcing her eyes to remain clear of tears. She stepped back. "If I don't see you before the battle, stay safe, all right?"

"You as well."

Their gazes held a moment longer, then she turned and walked towards Feowen. He wasn't secretive about their relationship as he held out his arm for her. She didn't balk, walking into it, letting him wrap it around her shoulder and lead her away.

"That went better than you expected, I take it?"

"Gods," she swore. "Are all Sprites as nosy as you are, Prince?"

He only chuckled, then dragged her beneath a dark awning to kiss her. When he pulled away, her body was humming. "Impending battle has a way of clearing the air. I am proud of you. Finding him, making peace. It is good to live life with as few regrets as possible, for the future is uncertain."

She lifted a hand, running her fingers down the side of his cheek, along his jaw. His eyes drifted closed. "Do you have any regrets?"

His eyes popped open. He hesitated, expression darkening, then said, "A few." He didn't elaborate. Part of her wanted to push him, but he'd open up if and when he was ready to. His expression cleared, softening. "Now, shall we return to the keep, my lion? Clearing the air isn't the only good practice on the eve of battle."

"Oh? What other practice am I missing?"

"I can think of one in particular. No regrets," he reiterated, eyes heating as his gaze swept over her. Her abdomen tightened.

"No regrets," she whispered, in answer. The words came out breathless. The implication was obvious. She considered it, for just a moment, before her mind was made up. She'd been putting this moment off between them. Partly because she was uncertain if she was ready, but also because once they crossed this line, there would be no going back.

But Feowen was right. If battle came, and something happened to them, leaving this thing undone between them would haunt her for the rest of her days—assuming she lived. She'd be left wondering what it would have been like. Wondering how it might have changed her.

"I've...I've never been with..." The words failed on her lips.

Feowen pressed his forehead against hers. "I'll teach you all you need to know, if you will allow me?"

"Like when we are sparring?" she teased, unable to help herself.

A surprised laugh burst from his lips. "Yes, only this will be much, much better than that sort of sparring." She felt the hardness of his body, of his arousal pressed against her belly. A groan threatened to break free of her lips.

"Then I accept your offer—but, Feowen?"

"Hmm...?" His eyes were glazed over with lust, his breaths coming faster and faster. Sprites were perfectly composed beings. To see him so...unhinged made her insides drip with heat. They'd forgotten their surroundings, that they were still in the slums near the eastern gate, hiding in the shadows, the din of noise around them all but drowned out by their own breathing.

"I don't want you to think that I'm only doing this because of...circumstances." She didn't want to cheapen what was between them. "I'm doing it because I want to, because I've wanted to for a long while. With you."

There was a hesitation, then his hungry lips found hers, his tongue sweeping in across her mouth. He showed her what he felt, that he understood. Then he stepped away, taking her hand, and leading her back to the keep.

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