Chapter 29 | Ink

 As realization dawned on Aire's face, Ferdia raised a hand. "I can demonstrate, if you wish."

She bit down on her questions, eyeing him warily. It didn't make sense to her why he would bother hiding a Wield here? In the place where they declared to be the only safe place from the Empire and its soldiers. If Ferdia, practically a right hand man to the fake queen, didn't feel safe then what hope did Aire have?

Unease pulsed behind her breastbone, her fingers tightening around the crudely carved mug. The tea was still warm inside and the little snaking wafts of steam drew her gaze down. Everyone hid things - she knew that. If there was anyone who could understand that, it was she. She couldn't put her finger on what bothered her about Ferdia's secret. It wasn't the secret itself, she knew that.

The unease sat with her, festering as she raised her eyes to meet his. He was patient, his attention unwavering as he waited for her decision. She dipped her chin, signaling him to continue. Ferdia blew out a gentle sigh and set aside his own tea, leaving his hands free.

As he pulled down his sleeves, Aire caught the trail of marked ink along his arms. Symbols of honor, or remembrance. There were fresher splotches of ink on his hands. Accidental stains, she figured, from writing or from some of his artwork. The storyteller took a breath and the fire spluttered, guttering for a long moment.

His Wield began with ink. The fresh ink that stained his hands began to shift, moving like a creature with it's own mind. They ballooned outwards, settling in the air between Aire and Ferdia, suspended. Then, the tattoos marked along his arms began to swirl, sliding down his skin to leave only an expanse of pale and freckled skin. The dark ink melted into the light, the air itself and bloomed into color. Warm air circled the room and Ferdia's eyes began to change, the color seeping out to leave only a milky film over his eyes.

A scene began to unfold in the open space between Aire and Ferdia. Like a painting brought to life, only so real that Aire felt that she could reach out and touch the faces being formed before her. She could see Ferdia beyond it, taunt with concentration.

One figure formed, a spectral and gaunt thing. Hollow cheeked and angry, with the sharp line of her proud nose raw red from the brutal winter wind. Her voice echoed, as if ringing down a deep chasm. Angry, spiteful words. Aire stared at herself, bewildered. Did she truly sound like that?

Sloane was there too, as clear as winter's fresh ice. The disdain curling her lip. How she faltered. Even the putrid smell of rot that clung to the inside of Aire's nose, making her gag. Over that all, over the words that they had spat at each other, was Aire's voice again as the story was told. As the story continued, the lies began to seep in, the image changed. It muddied, the colors mixing together and Aire's echoing voice tinnied.

As the truth began once more, the image looped back to the beginning.

Ferdia settled back into his chair and the ink slid along his skin, settling back contentedly. For a long moment, Aire was too impressed to say anything. No matter what he had shown her, she had never seen a Wield like this. Each one was unique, but this was something else entirely. If he had been in Irial, his power would have been coveted. No matter the cost of turning him in, a Wielder who could tell if someone was lying was invaluable.

Aire realized Ferdia was waiting for her to speak. She managed a brazen smile, touching the bridge of her nose. "Is that truly how I look?"

Ferdia arched his brow and Aire sobered, "You can tell when people are lying."

"Most times," He reached for his tea again. She peeked at his arm. Did all of his tattoos come alive when he painted his truth stories? Another thought struck her - one more worrying. There was one person in Valherin who Aire knew was a liar and if Ferdia's Wield was as good as shown here, then he knew the truth.

If so, why hadn't he said anything.

She would have to be careful. Very careful. The last thing she needed was for him to suspect who she was, but she needed to know what he knew. By the Danann, she was going to give herself a headache.

"Why did you hide this from us when we arrived?" Aire traced the rim of her mug, her voice light. She had to remind herself that every Wield had a limit. Finding it was difficult as every Wield as different as the person wielding it; as unique as the grooves in a person's fingers.

Ferdia sat back against his lumpy cushions. "It is not wise in today's world to expose yourself so readily as a Wielder."

"You are protected by an Aryshalin herself. What do you have to fear here?"

His lips pursed and there was a flicker of uncertainty. A momentary lapse of control. It was quick, a whisper of a second. Like a wolf scenting blood, Aire struck again. She leaned forward. "Why would you hide your Wield here, Ferdia?"

He just stared at her. Assessing her. She knew that look. She had seen it on many faces in Irial – the face of someone trying to decide how much they should spill. What they could say and spin to get something to work in their favour. The clear attempt at deception was comforting – it was nice to know that people were the same, no matter where in the great empire they were.

"A secret for a secret," the uncertainty was gone, snuffed out. "I've already given one for free."

Her brows furrowed, frustration nipping at her. Secrets. The empire seemed to run on them. She seemed to need to devour them. Still, it gave her some kind of sick amusement to imagine the kind of secrets she could tell him. Instead she settled for Gaela.

"I was chasing a spirit," Aire began, catching the gleam in Ferdia's eyes. He leaned forward, hooked on her story. Aire continued, talking about Gaela and how the spirit had attacked her. The thread around her lips, the rage in her eyes. Then, the deep and echoing sadness. As she continued, Ferdia grew more and more perturbed. When she finished speaking, he was staring out towards the window.

"There was a Wielder here once. A friend of the queen's. They arrived in Valherin together, bloodied and bruised from their journey to freedom. This Wielder proclaimed that her friend was none other than Ríona Aryshalin, the murdered heir to the Cearnain throne. And we believed. Gaela had such a way of telling stories that could even slip in through my own Wield and warp what had been shown. But, Gaela was always reluctant to use it. Then, one day she was gone. She just vanished. 'Ríona' was beside herself and sent the Aether to look for her. They found her broken body miles below, near the crashing waves. She had jumped from a ledge." Ferdia seemed to spot something outside and rose to his feet. "She never recovered from what had happened to her people, " Ríona said. And everyone believed her. I didn't. No story was given but I knew."

"Gaela was the Pretender's friend?"

"The Pretender?" Ferdia mused, "I suppose that could work. But yes, they appeared to be friends. I don't know if many of the things Gaela told me were true. I believe her Wield was a Siren like compulsion, but what this Pretender has now, is some watered down, warped version of it. My love is not a stupid man, but he will not listen to reason when it comes to her."

Her gaze narrowed as she mulled over his words. For a long second, she debated. Whether to press further, or retreat. It was safer to say nothing, to swallow her tongue and yet – she was becoming sick of letting danger thunder towards her as she tried to hide from it.

"You know for certain that she isn't Ríona.

Ferdia's mouth twisted, hesitating. "Not until Gaela vanished, did I know. She cannot weave a lie as well as Gaela could."

"You let her get away with that lie." Aire set down her mug, pinning him with a frown. A thread of anger wove into her words. "You knew she was a liar and you said nothing?"

He looked up at her, arching a brow. "You know she is a liar and you have said nothing."

"Because that would be signing off on my own death."

He continued to look at her and Aire felt very silly. Her anger faded. "And if you spoke, you would be doing the same thing."

"I may be older Aire, but I have no desire to die just yet. Laochra and I have many years together and there are many more stories for me to collect." He set his cup to the side, rising. Aire copied, too on edge to sit when a stranger loomed over her. She knew his name, but not enough to trust him. Two people against an infallible hero. A fake Queen. And Ferdia seemed content in letting her wear the wrongful crown.

"She cannot be allowed to continue to lie." Aire told him. "Ríona Aryshalin wouldn't have wanted this."

"Everyone believes her. Even Laochra will refuse to listen to doubt, and I gave up long ago sprinkling it. It was too dangerous."

"Well, there must be proof. Somewhere in the mountain. Her home?"

He seemed to consider it. A shout echoed from outside and Ferdia peered out the window, a sigh settling. "Soldiers are coming."

Tension laced across Aire's shoulders. "Are they going to execute me?"

"No – they cannot afford to kill a Wielder. You will be punished, but I am going to advocate for 'training.' An untrained Wielder has always been a dangerous thing. How could they expect a girl who has grown up hiding it, to train it?" He flashed a grin at her over his shoulder. "But you will have to be locked up. Even just for a while. And watched closely."

'And how would I search for evidence if I was watched everywhere I went?' Frustrated, Aire just waited. Perhaps, she could convince Ferdia to look. If he hadn't already? She was about to ask when the door burst open and Laochra appeared.

He filled the doorway, chest heaving. Silver light silhouetted him, darkening his form to something akin to a vengeful shadow. He stepped inside and the light burning around him shifted just enough so Aire could see his face.

Worry. Anger.

She felt she deserved all of that.

"Are you unharmed?" He asked Ferdia.

"Don't be ridiculous dear," Ferdia waved away that concern. "Dear Aire and I were just having a chat."

Laochra, who had looked so warmly at her before, examined her critically. "What did you do to Sloane?"

"I didn't mean to hurt her." Aire set down her mug of tea, facing the old Aether warrior. She didn't deserve their respect, nor did she want to want it. But there was something old and familiarly comforting about him. Like one of the grizzled warriors who had guarded her home, who had protected it until the end.

"If Brice cannot heal her, Sloane may never walk again." Laochra lashed at her, "All her life, she has wanted to be a soldier. A fighter. You might have taken that from her."

The guilt ate at her. She didn't like Sloane; she was brash and ignorant, but Aire couldn't think of any of that when Laochra stared her down, unshakeable. Furious.

And even if she had just spent weeks travelling by his side, she felt in this moment, all that had been broken by her careless Wield.

"I cannot control my Wield." Aire croaked. Finally, finally, some truth. Well, enough to get her where she needed to be. "And I hurt Sloane. I – I don't want to do that to someone again. I need Eoban."

Silence fell in the circular room. The fire whispered, soft and warm. Aire stared at Laochra, hoping she presented the miserable case. Well, more than she felt.

"I need help." Aire showed Laochra her scarred hands. She had always known to treat it, to use it to mute her Wield. The addicts of Eoban had often been found dead, with silver scarred mouths. Sloane had recognised it before, and Aire needed that same disdain in Laochra now. "I'll do anything. I don't want to fall asleep and have my nightmares rot everyone around me. I'll even find a corner in your darkest cell where I cannot harm anyone. I'll forfeit all comforts."

"You will have to be locked up." His tone was cold. "Your punishment with be decided by her majesty."

"The High Queen of Cearna is merciful," Ferdia said absently. "She doesn't believe in cruel and unusual punishment to solidify her power. You have nothing to fear, Aire."

If there was a hidden meaning in his words, Aire didn't have time to decipher them as Laochra strode forward and seized her upper arm. His grip was tight, but not bruising.

"Why would you comfort her, Ferdia? You saw what she did to Sloane!" Laochra blustered. Underneath that, Aire could hear a thread of hurt. That was worse. She could cope with Laochra's anger but not his hurt.

Ferdia looked out the window once more. "It would be wise to keep her locked away. At least until her emotions ease."

And that was it. Laochra hauled her out of his home, across the moon-white glass that illuminated that little corner of Valherin. He was far gentler than she felt she deserved, but perhaps she was still used to the Crimsons and how they had treated the people of Irial. The main street was still teeming with people as he walked her through.

Gone was the warm friendliness of earlier. The people of Valherin watched her, eyes accusing. They watched her from those small balconies, faces shrouded in shadow. The great gaping eye looked down upon her, giving her a glimpse of the cobalt sky beyond. Cloud crept in through it, eddying the air.

She blocked it out. Blocked them out. She just tried to focus on walking, even as they neared the place where Sloane's flesh had rotted. The smell was still there, putrid, and consuming. It seemed to leak back up her nose and Aire balked, fighting the urge to retch. There was a sluice of skin and blood left on the black-glass street. There were a pair there cleaning it – a man and a woman who she didn't recognise. Their noses were pinned against the smell and as she was hauled past, their gazes too were accusatory.

She recognised the corridor she was dragged down. She had followed Gaela down the very same one. But, as they reached the branch in the path with the statue of the lady holding the heart, Laochra turned left.

"Who is that lady?"

"Queen Suanach of Vespith." Laochra didn't break stride.

"Why is there a statue of a Vespith ruler here?" She questioned, straining to turn around. "Surely after..."

"You know little Aire," Laochra halted her. "Vespith and Cearna have always had a relationship. Not always a good one, but we are connected."

Queen Suanach of Vespith. A familiar name. A former ruler in the time when Aire's grandmother had sat on the Cearnain throne. Her grandmother had been an advocate of forging alliance in the hopes of staying war, though she was no stranger to the blade either. Long summers had been spent avoiding the brats of Vespith society as they visited Cearna, eager to see and taunt who they could.

They continued down the corridor. Chains linked along the walls like hanging necklaces. They reached the mouth of a doorway, where a soldier stood stiffly.

"Ser," the soldier inclined his chin, before eyeing Aire curiously.

Laochra passed her to the soldier's hold. "Put her in the next available cell." He hesitated then, steeling himself. "Give her a warm blanket and some food. It gets cold in here during the night."

The soldier didn't question it and Aire didn't get to see him walk away as she was pulled through the door. The ceiling ballooned upwards, and Aire blinked in the low light, struggling to see around her. The soldier reached back to pull a torch out from the scone and swung it in front of him.

"I do not light the torches in here if I can help it," He whispered to her. "I don't like knowing that the creature can see me. I know it cannot escape it's bindings but...well, a whisper of disturbance and it would soon learn what the consequences of a foolish attack would mean."

His casual nature made little sense to her – unless he didn't know what she had done. Either that, or he didn't care. If it was the latter, he was dull. Aire would be worried about anyone who could accidently rot her body.

"You could put me opposite him. I can keep an eye on him for you."

He cut her a stare.

"While I wait away my Eoban use," She smiled up at him. "It is the least I can do for inconveniencing you."

He blinked. "You aren't inconveniencing me, miss."

"Well, you do still have to go and get me a blanket," she added a little sigh to be sure. "I've just been making awful trouble of myself tonight. Help me feel better. Let me ease your mind while I recover."

He moved the torch down and she eased her hands up, letting him see those Eoban scars.

Seeming to make up his mind, he turned. As he did, the light swung across a series of thick metal bars. They had been melded into the walls, as the roof above sloped steepling downwards. The cells themselves were generously sized – well, big enough for her to stretch out and sleep. Straw had been scattered on the ground and there was a bucket for waste. Aire got the sense that not a lot of people were brought here.

He slipped the torch into the scone, eyeing the cell beside Aire's. She could barely see into it, save for the outstretched leg caught in the light. The Bloodbound did not move as the next cell door was opened and the guard eased Aire inside.

"I will get your blanket, miss."

"Thank you," She waited as he locked the door. As he moved to take down the torch again, she held a hand out. "Please – leave it. I do not like the dark."

He did as she asked, almost pitying in his kindness. He cut a glance towards the Bloodbound's cell once more before striding into the darkness that quickly swallowed him whole.

Aire watched.

Waited.

Her heart thundered in her chest, her fingers curling on the bars of her cell. The torchlight flickered against the dark stone floor. Finally, as the guards' echoing footsteps faded, did she step back.

Ferdia had been right in his decision to hide what he knew. One person against the eerily convincing nature of the Pretender was a death sentence. Aire herself, against the Pretender, was a death sentence. Together, they might provide some kind of threat to her. But, Ferdia had not realised one thing. Something only Aire knew.

In the depths of Valherin, there was another soul who knew that the Pretender was not who she said she was.

Aire turned and faced him.

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Welcome back to Aire's world. 

Thank you for all your support. I greatly appreciate it! 

Tell me your thoughts, theories and conspiracies about what has happened in this chapter. 

Is Ferdia to be trusted? 

Is Laochra right to be angry? 

How will Aire's newest confrontation with the Bloodbound go down?

Until next time, Saoimarie.