Chapter 30| Gathering Allies.

The visitor inched into Valherin's dungeon, taking little shuffling steps as he regarded the oppressive dark with wide, wary eyes. The guard remained at the door, torch in hand; it illuminated the disapproving glare, casting shadows too across his tired face. He peered further into the dark, but the cavernous dungeon was too dark, too wide for him to see very far.

The guard settled inside for watching as Anluan got swallowed by that darkness. Anluan did not deviate, his focus on the only other torch that lit the way. The one outside of Aire's cell.

Aire watched him carefully. Watched his cautious approach, the way he wrung his hands. His fear was clear to see, as was his bad attempt at hiding it. Whilst she watched him, she could feel the weight of the Bloodbound's eyes on her. Like a prickle of awareness that couldn't be shaken.

As he neared her cell, she saw the moment he spotted her. His face lightened and his pace quickened. His fingers curled around the bars that held her and he pressed his face between the gaps, giving her a fleeting smile. "Aire!"

"Hello, Anluan." She reached forward, ruffling his hair.

He snaked a hand through the bars, holding fast onto her sleeve. "The others were coming for a visit too but the Queen halted them. She forbade them from coming to see you."

"She did not see me and did not expressly forbid me."

Affection warmed her. Clever boy.

The torchlight marked Anluan's young face with a warm, orange light. It illuminated the deep worry in his sloe-dark eyes, and the deep pinch between his brows. She brushed a hand softly over his head. The bath had made his hair soft, like black silk that curled from the crown of his head. "What worries you, Anluan, that you would brave the dark on your own?"

"I am not afraid of the dark!" Anluan bristled, pulling away slightly. "I am afraid of nothing."

Even so, his gaze betrayed him. They strayed to the dark cell beside hers, to the creature that watched them both with silver eyes that the dark couldn't swallow.

"To be afraid of nothing is very foolish, Anluan." Aire soothed. "It makes you cocky and that makes you sloppy."

"Then what are you afraid of Aire?"

"I am afraid of a great many things, Anluan. I am afraid of forgetting, of fire. I am afraid of trusting, I am afraid of the Empire. I do not think my fear makes me weak. Sometimes, I know that my response to that fear has weakened me but that is something everyone must fight."

"I think you are brave, Aire." Anluan curled his fingers around the cell-bars, gazing at her. "You stood up for Siseal. You fought the Bloodbound. You faced the Dullahan and did not waver. I wish I could be a little more like you."

"Only a little like me." She humoured him. "If you were completely like me, you would be in this cell with me."

Anluan's gaze betrayed him as it wondered to the cell beside hers. The Bloodbound wasn't visible, but she wondered what Anluan could hear? The gentle sigh of his breathing. The brush of his lashes against his skin, the swallow of his throat.

The young lad returned his attention to her. The cells were quiet, save for their own conversation and she noticed that it was the first time since entering Valherin that he seemed relaxed. He hedged for a moment, looking frequently to the distant glowing doorway that marked the entrance into the dungeons. "I have something to tell you and I think you are the only person who will believe me."

"What about Siseal?"

Anluan eyed the sludge of hay behind her. "He would believe me, but I don't want to bring this to him just yet. This is the happiest I have seen him in weeks."

"I understand," Aire said softly. "But why do you think that I would believe you?"

He met her gaze for a long moment before it slid up to her shawl. A breath caught in his throat, indecision rife across his face. "I heard you."

It took everything in her to remain still. Heard her? When? She stared down at him, her mind rushing to fill the gaps. "What did you hear, Anluan?"

He winced at the sharp whip of her tone. She knew she should have been softer, but her mind was racing. What did he hear? Another to know another one of her secrets was a dangerous thing.

"You were talking to the Bloodbound inside his cage." He kicked the toe of his boot against the bars, cheeks reddening. He spoke quickly, quietly, as if the words were poisonous to say out loud. "You spoke as if you were friends."

"We are not friends." She replied quickly. Too quickly. 'Dammit Aire,' she thought, frustrated at herself. 'You are failing again and again.'

"My heart is hurt," the Bloodbound lamented.

Anluan jerked at his voice, nostrils flaring like a spooked animal. He pressed himself closer to the bars, as if to meld into them, to bring himself closer to Aire. She scowled into the darkness, rubbing a soothing hand over the back of Anluan's head.

"You were talking to the Bloodbound. You spoke of someone pretending. That the woman who welcomed us here is not Ríona Aryshalin, Crown Princess of Cearna." Anluan grew himself up. "And that is not right."

"It is not polite to listen in on other people's conversations Anluan."

He gave her a flat look. "It isn't polite to lie either, Aire. And I cannot help what I hear. You said that she is a fake and that a real Aryshalin walks among them now." He took a breath, a shaking breath. His look was strange as he examined her, the shawl that covered her hair, the lines of her face. "Are you an Aryshalin...Aire?"

"Anluan..."

"Don't lie to me, Aire." Anluan cut in. "I heard the lie in that woman's voice. I heard it weaving through her stories, like a flat note in a nearly perfect song. If I listen hard enough now, I will hear a lie in yours."

The Bloodbound's laugh rang, full of delight. "Clever boy."

Anluan flinched again at the sound of his voice but faced the darkness with his hands curled into fists. "You do not scare me. Not anymore."

"I do not have to have your Wield to be able to hear your fear," Bloodbound Roark's voice was surprisingly gentle.

Anluan cut a look towards Aire. She could see his determination to be brave, to be stern but there was such youthful innocence in one glance. A check for her expression to gauge how he should approach.

"I wish I didn't have to keep my life a secret, Anluan." Aire said. "But I have been hiding it for so long that telling people now...is difficult."

"You know everything about us!" Anluan's face creased, hurt. "We told you about where we came from, we gave you, our trust."

"And I am honoured by that."

His mouth flattened, disbelieving. His voice did not rise, staying at a low rasping whisper but the anger heated every word. "How do I know you are speaking the truth now? Why are you speaking to the Bloodbound like...that? You were in chains like the rest of us."

Aire stared at him for a long moment. She knew what he was accusing her of. Even speaking it made Anluan uncomfortable. Had she been allied with the Bloodbound all along? "I didn't talk about my family because it kept me alive. And not talking about them keeps some of the pain away. They can stay safe inside my head. Not broken apart by my admittance that they are dead – butchered honourlessly." Right down to little Éibhear.

He stared at her for a long moment, still clearly hurt. Aire hoped that Valherin might dampen some of that. Anluan would have realised that life was cruel, but he still gave his trust too easily. His gaze slanted back to the Bloodbound's dark cage. "Tell me properly. Tell me who you are."

"I- I knew that that woman was a fake, because Ríona Aryshalin was my sister. My older sister."

She knew it wasn't what he wanted. But the words felt poisonous in her throat. To admit it out loud to him, to admit who she was felt like a death sentence. A confirmation that she had hidden from her duty, from the land she was sworn to protect all these years. It wouldn't matter to some that she had only been a girl. They would have shoved her into armour and placed her at the front of the charge. She wouldn't lead any charge if it was only for show.

'And what now, Aire?' An insidious voice hissed. 'Would you lead a charge now that you're older?'

Anluan blinked at her. "She isn't the real Queen. You are."

Panic tightened her throat. "I am no Queen, Anluan. I have no crown."

He pursed his lips. "You know what I mean, Aire. I will not follow a fake queen."

"She will kill you if she figures out what you know." The Bloodbound said, his voice soft. "Your knowledge makes you a threat."

"Then we let everyone know!" Anluan's voice pitched, then he winced. He touched his temple briefly. "We cannot let this lie remain."

Aire felt that fear again at the sight of his determination, then shame. She wanted to expose the Pretender, but what right did she have to stop Anluan from doing the same thing? She had brought them here to keep the boys safe, to give them a reprieve from an Empire baying for their blood but all she had done was expose them to further danger.

Aire saw the moment Anluan heard her approach. The boy's growing agitation shifted; his face betrayed him as he faced the dark. The entrance to the cells was a glowing gullet before the cavernous stomach. Chains rattled as the Bloodbound shifted. Aire retreated into the cell, hoping she looked every bit the repentant girl.

Footsteps began to echo, a light growing.

"Do not let her know Anluan." Aire warned.

His jaw tensed, his stance resolute.

"Anluan," Aire hissed harshly. "Promise me that you will hold your tongue. The Bloodbound is right. She will kill you."

The boy did not respond. Figures appeared in the doorway. The fire they carried illuminated the Pretender and the glimmering gems that held her wheat-gold hair. Her smile was tight, and she bore the air of someone about to make a difficult decision. She entered and following close behind her, was Laochra and Ferdia. As if caught doing something wrong, Anluan jerked away from Aire's cell.

"Do not be alarmed boy," the Pretender called to him. "You are coming to check on a friend. Loyalty, even to one such as Aire, is nothing to be ashamed of. We will teach you good judgment in time."

One such as Aire. Maybe it would have been easier just to turn the Pretender to rot? And kill the woman they thought was their salvation? Aire could have scoffed. She'd never leave the cells alive. It was a tempting idea though. Aire masked her face, drawing her shoulders down. She didn't have to fake the guilt. Sloane didn't deserve what Aire had done to her but bending to this Pretender.

That would be difficult.

There was no warmth in Ferdia's face. He gave no hint that he and Aire were bound by any secret. Laochra was visibly conflicted. The Pretender wasn't looking at Aire. Instead, she was staring into the dark of the Bloodbound's cell as she passed with a contemplative expression.

The three stopped outside of Aire's cell.

"Our guard here says that you asked to be in the cell beside the Bloodbound." The Pretender scanned over Aire, a tiny, cold smile in place. "That you could keep an eye on him while you worked off your Eoban use."

"I did." It hurt to bow her head to this woman. "I thought I should at least be of some use after what I had done."

"Yes." The Pretender hummed. "Attacking and grievously injuring one of the Aether. Taking a substance banned from use by unknowns and the common folk of Valherin. You have not made a good impression here, Aire Thielan."

Her mind raced. There was Eoban here. If there wasn't, why would there be a ban? She hesitated as she continued, choosing her words carefully. "I did not mean to hurt Sloane."

The Pretender tilted her head, lips pursed. "Tell me the truth, Aire Thielan."

Those words, as beautiful as the touch of dawn. As sweet as a meadow of spring flowers. Words that wove around Aire, sinking into her mind. If she hadn't been wary of the Pretender, Aire knew she would have spilled her secrets open. Only her wariness and the slight pinch of Ferdia's brow stayed her. The Pretender was using her Wield properly now, the compulsion almost too strong to resist. Her jaw tensed and she spoke brokenly, "I had been getting sick and Sloane confronted me. I – I didn't mean to attack her. I cannot control my Wield."

She wanted to spill more. More about Geala, more about what had transpired in Ferdia's home. She wanted to tell the Pretender that she was nothing more than a fraud and didn't deserve to carry her sister's name.

"Sloane proclaims that you and the Bloodbound are familiar with each other. That she has heard you conversing several times. You did not kill him when you had the chance."

The Bloodbound snorted. "There has been no chance for this Wielder to harm me."

"You followed." The Pretender accused.

"I followed because I committed a crime against my own kin. I do not wish to die by my master's hand, so I hunted down those that had escaped."

The Pretender faced the dark, frowning. "I thought that Bloodbounds are unfailingly loyal. How could you attack your own?"

"We are. Until this Wielder broke my master's bond." Bloodbound Roark said sincerely, his voice just as velvet as the Pretender's. "And then I followed because of this Wielder's power. The Empire is dying, the land is rotting, and the poor are falling away to starvation and disease. A Wielder who grows life with the wave of her hand is an evil necessity that my master could tolerate. She would have been trained and welded into a weapon of the emperor. You are lucky, queen, that she is amongst your rank."

"A dangerous Wielder is a risk to the people here in Valherin."

"Unless she is trained. Then, her Wield is a weapon and a salvation." The fervour in his words alarmed Aire, but she remained still. There was a strangeness on the Pretender's face, a hunger that rattled her even more. 'She ate my Wield.' That was what Gaela had written.

"I will do anything to control it." Aire pressed. She didn't know what the Bloodbound's angle was here, but he was here for her. That much she was certain of. He had protected her already and though it was unwise, she was choosing to believe that he was doing so again. For what reason, she would figure out later.

"I will train my mind. I will train my body. I will bleed life into this rocky soil if I can."

"And rot our bones?" The Pretender curled her lip. Even so, her attention strayed back to the Bloodbound. She was greed for something that the Bloodbound could give her. Power? Answers? Whatever it was, she was willing to torture her for it.

The Bloodbound rose, stepping into the soft glow of firelight. His eyes were dark, his face devoid of any earlier human. He met Aire's gaze and an awareness shot down her spine. It felt like they were the only two who knew a secret – which was mostly true, but it was enough to make her look away sharply, a strange feeling behind her breastbone. Oh, Aire. You are a fool.

"The Empire is rotting." He said, directly the words to the Pretender. "The farmland is slowly rotting, the crops nothing but dark sludge in the soil. They say some rivers are full of the putrid carcasses of fish. If the Emperor knew that there was a Wielder alive who could possibly save the soil, then he would do anything to get his hands on them. Because no matter how powerful you are, if the people starve, they will turn to the one who could offer them salvation."

Her expression did not change. She stared at him; a face full of derision. "You have said nothing but sharp comments the moment you arrived. This is the most that I have heard you say, Bloodbound."

Ferdia cleared his throat. "It would be useful to have a Wielder tied to the earth on our side. Though our gods have abandoned us, we know the power of Dagda. If even to rouse the spirit of the people."

The Pretender frowned, confused for a moment. That wavering was another strike against her. Though the beliefs throughout the Empire were vast and different, the upper circle of Cearna were firm in theirs.

It was a common belief across Kaelara that the sky gods were the most powerful. Which, Aire could not rebuke if that was what they believed. In Knechru, they believed the gods of storm and lightening to be the most dangerous. In Vespith, the gods of the sea gave them safe passage along their ragged coast.

In Cearna it was not so. In her home, their gods and goddesses of the land were the most powerful, the worthiest of honouring. When the year turned and Lughnasadh arrived, they paid head to the god of the harvest. They waited for the all-powerful god Dagda to play his harp and beckon in the change of the seasons, with a slight edge of desperation after a particularly long and brutal winter. To the smaller goddesses of the river, people would give devotions and ask for a bountiful water of fish. A Queen of Cearna would know that.

Ferdia met her eyes.

A true Queen of Cearna would know this.

"You will learn to control your Wield." The Pretender ordered, brushing away her flicker of uncertainty. "You will sharpen your body and mind and pledge your Wield to our cause."

The words came like a siren's song. Knowing it made lying was easier this time. "I will."

The Pretender's gaze scoured Aire, long and harsh. Aire held her gaze, unable to cow herself further before this woman. She had only ever knelt for her mother and father – the High King and Queen of Cearna, then to Ríona, the heir. Visiting dignitaries would get the nod of a head. The High ruler of Cearna would only kneel for one thing, the land itself. More powerful, more precious than any warm body that sat upon the throne.

The Pretender's gaze narrowed slightly. "You will stay in this cold cell for the night. Let the discomfort remind you of what losing control will bring."

"A good, just lesson to be sure." Aire replied.

The Pretender turned away, pausing at the half-turn. Aire remained standing, ramrod straight now as she waited. She could sense the Pretender's turn, the flicker of malice like it was a shroud hanging over the other woman's head. The Pretender spoke to her, casting the words over her shoulder as if it scalded her to address Aire any longer. "Know this, Aire. If you were not a Wielder, I would have thrown you into the frigid air, or have you abandoned in the forest to the mercy of the darkness that lingers there."

The Pretender departed. Ferdia lingered a half-second, casting her a look that Aire couldn't decipher. Laochra lingered the longest, melancholy heavy along his broad shoulders. "You can get better, Aire. Sloane will recover. It is not as bleak as it seems."

Aire let out a gentle sigh, softened by the man's honesty. Laochra was a good man; enough that she almost regretted making him feel that he had to comfort her.

"Thank you, Laochra." Her voice was gentle. She couldn't bring himself to barb him. "Take Anluan with you."

Though he offered a bite of protest, Anluan couldn't say no to Laochra. Aire waited until they were gone from her sight before she began to settle herself, drawing the blanket around her shoulders. The Bloodbound was quiet in the cell beside hers, his breathing low and soft, but she knew that he was not asleep.

Their silence was soft, but the stone was not. It was cold and harsh beneath her – harsher than the long weeks she had spent on the road. If only because she had seen the room that she had been given and knew that somewhere else in Valherin, the path mapped in her mind, was comfort and warmth.

She sighed. "Do you know any stories, Bloodbound?"

"Is this another attempt to glean more information from me?"

"It is a long night to sit in silence."

"You have spent the last few weeks travelling. Surely you are tired."

"A story would lull me to sleep."

"And your sleep would grant me respite from your chattering. Your argument is strong." The words were harsh, but humour warmed them.

"I live to make your life more comfortable." Aire moved what straw remained absently, wondering if she could fashion some kind of pillow for her head.

"Fine," He grumbled. "Lay down."

He waited until she was lying down, her body folded tight to fit under the blanket. The cold stone leached through her clothing, and she melded tight, jaw chattering as she willed herself to get used to it. The smell of rot lingered, and she stuffed the blanket under her nose, only to find that it smelled of must and disuse. Tomorrow she would have to create a plan. She had only been in Valherin for a day and she needed the food to bolster her strength. And a chance to control her Wield before she killed someone with it.

"Once, there was a man. A strong man. He was loved by his people, adored by his parents. During his young adult life, a woman appeared on the back of a white horse. She rode out from the glistening sea, her hair unbound and cast wild by the wind. She was beautiful and entranced the man. He knew, as he gazed upon her face, that he would follow her wherever she went."

The storytelling was choppy. Awkward. As if the Bloodbound could barely remember it, pulling ideas from his head, each more fantastical than the last. But it worked – for Aire succumbed to her deep exhaustion only two short minutes into the story. She slept the entire night, heavy and silent and did not stir until the guard barked at her to wake the next morning. 

| Welcome back to Aire's world.

Thank you for all your support, encouragement and comments. Your engagement is very helpful! 

Tell me your thoughts, theories and conspiracies. 

1. What do you think the Pretender's origins are? 

2. What will it take for Aire to confront her true identity, or is she too used to hiding it? 

3. Your thoughts for the future chapters? 

Thanks a bunch everyone! 

Until next time - Saoimarie |