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02: Tyrian
Tyrian had never expected his morning walk—a practice taken up five and a half months ago when his sister “got tired of his moping”—to be interrupted by anything on such an ugly morning. Least of all Eira Gatien.
He’d imagined seeing her again a thousand times over in a thousand different ways. Across a crowded room at some party, in the shops, through the windows of her bedroom. His breath still caught at any glimpse of white-blonde curls, and his steps still stuttered at a flash of pale blue eyes. He’d even imagined her turning up on his doorstep, worried, upset even, looking to him for help.
This was worlds away from anything he’d imagined. This wasn’t Eira, upset. This was Eira, in ruins.
Here she was again, a miracle of a girl, shuddering under a halo of wild hair and drenched in blood. He wanted so badly to touch her. He was afraid something would break if he did.
“Eira, what happened?” he asked and shook his head before she could answer. “Never mind that—let’s get you somewhere safe. Are you hurt? You have to tell me if you’re hurt.”
She shook her head mutely. He took her hand, no longer soft as before but tacky with drying blood, and tugged her down the street toward his house. He slipped in through a side door and left her for a few agonizing seconds to check the hallways for other life. For now, they were alone. He led her up the stairs to his room as silently and quickly as he could and closed the door behind them.
“Tyrian,” Eira said. He waited, but nothing else came.
“What happened?” he asked again, feeling helplessly off-balance.
She wrapped her arms around herself and turned her face away. She looked so small and vulnerable that Tyrian wanted to wrap her up and never let anything hurt her again. But when he reached for her, she moved subtly away.
“I was out with my father,” she began hesitantly. “And w-we were attacked, and then he... And I...”
She was crying, tears making trails through the blood smeared across her face. Tyrian needed to stop it, needed to help.
“Okay,” he said. The word attacked rang in his brain, drawing out rational thought. “Okay. So Valens—”
“My father’s dead, Tyr,” Eira said quietly.
Tyrian’s head spun. Valens was a ruthless ruler of an empire. He wasn’t the sort of man that could be killed.
As if his silence made some decision for her, Eira stopped crying. “I should go.”
“What? You just got here. You’re...you can’t leave. Where are you going to go?”
She stepped around him, reaching for the door. He caught her wrist.
“Let me go, Tyrian.”
He let go. “Does your mother know? Are you going home?”
“I can’t go home,” Eira said, her voice quavering. “I can’t stay here. I’m sorry I came. If they find out I was here—”
“If who finds out? What do you mean you can’t go home? You’re the one who was attacked, right, so why do you need to leave?”
“If I stay anywhere near here, I put everyone else in danger,” Eira said, which made no sense at all. Danger was anathema to everything Eira had ever been.
“Why? Because whoever attacked you will find you again?”
“No. They won’t. Because I did something. I did something awful, I think, and now they all think—”
She broke off, and after a second Tyrian pressed, “What do they all think, E?”
“That I’m magic,” Eira whispered, breathless.
At first Tyrian wasn’t sure he even heard her right. Then he almost laughed. “Eira, that’s ridiculous. Everyone knows you aren’t magic. I’m pretty sure someone would have noticed by now if you were.”
“You don’t understand!” Eira spun around, clutching her hands in two fists against her chest, like she was afraid to let them go. “They’re dead! They’re all dead, Tyrian, and I don’t know how or why, but everyone saw, and they think I did it. Maybe...maybe I did.”
“You didn’t,” Tyrian said immediately. “You could never.” He knew that much in his bones.
Eira looked at him for a moment. Her hands fell limply to her sides. “I don’t know what to do, Tyr,” she admitted hollowly.
“It’s going to be fine,“ Tyrian said. “You expected this, right? You’ve been preparing for the worst your whole life.”
She stared at the floor. “The worst was always my father being dead. Not...not people thinking...”
“Same principle, though, right?” Tyrian asked. “Look, let’s get out of here for a few weeks until they figure out who’s behind this. We’ll hide out in the countryside. My parents have a house...”
There were probably better ways to go about this. At the very least, he should talk to his parents. But Eira was in trouble—Eira was in danger—and the clock was ticking. And where she was concerned, Tyrian had never been rational.
“No,” Eira said quickly. “No. I can’t stay in Ach Rhean. This isn’t just a business rival anymore. If they think I’m magic the whole government will be out looking for me.”
“So we leave the country.”
“That’s the other thing.” Eira took a shaky breath. “I can’t ask you to come with me. I don’t know why I even followed you here in the first place. I was just scared and it was a stupid risk and—”
“Eira, I’m not letting you go alone. Anything could happen out there.”
“Yes, which is why you need to stay here, where it’s safe.”
“I let the world take you away from me once; I’m not letting it happen again. Not when I can help.”
“Tyr—”
“Please.” He took her hand. “Let me try to help.”
She nodded shakily, and he went to his closet. For a second, he just stood there, out of her sight, and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. Eira Gatien was in his bedroom, a miracle that he hadn’t thought possible even before...well. Everything. And now Eira’s father was dead, and Eira was fleeing the country (and he was fleeing with her).
He’d just held Eira’s hands.
But Valens was dead.
Ever since they were kids, Eira’s father had been paranoid about magic. They used to laugh at it and play games where Tyrian was the evil witch whisking Eira away to his lair. Then they got older, Eira got a little more afraid, and even though they both still laughed, there was a note of fear in it. Then Eira didn’t want to play games anymore. But they never thought it would happen, not in this golden city.
And now all the laughable nightmares had come true while Tyrian was asleep.
Maybe if he’d been better, tried harder, he could have been there with her.
He took a deep breath and scrubbed a hand over his face. Maybe didn’t help him now. He grabbed a satchel, the same one he’d used for midnight picnics with Eira, and shoved some clothes into it. He searched for anything else that might be useful and, finding nothing, went back to Eira. She hadn’t moved a muscle since he’d left and didn’t say anything as he pulled her back into the hallway, closing the door behind him.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was saying goodbye forever somehow, even though he knew he’d be back. Eira wasn’t actually magic. This mess would work itself out once everyone realized she was about as close to normal as anyone could be.
He was halfway to the stairs when he realized she had nothing to wear. She couldn’t very well leave the house in her current state, and nothing he owned would fit her.
Luckily, she wasn’t the only girl he knew.
Tyrian slung his satchel across his shoulder and crept down the hall toward his older sister’s room. He half expected her to be missing as he pushed open the door and poked his head in.
His sister was sprawled across the bed, which was still made up from the morning before. Whenever she’d tumbled in from her overnight adventures, she must have been too tired to even crawl under the covers.
“Isleen?” Tyrian whispered. When she didn’t move, he stepped all the way inside.
She didn’t stir when he opened her closet, so he turned his back and started rifling through her clothes. She had piles of silk blouses and mountains of nice pants, but Eira was always more at home in a dress. He dug to the back where Isleen kept hers for special occasions.
Tyrian realized he may have made a mistake as he pulled out one after another for inspection. Isleen and Eira were nothing alike. Isleen was tall and willowy, lean all over in ways Eira wasn’t. He might have had better luck finding a good enough dress in his own closet.
“What the hell are you doing in my room?”
Tyrian spun around, still clutching one of the dresses. His sister sat up in her bed and rubbed at the lines her pillow had left on her cheek. Even though she’d just woken up from a long night of things Tyrian pretended not to know about, she still looked perfect, or at least perfectly herself. They had the same golden hair, yet where Tyrian spent ages taming his some days, hers always fell in a perfect cascade. They had the same dark blue eyes, but hers always managed to be piercing and focused instead of bleary or afraid. She was exactly the kind of heir his parents wanted except for all the ways she wasn’t.
She looked between the discarded dresses and Tyrian, and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “Tyrian. What are you doing in my shit?”
“I need to borrow a dress,” Tyrian blurted. “You’ll get it back. Probably. Eventually.”
She eyed him. “Is there something you want to tell me, kid? If you want a dress, I’ll go shopping with you any day of the week, but I’ll need, like, an hour to get ready.”
“It’s not like that,“ Tyrian said quickly. “It’s not for me.”
That was the wrong thing to say. Isleen quirked a perfect eyebrow. “Oh? Then who’s it for?”
“Nobody.”
“Nobody, huh? Is it a girl? Did you meet a girl, Tyrian?” She leaned forward, a sly, teasing grin creeping over her face. “No, I know who it is. It’s that girl the parents hated, the Gatien heir—Eira! Eira Gatien. Haven’t heard anything about her recently. You know the parents’ll kill you if they find out you’re seeing her, right?”
“I’m well aware,” Tyrian said shortly, “but I don’t have time to discuss it.”
“Where is she? If you’re going to meet her, I want to come along.”
Tyrian glanced at the door. “Lee, can you keep a secret?”
Isleen just looked at him until he realized how stupid the question was.
“Okay. Fine. Eira’s in trouble, and we’re running away because it wasn’t her fault but some important people are going to think it is.”
Isleen’s eyes widened. “Woah, back up a second. Eira’s in trouble? Your Eira? This is the same girl we’re talking about, right? Small, adorable, quiet, would cry if forced to kill a spider?”
“Shut up. Don’t talk about her like that.”
“Calm down,” Isleen said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I’m not going to make any moves. She’s too young for me, and besides, you guys have your whole...whatever’s going on there. I’m bi, not a homewrecker.”
Tyrian could feel himself turning red. “Can we please get back to the point? Eira’s waiting, and Mom and Dad are going to be up soon.”
“Is she downstairs?” Isleen all but squealed in delight. “Six months changes a girl, I guess.”
“Yeah,” Tyrian said impatiently, “sure. We have to go. Do you want to help me find her a dress? Hers is... She can’t wear it.”
Isleen cast him a suspicious look. “So you said you’re running away? Going up to the cabin for a bit?”
“You are remarkably unconcerned about that part. And no. We’re...sort of leaving the country.”
Isleen considered that and shrugged. “You know, I can’t blame you. I’ve thought about doing the exact same thing a thousand times.”
“If you want to come with us, you’re welcome to,” Tyrian offered.
But she shook her head and plunged into the very back of the closet. From behind layers of fabric, she said, “Nah. I’m the oldest; the parents need me here. Can you imagine if we left Emeric in charge of the place?”
Tyrian winced. Their younger brother was even less adept at running their family’s business than Isleen. At least she could pretend to care and handle her responsibilities.
After a moment, Isleen withdrew from the closet, holding up a soft pink dress in rippling satin. “This might work. Grandma got it for me when I was fourteen, I think, but I only wore it once. Eira like pink?”
“She doesn’t have another option, does she?” Tyrian asked, taking the dress.
“Nope. Anyway, I assume you have some sort of plan? Well, at least you’ve packed. Kind of.” She gestured at the overstuffed satchel. “Do you have any... No, you wouldn’t, would you?”
Before Tyrian could ask what she meant, she slid under her own bed and emerged a second later with a packet. He accepted it gingerly, holding it away from his body by the corner. “What is this?”
“Open it up and see. Go on. It won’t bite you.”
Tyrian opened it and peered inside at the thick stacks of purple afaran. Hundreds, easily thousands of afaran. He stared at Isleen, who was toying with her perfect hair and trying to look innocent.
“Isleen,” he repeated, “what is this?”
“A quarter of my life savings,” Isleen said, staring at an ugly portrait of flowers over her bed. “I keep chunks of it hidden around. In case of, you know, emergencies. Should be enough to get you a boat ride to anywhere, plus room and board for a couple of weeks after.”
“What emergencies?” Tyrian asked. “You know you can have anything you want anytime at all.”
“Maybe. But you never know, do you? What the parents are going to wake up and decide.”
“Isleen, Mom and Dad love you.”
“They love me under contract,” she said tiredly. “I’m difficult and obnoxious and rude, and I’m well aware that any day they could get tired of me and ship me off to some nowhere island on made up business and declare you heir instead, and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. This is my insurance.”
“I can’t take this.” Tyrian pushed it back toward her. “If it’s important to you I can’t take it.”
Isleen pushed it back. “You’re leaving. That’s extra insurance. They like me better than Emeric, so if you’re gone, they’ll have to tolerate me. And you and Eira need it more than I do.”
Reluctantly, Tyrian nodded and tucked the money into his satchel. With the dress draped over his arm, he pushed open Isleen’s door and crept back into the hall. Isleen followed him down the stairs, and he decided not to bother telling her to go away. Eira was, by some miracle, still hovering by his door, though she looked poised to bolt.
“Damn,” Isleen whispered. “You weren’t kidding about trouble, huh?”
“Stop talking.”
“Tyrian,” Eira whispered, wide eyes trained on his sister.
“Eira, you remember Isleen, right? She’s going to help us. I’ve already sworn her to secrecy.” He hadn’t, but he trusted Isleen not to tell anyone about something as important as this.
Isleen waved. “Hey, Eira.”
They didn’t get any further than that before one of the maids appeared at the top of the steps and gasped. Instantly, Tyrian moved to block Eira from view, but judging from the girl’s horrified expression, it didn’t do much good.
“Maelys,” Isleen said in a shockingly level voice, “do not say a single word.”
It was probably the voice combined with the fact that Isleen was more like a friend than an employer to most of the staff that had Maelys nodding instead of screaming for help. “Who...who is this, then?” she asked faintly.
“Old friend,” Isleen said, as if it could be so easy.
Maelys nodded again, looking lost. She fisted her apron in her hands, her eyes tracking the girls as Isleen led Eira down the hall. Then she seemed to startle, smoothing out her skirts and looking hurriedly back at Tyrian.
“Are...are you going somewhere today?” she asked, nodding at his satchel.
Tyrian gripped the strap. “Yes. Um. A little trip. I might be gone overnight.”
He might be gone for weeks, but Maelys didn’t need to know that. They lapsed into uncomfortable silence. There was probably work she should be doing, or at the very least a conversation for them to hold, but Tyrian had never been good at talking to Maelys. She and Isleen were around the same age, closer to friends than servant and mistress; it felt strange to be ordering around someone who was like another older sister, but they were too distant to be friendly.
Isleen came back into the room before too long, shepherding Eira in front of her. Her face and hands were clean, and her borrowed dress swished around her knees. If Tyrian hadn’t seen her moments earlier, he wouldn’t have known anything was wrong save for the emptiness in her gaze. He clenched his fists beside him to keep from reaching out and wrapping her into a hug.
Maelys stepped toward Eira with a strange look on her face. Before Tyrian could ask what she was doing, she touched Eira’s shoulder, and her own body jerked as if shocked. Eira’s eyes widened, and she stumbled back, bumping into Isleen.
“What are you doing, Mae?” Isleen demanded as Maelys took several steps back herself.
“Nothing,” Maelys said too quickly. “Nothing. You two need to leave. Now.”
“We know. Any other helpful information to impart?”
He was trying for a joke, but Maelys looked more serious than he’d ever seen her. “Stay close to each other. Above everything else, stay together.”
“That was the plan,” Tyrian said awkwardly. Eira was staring at Maelys. There was something unreadable in her face. As they all stared at her, she dropped into a clumsy curtsy, mumbled something about laundry, and darted away. Tyrian cleared his throat.
“So that’s it then? We just...disappear?”
“Unless you’ve got some other reason to hang around,” Isleen said. She tipped an imaginary hat to them. “Stay safe out there. Send me a letter from somewhere.”
“Will do,” Tyrian said. He held out his hand to Eira. “Are...are you ready?”
She looked up at him through her lashes with a rueful smile. “Not really.” Then she squared her shoulders, and for a second, she was every inch Valens Gatien’s daughter. “But I guess I have to be.”
They went to the door. Tyrian took her hand again, and this time she held on. Eira spared a beat on the threshold to wave at Isleen, and then they were running. Through the familiar streets under the trailing storm clouds, to the harbors and the sea, and somewhere Eira might be safe.