Of Friendships and Stones

The stone felt like it burned a hole in her pocket as Adelia stepped away from the secluded spot Alexzander had cornered her in, her emotions unsettled and restless, but she kept herself carefully in check.

She had attended enough events feeling upset and uncomfortable to not let her emotions show. Her mother had ensured to raise her with a well-crafted public mask, after all.

She was the wife of a renowned warlord and she was of noble blood, weakness was neither allowed nor tolerated. So she ensured her back was straight and her gait steady and calm so she appeared quietly confident. She didn't feel particularly confident, but their guests didn't have to know that.

Her mother's words, orders dressed as advice, echoed in her mind as she ensured she had a sweet smile ready for their guests. When Lady Miriam stepped up to her side, sweeping out of the crowd like the waves she called home, Adelia made her smile extra sweet.

It would not do to antagonize an already strained relationship further, considering that Lady Miriam and Lord Morrow did not get along.

"If I could have some of your time," Miriam said, gesturing towards a food- and drink-laden table at the side. "Let's get something for us."

Adelia acquiesced easily enough, both determined to keep up appearances and she also wished to put Alexzander's words out of her mind for the moment. She briefly caught a glimpse of him across the throne room and he held her gaze as he lifted a crystal chalice, filled with a red wine so dark it looked like pooled blood.

As she looked away, she couldn't help but remember the monster and its raven, who had crash-landed on her balcony so many months ago. It felt more like years had passed since then, with all that had happened since. Their blood had looked the same that early morning. She hoped they were safe.

She also couldn't help but remember the blood spilled in the courtyard, the strange metal containers and how everyone refused to tell her the truth.

"How did you meet Rowan?" Lady Miriam asked as they headed for the table, other guests nodding politely at them along the way. A glance past a few other party guests showed that Lady Iris and Lord Morrow were speaking once again, though Lady Iris looked less intense now and more exasperatedly fond.

"Lord Morrow has attended numerous events in my homeland before," Adelia answered easily enough. "And one day, he asked me for a dance."

The memory was laced with bitter fear, Lord Emmertal's gaze branded into her mind, his presence looming over her like a giant, like a wolf caging a rat beneath its heavy paw, hungry for squeaks of terror and fruitless squirming.

A faint taste like bile filled her mouth when she remembered just how helpless she had been back then. Her parents had been willing to sell her for a rise in station and a grab for more power, and the pain over this discovery hurt almost as much as the loss of her beloved horse.

There was a dark roiling with her as she thought of her parents, something that writhed like a snake made of hatred and disappointment, of betrayal and pain.

Lady Miriam hummed, glancing at her and that unnatural shine in her eyes seemed to flare. As though, for a brief second, the unfathomable depths of the ocean reached up towards them, skimming its fingertips against the edges of Adelia's very being and rippling across the air around her.

Strangely enough, it did not feel violating or uncomfortable. It felt like something had just said hello and it had liked what it had seen. Lady Miriam smiled at her.

"I think we're going to be great friends, you and I, come, let's drink and chat." Lady Miriam swept two crystal chalices off the table and led her to a quieter spot by the windows. It wasn't as secluded as when Alexzander had cornered her, nor did it feel like Lady Miriam was trying to catch her off guard.

Adelia accepted one of the chalices and took a tiny sip, careful to fill her mouth only a little bit. Both her parents had ensured she knew to never get drunk in public, lest she shame the family for years to come. The memory of such stern conversations now added to the dark bitterness in her heart, for Tirn had certainly gotten drunk with the other gentry and had never been reprimanded for it.

Granted, he had never gotten wasted the way he did among his close friends in private, but everyone had laughed in good humor at his jovial tipsiness and flushed cheeks. If Adelia would have gotten tipsy, the laughter directed at her would have been mocking and mean-spirited at best, if not condescending and ugly at worst.

"I think some proper introductions are in order," Lady Miriam said. "I bet Rowan had plenty to say about me, but I hope that won't cloud your view of me. It's nice to meet you, Lady Adelia, I am Miriam, captain of the Scourge and the commander of the largest pirate fleet in the world."

She slightly tipped her head back, exposing her scarred throat with a grin that was sharp and satisfied, like old vengeance had been long sated and the memory still pleased her. "Fifteen years ago when I was barely past twenty, my former captain thought it was a great idea to cut my throat and feed me to the waves. I came back and made sure the ocean ate him in return."

The scar stood out starkly on her skin, thick and gnarly. Adelia had no idea what to say for a moment and none of the etiquette her parents had ruthlessly instilled within her could have prepared her for such a moment.

She met Miriam's gaze, which was not challenging but waiting without judgement and expectations for her response. Adelia thought of deadly Lord Emmertal and her terrible parents and ignorant Tirn and all her fears, and the secret desire, burning underneath it all, to avoid being at anyone's mercy again as much as possible.

To be her own person. To claw at what bits of freedom she could get and never, ever let go if it could be helped.

"Good." The word came out unbidden and clear, as though it had gotten dragged up from the depth of her carefully guarded soul.

Lady Miriam smiled like Adelia had said something she approved of and the unfathomable deep power that surrounded her curled around both them like a satisfied monstrosity that had neither name nor a beginning or an end and Adelia realized that the ocean itself was right here.

Between them, around them, accompanying Lady Miriam's every step, ancient and powerful and threatening to drag anyone under who crossed her. So deep that unknown creatures were cradled in it's depth, along with countless of swallowed lives, taken from those who had thought to tame the waves.

"I knew you had too much steel in you to be meek," Lady Miriam said. "Now, may I meet your true, unguarded self or will I have to earn that honor?"

Lady Miriam looked at her like she actually saw her, not her blue blood, not what a pretty bauble she could be, not how she might be shaped and bent to fulfill another's desires and expectations. The only people who had ever looked at Adelia this way had been Izabel and Katrina and Lord Morrow and all of a sudden she fiercely, painfully, missed her best friends.

She missed their physical presences, missed their laughter and gentle hands and kind eyes and careful protectiveness. The way being with them had been safe and freeing all at once.

"Earning it it is," Lady Miriam said and Adelia realized that the surge of longing, of almost-grief over her distant friends had stolen her voice away for just a moment too long. "Fair enough. I heard the kingdoms are rather different from the Wilds, coming here must've been quite the change in scenery."

That was a safer, more familiar topic and yet Adelia found that the usual niceties she was so practiced at felt strangely unfitting. Like the words she would have used to present herself in the best light, even if it was through half-truths if not outright lies, laid awkwardly in her mouth.

She couldn't help but glance at Lady Miriam's throat again and at the green, heartbeat-pulsing glow beneath the skin of her chest, barely visible past the open collar of her swashbuckling shirt.

Her mother, actually all of the nobility, would have gasped at that scandalous getup and Adelia found herself liking it just alone because of that. There was not an ounce of conformity to Lady Miriam, to her unashamedly confident posture and a smile that did not hide her teeth and eyes that did not bother to conceal her sharp, attentive gaze.

Lady Miriam carried the love and depth of the ocean with her with every step, even so very far from shore, and power noticeably surrounded her like an invisible breeze, tasting of salt and freedom. Of winds pushing against her back and guiding her far out to sea, to adventure and the unknown.

"I prefer it here, the cold is preferable to warm ballrooms full of talking, walking snakes," Adelia answered, as candid as she dared to be. It felt as though Lady Miriam's very presence had planted something rebellious within her. As though the chains of her restrained had gotten rattled.

Or, no, that wasn't quite right, Adelia realized as Lady Miriam threw her head back with a laugh. There had always been something unyielding within her, a core not even her relentlessly callous parents could corrupt.

She thought of her carefully guarded and hoarded secrets, of her countless ways to find loopholes and get around her father's rules to cling to scraps of joy and individuality. To make something of herself.

She thought of a clumsily made metal duck, a far less clumsily made metal horse, of a blacksmith with kind eyes and even kinder hands, who had guided her with endless patience and jovial encouragement. Who had stood in front of her even in the face of her father's wrath, trying to shield her at his own expense.

Of her horse carrying her everywhere at any time, trusting her to lead him, to keep him safe, even when he otherwise might have been afraid. How he had watched out for her in return, had welcomed her at his side whenever her heart had been wounded and she needed somewhere safe and warm and kind to weep unnoticed.

It wasn't that Lady Miriam was planting any ideas and feelings within her, but more that she felt... unexpectedly safe to be around. Like Izabel and Katrina, who had the same, practiced sweet smiles on their faces that Adelia did and who were unfailingly, unflinchingly loyal. Who were always watching out for her and each other.

Adelia suddenly wished that she had asked Lord Morrow if she could have invited them tonight. She hadn't, worried that her friends might feel out of place and uncomfortably intimidated by the warlords.

But she also knew her friends would have said yes immediately, even if they would have felt uncomfortable. They would have come even if their families would have protested them traveling to the Wilds. To the untamed lands and it's barbaric people, who worshipped frivolous and corrupting gods.

As if most of the damn gentry wasn't a pile of writhing maggots.

It was only then, past the knife-sharp flash of lonely longing in her chest, that she realized she was angry. Angry at Alexzander for coming into her home and bringing nothing but veiled threats and unrest with him. Angry with Lord Morrow, even, or rather, she was frustrated with him for keeping secrets – for he was keeping secrets. She wasn't a fool no matter what anyone else seemed to think.

She was angry at her parents, at Tirn, at Lord Emmertal, at all the nobility back home that did nothing to root out evil among their midst. Who wanted her to be quiet and meek and soft and sweet.

A pretty little doll to put on their shelves, dragged down to be admired and shown off at best and tossed around at worst, because bruises healed and wounds on the soul could be covered by an empty smile and softly spoken lies. To be seen, not heard, to always bow, to always be perfectly graceful. To always be doting and pliant and agreeable.

In public, no part of herself had ever been truly hers. She always had to give other people something to avoid their ire or judgement, giving them something pleasing to look at, giving them a fawning audience for their stories and laughter for their jokes. Giving her hand for dances she did not wish to share with them.

It had only been in private, hidden in secret spots in her room or tucked onto a couch between her friends, that she had managed to cling to something she had made for herself. For no one else, just for her.

She exhaled, anger sitting like a hot coal just beneath her ribs, impossible to ignore now that it had gotten noticed. It refused to return to obscurity once more and it seemed to fill her with strength instead. With a desire to no longer yield to anyone. To refuse giving herself away to others, especially to people who never saw her, who only wanted to take and never give.

Who would rip pieces out of her until she laid at their feet, ruined and broken and then they'd only tut, disappointed that there was not more meat on her bones for them to devour.

"We have plenty of snakes of our own," Lady Miriam said, a smirk curling in the corners of her mouth as she gestured with her free hand off to the side, where Alexzander was approaching Cynar.

Ivan was at his partner's side with a smile caustic enough to look like he was baring his teeth. He looked like he wanted to sear the flesh off of Alexzander's bones, his amulet of the sun goddess glinting around his neck with a strange, inner glow. As though his goddess was here, offering her power to him, wrapping herself around him.

Alexzander smiled back at Ivan like he wanted to peel him apart into bleeding, dripping strips, until he had all his gory insides spread out before him, his to play with and root through for things he wanted.

Lady Miriam continued, "But I think you are the type to know something is filled with venom even before it strikes."

Words sat at the tip of Adelia's tongue, questions about Lord Morrow and his secrets, and all of a sudden she felt keenly and anew just how lonely she was here in the keep. While everyone treated her well and welcomed her, the secret of blood stood between her and everyone else.

Steward Lambrecht knew what was going on and Adelia was nowhere near foolish enough to think that he was the only one. Lord Morrow's staff had been here for years, there was no way they didn't know the truth, or at least parts of it. The only people knowing a noble's secret in more detail than they themselves were their servants, after all.

"How would you go about beheading a snake?" The question was more revealing than Adelia would have dared to be with anyone else, but there was a deep gut instinct that told her Lady Miriam was not here to be her enemy. That she would not use any of Adelia's words against her.

Not when the woman who looked at her like her friends did, not when she had bared her throat in more ways than one. Not when Lady Miriam had something deep and ancient and vast accompanying her with every step and she never flinched from it, never was overwhelmed by it. Never feared it and the power it gave her.

Lady Miriam's magic-strange eyes seemed to gleam brighter with delight.

"Alexzander has poisoned much by now," she answered, dropping all pretenses that they weren't speaking of her fellow warlord. "His people undoubtedly desire change greatly by now."

Anywhere else and such conversation would have to happen with the utmost secrecy and delicacy. Conspiring against a fellow noble might very well have cost Adelia her head had she still been home in the kingdoms.

But the Wilds did things differently. Warlords could fall any day, so long as someone came along to succeed in such an endeavor. They tried not to mess with each other, that was true, since there was much that hung in the balance if they caused too much trouble, but outsiders? Anyone else could do as they liked.

There had even been a number of warlords in the past who had trained and secretly helped people fell a fellow warlord.

"Surely people have challenged him already," Adelia said and Lady Miriam hummed in agreement. "Have none been strong enough to win?"

"Not against his magic," Lady Miriam said. "Law dictates that a warlord may only be challenged in their own home, if you desire to take over in their stead. A fellow warlord may not challenge him, of course, for territory borders are not allowed to change nor can territories merge."

Adelia frowned slightly. "What happens if a warlord dies outside of their territory?"

"The person they appointed as their successor takes over," Lady Miriam answered. "If they have no one appointed, then the people of their territory get to choose their next warlord, but no one can just show up and claim the empty throne. Which is only fair if you ask me."

Adelia couldn't help but glance at Alexzander again and Lady Miriam added, "Forget killing him outside of his home. I already did that."

Adelia blinked in startled surprise and when she looked back at Lady Miriam, her eyes had become a pupil-less deep, dark blue-green, the way the ocean had looked on a painting in her father's halls and the glow within her chest grew a little darker, as well.

"I do not suffer fools lightly," Lady Miriam said and there was an otherworldly tone mixing into her voice. Adelia's mouth tasted like brine and salt anew and she swore she sensed a storm brewing on the horizon, clouds heavy and dark and the sea churning and deadly.

"He is cruel," Lady Miriam continued. "So I thought removing him was for the best, so his people can select their next warlord." She took a sip from her drink and between one blink and the next, her eyes returned to normal, the phantom sensation of an approaching storm fading away again. "And yet, here he stands. It is rather infuriating."

"How?" Adelia couldn't help the sharper tone to her voice, revealing her incredulous surprise at the news that Alexzander had survived his own death.

Adelia hadn't know a whole lot about magic before coming here, her father had always considered it unnecessary to teach her anything about it when she had no magic herself. She had read just enough to vaguely know the limits of it and its various, broad uses.

Sorceress Iva had shown her a lot since they had started sharing tea on fridays, but even now Adelia hadn't the faintest idea how Alexzander could have undone his own death.

She had heard of the practices of necromancy of course, though they were practiced far and few between. It was an incredibly hard school of magic to master, from what she had been told, and even the most skilled of necromancers struggled to raise more than a handful of bodies.

Even then the dead they called forth were mindless servants and they could certainly not perform the magic on themselves after having perished.

"I have no idea," Lady Miriam answered with an unhappy twist to her mouth. "I've tried getting more information, but my spies never return. I lose contact the moment they reach his manor and his people haven't been able to tell me anything either when I asked."

That meant Alexzander was powerful, even more so than Adelia had expected. It also meant he had tricks up his sleeve which would make it very hard to remove him from his throne.

"Lord Morrow has mentioned his desire to fight him," she found herself murmuring and Lady Miriam snorted.

"Doesn't surprise me. He doesn't tolerate curelty, either, the two of us can agree on that much at least, even if he is an insufferable knucklehead otherwise." Lady Miriam nudged her arm against Adelia's. "If you figure out what magic Alexzander has up his sleeve, do let me know. You'll have my blade and my lover's song and my ocean's rage at your disposal."

Adelia's breath caught the slightest bit at that offer. That was no easily given vow, not when she ever so faintly felt the steady, slow rise and fall of the ocean around her. She was sure, should she close her eyes and give in to the feeling, she'd find her mind drawn away from the present. To the top of a ship perhaps, or to the sway of waves, or deep below the surface, where undiscovered, ancient secrets laid.

"Your lover's song?" she found herself asking instead and something shifted along Lady Miriam's entire demeanor.

"My siren," she said, voice softer with reverence and her gaze grew warm with love as she looked past Adelia for a moment, as though she could sense her beloved in the distance, frolicking in the waves she couldn't leave to follow her across dry land.

Adelia had heard plenty of stories about sirens and their awe inspiring beauty, beauty that only unicorns were rumored to rival – unicorns that no one had ever seen. If they had ever existed, they had long since gone extinct.

Sirens were the reason her father had always said he was glad he had never invested into a fleet of traveling merchants, but rather into trade guilds, for there were plenty of ships that never reached harbors because of them.

"She saved me, you know," Lady Miriam continued in that same tone that spoke of a profound love and deep devotion, of adoring someone and knowing all those sentiments were returned just as strongly. "When I thought I was done for, she came and brought my to my patron."

Lady Miriam briefly tapped her chest. "Traded my heart for a piece of the Deep and never looked back. We're going to tie our life forces together once winter lifts so I will live as long as she does."

Before Adelia could ask anything more, feeling strangely enthralled by the open love on Lady Miriam's face, unashamed and proud of it, knowing her heart was safe in the hands of both an ancient deity and a lover born of tide and sea foam, Lady Miriam glanced past her.

"Ah, it seems we're getting company. I was wondering when he'd show up," Lady Miriam mused and Adelia looked back to see Lord Morrow and Lady Iris approaching.

Lord Morrow gave her a warm smile, but there was something slightly hesitant about him now, something that felt a little chastised and his gaze lingered in a thoughtful and quietly apologetic manner. It was rather unexpected.

Lady Iris stepped forward with a warm grin. "It's good to see you, Miri." The two women embraced, hugging each other tightly. "I trust the tides are ever in your favor?"

Lady Miriam laughed and the sensation of ancient, vast deepness surged briefly around them, like it was glad for her joy and viciously satisfied to have drowned all her enemies so far.

"My ship never has to fear the ocean's rage," Lady Miriam answered, pulling back to clasp Lady Iris's arms. "I trust the moon treats you well, my friend?"

Lady Iris grinned, almost looking like she was showing off her fangs, the iron necklace around her neck glinting in the light. "Always and forever, the night is my home."

Satisfied with that answer, Lady Miriam turned to Lord Morrow. "Good evening to you, you dour old bag of bones," she said, a lot less warm and open than she had been previously. "I trust you still avoid the light?"

"As much as you still lack a heart," Lord Morrow answered dryly, looking slightly disapproving and Lady Miriam smiled, all sharp viciousness.

"At least what I got still beats." She tapped the faintly glowing pulse beneath her skin, tipping her head slightly to the side. "Wonder which one of us is the bigger monster here."

There was a flash of warning in Lord Morrow's eyes and he opened his mouth, as though to rebuke her and Lady Miriam waved him off. "Keep your hypocrisy to yourself and I will sheathe my sharp tongue. That seems like quite the deal, doesn't it?"

"Indeed," Lord Morrow sighed after a moment. "You are insufferable."

"And you intolerable, don't we make quite the pair. Now, as fun as this conversation is," Lady Miriam said, sarcasm heavy in her voice while Lady Iris sighed like she was quite done with the both of them. "I was just chatting with your lovely wife here. She is an absolute pearl."

At this Lord Morrow visibly gentled and when he looked at her, there was open softness in his gaze. "You are indeed," he said to her, voice earnest and warm.

She had no idea how to answer, feeling unexpectedly touched and appreciative, especially with how he had said it. The frustration burning low in her gut cooled slightly, though it didn't vanish.

She still wanted to know the truth, but having him near reminded her that Lord Morrow wasn't her enemy. Quite the contrary and the reason she was so intent on solving this mystery was born out of concern for him rather than a fear that he was a harmful person to her or others.

Lady Iris seemed to seize that moment, leaning forward with a smile that promised a whole lot of trouble. "Good job on stealing my best friend's heart," she said with approval in her voice and Adelia had even less of an idea what to say to that, especially since Lord Morrow did not protest her words at all.

So many people had remarked on her winning his heart, was there truth to it? Lord Morrow had never made any advances whatsoever, could it be that he might actually... care for her?

"If he ever gives you trouble," Lady Iris continued. "Don't hesitate to let me know. I have years of embarrassing stories that I would love to share with someone."

Lord Morrow looked faintly apprehensive at that, but once again did not protest. "I very much hope to be told off if I upset you," he said instead, still so openly sincere that she had no idea what to think. "Though I suppose I can hardly fault you for wanting to hear of all my blunders. Some of those stories are amusing, I admit."

"I doubt that will be necessary unless my husband wishes to share them," Adelia ended up answering Lady Iris after a moment. "He's good to me."

Lord Morrow looked unexpectedly relieved at that and Lady Iris appeared satisfied, while Lady Miriam softened a little, her smile warming.

Then Lady Iris leaned forward, her gaze bright with mischief, "Has Lambrecht told you of the times he had to hide his paperwork from him?"

Lord Morrow looked pained and sighed, "He's still trying to show off my best qualities to my wife, so no, he hasn't."

Lady Iris chuckled and reached out to grab Lord Morrow's shoulder, making him sway back and forth a bit with her grip as she said, "See, when Rowan here first became warlord, he worked so much Lambrecht started to hide his paperwork. But Rowan found it too easily, so Lam hid it in better places. Then Rowan found it again and on and on it went. What were some the best hiding places again?"

"He put them inside the chicken coop once," Lord Morrow said with a huff of amusement. "He would have returned them to me at a later time, of course, but he insisted I take a break first."

Lady Iris brightened like she had just remembered something, "One time I visited, I found him hanging from the rafters because Iva had magically glued the papers to the ceiling and he was trying to peel them off one by one. When he didn't succeed, he simply went and got some ink and his quill and climbed back up to keep working."

Lord Morrow chuckled in amused and slightly embarrassed remembrance and Lady Iris grinned, while Adelia found a little giggle slipping out, caught up in the mirth of the moment and the frankly boggling image of Lord Morrow crouching in the rafters to keep working just to spite his sorceress and steward.

"All I had to do was take a break," Lord Morrow mused. "But at this point I was taking it as a personal challenge." He cleared his throat, looking a bit bashful. "I fear I am quite stubborn."

"Understatement of the century," Lady Iris said with a grin. "When he was told that there was no way he could make healing accessible for even the poorest people he downright spat in that advisor's face and had them promptly tossed out. Two weeks later he emerged with a functional plan to make his dream a reality."

Adelia thought of the remodelled temples, the rewards offered to doctors to entice them both to stay and educate apprentices and serve the public. How well it had worked and how cared for the many towns and villages and the cities in his territory were.

Lord Morrow sniffed, "I do not suffer fools lightly and no one will stand between my people and their chance at better lives."

Adelia found herself smiling at Lord Morrow at that, approval and something like soft fondness making the tight band of frustration over his secrets loosen further around her chest. The burning coal sitting in her gut lost most of its heat, at least for the moment.

"His choice of socks sucks, though," Lady Miriam pitched in and Lord Morrow rolled his eyes in a manner no one would have dared to in the kingdoms, no matter how insufferable they found the company to be. Especially not around the king.

"I regret that you know that," he answered. "In fact, I regret knowing you." For all that the words were unfriendly, they were delivered with a sort of resigned exasperation, his voice lacking the sort of genuine bite they had held when confronted with Alexzander.

Lady Miriam only laughed, her ocean-strange eyes glittering with mirth. "I live to serve."

Conversation flowed easily after that and Adelia didn't miss the fact that Lord Morrow kept sneaking glances at her, a half-hidden look in his eyes, as though he was weighing and contemplating things.

A number of the other guests and warlords wandered over to join and leave the conversation as they pleased and Adelia learned quite a bit about all of them. Lord Cynar was truly quite the lovely character, very gentle and warm and his beloved Lord Ivan was as bright as his goddess, something wild and untamed in him growing brighter when he talked with Lady Miriam, whose ocean deep-ness seemed to flow stronger in his presence.

Lady June drifted over, as well, to chat with them, that strange kind of melodic loveliness always present in her voice and she was quite the lover of music, offering her aid in teaching Lord Morrow harder pieces to play on his violin, while gently nudging him and telling him he should have come to her sooner. She would have happily shared her knowledge.

As soon as enough time had passed for everyone to rub elbows and eat and drink, the music changed, picking up speed and a bit of volume. The time for dancing had arrived.

"Will you grant me this honor?" Lord Morrow asked, offering his gloved hand and Adelia didn't hesitate to take it, even with the stone in her pocket and the mystery he deliberately kept between them.

Their dance was a far cry from the last two times she had danced with him. There was no fear of other lords and the future, no tension, no uncertainty. Only his gentle, steady hold and how he matched her beat for beat, stride for stride, making the dance feel elegant and effortless.

When she got dipped, she couldn't help but laugh and from there, Lord Morrow added all the flourishes her heart could desire, giving her the sort of dancing experience she had always enjoyed greatly back home, so long as she had found a partner to indulge her.

Adelia found herself enjoying herself so much, she felt a brief pang of disappointment when the time came to switch partners. Lord Cynar offered his hand next and it was so large it made her feel truly tiny, his other hand settling so very gently at her side to envelop her flank completely and his fingers spanned her entire back.

He was the gentlest dancing partner she had ever had, even gentler than Lord Morrow, his touch light and he followed rather than guided, his hands warm and careful.

When Alexzander melted out of the crowd afterwards, a smile on his face that would have fooled most others, but not Adelia, she felt herself grow fully alert and tense once more.

"If I could -" he began, only to fall silent when Lady Miriam appeared.

"I think not," she drawled and it was rather satisfying to see the smile fall from Alexzander's face and how he grew rigid, his fingers twitching, a brief spark of magic in the air that swiftly faded again. "Run along now, little cockroach, or I'll make you."

His gaze was filled with burning hatred but also a spark of fear, Adelia realized, as he straightened his already meticulous clothes with a huff and turned towards one of the mages enjoying a palm-sized pastry instead.

Adelia blinked when Lady Miriam offered her hand with a little smile. "If I could be so bold?"

The last time Adelia had danced with a woman, she and Izabel had visited Katrina for her birthday and they had snuck away with alcohol and little cakes and had danced together to the music they could hear drifting up from the ballroom through the open windows.

They hadn't been able to steal away for too long, but back then, Tirn had run interference for them and so they had danced and giggled and had had the fun of their lives without the pressure of etiquette and being forced to interact with people they didn't like in order to keep up appearances and make everyone happy.

In the kingdoms, two women dancing in public would have garnered plenty of raised brows, but here? Here everyone danced with everyone. Such things didn't matter here.

Adelia loved that. She loved the feeling of shattered chains all around her and people being free and themselves. So she reached out and took Lady Miriam's hand, who lead her skillfully into a sweeping waltz.

"Alexzander seems afraid of you," she murmured and Lady Miriam smirked with dark satisfaction. "Do you not fear his retribution for killing him?"

She laughed and it was amused and tinged with something otherworldly. The feeling of the deep, ancient vastness that surrounded her surged as though it was amused, as well.

"Oh, he wants to kill me, make no mistake of that," Lady Miriam said, her smile sharp and languid all at once. "But even if he could best me, he wouldn't dare anger what loves me."

The glowing heartbeat-pulse within Lady Miriam's chest strengthened for a moment, glowing sharp enough that a hint of her bones and ribcage became visible ever so slightly, before settling again.

"I'm glad," Adelia said quietly. "To know you have such good tidings on your side."

Lady Miriam softened. "Let's be friends, the two of us, shall we?"

Adelia's smile was genuine when she answered, "I'd like that."

The song ended shortly afterwards and Lady Iris was right there to offer her hand. Adelia accepted it readily and where Lady Miriam had been all flowing grace, Lady Iris was cheerful and a little swifter, her dancing style fit the faster song the musicians played now perfectly and Adelia found herself grinning a little.

"So, I heard it's possible to be your friend?" Lady Iris asked with a smile, her hands warm and calloused and steady, and she pulled Adelia into a fun twirl that made her giggle before she could stop herself. "Are there any more positions open?"

"I think there are," Adelia found herself answering, easily caught in the other woman's bright spirit and easy, genuine friendliness.

"Lovely, tell me, do you enjoy operas?" At Adelia's nod, her smile brightened. "Perfect, I've always wanted a friend who'd go with me. Are you free in two weeks?"

Before Adelia knew it, she had agreed to and arranged an evening out with Lady Iris and she found herself quietly eager for such an evening, looking forward to seeing more of the Wilds, and to leaving the keep again for a bit.

The dark skinned woman ended their dance with a playful little bow that Adelia returned with a curtsy, a smile on her face, before Lady Iris got the attention of Lady Miriam to dance with her, as well.

Which was when Lord Ivan swept in and Adelia accepted his hand, and she was pulled into a truly delightful dance that had her laughing as he seemed to enjoy adding flourishes to the dance as much as she did, a bright grin on his face.

For all the tension that had accompanied her at the beginning of the party, by now Adelia felt far more at ease and more at home than she ever had attending balls and banquets of the nobility back home.

The evening seemed to pass in no time at all, between food, drinks and dancing and plenty of shared stories, from monsters fought to new inventions their people had created.

Their guests began to leave at last, when the hour had grown quite late and Adelia started to genuinely feel rather tired. While Alexzander was one of the first to depart, he still said goodbye with a little bow. Adelia hated the way he smiled at her, as though they had a shared secret and as though he knew more than she and was ever so kindly sharing that knowledge.

Adelia kept her polite smile on her face, feeling utterly frigid inside when she looked at this man. She was glad when at last he left.

Lord Morrow stepped aside to see Lord Cynar and Lord Ivan out, who were asking if they could take some of his wine home with them.

Lady Miriam approached her then and Adelia watched curiously as she began to weave her fingers through the air, water gathering and swirling around them to flow into a gathered point, forming a bubble that burst and an ocean-colored stone fell into Lady Miriam's waiting palm.

"Here, drop this into a bowl of water and we can talk whenever you like," she said as she handed the stone over. It felt slick with wetness despite being perfectly dry and it was cool and smooth to the touch. "If you have a big bowl, we can even see each other."

That was a very neat piece of magic that Adelia hadn't known even existed. "Thank you," Adelia answered, sounding quietly impressed and Lady Miriam left with a smile and a parting wave towards Lady Iris, who had just finished eating one of the remaining dishes.

"I'll drop by more often once winter's here and I very much look forward to our outing," Lady Iris said as the last of the guests were teleported home and only she remained now.

Her mage waiting by the door and chatting with Sorceress Iva, while Lord Morrow was in a quiet conversation with Steward Lambrecht, most likely getting cleanup organized.

The two mages seemed to be quite excited about whatever they were discussing, gesturing animatedly and Lady Iris added, almost absentmindedly. "My pack's always a bit quieter in winter, so I find myself with more time on my hands."

"Pack?" Adelia asked and Iris paused, briefly looking like she had gotten caught saying something she shouldn't have, before she visibly decided to just go with the truth.

"I'm a werewolf," she said with a shrug that failed to look fully nonchalant. "But don't worry, I'm not dangerous. I hope that doesn't change our plans to meet in two weeks?"

A werewolf? Adelia had heard plenty of horror stories about them. About the monsters with endless rage and no control, who ate the hearts of those they loved and rampaged through entire villages, leaving only bloody and torn apart people to be found once morning came.

But Lady Iris was nothing like that and Adelia had already met and saved a monster that stories probably would have told her was nothing but bad and bloodthirsty. "It doesn't," she answered. "I'm glad you trusted me with this knowledge."

Lady Iris smiled, warm and bright like the sun. "Thank you, you really are a sweet one." She glanced past her when her mage started smacking the wall in excitement while making big gestures with their other hand, a huge grin on their face. "I better go and grab Alb, or they're going to stay up all night experimenting again if they get too riled up. I look forward to seeing you again soon."

"Feel free to write me whenever you like," Adelia found herself offering and Lady Iris brightened, nodding with a big smile, before she strode away to snag Alb and coax them away from Sorceress Iva, who looked quite energized herself.

Lady Iris waved at Lord Morrow, calling her goodbyes, and he waved back at her, wishing her a good journey home.

Once they were gone, Lord Morrow left Steward Lambrecht to his work and Adelia found herself relaxing at once now that the guests were gone, glad that the party was over despite how much she had ended up enjoying it. Mostly she was glad it had been a success, even if she could have done without Alexzander.

"They're a lot, I know," Lord Morrow said when he joined her and noticed her shoulders sag a little. "But they are good people. Well, enough of them are to make these parties worth the effort."

He then cleared his throat, looking unexpectedly a tad nervous and, dare she say it, slightly shy? Or perhaps hesitant? "If you are not too tired yet, may I speak with you for a moment?"

"Of course," Adelia said, straightening her spine and shoulders again, a small frown appearing between her brows. "Is something the matter?"

"Nothing bad happened," Lord Morrow hurried to reassure her. "Ah, I am going about this all wrong. I just wanted to speak to you, Iris made me realize that I've perhaps been a bit... reticent."

Adelia had no idea how to answer for a moment, before she glanced past him at the staff entering the room to start cleaning up. "Perhaps we can speak in private?"

"Of course," Lord Morrow agreed immediately. "Let's head into my office."

The walk there was silent and the air between them felt heavy with unspoken words and something like nervous anticipation. Her fingertips ghosted over the cloth-wrapped stone, before she drew her hand away from it. It came from Alexzander and she didn't doubt for a second that his intent had been a harmful one.

She would not do his dirty work for him. Besides, Lord Morrow had done nothing to gain her ire to the point where she wished to hurt him, he had just kept secrets. Adelia wanted the truth, not to ruin what they had. When she glanced at him, his expression was focused and perhaps a bit pensive, as though he was already planning what he was going to say.

As soon as they had reached his office and sat down, the door closed behind them, Lord Morrow spoke, "I want you to feel welcome and to ensure you do not feel pressured by me in any way, this is your life, Adelia and you should live it as you like. But Iris pointed out that I might have been a bit... reticent and uncommunicative as a result."

His hands were a little restless, straightening papers as he spoke and somehow, despite how strange and unfamiliar this sight was, something about it felt... genuine. It was almost endearing how sincere and somewhat worried he appeared.

"I'm sorry if I made things uncomfortable at any point," he said and Adelia shook her head.

"There is no need to apologize," she said.

His smile was a little sad, however, when he looked at her. "And yet I worry that I failed to make you feel safe around me. I wish to get to know you, Adelia. To become your confidante, your friend, to be there for you in whatever capacity I can. In whatever ways you let me."

He sounded so earnest, so steady, his tone warm, that her heart beat a little faster, an unexpected, touched warmth filling her chest.

"I hope I will manage to earn your trust," he continued. "And that you will speak freely with me and will let me share in your joys and sorrows. I hope you will know, without a doubt, that you never have to worry about anything with me."

Her mouth felt dry and she didn't know how to respond for the longest moment. No, that wasn't quite right. She did know what to say, but everything she had ever been taught told her not to. That she'd have to uphold her decorum, that she'd have to always be the perfect lady of the house, like her mother had been.

Like her father had demanded her to be. Her courteous manners had been her only defense against him.

And yet, that coal within her gut burned brighter at those thoughts and she realized that she didn't want to be perfect, she didn't want to be aloof and sweet and pretty.

She didn't want to fear that she'd suddenly stumble across a previously unknown line in the sand and it would see her punished. That she'd find the end of Lord Morrow's patience and deal with the sudden consequences.

She liked him, she had to admit, despite the mystery that kept niggling at her mind. She liked how he treated other people, how he thought of the world at large and that he tried to make her laugh. She liked the glimpses of his silliness that she had gotten and she liked his fangs, she had to admit. If they were a glamour, she wouldn't mind if he had it cast again.

"I don't know how to set aside my manners," she answered softly, her heart beating a little faster. It felt forbidden to speak freely, to be herself. It had only ever been safe around Katrina and Izabel, who had guarded her secrets as fiercely as she had guarded theirs. But she wanted to try. She wanted to be daring. "But I would like to learn."

"If there is anything I can do to help, please let me know," he requested with a hopeful smile. "I would like to be your friend, if you'd want me as one."

The friendship with Tirn had burned her, but Lord Morrow wasn't Tirn. He had far more honor and was a far better person overall, if she was being honest. He had been nothing but good to her.

"Yes, let's be friends," she decided and words clamored into her mind, her hopes and dreams rising unexpectedly in that moment, and they refused to be swallowed back down again. To be suffocated until they were something small and careful. Something that could be hidden easily.

She was so sick and tired of hiding, of making herself easy to digest to those around her, always sweet and gentle and careful not to offend. She wanted to be herself and the desire to do just that clawed through her innards despite the fear that accompanied it.

A fear that whispered that it wasn't safe, that it was never safe. That hiding was the only thing that protected her. That, if she had hidden, her horse would still be alive and the blacksmith would still have his job and his home.

The coal in her gut burned hotter, scorching up her lungs to add to the clawing thing that wanted her to reveal herself. She wanted to stop being so scared all the damn time.

She wanted to be brave, to be more, to have more, even if it felt like her desire and fear were vying about who could choke her up first. She took a deep breath, knotting her hands tightly in her lap as she decided to take the plunge. To leap, to dare.

"Would you like to see my clockwork horse?" she asked, her heart in her throat, nervousness and hope giving it wings that beat so very fast against her ribs, as though it wanted to break free.

His expression brightened, hope openly visible and the clenching of her gut eased up a little in response. "Yes, please. I would love to."

Adelia got up, smoothing down her skirts and Lord Morrow followed her easily, looking curious and hopeful still and that made it easier to shove down the nervousness that gripped her tightly, to let her hope grow and with it, her dreams.

She had spent years sneaking around, hiding and bribing and observing carefully, trusting only Julie and Izabel and Katrina and, to a certain extent, Tirn.

Her love for all things clockwork had cost her much. A precious mentor and a beloved companion and if her father had seen what she had made, it would have cost her everything she had left.

A part of her was terrified of showing it off now, to let Lord Morrow close to one of the few parts Adelia had managed to protect from the ruthless grasp of her parents, who had done their best to rip out all the unwanted pieces of her personality.

To make her into a doll.

She was so sick and tired of being a doll.

The horse was kept in a carefully concealed spot and Lord Morrow waited politely by the entrance to her rooms, the door closed behind him, though he kept fiddling with his gloves.

She took a deep breath before she approached him, holding the cloth-wrapped horse in her hands and when she pulled the linen wrapping back, she presented him with the thing she was most proud of making.

The thing she had made to remember her horse by, the only grave, the only memento, she had of a gentle, warm being who had loved and trusted her with everything. Who had given her solace in her darkest days, strength when she felt weak and who had let her lean on him when she had to cry.

"It walks," she said, pride and grief and nervousness making her voice slightly raspy as she held it out to him, slowly, cautiously. She hoped her trust wasn't misplaced. She hoped the earnestness she had seen in him was real. "And if you press against the mane, the head bobs."

Lord Morrow reached out and his touch was so very gentle, so very careful. Reverent, even, as he lightly brushed over and pressed on the mane. The horse's head bobbed, smooth and steady.

She had spent hours bent over those tiny mechanisms until the horse's movements were no longer jerky and clunky. Until it had moved smoothly every time.

"It's beautiful," Lord Morrow said and he sounded like he absolutely meant it. "It's amazing, you're quite brilliant. May I - may I see it walk?"

He sounded earnest, a boyish curiosity and fascination in his voice that made her smile as a rush of both relief and pride hit Adelia. No one but Izabel and Katrina had ever complimented her work. Tirn had only seemed somewhat curious, but he hadn't cared too much and Adelia hadn't dared to show Julie anything directly, trying to protect the maid if her secret ever got discovered.

She crouched down to carefully set the horse onto the stone floor, grabbing the wind-up key on its back and winding it up before she let go and stepped back.

It clip-clopped over the stone in a artistic trot and oh, that had taken her weeks of nightly work to figure that out. How to make it walk without losing its balance, refining it until it didn't even so much as wobble. Until it pranced as beautifully as her horse once had.

"There was a blacksmith back home," she found herself saying, her voice sounding rough and crackly in her throat in a way that would have had her mother hissing at her to stop being so emotional, to adjust her composure, as she watched the horse trot. "He helped me make things out of metal. My father tossed him out when he found out what he was doing."

Lord Morrow's expression, when she glanced at him, had turned serious and there was a spark of dark anger in his gaze that didn't scare her one bit. It felt good to see him angry on her behalf. The horse stopped trotting, coming to a stand-still and suddenly the room was too quiet.

"When I fought him about it, in front of the staff no less, he had my horse killed." Her voice broke on her words, her vision blurring with tears and she viciously and ruthlessly stomped down on the urge to cry. "So this... this is not easy for me. But I don't want to be scared anymore, so..."

His hands came up to lightly touch hers and when she turned her palm into his after a moment, he cradled it, his touch steady and gentle.

"Thank you, for trusting me," his voice was heavy with emotion. "I will never cause you such grief and pain, I swear it on my life. I'm sorry that happened to you, you didn't deserve it. It wasn't fair."

Oh, now she was crying. "It really wasn't," she got out, ducking her head and lifting her free hand in front of it to try and hide her tears. No one had ever said that. No one had ever told her that it hadn't been fair. That it had been wrong.

Her friends might have had they known, but she hadn't been able to tell them what had happened to her horse or the blacksmith. She had wrapped her grief snuggly around her heart instead and had held it there since, hidden away. Like a wound that bled pain all over her ribs until sometimes even her breaths ached in her chest.

She had thought quietly, and to herself, that it hadn't been fair what had been done to her horse and the blacksmith, but it was another thing entirely to hear it. To have her husband agree with her.

"May I hold you?" he asked and after a moment she nodded. He opened his arms, patient and without expectations, like always. She stepped forward and his arms closed around her and oh, that felt so nice.

He felt safe. He felt like he was hiding her away from the world and while she couldn't allow herself to keep crying, her tears no longer falling even as the grief and pain stayed, she remained in the circle of his arms a few moments longer.

"I think I hate your father," he whispered like it was a secret and her laugh was watery and humorless.

"I think I do too," she whispered back, confessing the hidden truth in her heart. One she had always carefully ignored when she had still lived at home. She was silent for a moment, before she added, "I want to make more clockwork things. I want to make little things and great things."

"Make as much as you want," he said. "I hope you'll show them to me, because I'd love to see them, but mostly, I want you to do what makes you happy. Go and make grand things, you certainly have the mind for it."

Adelia pulled back and found Lord Morrow – no, Rowan, smiling down at her. He reached up to brush the last hint of tears from her cheek, his touch gentle and the leather of his glove butter-soft. "Be brilliant, Adelia. I want to see you shine."

Her grip on his vest tightened a little and with a wobbly smile, she nodded. "Thank you," she whispered and he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"Truth needs no gratitude," he murmured, then he brightened, like he had been hit by an idea. "Would you like a workshop? We have plenty enough rooms to get you set up."

A workshop, a real workshop, had been something she hadn't quite dared to dream of before, not even when she had thought she'd mary Tirn with his indifferent indulgence to her hobbies. Her longing must've been written clear across her face, for he smiled, charming and sweet and glad and fanged.

"I'll get you set up right away," he said and slowly stepped back, like he was reluctant to go, but also really wanted to get to it right away. "Or would you like me to stay?"

"Go," she said with a smile, the grief and pain not gone but growing quiet again. "And, Rowan?"

He paused, his hand on the doorknob, to look at her. "Yes?"

She was filled with relief and gratitude and gladness and a tender, comforting warmth and she couldn't help but say, "Thank you, for marrying me."

His expression softened and he offered her a deep, respectful bow. "I would do it again, in any lifetime," he said and opened the door. "Sleep well, my lady Adelia."

"You as well," she called after him and he smiled at her one last time, before he left, closing the door with a quiet click.

Wiping across her cheeks again, her skin feeling hotter after crying, she realized that she was smiling, even as she crouched down to pick up her metal horse again, cradling it close for a moment.

"I wish you were still here," she murmured, her lashes growing wet anew as she blinked tears away despite still smiling. "I wish I could have brought you here, where no one would have hurt you." And in an aching whisper, she added, "I'm so sorry."

Getting up, she was about to wrap the horse up again, before she paused and with a deep breath she walked over to the still largely empty shelves and placed it there. She gave it a place of pride, ready to be seen by anyone who might so much as glance into her rooms.

Adelia felt both lighter and heavier at once, relief making her feel like floating and the exhaustion of the day and its emotions dragging her towards bed.

She wrote quick letters to her friends, telling them about everything that had happened and how much she missed them and she spilled her hope across the edges of the pages in the form of sketched flowers.

She put the letters into the magical boxes and she wondered how she could repay Sorceress Iva for this kindness. She wanted to, even if it wasn't required or expected.

It wasn't until she undressed for bed that she remembered the little weights in her pocket. Right, the stone Alexzander had given her, and the stone from Lady Miriam. She had actually forgotten about them until now.

She removed Lady Miriam's stone first, running her fingertips over it, fascinated by the water-slick feeling despite the stone being dry, before she carefully set it on her shelf near the horse.

She then pulled the other stone out and unwrapped it from the silk cloth. As soon as she pulled the cloth away, the stone that tumbled into her palm was summer-warm and it spread a gentle, golden shine, like sunlight falling through trees.

It had a soft, golden-orange color with a little pink hue that showed as she picked it up and moved it, like countless sunrises and sunsets wrapped up in each other.

It felt like holding a little piece of sunshine in her hands. It was so very warm and it gently illuminating her room as well as any candle would have. It was breathtakingly beautiful and mesmerizing and it felt like life.

She turned the stone between her fingers and despite how tired and fascinated she was, her mind began to work.

Alexzander was poison, he had come to ruin and destroy and pollute what he could. For his own amusement, at the very least, and for his personal gain at most. If he was poison, then the stone must be, too.

He had given the stone to her to harm Rowan, so the stone, this... this crystallized piece of sunlight, for it felt like sunshine, like warmth and summer and light, must be poison to her husband.

Adelia stilled, her mind growing utterly silent for a long second and her breath catching in her throat. The next moment, she turned and rushed towards her desk, reaching for the book on sentient monsters.