Omens In Ashes

Elyna had known death before. She had dealt it with her own hands, by the edge of her sword or on the tip of a well placed arrow. It was never something she did lightly, choosing to preserve life if there was ever a chance. But she was loyal. Devoted to her homeland and the people who she served. She would deal in death it meant the protection of the vulnerable; of those who could not defend themselves.

The Skyrider had faced death herself. She had watched the pale sky fading away, taking with it the last breath of her frozen lungs. Malcolm had saved her life that day. Elyna knew that she had slipped into oblivion, it was only by his actions that she had awoken. She hadn’t minded death. Her passing had served a purpose, it had saved a little boy. A prince of the kingdom. Malcolm’s youngest son.

Lady Burhan had lost relatives to the passing of age or the grip of illness. To accident, ill fate, bad judgement and violence she had lost friends and young people she had worked alongside.

They told her that Malcolm was dead. Her mother hadn’t even been cruel, simply patted her on the hand and squeezed her shoulder with the gentle words, ‘you see my love, it just wasn’t meant to be.’

Beatrice had not known of her previous attachments in Renmere. The knowledge of Elyna’s failed engagement to a disgraced Duke seemed to answer her unspoken questions. Billy had kept her own council, and Emily remained a constant shadow at her side. As though her fellow Skyrider expected something, at any moment. But nothing has happened. There had only been an unsettling quiet.

For Bloom Elyna had danced. The noble woman had made new acquaintances and a few tentative friendships. She had found her rhythm in Aramane and blossomed like the trees that lined the Parade streets. Confident in a way that she had never been before she had laughed, chatted and engaged in mild flirtations with men and women alike. She had learnt to play a better hand of cards and her dancing was much improved after so much practise.

In the mornings, she trained with Emily, secure in the knowledge that once all this socialisation was complete she would return to her life in Renmere and the Iron Hand. She would marry the love who held her heart and their lives would be good lives.

There had been rumours circulating about a number of men in the hope of catching her interest. Although gossip continued, as Lady Burhan seemed to show no particular favour to any potential suitor to the exasperation of her Mother and amusement of Beatrice.

They told her that Malcolm was dead. How could that be so? He was not a man like other men. He was godlike, immortal and beyond the things that crippled the world. How could an accident see his end? Something so simple and tragic would not kill Malcolm, could not. Had not. She was sure. He was hers and she was his. Elyna knew it with the certainty that she knew her heart was still beating. If Malcolm’s heart had stopped, then so too would her own. She knew that.

Elyna had done all that they asked her. She had buried herself in high society and even found some genuine enjoyment. Where was her reward? Where was her wolf? Her fingertips brushed the small stone that remained in her pocket. How many times a day did she reach out to it, the solid weight a reminder of the man who had gifted it. She looked out across the ballroom floor and raised her drink of lemonade to her lips. Dancers spun past in a waltz, the violin lifted in its refrain.

A hundred candles glittered from the walls and left tantalising dark corners where members of the nobility giggled and tried to hide their sins. Her Mother was talking to a Lord. Beatrice was engaged in cards. Billy was dancing and Emily was perched by the table of food, watching her across the room like a hawk. The way she always watched her these days, as though at any moment she expected Elyna to shatter. As though she had been made of fine porcelain, a piece that had been dropped and cracked too many times. Beautiful yes, but broken to the trained eye.

Elyna surveyed the room and took a final sip. Watched it all from a distance, removed from her own body. It was someone else’s life, it belonged to the Burhans. Detached from her body she watched as she accepted the next dance from a tall young man with scruffy brown hair. She didn’t know his name, she didn’t care. She smiled at him, the motion automatic as he led her onto the dancefloor. This life was no longer her own, and there was no reason to stay. Soon it would be over.

For most of the journey, his heart had been heavy with grief, even the odd storm at sea was not enough to help distract his thoughts from the events that had unfolded in Mayce. The funeral had been as grand as the man himself, and Owen had been glad to witness it. He had visited Aramane as a boy, something his brother had never done and would never now do, but the streets did not feel familiar to him, in fact, nothing was the same as it had been. Even the colours of the sunset seemed less vivid somehow.

Fredric had traveled to the capital to greet his cousin and, on Owen’s suggestion, decided to stay a few nights. There was to be another ball and Owen had received an invite at one of the popular gentlemen's clubs. Unlike the taverns back home, Aramane indulged the upper class to no end. Owen wasn’t exactly of the right stock, as the locals might put it, but his general tidiness and charming appearance allowed him to blend in.

He had sunk a lot of his commission into a fine suit of navy blue that even he had to smile at when faced with his own reflection. “Do you think she’ll like it?” He asked his cousin.

“Who?”

“Lady Burhan, of course.”

“Your friend, right,” Fredric said. “They are the colours of her house, are they not?”

“Something to remind her of home.” Owen smiled.

“You are quite the romantic, cousin.”

“Well I certainly don’t get it from my family.”

Fredric laughed. “No, I suppose not.”

“Did Godric not wish to join us?” Owen inquired.

“He’s already in town, has been for the better part of the season. I think he is keen to marry this year.”

“Any nice girls this time around?”

“They are all nice,” Fredric said, “he is just very…”

“Particular?” Owen suggested.

“Indeed.”

“Well with any luck, we’ll run into him tonight!”


The bright candlelight of the ballroom left Owen feeling suddenly small. He hadn’t seen anything quite this extravagant back home and, faced with it for the first time, he found himself at a loss for words.

“I know,” Fredric said, amused, as if recognising the look on his cousin's face. “It’s all a bit… showy, is it not?”

“I love it,” Owen mouthed.

A group of girls crowded the newcomers, all keen to ask for dances in order to find out more about the mysterious but well dressed pair that had just entered the ballroom without an official announcement, their arrival too late in the night for such things. Owen offered up a polite smile, but looked beyond the group, hoping to spot her.

Elyna soon realized her mistake of accepting dances without paying much attention to the man who asked. As the night progressed, she found herself dancing in the arms of one of Aramane’s princes. The King had three sons, from different Mothers ranging in age from 23 to 30 years. It was Monteque whose request she had accepted without thought. Now, her Mother was standing gleefully at the edge of the room, Beatrice poised beside her as Elyna and the Prince moved with graceful ease through the steps. It was an energetic dance, bringing color to otherwise pale cheeks. Her skin had lost the kiss of sunshine, having been deprived for the best part of two seasons now. Her hair was dark and glossy, her features stunning against alabaster. In the height of Blaze, when even the evenings were too warm and humid for comfort, the fashion was for looser dresses and so she wore light layers of a pale green and moved like a wood nymph through the steps. Her thoughts distant from the man before her, although her manners remained impeccably polite.

‘It’s not often my Brothers and I are able to attend such functions,’ Monteque leant forward to speak into her ear.

‘I imagine you’re very busy,’ Elyna agreed, ‘I hear that you and your brothers spend long periods away with the army.’

‘Yes indeed,’ Monteque offered a small, roguish smile that she had expected to come from the man. ‘Although, I admit we’ve each been in competition to return to the season. I was fortunate enough to be summoned back,’ His grin widened, ‘my brothers are most put out.’

‘Perhaps they will rejoin society nearer Harvest,’ Elyna stared past the mans shoulder, searching for ways in which to remain polite before moved her into a slow spin. She returned to his hold. His hand steadfastly placed on the center of her back.

‘We were rather competing to return and meet you,’ he admitted sheepishly. He wasn’t as tall as either Bennett, but still a head taller than Lady Burhan and so had to duck to meet her gaze.

Elyna blinked in surprise, forced to study his features for the first time. He had deep brown eyes, and freckles across his nose. His hair was a sandy blonde, with strands of red throughout. ‘You flatter me,’ she replied, careful not to offend someone with such power.

‘It’s not every year we hear of a mysterious Lady from Renmere, a Skyrider no less amongst the debutantes.’

‘I’m a little old to be making a debut,’ Elyna confided with a faint smile.

‘Yes…but you’re different from the other girls,’ Monteque looked over her shoulder, checking the crowd as they continued to dance. His voice dropped to a low murmur. Forcing Elyna to lean forward to hear him out. ‘You’re quiet, without being shy or nervous - confident. As though you know what you wish for the rest of your life.’

Elyna nearly laughed at that, nothing could be further from the truth, ‘perhaps I wear a better disguise for my anxieties, your Highness.’

‘Please, call me Monty.’

She bowed her head with respect, increasing the distance between them to a more polite refrain, ‘Monty it is.’

‘May I call you Elyna?’ He was peering at her again, his expression earnest.

‘Of course,’ she could hear that the song was coming to an end and found herself scanning the crowd once more. When would it be time to go home? Surely her Mother and Beatrice wouldn’t want to stay out much longer.

‘Elyna…’ he gripped her left hand tighter in his own, ‘will you join me for a ride tomorrow morning? I know you had hoped to see more of Aramane. We could even visit the Griffins if you would like?’

She almost stumbled in her steps, genuine delight lifting her features as she looked up at the man, ‘I would like that,’ she admitted, ‘I would like that very much.’

Monty grinned back, ‘then tomorrow morning, at the first touch of dawn we’ll ride out.’

‘Thank you,’ Elyna smiled, ‘I will look forward to it.’

‘Perhaps I might steal another dance tonight?’ They separated as the final strands of music played across the extravagant ballroom.

‘As you wish,’ Elyna bowed into an elegant curtsey as Monteque took his leave and was immediately flocked by a number of Mothers with daughters to marry. Shaking her head a little, Elyna turned to find Emily at her side, offering her a drink of water in a wine glass. The pair made their way from the dancefloor. Beatrice had led Caelin away, lest they seem to keen on a march between Elyna and the Prince.

‘He seemed keen,’ Emily murmured.

‘He’s done his research,’ Elyna frowned as she took a sip. Sweat beaded her forehead as the night air clung to her skin, ‘he’s been paying close attention, maybe watching me for a while.’

‘Hopefully not too close,’ Emily sighed.

Elyna shrugged and made to respond before the words died on her lips. She stilled, heart swelling in her chest till she thought it might burst as she saw the familiar rise of a neck beyond it’s formal collar and disappear into dark hair. Malcolm? Her fingers trembled as she passed the drink back to Emily and made her silent way forward. The man turned around to see her approaching steps and she paused as though affronted by the person she saw before her. It wasn’t Malcolm, it was Owen.

Emily stood beside her, a pale shadow. Her expression was tight with worry as she supported her friend.

This had been a bad idea, not arranging to meet Owen somewhere privately when he first arrived. All the sounds of the ballroom faded away and left her in an unwelcome bubble of silence.

‘Owen,’ her voice cracked as she reached out to touch the man’s shoulder. Her white gloves stark against the blue of his fine suit. ‘You look wonderful,’ her gaze shifted over him in quick succession. How cruel that in many ways he looked so like his brother. Beside him stood another man she recognised, her brow creased as she struggled to remember the name, ‘Godric?’ She lifted her hand to her eye, rubbing it lightly. Had they met before in Mayce?

‘I received your kind letter…I’m so glad that you made the journey safely,’ she spoke the polite phrases that she had been taught. Reacting automatically whilst her thoughts scrambled for any kind of order and sense amongst the chaos of her feelings. She felt as though her bubble burst, and the sound of the room rushed her like the tide of the ocean. If she stumbled as she stood, Emily was resolute beside her.

Malcolm is dead. He couldn’t be dead. It’s not true, tell me what happened? Everything in her screamed at her to demand answers. Yet she stood exchanging quiet pleasantries as Aramanian society swept around them. ‘Perhaps we can take some refreshments together,’ Elyna glanced at Emily then, ‘it might afford us the opportunity to talk?’

“Do you see her, cousin?”

“No,” replied Owen.

Fredric shrugged off one of the persistent mother’s and raised his voice so that the group of them would hear. “We’re but poor, penniless showmen, ladies—there’s nothing to see here.”

Owen’s cheeks coloured at that. “But it’s not true,” he whispered when the girls drew back almost as quickly as they had stepped forward.”

“I know,” Fredric said, “but neither of us are here for the vultures.”

At that Owen laughed. When he quieted, he pushed his hands into his pockets and returned his gaze to the dance floor. “I’m a lord now,” he admitted.

“Really?” Fredric sounded surprised. “The lord of what?”

“The lord of Mayce.”

“Of course, forgive me, I was thoughtless.” Fredric was quiet for a time before pointing with his eyes. “Is that her?”

Owen looked up, squinting with disbelief. “Oh, there she is… I think?” He studied Elyna from the far end of the room. She was paler than normal and quite thin. “For a moment I thought she was someone else, she has changed so much…”

“Don’t look,” Fredric warned him.

Owen turned to his cousin with a look or mild alarm. “What’s wrong?”

“She’s dancing with Monty.” Fredric kept his voice low.

“Monty?”

“You remember, he used to play with us as boys.”

“Monty the prince!”

“Shhh!” Fredric hushed Owen. “Someone might overhear you.”

Owen laughed. “Remember what a fat little boy he was?”

Fredric laughed at that. “And such a sore loser.”

“All royalty are,” Owen remarked.

Fredric just snorted. “I guess it’s in their nature.”


Owen did his best not to watch Elyna for the remainder of the dance, but he couldn’t help the strange feeling that rose in him whenever he saw her with another man. Was it jealousy, he asked himself, reflecting back on the years he had known her. Perhaps. Elyna had always been so easy to talk to and confide in, that often Owen thought with her he shared too much. It was better to remain guarded, he convinced himself, and managed to spark up a conversation with Fredric about the family business.

When Elyna called out to him he turned with that same genuine smile she had always won from him with the greatest of ease. She put her hand on his shoulder and he lay his own over it for a short spell as if by way of silent greeting. “Of course, it’s so lovely to see you,” he said in regards to the letter and journey. She suggested they excuse themselves for refreshments and Owen turned to find his cousin in agreement, already taking his leave of them.

Owen offered his arm for Elyna to take and led them to the refreshments. “That’s Fredric,” he said, “I believe you probably ran into Godric last year… or was it the year before? How time escapes me.”

Their shared trip to Nejem seemed as if it had taken place in another lifetime. Now they were here in Aramane, together again. “How have you enjoyed your travels? The sea voyage made me realise how much I’ve missed this place. I tried to secure a faster route,” Owen admitted, “but such things are hard to come by in Renmere, as I’m sure you well know.”

He filled a glass with lemonade and turned to offer it to the woman. “Elyna you look unwell… are you being mistreated?” Owen had to ask, though he kept his voice very low. He had not had time yet to cut his hair after the journey, and it sat now, turned into loose, dark curls, much like his brothers.

Owen has always possessed such social graces that eased even the most difficult circumstances. A gift she had often been envious of. His hand was warm against her own, and for a moment they were friends again. With all the time between Nejem and Aramane forgotten. Then like a fresh new wound she would remember again that Malcolm was reported dead. The last colour drained from her features as she led the way to a terrace where food and drink had been set out. Hopeful in encouraging society outside into the clear night sky. Elyna took a deep breath of the cooler air, feeling it drift across her skin as she accepted the offered drink. Emily, ever the dutiful chaperone took up a seat on the terrace wall. Still insight, but out of hearing.

‘It was just last Frost,’ Elyna remembered more clearly and studied the liquid in her glass. Watching the light refracted from the candles set out in the cut glass. ‘I believe I met your cousins then.’

‘I’ve not seen as much of Aramane as I would have hoped,’ she admitted softly. Beyond the refreshments table were long expansive gardens. Little hedges cut to shapes bordered endless lawns and flowerbeds, filled with plants she couldn’t recognise in the starlight. The terrace was mostly empty, one of the livelier dances starting up and appealing to the popular consciousness. A couple, hand in hand ran giggling from the table to join the gathered crowd.

Lit by the stars, Owen looked more like Malcolm than ever and Elyna stared more intently across the gardens, struggling for a sense of composure that had been effortless in Aramane so far. ‘I don’t see much sunlight, we ladies are supposed to protect our skin.’ She offered a faint smile, ‘you know me, Nejem in Blaze was a dream. I love light…’ she curled her hands around her drink and set it down untouched.

‘I admit, I’ve received better treatment than I was expecting.’ Her smile lifted for a moment, ‘I have a great Aunt, and I like her very much…she intercedes on my behalf to prevent any of my Mothers more ambitious ideas.’

Elyna forced herself to look at the man who stood beside her. It was Owen. Malcolm’s brother and in this light possibly his twin.

‘What happened?’ She hardly dared to breathe, ‘Owen, please tell me what happened,‘ her voice faltered and her hands shook as she tried to smooth them on her dress. ‘Why did he never reply to me?’

Owen looked out over the gardens, as if he now knew the appeal of such things. He was quiet and, if he were to be honest with himself, the reason was Emily. That the two of them had to be chaperoned to speak to one another was the strangest thing to him. It was Elyna… Elyna the skyrider, the same girl he had stood on the wall with for hours on end, side by side under the company of starlight.

She mentioned his cousin and the frost, his mind returning to that time and the moment he had been so unkind to her. Trapped for a moment in the memory, Owen did not realise Elyna had been talking about the present when she addressed him again. His shameful truth of the year before was uttered. “I destroyed the letters,” he admitted. “Malcolm’s a prolific letter writer. I just let my feelings for you cloud what I knew the truth to be. I suppose I thought I was protecting my brother… now it doesn’t matter.”

She had been bracing herself for news of why Malcolm was reported dead. If anyone knew what had happened, it would surely be Owen. Her spine was stiff as she stared, resolute across the gardens in her determination not to be undone in a public place, and desperate to hear more information. So Owens’ confession caught her off-gaurd, causing a mental stumble. It acted in his favour because in her surprise she was forced to pause and not react in the visceral way her body demanded. She wanted to strike the man across the face, but her fists curled at her sides instead.

Breath escaped her in a hiss of fury as she surveyed the man, ‘you-you cruel, thoughtless man!’ She maintained her distance, staring at him like a stranger. Struggling for her words she seethed, hot tears of anger replacing the desolation of loss. ‘How could you stop him communicating with me here? I needed to speak with him,’ she gasped, their thoughts at totally cross purposes. ‘What have I done, that you could hate me so much, Owen?’ She searched his features, confused by the malice of his actions.

‘I needed him…and without any reply to my letters her, had no certainty that my correspondence was safely received…’ she kept her voice low with a struggle, Emily was watching intently from across the terrace, her concern written over her features as she weighed up whether she should intervene.

‘He wrote to me? He was trying to communicate with me whilst I’ve been in Aramane?’ She tried to clarify her thoughts, even if they were a little desperate.

Owen hadn’t expected the woman’s reaction. Anger, certainly, but not this, not these foundless accusations. He let her speak, he knew he owed her that much after his actions last frost, but he did not hear her and only thought to reply when he saw her staring at him, like he was some vial goat dragged in off the street.

“Well if it isn’t the pot calling the kettle black!” Owen accused. “You would deem me cruel, the woman who not only missed her brother's wedding, but the funeral of…” Owen paused, biting back a moment of weakness. He blinked away the water in his eyes. “I was right in frost to burn my brother's letters to you. You accept his engagement and sail across the world to entertain princes and dance with strangers. You may fancy yourself a catch, Lady Burhan, but you’re nothing but a cheap, play thing parading yourself like a piece of steak to a group of hungry dogs. Tell me, Elyna, any bites yet, or is that just a trick you chose to use on Yvan and my brother? Is there any man you wouldn’t step over to get ahead!”

“That’s quite enough!” Emily interrupted the pair. “You have no right—“

“To speak to a lady as she would a common man!” Owen cut Emily off.

“Ser, I respectfully ask you to take your leave!”

“With pleasure!” Owen spat, and turned to go. He stopped all of the sudden and spun about to face them. “I want the gate rune and, as you clearly have no need of it, you’ll grant me the kindness of being as far away from you as fast as possible.”

His torrid onslaught in response was a surprise. But then, Elyna wondered if she should be shocked. Owen always seemed to give as good as he got. Her brow drew in a tight frown as she struggled to understand his rage. Truly, he didn’t understand her situation. Did he really believe she would have missed anything if there had been a choice? All her retorts rose, eager to see him swallow his ire. To make him regret the words he was too eager to share.

Owen repeated his admission, with more clarity and she sucked in a breath. He had burnt the letters in Frost? That seemed a lifetime ago. ‘Owen,’ she reached out toward him but he was determined to say his piece. In the ballroom the dances continued, filling the summer sweet air with the tilt of a violin and cello in harmony.

He cheapened his brother by including him in the same breath as Yvan. Shocked by the accusations, Elyna folded her arms across her chest as Emily appeared beside her. Unable to look at Owen any longer, she flinched as he spat. She wasn’t going to ask him again, but how had she earnt such hatred so easily? Why was he so keen to see the worst in her actions and intentions?

There was so much she had needed to tell him, but his anger made it impossible to trust. Elyna realised that no matter what she tried to explain, he wasn’t willing to hear it. Worse, he still held all the answers to her questions, and had chosen to share none of them. He stood, expectant as she looked down and fumbled in her pouch for the small rune stone.

‘Elyna,’ Emily warned quietly, turning her back on the man. ‘What if you need it? Malcolm wanted you to have an escape…’

‘I can’t use it Em,’ she replied softly, turning it over in her hand before moving forward. Emily nearly fell, trying to stay alongside the noble woman, protective.

Elyna extended her hand to Owen, offering what he had demanded without question or judgment.

‘I asked about the letters from Bloom just past,’ she clarified quietly, ‘I needed to know if Malcolm received my letters safely before I entrusted information to them. I’m sorry for my misunderstanding…’ she took a step in retreat once the stone was taken. Her hand felt emptier than it had in weeks.

‘Ely,’ Emily cautioned, watching the war of emotion on her friend's face. ‘I don’t trust him…’

‘Me either,’ Elyna replied quietly yet she drew an uneasy breath.

‘I accepted your brothers’ engagement, as it is the only proposal I will ever accept. It doesn’t matter what farce I have to partake here. You’re insane if you think I haven’t spent every second wishing I was home with Malcolm.’

She swallowed her tears, ‘you don’t seem to understand Owen, there is no place for me in a world where Malcolm does not exist.’

Elyna apologised after releasing the rune into his possession and, for a moment, Owen seemed all of the sudden calm. Her apology was just as swiftly undone when she stood agreeing with her maid that he was not to be trusted. Owen stared through her. He had travelled all this way to apologise to the woman he had hoped to call sister one day, only to realise that, in fact, it was the last thing he could ever want or wish for his brother.

“However will I sleep at night,” he snapped at Emily, her words and Elyna’s agreement cutting him the deepest tonight.

He brushed by the woman, jolting Elyna with his shoulder, camaraderie amongst friends, however, that they were not. He stopped just shy of the entrance and spoke without facing the pair. “I wonder if you’ll ever be anything but a perpetual disappointment, falling into the bed of whichever rogue makes you feel furthest from your mother’s influence at the time.”

“As for the answers to your questions, well what does it matter—I’m too untrustworthy to offer up even that.”

Owen crossed the hall, disturbing a group of eager dancers that stared after him as if they had just witnessed a twister pass through their party. Fredric had been keeping an eye out for his cousin and approached as soon as he saw him.

“Owen… whatever is the matter? You’ve a face like thunder.”

“A wasted trip is all.”

Fredric offered him a glass of wine. “Never a waste when there are free drinks involved.”

“I’m too angry to drink… I think—I think I want to go home.”

“But you just got here!”

“And it was a mistake to ever come,” Owen mouthed.

Fredric looked across the hall, wondering what had gone on in the short time his cousin had been away with the Burhan woman. “Come, we will travel to Rhode and do as we did when we were young and foolish.”

“It seems we still are…”

“Nonsense!” Fredric laughed. “These poor fools can't even choose to be here. Come, the carriage awaits!”

Owen squeezed the small etched stone in his hand and left the hall with his cousin.

His words held the effect of a slap. Owen knew all her vulnerable points, the fears that kept her awake at night. He knew how Yvan had abused her trust and how hard she struggled to do what was right. To exist within the life she has managed to carve out for herself.

‘You did the right thing,’ Emily laid a hand on her arm. ‘How could you…’ she sighed slowly because Elyna was already on the move.

The Skyrider skirted the outside of the building, ignoring guards as Emily jogged silently behind her. The women returned to the grand entrance in time to see a carriage bough forth. Without wasting time, Elyna sprinted, skirts lifted enough to allow her to run over the gravelled drive. She saw Owen crossing the entrance and skid, placing herself in front of him.

‘I have to speak to you, please…Owen. It’s important and we used to be friends.’ Her words came hurriedly, out of breath from her exertion as Emily lingered in the shadows. She didn’t agree with the decision Elyna had reached so suddenly. There was far too much at stake to entrust to a man with such a short temper.

Owen looked as startled as his cousin to be caught up by the woman in slippers not made for running. Fredric squinted at the exchange. What was a lady of a noble house doing chasing Owen down?

“I disagree,” Owen said, “any perceived friendship seems none but imagined now, in fact, I’m quite certain you only ever befriended me to make your stay amongst the crew more bearable. Or perhaps it was even more sinister than that.” He didn’t say it, but she would know exactly what he meant, that she had only put any effort into befriending him to get close to Malcolm.

“You may not trust me, Elyna Burhan, but you know who does—my brother, and you can be certain he will be informed about this disgraceful night and know my full thoughts on the matter of marrying you.”

Fredric, quite sure he was out of his depth, climbed up into the carriage to at least pretend he had no interest in listening to the rest of the words passed between the pair. The driver turned about, unsure if he was to wait or go.

‘Owen, please…’ she entreated once more. Elyna stepped closer to the man before faltering. Her hand dropped to her chest as Emily dashed to her side, steadying her.

‘You shouldn’t have run, not in your -‘

‘Shoes. Yes,’ Elyna drew a troubled breath, ‘these silly slippers.’ As though the air couldn’t quite reach her lungs, her breath remained laboured as Fredric climbed into the carriage. ‘Owen,’ she struggled once more. ‘If we cannot talk privately tonight then can we meet tomorrow? You didn’t come all this way just to spit insults at me, and take back a gift.’ She searched his expression. Was it completely hopeless trying to reach him? Behind the ballroom, fireworks were being lit in the gardens.

‘I’m running out of time,’ she glanced at Emily, alarmed as she pressed her hand harder to her chest. Her gaze flicked to the carriage driver and the door which Fredric sat behind.

Elyna closed her eyes, ‘don’t destroy the memories we both have. How many nights did we spend watching the stars? Or drinking cheap wine and getting thrown out of tavernas we had no place visiting.’ Surely he remembered there was more to their friendship than his anger. Than just suspicion that she used and dropped the men she encountered like toys. Nothing was further from the truth… why couldn’t he remember who she was? ‘You were like a brother to me…please Owen.’ She couldn’t beg anymore, but felt with a certainty that they would both long regret the fact that their reunion had not been the happy encounter they had both hoped for.

Owen had nothing more to say to the woman. He climbed into the cab and the driver called for the women to step clear before ushering the horses forward. Owen did not look back, did not even offer the woman a second glance. For all he cared, she could do them all a favour and decide to live out the rest of her years in Aramane.


It was late, far too late to be considered reasonable for animal or man when Owen stumbled onto the grounds of Elyna’s Aunts townhouse. Even the doormen had retired for the night, leaving Owen free to traverse the garden in a less than gentlemanly fashion. He was drunk, having downed three times the drink any man should, and held his hands out while the world spun around him. Candlelight drew him to a window and he peered inside after scaling the wall to a small balcony above.

Staring into the dark room beyond, there was little to see but, he imagined, if Elyna was as troubled by the evening's events as he, she would be the only one up. He tested the door only to find it locked, laughed to himself at something only his mind could conjure and simultaneously find amusing in that moment, and followed with a knock. The sound was gentle at first then, out of nowhere, far too loud to ignore.

“I… I shoullnnt ob takkin thiss from yooou,” he slurred, tapping the gate rune against the glass. “Hilynnaa.” He hiccuped. “Strieeyes to led uss inn.”

Elyna watched Owen depart with a strange mix of feelings. Desolation warred with hope. He clearly felt their friendship was beyond salvage, but he had perhaps misspoken. Acting as if Malcolm might be still alive and able to marry her. Was it possible that her continued insistence that he lived, was to be proven right after all? The carriage wheels trundled away on the gravel and she watched it disappearing around the bend and into the night. Hand in hand with Emily she returned to the ballroom and pulled on her mask. Becoming someone in possession of her emotions once more, refusing to share anything of herself with the gathered company.

The Prince requested two further dances before Caelin finally agreed they could all return home, leaving him wanting more, her Mother preened eagerly as they settled into their own carriage. Even Beatrice seemed inspired by the prospect, encouraging Elyna to ride out with the Dawn.

Back at the townhouse, Elyna paced her room in darkness. The door to her balcony open to beckon in whatever breeze could be tempted. How was it possible to be so hurt by Owen? What felt clear was that she had hurt him, deeply. He had recoiled from her and now she didn’t know what to do. Owen had represented a tie to Malcolm, one perhaps she could dare to trust. If Malcolm lived that was.

Beyond the gentle sounds of the sleeping city she heard noise from the gardens. Edging along the wall she peered through the sheet curtains, watching as Owen clambered onto the balcony next door. He was clearly drunk. Elyna held a hand over her mouth, surprising a giggle as he swayed, knocking insistently on Emily’s door.

Elyna scurried back into her room, through the door that joined her with her friend. Emily had been undertaking a meditation in the centre of the room, a single candle lit on the wall sconce.

Before Owen could knock again, Elyna had opened the door and pulled him inside. Her fingers pressed to her lips, ‘shhh! Shhh Owen!’ She glance at the door back to the main house. Hopefully she had avoided disaster.

Emily opened a single eye, peered at them both, sighed and returned to her thoughts.

‘Sit down,’ Elyna tried to help him sink into the nearest chair. Moving to pour himself glass of water flavoured with ginger and lemon. ‘Owen,’ she whispered, ‘what are you doing here?’

“Oh!” Owen stumbled back a step as Elyna tried to guide him towards a chair. “Ders twoo ov yoou.” He blinked at the woman and fell back into the chair, which was when he caught sight of Emily. “Threeee. Ders three!” The man rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand. “Oww did yoou do?”

He smelled of smoke, rum and the underbelly of society. Owen shut his eyes and was quiet for so long it seemed almost as if he had drifted off, until he awoke suddenly, eyes shooting open. “I need tooo intern, retuurnn thiss to you.” He opened his other hand to reveal nothing. “Shiitt. Wayyt waayyyytt. I ‘ad it right…” The man got down on his hands and knees and started feeling around the wooden floor, sweeping his hands out in front of him. “Where?”

He tapped on the floor lightly, repeating the action of tapping on the glass window. The man’s efforts took him back to the door that led out to the balcony, but he couldn’t seem to work the lock. “Oh wait!” He said, digging into his pocket. “I foounnd itt! Heree, here, here.” He hiccuped again. “Taykee dis.” He stood on his knees holding the rune up between finger and thumb. His collar was loose, his suit was dirty and his hair in disarray. It looked as if he had been in a fight, his left cheek dark with fresh bruising.

‘Oh Owen,’ she smothered her laughter behind her hand. Perhaps it wasn’t what he expected to find, but he would experience only kindness and empathy in her care. Out on the streets he would be vulnerable, how had Fredric even let him get away?

After following him around the room, scanning the floor for the unknown object. Elyna was able to take in all the rough and tumble details of his appearance. This wasn’t Owen, not really. He was always ready to laugh, not despair. But there was no right way to grieve.

Rather than argue with the man she accepted the stone. Her heart skipped beats as the familiar weight settled back in her pocket. It had only been a few hours but she has missed it. ‘There’s just two of us,’ she reassured him quietly. A glance back at Emily, saw her friend had crossed the room. The blonde Skyrider advanced, passing a bundle into Elyna’s hands before retreating again, gathering pillows and blankets.

Elyna inspected the collection in her hand, then wrapped up the handful of ice in the towel. She knelt opposite Owen, pressing the compress to his wounded cheek with a hiss of sympathy. ‘Owen…’ she shook her head again, encouraging him to try and sit back. ‘You’ve a safe place to stay here. Why don’t you get some sleep?’ She offered him the drink again. How many times had they looked after each other, when a bit worse for ware? Although, she couldn’t remember him being quite this drunk before.

Knelt before the man, with the compress pressed to his cheek she retrieved the stone again, sliding it into his pocket. ‘I can’t use this,’ she told him softly. ‘I’m pregnant,’ she confided, her forehead pressed gently to his. ‘I’m pregnant and I’ve run out of time to hide it. So you see, I need to know,’ she closed her eyes, ‘I need to know what happened to Malcolm…’

Emily helped her friend make a comfortable spot for Owen on the floor, which he preferred to the idea of trying to struggle up into the chair once more. He rolled onto the covers and stretched out on his back and, feeling the rune in his hand, turned his palm up to juggle it between finger and thumb once more to inspect. “Pregnant?” Owen blinked, the room spinning around him. He closed his eyes to anchor himself to the place he rested. It seemed for a moment as if he had gone to sleep. “But whoo?” He inquired all of the sudden.

Elyna had already steered his thoughts away with a follow up question. What had happened to Malcolm. “Hass sumting hap—happened to Malcolm?” Owen spoke in a worried whisper. “I knoow, he’s—he’s bin writ—writing yoou. I’ve got, got a letta!” Owen pat himself down, but his suit jacket was missing. “Shit. Whe—where is it?” Oh! Here.” Owen retrieved the torn letter from his trouser pocket and handed it to Elyna.

“If yoou knoow sumting I—I don’t. I neeed to get home,” Owen said.”

The letter read:

Elyna,

I’ve become desperate to hear from you. So much so that I’ve entrusted a letter to Owen to deliver in person. This just one of many I’ve sent since I saw you last and estimated your arrival in Aramane. So much has happened and I am still learning to bear the weight of my authority as King of Renmere.

Please believe it was a title I never wanted. I need to hear from you. I pray you are safe and well.

Yours

Malcolm

Owens concern for his brother was enough to see the woman in tears of relief. They misted her eyes as her throat closed, rendering her speechless. With a cough she turned away as Emily knelt to fuss over the man, setting a light blanket over him. Elyna took a moment to gather herself before accepting the letter with hands that shook.

On reading, she stood up so fast that she stumbled, falling back to her knees again.

‘Ely,’ Emily was beside her, ‘what’s the matter?’ Her hand laid gently on Elyna’s shoulder.

Wordlessly the letter was handed over. Elyna stared at Owen, ‘who died?’ She asked quietly, ‘how is Malcolm King?’ Her brow was creased with worry. Her thoughts were tumbling too far to make any sense. She needed to be home with Malcolm, to have a way of reliably communicating with the man.

She searched Owens expression, for the first time ever, she wished he was sober. Why hadn’t she received any letters from Malcolm? Why had his death been reported in Aramane?

‘Owen…if you can I need answers…if you need to rest, then please stay till morning so we can talk…’ the world has tipped beyond her understanding and control and she was unable to name let alone understand her feelings.

Beyond the window the crickets chirped, reminding her that the Dawn would approach eventually and swallow up the secrecy of night.

Owen, taken aback, wasn’t quite sure he understood the sudden display of emotion. “Elyna?” He said, as he sat up, rather concerned. “Wh—whaats wrong?” Emily gave him a quick, sidelong look that seemed to warn him off inquiring further, but the subtlety was wasted on the drunk man. “Whhy are yoou sad?” Did she not fancy Malcolm now that he was a king? Was that not why she had come to Aramane, to find a better match? Surely a king outbid the promise of a prince.

Elyna seemed to take a moment to gather herself before asking more questions, some of which Owen just didn’t have the answers to. “Atler Krome paarsed. I dun-knoow howw, but he, hee was o—old. Men that old do—don’t they live foreveerr. Malcolm is kii—king regent.” He paused, then spoke again, this time to ask another question of her. “Whoo, who do yoou tink was deadd?”

Somewhere her heart was skipping beats. But as it had so often this season, her body felt far away from her consciousness. She watched Owen, as though from across an Ocean. The woman stood again, moving away from the pair on the floor. She pushed her hands through her hair, trying to ground herself with a sense of touch. She was real, this was what she was hearing. Abruptly she spun and threw herself at Owen, her arms wrapped around the man, she didn’t care if she knocked him off-balance into the pillows. Elyna pressed her face into his shoulder, sobbing.

‘Malcolm!’ She forced herself to answer, peeling back enough to speak. Her nose was running, her face red and blotchy as tears ran down her cheeks. All of the restrained emotion from the season rushing free at once. ‘They told me Malcolm was dead, and I’ve not heard from him since I came here.’ She lent back, trying to wipe her nose with the flimsy sleeve of her nightgown before giving up and covering her face with her hands.

‘It is how the news was reported here, in Aramane,’ Emily added quietly for Owen’s benefit, ‘that the Duke of Mayce had been killed in a hunting accident.’

‘I knew it,’ Elyna whispered softly to herself, ‘I knew it wasn’t right. I knew he had to still be alive.’ Roughly, she tried to wipe her face again. ‘Why do you think I was so desperate to hear any news earlier? Owen…I don’t know what to do. I can’t go back to Mal like this,’ she gestured to the small curve of her bump beneath her clothes.

‘But it’s his child,’ Emily wrapped her arm around the woman, ‘from what I know of Malcolm…he’d want to know his child.’

‘But how can I disgrace him?’ Elyna buried her face in her fingers again, the tears far too quick to return.

“Hunting?” Owen scoffed, an amused sound. “But I wroote to yoou,” he said. Owen suddenly understood the confusion. The Duke of Krome was reported dead… someone in Aramane must have thought it to be Malcolm of Mayce, as he was also a duke and a man of Krome. It then must have been reported inaccurately and the rest was just a game of whispers.

“Yoou thort Malcolm dead?” He asked, sullen then. A soft knot formed at the centre of his brow. “Yoou thort my br—brother dead with thiss in your pockeett the whole time!” He scrambled for the rune. “And yoou did not tink to return for his funeral?”

There was a knock at the door then, which made Owen and Emily start. “Emily, do you have a man in your room?” The familiar voice of Billy called.

“Get out!” Emily hissed at the man in a harsh whisper, before answering the voice behind the door. “Just a moment!”

Owen got to his feet and Emily all but pushed him out of the door. He stumbled, fell backwards over the banister, and groaned. “Ah… shit!” Then got to his feet and limped off towards the bushes, only to turn around and crawl about the lawn as if in search of something.

Emily went to the door and looked across at Elyna who was still sitting on the pillows. She opened the door a crack, enough for Billy to glance about the room if she so chose. “I think it’s some drunk out on the street,” Emily said, “they’ve been shouting and walking up and down all night.” She opened the door a little wider. “Would you like to come in? Neither of us can sleep.”

“Bother! Wh—where is it!” Owen could be heard muttering beyond the window. “Shit!”

Billy gasped and raced in to take a look for herself. “Oh my!” She said, “There's someone in the garden!”

Owen’s accusations stung no less than the ones he’d thrown earlier in the evening. Elyna flinched at his words, his assumption that she had idly refused to return to Malcolms’ funeral. The assumption that she hadn’t cared enough to, but nothing was further from the truth. She could explain, but it was clear he still wasn’t able to consider anything from her point of view. That her actions and words were a slight against him, and his brother. Unable to answer before Billy knocked. Elyna watched Emily bustle the man out of the room. Her gaze dropping to the pile of pillows.

Nestled among the blankets was the rune stone. Elyna curled it into her hand once more before hiding it away in her pocket. Would travel by rune hurt the baby, could it? The question she always came back to, the one she had no way of answering. Was it worth the risk? No matter the agony of her decision and her need to return to Renmere, to hold Malcolm in her arms, it always came back to that. Her answer remained the same even if the circumstances had changed. It wasn’t worth the risk.

Billy was still stood at the balcony and Elyna climbed to her feet, gripping a chair for balance. The skyrider joined her friend, and the younger woman she had spent the summer befriending. Emily and Elyna exchanged looks at Billy’s concern but it was Emily who shook her head and vaulted neatly over the balcony and made her way across the dew-covered grass to Owen. Elyna took Billy by the arm, ‘poor man,’ she told the girl, ‘Emily will point him in the right direction.’

‘Isn’t it dangerous for Emily to go alone?’ Billy craned her neck to try and look back at the window.

‘Emily has handled far worse,’ Elyna assured her, ‘she’ll be just fine.’

Emily approached Owen and helped him to his feet, ‘come back later today?’ She spoke quietly, but urgently against his ear. The last thing they wanted were guards coming to arrest the man for trespassing. She led Owen to a gate in the fence, encouraging him through.

'We will look for the stone,’ Emily promised against his protests. ‘Come to afternoon tea? Or something, anything. I know Elyna wants to talk to you,’ the woman sighed, ‘this is all such a mess.’

Elyna had managed to settle Billy in the cushions and get the girl a drink before Emily returned, climbing back through the window and dusting off her hands.

‘That was so exciting!’ Billy exclaimed.

‘He’d just lost his way,’ Emily shrugged and looked across at her friend. They both looked the worst for wear with their lack of sleep. Beyond the open window, the first rays of light were touching the landscape, beckoning dawn.

‘Haven't you got to get ready?’ Billy wriggled back in the cushions. ‘For your big ride with the Prince?’

Elyna blinked at the girl, momentarily confused before she groaned. She wanted to call it off, but couldn’t risk offending the Prince. Not when she was so close to being able to slip away without scandal.

‘I don’t think it’s a good idea,’ Emily said slowly, ‘you look awfully pale…neither of us got much sleep.’

‘I’ll send my apologies…’ Elyna sighed. She moved to her friend's desk, scribbling a short note which she then handed to Billy with a yawn. ‘Billy, will you give this to the footman? I think Emily and I need to get some sleep.’

Billy scanned the note with interest before nodding. Gleefully she darted out the room and left the Skyriders alone once more.

‘What am I going to do, Em?’

‘Whatever it is, they’re not decisions you can make alone,’ she pushed her hand through her hair, ‘I asked him to come back later. For a respectable visit…’

‘Do you think he will?’

‘If he wants to find the runestone he will.’

Elyna nodded, curling her fingers around the emblem in her pocket.