Once they returned home and were situated in Priscilla’s room to begin planning, Mr. Ordan brought them three hearty meals of decadent beef stew, a loaf of bread with a savory herb crust and softened garlic butter, and a sweet fig tarte tatin covered in dollops of cream that looked positively divine. Priscilla’s mouth watered the moment Mr. Ordan entered the room, and it took all her self-control to not pluck the bread off the tray and tear into it.

  Kavil spent his time while Mr. Ordan to get the food set down to look around Priscilla’s room, eyes lingering on the finery that was carelessly strewn about. But what he eventually asked about was a book that Priscilla hadn’t done much more with than flip through the first time she took in this room herself.

  “What’s Toleraan?” Kavil asked, holding the dark green book in his hand, fingers running over the raised letters on the cover.

  Luckily, Priscilla did know the answer from the original story.

  “Toleraan is the premier place for scholars to gather,” Priscilla said as she spread the map in the middle of the floor as the table was being used to hold their food, “located on the Floating Isles south of this continent. It’s a very selective institution and few are allowed to visit without proving themselves to the trailblazer of their academic field or magic specialty. You can read that book if you’d like, it’s mostly a history book, but for now, let’s focus on mapping out our route.”

  They began to dig into the food as they began to plan their journey in earnest.

  With the enchanted saddles and harnesses, their horses would travel fast enough that they should be at the fens in three days, or so Arnold claimed. They wouldn’t be able to stop at any towns with that pace until they’d be stabling their horses at Aidais’ Lament before entering the fens proper. So they tried to guess what might be the promising areas of land to pitch up their tent based on geography alone.

  Sulaiman swallowed a bite of his buttered bread and asked, “Do you know of any monsters in the area we’ll be traveling through?”

  “No,” Priscilla admitted, “but I plan on reading through my books this evening so we can be prepared in case our incense doesn’t keep them away as good as it claims it does.”

  Sulaiman nodded, eyes flickering over the landscape.

  They circled in pencil a few spots that might be promising, but until they actually were on the road, they wouldn’t know if their planning ended up being useless or not. But it was important to focus their restless energy, directing it towards the most useful outlet so they didn’t let it turn destructive within their minds.

  “What’s the plan once we reach the fens?” Kavil asked after eating the last of his stew and they had been silent for a long moment. “If things have gone crazy in the ecosystem like we think, I don’t think we can count on following this path to find your sister.”

  Priscilla winced. “I haven’t quite figured that out yet. I’m hoping luck will be on our side and one of the people in Aidais Lament might be able to give us some directions, but–”

  There was a knock at the door.

  Priscilla stilled.

  Mr. Ordan said that he wouldn’t be bothering them any more until two hours before midnight with a delivery of lavender tea and that left very few people who could bother them. Priscilla didn’t like any of the potential options and irritation was already coating her thoughts at being interrupted.

  “Quiet,” Priscilla whispered to Sulaiman and Kavil as she stood, not wanting them to be discovered. She walked carefully to the door, taking care to not make a sound against the carpet.

  Priscilla opened up her door, angling it so whoever was there couldn’t see past her body into the room. Light spilt into the hallway around her body in uneven beams, illuminating who had been audacious enough to bother her.

  The mother was standing there, dressed clearly in sleeping clothes and her hair loose and slightly damp like she had finished a bath a short while ago, with the light from the room providing just enough brightness to provide details of the woman’s expression. In her hand was a small candle, which was probably how the mother navigated the hallway in the first place. The woman held herself awkwardly and hesitantly, mouth and jaw tight even as her gold eyes softened when Priscilla opened the door.

  “What do you want?” Priscilla asked, frowning as she went over her conversation with the parents from earlier to see if there was anything that still needed addressing.

  The mother seemed surprised by Priscilla’s hostile tone, taking a long blink before saying quietly, “I had wanted to speak with you, Priscilla.”

  “You didn’t have anything to say earlier when I was being berated by your husband,” Priscilla said sharply, “so why the sudden urge to speak now?”

  The mother winced, gaze dropping from Priscilla’s.

  “I know I’ve made mistakes–”

  Priscilla snorted, unable to help herself. “Quaint way to describe my childhood.”

  The mother bit her lip, eyebrows knitting together as her mouth pursed with frustration at Priscilla’s barbs. Priscilla hoped she could rile the woman up enough she’d leave Priscilla alone.

  “Could we please speak in your room?” the mother asked, her self-control slipping enough to let her voice sound aggrieved.

  “Fuck no,” Priscilla said bluntly, enjoying the way the mother seemed taken aback based on her rapids blinks. Priscila just raised her eyebrows, daring the other woman to comment on her language.

  “Could you step out for a moment then?” the mother asked after wisely deciding that wasn’t a battle she was going to win. “It’s hard to have a conversation through a door.”

  “That’s sort of the point,” Priscilla said.

  The mother said nothing, just staring at Priscilla with an expression that set off all sorts of alarm bells within Priscilla’s head. Priscilla realized that if the woman didn’t get what she wanted, she may try and force her way into the room and that would lead to the discovery of Sulaiman and Kavil. The woman had the power to kick them both out if prudishness took hold of her heart, and that would ruin their night of planning, not to mention might cost Sulaiman his job and friendship with Illnyea if the mother got it into her head Sulaiman was a bad influence.

  With the sigh of a willing martyr, Priscilla stepped over the threshold, opening the door up just enough to slip through without showing any more of her room and closing it firmly behind her. It was darker in the hallway now, the candle doing a pitiful job to illuminate much more than their immediate vicinity. But there was just enough light for Priscilla to send a glare towards the mother.

  “Alright, what’s so fucking important that you would come and bother me while I’m in the middle of planning to fix your fuckup?”

  The mother was quiet, eyes lingering on Priscilla’s face as if trying to study her features.

  Priscilla’s patience was wearing thin, steadily worn through like drops of water in stone, because this was turning out to be a massive waste of time. Maybe the mother didn’t really love Illnyea after all and thought it would be best to bother Priscilla to sabotage her efforts.

  Well, probably not, but the point was that each second Priscilla spent talking to the mother was a second that could be better used reading bestiaries or talking to people she actually cared about.

  “Spit it out,” Priscilla snapped, “or I’m going back in my room and locking it for the rest of the night.”

  “When was the last time you slept?” the mother asked.

  Priscilla stared in disbelief at that non sequitur.

  “Frankly, that’s none of your business,” Priscilla said, crossing her arms to rub away the goosebumps from the faux concern.

  “You’re my daughter,” the mother tried to protest and Priscilla’s small modicum of self control snaps.

  “You had your entire life to act like a mother before this,” Priscilla said, her volume rising as each word shook with anger at this hypocrite, anger that the original had never heard these words, anger that her time was being wasted over this utter bullshit, “but when I've finally had enough of being treated like I’m shit, suddenly you care? Suddenly you ask if I’ve slept well? Is it because your precious possession isn’t begging for scraps of love and affection that you suddenly miss it? Well, it’s too little, too late–” bitch, Priscilla just barely keeps inside, hoping to cut deeper with, “–Idalah. You had twenty years to treat me like your daughter and you did fuck all. Don’t come crying to me now because the consequences of your actions are catching up to you.”

  She was reminded of the day before she left for college in her old world, how her parents had stopped by with their business associates just to show off her achievements like it was their own, attempting to parade her around like a prize winning show dog. She had decided to stop calling her parents mother and father that day, using their names in front of those very same business partners as much as possible to get under her parents skin and undermine their perfect reputation.

  Priscilla resolved to do the same with these new pathetic excuses for parents, as it was the least they deserved and maybe she wasn’t a good person, but fuck did it feel good to see how Idalah took a step backwards as the full force of Priscilla’s words hit her, dropping eye contact again like the coward she was, unable to face the reality she had shaped with own two hands.

  “It wasn’t that clear cut,” Idalah whispered, denying her responsibility until the end, “you were–”

  “A child,” Priscilla cut her off viciously, “and you were supposed to be my mother.”

  Idalah swallowed hard as the words rang out in the hallway and Priscilla was tired of dealing with this woman and the way she changed far too late.

  “I don’t have time for you to try and sell me whatever lie that helps you sleep at night,” Priscilla said, letting disgust color her words, “so tell me whatever had you bothering me in the first place or, if you came here just to delay my planning, please just leave me the fuck alone. We both signed a contract agreeing to let the other do whatever they wanted, remember? Or was trying to force life back into a relationship that’s ruined beyond repair take precedence over facing reality like the big girl you are?”

  Sadness creeped across Idalah’s features like ice, slowly crystalizing into existence and freezing her face into an expression wracked with guilt. But Priscilla had no sympathy, mentally counting to three before she left this conversation.

  One.

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  Two.

  Three–

  Idalah pulled out a pouch from her pocket, pouring out what looked like twinkling red and silver marble into her palm, and began to quietly speak.

  “When Illnyea was born, I commissioned a magic artisan to forge a charm out of her blood and orichalcum that would allow me to find her if she was ever lost. I…” Idalah swallowed, fingers shaking as held it out towards Priscilla. Priscilla took it gingerly, surprised at the existence of such a thing.

  Idalah couldn’t even summon the courage to look Priscilla in her eyes as she said, “I hope it will help you find her.”

  Priscilla silently regarded the object in her hand. If Idalah hadn’t told her it was made of, Priscilla would have guessed it was just a type of gem native to this fantasy world that had been sanded down.

  But since Priscilla knew what it was and the opportunity it represented, she looked at it reverently, handling the small object as if it were made of dandelion fluff.

  “How do you use it?” Priscilla asked, not softening her tone because providing this was the least Idalah could do since it was her stupid company that got Illnyea in this predicament in the first place.

  “You have to focus Illnyea while imbuing mana,” Idalah said, faltering briefly as they both remembered that Priscilla wouldn’t be able to use this object. Idalah seemed to resolve herself and continued. “When you’re facing the direction of Illnyea, it will be warmer. As you get closer to her, it should increase in intensity.”

  Even if Priscilla couldn't use this, Sulaiman could and just having this will make rescuing Illnyea all the easier once they arrived at the fens.

  Priscilla turned on her heels as she clutched the marble to her chest. But as her hand hovered over the knob, a sudden thought struck her and began to burn on her tongue, begging to be asked because if it didn’t, the ‘what ifs’ would be sure to haunt her.

  “Did you make one of these for me?” Priscilla asked softly, trying to not let Idalah know just how much the answer mattered to her, that this was the final olive branch being extended in exchange for Idalah’s surprising usefulness.

  The silence that answered her hung in the air, festering between them like a corpse that had been left to rot in the desert for too long until only sun-bleached bones remained.

  “Figures,” Priscilla muttered and opened the door quickly.

  She kicked it shut behind her and leaned backwards onto the door, letting her head hit the wood with a dull thud as she closed her eyes and just breathed.

  In, out, in, out, let’s bring that heart rate down to normal rates so the blood stops rushing in your ears, in, out, fight back the way your lips quivered in anger or maybe that was despair tugging at them lower (does it even matter when both burned?), in, out, girl, just focus on the contracting and expanding of your lungs instead of the injustice that made you want to make you scream, in, out, in, out, atta girl, in, out.

  A featherlight touch on her arm makes Priscilla stiffen and open her eyes, suddenly remembering she wasn’t alone in the room.

  It was just Kavil, whose copper eyes were filled with concern, and Sulaiman stood just a step behind with an unreadable expression.

  “Are you alright?” Kavil asked softly, his touch on her arm firming when Priscilla leaned into it.

  Priscilla couldn’t manage words and just pulled Kavil into a tight hug, resting her head against his shoulder as he squeezed her back, the pressure a comfort. Priscilla doesn’t say anything and her eyes remain dry so she doesn’t cry, and just breathes through the frustrated grief for the original.

  The original would never hear Idalah’s stumbling attempts at reconciliation. The damned woman hadn’t even tried to apologize, just trying to offer excuse after excuse to deflect the blame until the end, but maybe that’d be enough for the original. Maybe the original’s heart could have been soothed by that. Maybe she’d forgive Idalah.

  But the original wasn’t here anymore.

  It was only Priscilla left in this body and she’s never been one to give forgiveness to one so undeserving.

  An additional firm pressure appeared on Priscilla’s shoulders and she tilted her head to see that Sulaiman had stepped closer to tentatively provide comfort as well. Priscilla revels in the physical affection for just a minute longer before pulling back.

  “Alright, enough moping,” Priscilla said as she untangled her arms from Kavil. “Remember how you asked how we’d find Illnyea?”

  Kavil blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Yes?”

  “Well here’s the answer,” Priscilla said, showing off the marble. “Made out of Illnyea’s blood and orichalcum, imbue some mana into this sucker, and it’ll heat up when you face the direction Illnyea’s in.”

  Priscilla had barely turned toward Sulaiman when he plucked the marble deftly out of her fingers, closing his eyes. She felt the prickle of magic use but to a lesser degree as Sulaiman slowly turned. His eyebrows shot up as he opened his eyes to stare appreciatively at the item.

  “This direction is to the west where the Heinlein Fens are,” Sulaiman said, curling his fingers around the marble protectively.

  “Perfect!” Priscilla said, clapping her hands to punctate the word. “I’m sure when we get closer, it’ll be easier to pinpoint her exact location, but this lets us know we’ll be headed in the right direction!”

  There were a few more things to iron out for their plan before Priscilla glanced through her bestiaries for the area they’ll be traveling through, but didn’t find any creatures of note, so Priscilla instead read aloud the biographies of the different beasts in the fens, highlighting the Firebog Wolves, Razor Beaked Crows whose murders liked to harass their prey to deliver a death of a thousand cuts, and the surprising ambush hunter, the Carnifex Crab that lurked in low water to drag you to your grave.

  Kavil looked so disgusted as Priscilla described how the Carinfex Crab decorated its nest with the bones of its prey that she broke off mid explanation to laugh. Sulaiman noted dryly that the crabs had better decoration skills than some gaudier people he knew, and that set off another round of giggles in Priscilla as she imagined the Thornewood’s ostentatious dining room covered in wet bones and algae. The looks on Cian and Idalah’s faces would be priceless and imagining them inspired even more laughter.

  That was the scene Mr. Ordan came upon when he delivered the lavender tea, signaling the end of their planning session if they wanted to have enough sleep to travel.

  “Sleep well,” Priscilla said as she waved to the boys as they gathered their things to leave. Mr. Ordan had declared the hallway was clear so they wouldn't be spotted going next door.

  “You too!” Kavil said brightly. A flash of mischief went over his face as he and Sulaiman opened the door.

  “Dream of us,” Kavil said with a wink and then whisked Sulaiman through before he could protest.

  That startled a laugh out of Priscilla and she shook her head at his silliness.

  “Never change, Kavil,” Priscilla murmured to herself as she downed the last of the tea. She had never been a huge fan of tea but it was pleasant enough and she could already feel its effects as her eyelids grew heavier.

  “I hope your rest is peaceful, master,” Asha said as Priscilla crawled into bed with a yawn. Her artifact had been silent all day and would likely have to stay silent over the next few days as they traveled.

  “Me too,” Priscilla whispered, blinking away sleep to get one last conversation in with Asha. “But until I verify that Illnyea is safe, I think the nightmares might stay with me.”

  There was a long silence as Priscilla felt Asha turn contemplative, long enough that Priscilla’s breathing smoothed out and she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer.

  Priscilla was nearly fully asleep when she heard, “Then I shall guard your dreams.”

  She fell asleep with a smile, no energy left to thank Asha but filling their bond with contentment and trust.

  …

  In the room next door, there was a fierce, but whispered argument happening.

  “I think not letting Priscilla know we overheard her is wrong,” Kavil said, crossing his arms to emphasize his point. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on Priscilla's conversation with that sorry excuse for a mother, but when Priscilla yelled that close to the door, it was hard not to listen. Her voice rose like an angry tide, sharp and unwavering even as pain laced through each pointed word.

  Sulaiman sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And I think if you confessed that, Priscilla would just become distant – or did you not notice she didn’t say a single word on that topic when she came back in?”

  Kavil pursed his lips, unable to refute that. He had been taken aback by the hug, but quickly returned it, holding Priscilla close as she needed.

  “Still,” Kavil said, reluctant to concede the argument that easily, “we overheard a private moment and I don’t want to keep it a secret. After everything she’s done for me… it feels wrong to hide it.”

  Sulaiman dragged his hand down to cover his mouth, his glittering black eyes boring into Kavil. Kavil tried to not squirm under that gaze, meeting it with his own defiance. Kavil had always been uncomfortable keeping secrets from others because Aunt Jeroinin had taught him how secrets could poison a relationship, shaking its very foundations when it was exposed – because such things were always brought to light.

  “Leave it alone, Kavil,” Sulaiman said, dropping his hand to stall Kavil’s protest preemptively. “I don’t think speaking on that topic will do either of you good. If Priscilla speaks about what happened, you can bring it up, but if she doesn’t, in this instance it’s kinder to pretend you know nothing than pick at a wound that hasn’t healed.”

  Kavil opened and closed his mouth, wanting to find fault with Sulaiman’s words and coming up short. Sulaiman had known Priscilla longer than Kavil had and probably knew where her boundaries were, but even still…

  “It’s just so frustrating,” Kavil said, ashamed as his eyes began to sting, “that I can’t do anything about her situation or, or tell those stupid parents off without them taking it out on her!”

  Kavil wiped away the tears as he remembered just who he was talking to – Sulaiman, who had grown up as an orphan and was hated because of a war he had nothing to do with!

  “I want to yell at the people who hurt you too, Sulaiman,” Kavil sniffled, losing the battle against crying in anger. “Neither of you deserve such, such shitty childhoods.”

  Sulaiman said nothing for a long moment and Kavil wished he hadn’t even started the stupid argument in the first place, afraid he once again stumbled into saying too much. He wished his anger wouldn’t be so wet, wishing it could be sharper and he could speak without his voice quivering.

  But then Sulaiman let out a long breath that was not quite a sigh, and grabbed Kavil by the elbows. Kavil blinked in surprise as Sulaiman wrapped Kavil’s arm around Sulaiman’s torso, and then caged Kavil in with his own arms. Sulaiman’s head rested atop Kavil’s head, his chin not digging in due to Kavil’s curls. Kavil was pressed against Sulaiman’s chest and was so startled by the sudden action he forgot to cry.

  “You can’t fix the past,” Sulaiman said and Kavil felt the baritone rumble against his cheek, “but you did help Priscilla tonight, despite how you may feel. You held her close and made her laugh, and that is a far better expression for her to have than the one she came back into the room with, don’t you think?”

  Priscilla looked on the verge of shattering when she came back in, like she was only one more careless, cruel remark away from crumbling to pieces.

  But the last he had seen of her, Priscilla’s face had been lit up with surprised joy which had been a marked improvement. An improvement Kavil had caused with a remark he wasn’t entirely sure was said in jest.

  “Okay, maybe you’re right,” Kavil muttered, relaxing in Sulaiman’s hold.

  Now that Kavil had calmed a little, he could take the time to appreciate how warm Sulaiman was, and how safe being in his arms felt.

  “You’ll find I’m always right,” Sulaiman said, amusement turning his voice husky.

  And abruptly, Kavil became all too aware of how close they were and how much he wanted Sulaiman to keep talking to him in that specific tone of voice. Kavil banished the scenarios his traitorous mind brought forward, and swallowed hard, but selfishly didn’t let go, not yet.

  “Thank you, Sulaiman,” Kavil whispered, relishing in his touch.

  “There’s no need for thanks, I’m only doing what’s needed to keep our healer in tip-top shape,” Sulaiman said, starting to pull away but Kavil kept him in place by locking his hands together.

  Kavil was under no delusion that he could actually overpower Sulaiman if the other man wanted to leave, but Sulaiman stilled at the unexpected barrier, looking down at Kavil.

  “The proper response is you’re welcome,” Kavil said boldly, “not that my thanks isn’t needed. That’s rather rude and tramples all over my sincerity!”

  Kavil struggled to keep his determined expression as Sulaiman blinked once, twice, and then said, “You’re welcome, Kavil.”

  With a smile, Kavil let Sulaiman free.

  “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Kavil said and Sulaiman gave him a light glare.

  “Don’t let it go to your head,” Sulaiman said as he stepped away to pull off his shirt, “or I may have convenient amnesia.”

  Kavil gasped in mock outrage, turning so he wouldn’t be caught staring. “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “Watch me.”

  “I’ll tell Priscilla all about your rudeness,” Kavil sniffed as he began to change into his own nightgown.

  Sulaiman snorted. “And I bet she’d give me pointers on how to be even ruder.”

  They fell into playful bickering and Kavil felt like the worst of his worries had been assuaged. He may not be very strong or reliable, but even if Kavil had nothing else, he could at least make the people he cared about smile.