The following morning, Blayre rolled over to face her chamber door, from which a persistent rap rap rap. Rap rap. Rap rap rap. drifted to her.
With a muffled groan into her pillow, Blayre sat up and swung her legs off the small bed in her dormitory. Her hands sunk into the softness of her quilt and she dozed where she sat until another series of knocks rapped across the room.
"I'm coming." She grumbled, her throat scratchy with disuse.
Not bothering to remove her nightclothes, she peered out the peephole and squinted to see the crown of a head of glossy auburn hair. She was wide awake in an instant, squealing with joy as she threw open the door and Ainslee barreled in, giving Blayre a forceful hug despite her small frame.
"Sun and Moon, I thought I'd be stuck in those mountains forever." Ainslee said, flopping back-first onto Blayre's bed, her arms spread out wide, short legs dangling over the side.
"Well make yourself at home, why don't you." Blayre jested, crossing her arms.
Ainslee's head popped up, "I think I will." And then promptly sunk back down.
Shaking her head, Blayre moved to her wardrobe. She supposed she should don her dress uniform for meeting the king, but longingly touched a soft chiffon blouse in the royal blue and silver of Blumore. She played with the end of her hair. Either way she needed a bath first - her hair still carried the lingering smell of perfume and incense from the Dragon Room the night before.
"When did you and Fletcher get back?" She asked her friend, resignedly pulling out the uniform and placing it on a hook on the wall beside her mirror. She glanced at Ainslee in the mirror's reflection while she gathered some things to take down to the baths
"Late last night." Ainslee sighed, not moving. "We hit a hail storm just outside of Mountainvale that thoroughly slowed us down."
"And the results of the assignment? Did you turn anything up?"
Ainslee propped herself onto her elbows, "We barely found anything - nothing that lead us to the culprits anyway. Or culprit - I think it was judging by the size of the abandoned workroom. We did find this . . ." Blayre caught sight of something glittering in her friend's hand in the reflection in the mirror. She turned with a start and strode over to her to get a better look.
"Twelve hells." She breathed. It was another crystal - much like the one that Rory had been impaled with. This one caught the light from Blayre's bedroom window and shimmered like a brilliant sunset - rust and pink and wine. She reached out tentatively, wanting to see if it contained any power.
She was disappointed when she felt nothing. Not even a trace as she tossed the crystal from one hand to the other. Either it had all leaked out as it had with Rory's, or it had never contained anything to begin with. Her hand went to her pocket to touch the other crystal.
"It may not even be related to magic," Ainslee was saying. "It could mean nothing - but we did find a couple of papers wedged into the floorboards in the room." She sat up all the way.
Blayre raised an eyebrow, holding out the crystal to reluctantly return it to her friend. Holt. "And what of them?"
"Just sketches," Ainslee shrugged, putting the crystal back. "Crumpled and faded and difficult to decipher. Holt has them."
"Well I would like to see them later, if I may." Blayre said, putting on her robe to wear to the baths. "Unfortunately I don't have time now, I have an important day ahead."
"Oh?"
Blayre swallowed, "Ror- Duke Rorrick has arranged a meeting for me with the King."
Ainslee's eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to speak, but Blayre held up a hand "We can talk about it after we've both had a bath, because let me tell you - road sweat is not a good smell on you."
****
Blayre wiped her sweaty palms on her black uniform pants. Formfitting and crafted from mage-made material, they were flexible and comfortable. Unable to keep her hands from fidgeting, she toyed with the golden dragon pin on her uniform lapel. As a whole, the Crown Service dress uniforms were both sharp and elegant, but every time she wore one - which was not all that often - Blayre felt awkward and conspicuous. She was much more interested in blending in with the crowd.
She tapped a foot on the marble floor beneath the mahogany bench on which she sat outside of the King's receiving chamber. Tapestries lined the walls, illuminated by the soft glow of mage lights and a window further down at the end of the hall. She inhaled through her nose. All of the decor suddenly felt suffocating.
Not even the Court. Blayre thought for sure this meeting would have taken place in the large room where The King received most subjects. This seemed more intimate than she wanted it to be, and the thought of being in such a small space with King Barton and Sun and Moon knew who else was only adding to her anxiety.
The clocktower began to chime the eleventh hour, and the door opened promptly, releasing a gopher-like man who Blayre assumed to be the King's secretary. "Seeker Blayre, His majesty, her highness, and his grace await you in the receiving chamber."
Blayre stood and smoothed down the coattails of her uniform jacket, cursing herself silently - she had probably creased them by sitting - and followed the secretary into the chamber.
The room was bright and naturally lit with picture windows lining the far wall. A massive mahogany desk presided over the far right corner, littered with stacks of papers, and fountain pens. Paintings decorated the other walls, depicting scenes of battles long past and dragons long extinct.
Blayre's booted feet crossed from polished wood floor to rich green carpet as she approached King Barton. He was dressed simply - for a king - in an emerald green vest, a black linen shirt beneath it, and dark trousers. It had always been obvious to Blayre that King Barton was not one to just sit around - he always appeared in public looking fit, healthy and capable of leading an army - a warrior's body, much like Duke Rorrick, who sat to the monarch's left. His daughter, Crown Princess Briannon sat serenely on his right - tall and elegant like her mother, the late Queen.
Blayre gave a deep bow, "Your majesty. It is an honor to be in your presence."
She remained bent forward until he replied, releasing her. "Seeker Blayre, it is an honor to receive you."
Blayre straightened and met her monarch's eyes - smiling and soft brown, set below brows that reminded her of twin capped mountain peaks. And the king had a brilliant smile, with lips that looked rosy in contrast to a close cropped beard that was equally as frosty as the rest of his hair, though his face looked younger than his forty-five years.
She turned then to Briannon - fair and golden with her father's coloring, but eyes that twinkled like a pair of emeralds - eyes that were said to have been inherited by her late mother. Blayre bowed, and the Princess held out a hand which Blayre brushed her lips against, murmuring "Your highness." Finally she turned to Rorrick who was grinning in that crooked way of his. She gave him a bow, though it felt strange to do so after how informal their relationship had been thus far.
"My nephew has brought it to my attention that you are the one mostly responsible for keeping him alive during his return trip to Emares City."
Blayre swallowed and felt her face warm. "Yes, your majesty." Her voice cracked slightly and she cleared her throat. "Though the responsibility was not wholly mine."
"Seeker, do not be modest." Rory chuckled. Blayre relaxed slightly, the warmth of his laughter a bolster to her precarious confidence.
"Humility is a most excellent trait, make no mistake." Briannon's voice cut in - rich and husky.
Blayre turned her attention to the heir, who smiled warmly. She had encountered Briannon a handful of times, as they were around the same age. The Princess was stunning with her golden locks, gemstone eyes, and fair complexion. Her nose was too arched to be classically beautiful, and her jaw too pronounced, but she gave off an air of elegance all the same. And it was not her beauty that would make her a great leader one day, but the cleverness that those who knew her whispered of.
"Thank you, your highness." Blayre said softly, returning the smile.
"Now, Seeker. We wish to reward you for your service." King Barton said. "And we would like you to name your reward."
Blayre sent a panicked look Rory's way. She was expected to select her own reward? From the royal family? What if she offended them? What if she chose something that was interpreted so completely wrong, that instead of a hero she became an exile. She hadn't a clue what to ask for.
"I thank you, your majesty." Blayre said, dipping her head. "I confess that I don't know where to begin choosing."
She caught an amused smirk from Briannon out of the corner of her eye, a slight twitch of her full lips. "We won't bite, Seeker. There is no reason to fret."
Blayre glanced to Rory again, pleading with her eyes. Help. Me. She wanted to grind out.
Rory cleared his throat and shifted slightly in his chair. "May I speak, since it is I whose life this noble Seeker has saved?"
Blayre resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the formal words. She shifted on her feet, her gaze resting longingly over one of the comfortable-looking armchairs to her left and right. They could at least invite her to sit.
"Go on, nephew."
"Well," Rorrick cleared his throat and leaned forward in his chair, copper curls falling into his eyes. He shook his head and they shifted away from his brow.
"Well?" Said Briannon, with emphasis, raising her light eyebrows.
He gave his cousin a look that Blayre couldn't decipher. "From the small amount of time I have spent with you, Seeker Blumore, I have noticed that you are a do-er. You enjoy your job, do you not?"
"Yes." She flattened her hands at her side to resist touching the ends of her hair. She cursed herself for not tying it up in anything beyond her usual long braid. "I enjoy it very much, your Grace." She added, belatedly remembering to use his title.
"Since it seems that what you value is not money, or material goods, I propose that we reward her with a promotion of sorts."
It was an effort not to flinch...A promotion? To become what? Seekers only advanced levels by experience, though The Twelve was separate from that - that was a selection process, and only when one of The Twelve needed to be replaced.
"Forgive me, your grace, but a promotion that was not earned with experience would not be a reward to me." Twelve Hells, she couldn't be one of the Twelve yet. She wanted it so badly - but she wasn't ready. She definitely was not ready. She saw the King smirk this time, and exchange glances with his daughter.
Briannon laughed softly, "I hardly think that saving my cousin's incompetent ass could be considered 'nothing'." She stood, the jade green skirts of her gown rustling, and moved toward Blayre.
Blayre found herself looking up at Briannon - Sun and Moon the princess was tall - tall like Rorrick, Blayre realized.
"I see potential in you. It is a shame, father, that we are not able to accept a new Seeker into The Twelve at this time. Our four Seekers are still active, though one may be aging out soon."
"Adding a new member, or forcing one out is not an option. Take your seat, Briannon." King Barton said in a resigned tone, waving for his daughter to sit back down.
"I would never agree to that, your majesty." Blayre said quickly while Briannon moved fluidly back to her seat, giving her father a cacographic look.
"I do have a different proposal though. What of a special assignment to Port Roubeles. Rorrick will be heading that way in a couple weeks time, and it would please me to know that he was safe while traveling. Since you have proved yourself to be useful in guarding my nephew's life already."
That was not what she wanted either. "I beg your pardon, sire, but I do not have the proper training to be a guard."
King Barton waved a hand, "He will of course have a royal guard to escort him as well, but your purpose will be two-fold. You will guard him from magical assault, along with the mage assigned to the journey. But you will also be there for another reason, more closely related to your training as a seeker. It would give you excellent experience. I will speak to Holt and have him relay the details to you."
And, it seemed, that was that. She glanced at Briannon who was biting her lip in thought, and then to Rory who only looked apologetic.
"May I make one request, your majesty - if it is not too forward of me."
"You may make the request, and I will deign to grant it or not." The King smiled.
"Thank you, your majesty." Blayre dipped her head. "Seekers traditionally work as a Triad, and I would be much obliged if the two from mine could come with me. They are quite competent."
"That will be fore Commander Holt to decide - though I will be sure to include it into my correspondence with him." The King said. "You are dismissed, Seeker. Thank you for time this morning."
"Thank you, your majesty." Blayre said again, and took her leave.
"Blayre!"
She turned, braid swinging behind her and stopped walking long enough for Rorrick to catch up.
"Your Grace." She nodded to him, continuing to walk down the hall away from the King's room. She had declined an escort out of the King's receiving room, and was making her way toward one of the back staircases.
A guard materialized out of the shadows of an alcove beside them, and Rory put up a hand. "No need." He said gruffly to the man, who nodded, but eyed Blayre somewhat warily and stepped back into his post.
Blayre continued to walk purposefully toward the stairwell, her feet treading softly on the green carpet. She offered no further conversation after greeting Rorrick. She was seething inside and afraid that she would take out her anger on Rorrick, and severely regret something she might say.
Even if he deserved it. Even if he was the direct reason for her current state of unhappiness. He hadn't meant to be, she told herself. His intentions had been pure of heart.
"Blayre!" They had come to the first landing and he placed a hand roughly on her shoulder, forcing her to stop where she was, and pivot towards him.
Her eyes were molten pools of gold, and the anger was rolling off of her in waves. She tried to breathe, to calm herself, but looking upon the face of the man who was responsible for that anger did not made recovering from it easier.
"Blayre please just hear me out. I was only trying to help." Rory clenched his squared jaw and looked away. A bird flitted by the staircase window, carrying some stray piece of straw or such in its beak. "I am sure that did not go as you had hoped it would. I wanted you to be able to choose a reward for yourself, but mostly I just wanted my uncle to recognize you. I wanted someone to recognize you for doing what you did. After the shit acknowledgement you received from Holt."
"I don't want special treatment, Rorrick." She hissed, her voice low, "And that's what this looks like. Recognition is good, its great, but it should have stopped there. I don't need a reward for doing my job. Especially not one that is only going to cause me more strife. Other Seekers are going to begin to think I am just spoiled, or that I'm your pet. And I do not want that." She felt like she was being unfair, but she could not stop herself.
"Blayre, you don't know how sorry I am. You are allowed to refuse."
"Refuse!" It came out louder and higher pitched than she had intended. "Refuse the king?" She wanted to laugh, incredulous that he thought it could be that simple. The king had so much as given her an order. It was a good job, no doubt. But she didn't feel that she had earned it.
Rorrick's face looked pained. She wanted to retract her harsh words, but once said, words could not be returned or easily forgotten, as she had learned from Lady Marianna her entire life.
"I'm sorry Rorrick," Blayre amended, "It just - I wasn't expecting anything. And I'm not used to special treatment, and Holt thinks . . ." Her voice trailed off and she could feel the blush coloring her cheeks.
"What does Holt think?" Rorrick asked with genuine concern. He reached out and moved a loose strand of hair from her face. She held her breath at the intimate touch, equal parts desire and embarrassment washing through her.
"He thinks, that I am your lover - your plaything, and that is why you are taking a - a - shine to me." She stammered. Rory's hand dropped from her face as though he had been burned. A startled look flitted across his ocean eyes, quickly replaced by warmth.
"Well," He said, then cleared his throat. "Well, you aren't that. Not right now."
Not right now? What was that supposed to mean? She shook her head to clear the brash thoughts from her mind.
"And even if you were," he continued, "That wouldn't be the reason for your reward. You did earn it Blayre. Sun and Moon, you saved my gods damned life." He grasped her by her upper arms and she hadn't realized she had been trembling until the trembling ceased at his touch.
She took in a shaky breath. "Okay." she said. He touched her chin and lifted it so she met his eyes. The light from the window cast an angular line across his face. "I didn't want a reward at all though. Just meeting the King and Princess Briannon - their recognition - was reward enough." She added, the cool of the stone wall seeping into her back.
Rory nodded, smiling gently "I understand. But you deserve more." His eyes searched hers, and for one breathless moment, she thought he might kiss her.
Instead he released his hold, breaking the spell. "Regardless. I am glad you will be with me on this trip to the coast. But I won't keep you, Im sure you have other things to do today." The smile he gave her made her want to melt on the spot.
It also made her wonder if she was capable of resisting his charms well enough to properly do her job when they embarked on this trip.