Chapter 21: Confessions

LYDIA

It was late, and the sun was beginning to dip low over the horizon. The sky was awash with a bright orange glow as Lydia leaned against the balcony rail overlooking Ellesmere.

While the sight of the setting sun was beautiful, it did nothing to relieve the tension that Lydia currently felt, clutching at her heart like a squeezing fist.

What Gabriel had told her was true: Uzier was still out there, somewhere, and none of them would be able to rest until the last two royals were freed from his and Evine’s influence.

“Excuse me,” came a voice from behind, startling Lydia out of her introspection. She quickly wheeled around to see Dorian standing behind her, looking sheepish.

“Dorian,” Lydia said, relieved. “If you continue to sneak up on people like that, then I fear we may have to tie a bell around your neck to warn us of your arrival.”

“My sincerest apologies, Lydia,” Dorian said meekly. “I didn’t realize this balcony was currently occupied.”

“It’s big enough to share,” Lydia replied. “Don’t let me stop you from enjoying the view.”

Tentatively, Dorian stepped forward, leaning against the balcony rail beside her.

“I suppose it’s a good thing I found you again,” the wizard said after a beat. “I was hoping I could apologize for what happened in the courtyard earlier. I didn’t realize my actions could have landed you in hot water with the king.”

Lydia scoffed. “Dorian, you have nothing to apologize for,” she said, “You’re hardly the one at fault. The king needs to realize the importance of not jumping to conclusions.”

“Even so, I can understand where his concern stemmed from,” said Dorian. “If I were able to curry favor with a woman half as lovely as yourself, I too would fear the thought of losing her.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Now you’re starting to sound just like him.”

Dorian stuttered awkwardly. “No offense meant, my lady.”

Lydia suppressed a laugh. “Gods above, you’re always so formal. I suppose your parents must have raised you well.”

Dorian shifted his eyes away, and for a moment Lydia wondered if she’d struck a nerve. Who were Dorian’s parents? From his dashing looks and formal behavior, she always assumed he descended from some sort of noble lineage.

Then again, you could never judge a book by its cover. Lydia’s father was a god, after all. And the Fire Slifer’s looks didn’t exactly scream “holier than thou.”

After a brief moment’s silence, Dorian spoke up again.

“I don’t suppose you would be interested in joining me on a walk outside of Ellesmere’s walls,” he ventured. “The fireflies will be out soon. Such a sight is much more enjoyable when you have someone to share it with.”

A sudden look crossed his face, and then he added, “unless you think his majesty would object, of course.”

Lydia flushed, then shot Dorian an angry glare. “His majesty,” she said, “does not have ownership of me, and as such will have no say in the matter.”

She took a bewildered Dorian by the arm in a courtly gesture. “Come along, Dorian,” she said in her most regal tones. “Let us go see these fireflies you speak so highly of.”

***

LUCIUS

Lucius blinked, his weary eyes slowly tracking back into focus on the grimy bar counter in front of him.

A surly dwarf bartender took away his glass, leaving a ring of condensation on the countertop. The wizard dipped a finger in the liquid and began scribbling idly on the countertop while he waited for his next drink to arrive.

“Gods above,” he grumbled irritably in the bartender’s direction. “Are your shoes made of solid lead? I was hoping my next drink might arrive by the end of the century.”

The dwarf returned, angrily slamming a mug in front of Lucius with enough force to send some of the ale sloshing over the edge.

“Contrary to popular belief,” the barkeep said in a low growl, “I did not open this establishment just to serve one withered old ~favus~ such as yourself. Although given the number of drinks you’ve ordered tonight, I suppose I could have.”

Lucius sullenly grabbed the handle of the mug and dragged it closer to his side of the bar. “Well, ~you~ may find this hard to believe, but I’m not here for the atmosphere and charming conversation.”

He tipped back the mug and finished it in three full swallows. “Keep them coming.”

As the dwarf grumbled away, Lucius heard a familiar voice behind him.

“~Favus,~” Gabriel said, perplexed. “I can’t say I’ve heard such a word before. What does it mean?”

“It’s an old Dwarvish word,” Lucius mumbled, not bothering to turn and greet his visitor.

“Directly translated, I suppose it would approximate to ‘beanstalk.’ Given the context of our pleasant chat, I assume he was using it as a slur of sorts against humans. Probably something to do with the height difference.”

“And you’re just going to let him address you like that?”

Lucius shrugged. “I’ve been called worse. Rightfully so, most of the time.”

Lucius felt Gabriel place a firm hand on his shoulder. “Come with me, old friend,” he said. “I believe you’ve had enough for one night.”

“Then you underestimate my power,” Lucius retorted, shaking Gabriel’s hand off of him. “Leave me to wallow in my past failures. And then, tomorrow, we can look forward and draw up plans for my future failures as well.”

Even without turning to look, Lucius could feel the anger and pity radiating from Gabriel in equal measure.

“I hope you understand how much it pains me to see you this way,” he said. “Given everything that is currently at stake, I suppose I was hoping that you would be better.”

“That would imply I had that capacity to begin with,” Lucius mused. “Sorry to disappoint you, friend, but I’m exactly as the Gods created me.

“An instrument to be used and discarded at their leisure, left to rot when my purpose reaches its logical conclusion. You could do better than associating with used-up trash such as myself.”

“Is that any way for a war hero to speak?” Gabriel demanded angrily.

“War has no heroes,” Lucius said bitterly. “Now, if this little intervention is over and done with, I suggest you take your leave before someone here recognizes you as the king who destroyed his kingdom.”

Lucius listened as Gabriel stormed out of the bar.

A faint feeling of guilt managed to bubble up to the surface of the wizard’s rum-soaked stupor. His friend had recently returned from a traumatic experience, and he callously cast him aside due to his own fear and selfishness.

Just another day in the life of the world’s least sober wizard.

After a moment, Lucius reached slowly into his pocket, clattering a handful of coins onto the countertop. Then, with some effort, he stood up and took his leave as well.

***

LYDIA

The sun was now well out of sight, and the night air left a chill as Lydia and Dorian made their way down the dirt path leading away from Ellesmere. Around them, fireflies danced and drifted through the air like scattered embers from a campfire.

“Well, you were right,” she said to Dorian. “They certainly do make for a beautiful sight.”

Dorian chuckled. “Watch this,” he said, snapping his fingers.

Lydia watched as the spectral form of a raven flickered into view, circling around the two of them in the night sky. The wind from the bird’s beating wings swept up and swirled the fireflies around them, scattering them into odd, mesmerizing patterns.

“I’m afraid I have a confession to make, Lydia,” Dorian said. “I did not bring you here just to watch the fireflies.”

Lydia quirked an eyebrow at him. “Oh? And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Dorian took a deep breath. “In truth, Lydia, I suppose you could say that I’m worried for you.”

“For me?” Lydia asked. “What reason would you have to be worried for my sake?”

Dorian looked at her. “Answer me honestly, Lydia,” he said, “how happy are you with Gabriel?”

A look of shock crossed Lydia’s face. “~Excuse me?~” she asked in alarm.

The bluntness of Dorian’s question threw her utterly off guard. What was he trying to imply? The Slifer’s cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and anger.

“I have seen the way the king treats you,” Dorian said disdainfully. “How he attempts to enforce control over you at all times. It’s deeply unfair to you to be treated as his possession.”

“You make too many assumptions, Dorian,” Lydia snapped. “Gabriel is not like that at all. And besides, we’re meant for each other. It was my destiny.”

“Destiny?” Dorian said the word with disdain, as though speaking it left a bitter taste on his tongue.

“All that word serves to do is reinforce the fact that you had no choice in the matter. You were created solely to bolster the king’s powers. If you weren’t a Slifer, do you really think he would still care about you the way he does now?”

Lydia paused as Dorian’s words crept into her mind like tendrils of doubt. “Of—of course he would,” she said, though her voice trembled with uncertainty. “Gabriel loves me.”

“He loves the idea of you,” Dorian retorted. “You’re not a person to him, Lydia. You’re his trophy. His ~battery.~ He sees you as a Slifer first and a person second.”

Lydia looked down at her feet as sweat began to accumulate on her brow. That couldn’t be true...could it?

She thought back to her first meeting with Gabriel, the first time she was alone with him, every time they’d been together since…

She believed that they forged a happy, mutual relationship, but then again...what if she was wrong? What if Lydia really was just a convenience for the king?

“Wouldn’t you rather have something more?” Dorian asked, taking a step forward. “I see you for who you really are, Lydia. You are so much more than just the Slifer of Fire.”

He took another step. “You are an amazing, beautiful, and strong-willed person, and you deserve to be with someone capable of recognizing that. You deserve to be with someone like me.”

Before Lydia could react, Dorian lunged forward and kissed her. Lydia pushed him off of her, taking a step back in shock.

~What the hell was he doing?~

She had always felt some small attraction to Dorian, but never imagined acting upon it. The taste of desperation on the wizard’s lips instantly repelled her—this boy was ~no~ King Gabriel.

Seeing the expression of disgust on her face, Dorian suddenly looked crestfallen.

“I—I’m sorry,” Dorian said. “I didn’t mean to cause any offense. Please don’t tell the king—”

Lydia took a step backward. “This is all so overwhelming,” she said. “Why now, Dorian? Why would you think that now of all times would be ideal to unload this on me?”

“I couldn’t hold it in any longer,” Dorian said. “I’m truly sorry, Lydia. But would you consider what I’ve said to you tonight?”

Lydia slowly shook her head, taking another step back. “I’m sorry, Dorian,” she replied. “We both know that this could never be.”

Dorian hung his head solemnly. “I was afraid you’d say that,” he said, his voice suddenly much darker. “I suppose there’s no helping it, really...”

“What are you—” Lydia began, and then stopped as a burning pain erupted across her back. The Slifer collapsed to the ground as her vision began to fade.

Seconds before losing consciousness, Lydia looked up, seeing a figure step around her and into her line of sight. Lydia blinked as she recognized…

~Evine.~

“You have done well, Dorian,” said the dark mistress, Lydia’s blood dripping from the tip of the dagger in her hand. “I knew I could depend on you.”

Lydia’s eyelids fluttered, and everything went black.