The Dragon Races- Part 32

The Queen of Sinistra... that position should have been hers. Lady Castor should have been the ruler, not her cousin. Whether she had a king by her side or not, it didn't matter.

She admired Trisandra's- Trissy's- determination. Adrianne had been an obstacle, and had been disposed of. Simple, clean, effective. 

Even so, she knew Trisandra would rule. She had that kind of bravado and ruthlessness- fitting for a Sinistrian queen. But... her own life- Zerynthia's life- was nothing. She had never assumed her own concious life would end in such a broken place. 

Only one image of him decorated the entire palace. The paintings involving him had been stripped away- burned by Elementals and never seen again. Though one picture lay facedown on Lady Castor's tall wooden shelf. 

She moved slowly towards that shelf, stone-faced and hand miraculously bare of trembling as she brushed her fingers across the back. She flipped it over, not bothering to move slowly. Why take the extra time suffering? Why not get the inexorable, inevitable routine over with?

She hated the picture. She hated the way he looked so... young and innocent. How she looked so young and innocent. How she had been... fine marrying him and forgotten to think beyond the time they had known each other.

You'll be able to find him, you know. After. Or before. Or during. 

"Leave me." Zerynthia hissed, slamming the image back down. "I don't want to hear from you right now."

Oh, A chuckle echoed in her mind. But you do. 

Zerynthia looked back at the shelf as a woman materialized behind her. 

The woman smiled a small, coy smile. A beautiful smile to Mortals, to Spirits. Lighting up her dark eyes as she ran a hand through the ends of her sleek, waist-length hair.

"You hear from me all the time, Thia." She appeared next to Lady Castor in a puff of black and green smoke, leaning on the shelf. "I never go away."

"And I wish you would." 

"But... you need me." She said with a raise of a brow. "We need each other to help each other." She pressed a finger to her lips then dropped her hand. "Oh, how poetic." She said with another smile. "I am quite the genius, aren't I."

Zerynthia knew better to say anything. That lesson had been learned.

"Anyway." She paused, sighing and walking to the other side of the room, eyes flickering between everything in it. "This reminds me of my own study, honestly. Though not as decorated. Or well decorated."

Zerynthia clenched her teeth, turning to face the woman. "Do you have a reason for this, Adrazelle? For... being here?"

"...A reason?" She asked with a small tilt of her head, pleats of dark hair falling down to her waist. "Yes, in fact. I do." 

Adrazelle lifted a hand, fingers moving in tight, unnatural-looking ways to create a misty green image. "This... Spirit has freed me by coming down to your kingdom." Her eyes glittered dangerously dark." He's broken reality, in a sense, allowing me to take this particularly exquisite form and appear before you." 

She twisted a shoulder forward and dipped into a small bow. "Your daughter's friend- the Lynneth girl, Kate- seems to be... infatuated with him. And very much so." Adrazelle took a step towards Lady Castor. "And Raya needs to get information from her about this particular Spirit. He has a lover on my side already- I just need to reach him and remind him of what he's lost." 

"And this Spirit. He's... Fyjun."

Adrazelle gave a small shake of her head. "Not anymore." Her smile was terrifying- too lovely for comprehension, a ghost of a beauty long gone. "He goes by Luka."

**************

Watching Kate read was... calming. He could admire the soft curls of her hair, the wondrous and focused look on her face as the pages flipped one by one.

She looked up to him a moment later. "Want something to read? There plenty here" Kate asked, gesturing to the shelves full of books. 

Luka turned from leaning on the wall next to the dipped window seat where she sat, shaking his head. "I'm fine." He said with a small smile. "I... like watching you read. Not in a weird way."

Kate gave a quiet laugh, nodding. Her head dipped slightly forward as she shifted her position, looking to him again after a moment.

She glanced at his hair free from the confines of the white hood, pulled back in a short ponytail with strays tucked behind his ears and framing his face. And at his eyes, a brilliant green. 

"I'll have to put my hood up if you keep staring at me."

She blushed furiously, nodded, and pulled her knees up, laying the book on her thighs and angling away so she wouldn't be as tempted to gaze solely at him. 

His slight smile faded as he looked away from her. She... reminded him too much of Katunea. Even her name was a tribute to the Spirit of Arguments and Crime. The flecks of golden yellow in her brown hair- her signature color. The way Kate wielded a weapon, even, was reminiscent of how Katunea had the first while they had known each other. Thoughtfully and carefully, taking time and acting relentless until the technique was perfect.

But now... now he could only wonder where Katunea's shining skill had gone. Leaving had been her choice- hers. Their downfall hadn't been his fault.

**************

"You... will never... beat me... in a fight."

She lunged for him, arms thrusting forward in swift movements Fyjun barely had the time to counteract. He twisted out of her reach, laughing as she stumbled forward.

"The facts seem to be a bit controversial, though, Nea."

Katunea's focus wavered at his voice, growling as he grabbed the sharp-bladed throwing disk cleanly out of her hand and moving around her in a circle too quick to follow. His hands swift from pickpocketing and stealing- the art taught to him by Katunea- unclipped the fasten of her sleek black weapons belt, stepping back and offering a smirk at her flustered expression. 

"As I said before." Fyjun set everything down on the floor. "The facts don't exactly match up with your argument."

She glared at him, stalking forward until only a few inches separated them. She blew a stray out of her eyes, tossing it back when the action did nothing. Katunea crossed her arms and lifted her chin. "I am the literal Spirit of Arguments."

Fyjun offered a one-shouldered shrug and smile. He reached forward, twisting a curl between his fingers. Katunea's caramel skin flushed with red as he leaned closer, stopping once centimeters from her face. "Believe me, I know."