And it was then that Isana saw war for the first time.
Arrows flew from the darkness. One of the grooms screamed, though he was drowned out by the cries of the horse whose reins he held. Isana turned, her heartbeat suddenly thunder in her ears, everything moving slowly. She saw the groom stagger and fall, a white-feathered Marat arrow protruding from his belly. The horse screamed and thrashed its head, trying to dislodge the arrow sunk into a long line of muscle in its neck.
Cries came from the darkness. Marat warriors, pale-haired, pale-skinned, erupted from the beds of supply wagons brought into the camp earlier in the afternoon, brandishing weapons of what looked like blackened glass and stone.
Araris turned and moved like lightning. Isana could only stare in shock as three more arrows flickered toward her. Araris's sword shattered them to splinters, and a casual flick of one of his steel-encased hands prevented even those from striking her face. He met the group of howling Marat and walked through them like a man in a crowded market, shoulders and hips twisting, bobbing up onto his toes to slide between passersby, turning a neat pirouette to avoid stumbling over something on the ground.
When he stopped, every one of the Marat lay on the ground, food for the crows.
He flicked his sword to one side, cleaning it of blood, sheathed it, and extended his hand as though nothing of note had happened. "This way, my lady. "
"This way, my lady," murmured a low, richly masculine voice, "we needn't worry about being too long parted. I'm sure you can see the advantages."
Isana jerked her head up from where she had dozed off in the comfortable seating within the litter the Aquitaines had sent to fly her down from Isanaholt. The vivid dream, full of the details of memory, lingered for longer than it usually did. Dreams of that last night had repeated themselves endlessly for the last two years. The fear, the confusion, the crushing weight of guilt replayed themselves to her mind as though she had never felt them before. As though she was innocent again.
She was sick of it.
And yet the dreams also restored to her those brief moments of joy, the heady excitement of those springtime days of youth. For those few seconds, she did not know what she did now. She had a sister again.
She had a husband. Love.
"I just bought you a brand-new girl, Attis," teased a woman's voice from outside the litter, the tone clear and confident. "You'll be amused until I return."
"She's lovely," said the man. "But she's not you." His tone turned wry. "Unlike the last one."
The door to the air coach opened, and Isana had to call upon Rill to halt tears from filling her eyes. Isana's fingers touched the shape of the ring beneath her blouse, still on the chain around her neck. Unlike her, it had remained bright and untarnished by the passage of years.
She shook away the remnants of the dream as best she could and forced her thoughts back to the moment.
High Lord Aquitainus Attis, who five years ago had perpetrated a plot resulting in the deaths of hundreds of her neighbors in the Calderon Valley, opened the coach door and nodded pleasantly to Isana. He was a lion of a man, combining grace of motion in balance with physical power. His mane of dark golden hair fell to his shoulders, and nearly black eyes glittered with intelligence. He moved with perfect confidence, and his furycrafting was unmatched by anyone in the Realm, save perhaps the First Lord himself.
"Steadholder," he said politely, nodding to Isana.
She nodded back to him, though she felt her neck stiffening as she did. She did not trust herself to sound civil when speaking to him, and so remained silent.
"I quite enjoy my holidays abroad," murmured the woman, her voice now near at hand. "And I am perfectly capable of looking after myself. Besides. You have your own work to do."
The woman entered the coach and settled down on the opposite bench. High Lady Aquitaine Invidia looked every inch the model of the elite Citizenry, pale, dark-haired, tall, and regal. Though Isana knew that Lady Aquitaine was in her forties, like her husband and Isana herself, she looked barely twenty. Like all blessed with sufficient power at watercrafting, she enjoyed the ongoing appearance of youth. "Good evening, Isana."
"My lady," Isana murmured. Though she had no more love for the woman than she did for Lord Aquitaine, she could at least manage to speak politely to her, if not warmly.
Invidia turned to her husband and leaned forward to kiss him. "Don't go staying up to all hours. You need your rest."
He arched a golden brow. "I am a High Lord of Alera, not some foolish aca-dem. '
"And vegetables," she said, as if he hadn't spoken. "Don't gorge yourself on meats and sweets and ignore your vegetables."
Aquitaine frowned. "I suppose you'll act like this the entire time if I insist upon joining you?"
She smiled sweetly at him.
He rolled his eyes, gave her a quick kiss, and said, "Impossible woman. Very well, have it your way."
"Naturally," she said. "Farewell, my lord."
He inclined his head to her, nodded at Isana, shut the door, and withdrew. He thumped the side of the litter twice, and said, "Captain, take care of them."
"My lord," replied a male voice from outside the door, and the Knights Aeris lifted the litter. The winds rose to the low, steady roar that had become familiar to Isana in the last two years, and unseen force pressed her against her seat as the litter leapt into the skies.
Several moments passed in silence, during which Isana leaned her head against her cushion and closed her eyes, in the hopes that the pretense of sleep would prevent the need for conversation with Lady Aquitaine. Her hopes were in vain.
"I apologize for the length of the trip," Lady Aquitaine said after a few moments. "But the high winds are always tricky at this season, and this year they are particularly dangerous. We must therefore fly much lower than we usually would."
Isana did not voice the thought that it was still a great deal higher than a walk along the ground. "Does it make a difference?" she asked, without opening her eyes.
"It is more difficult to stay aloft closer to the earth, and more difficult to fly quickly," Lady Aquitaine replied. "My Knights Aeris must count the journey in miles instead of leagues, and given the number of stops we must make to visit my supporters, it will take us a great deal longer to reach our destination."
Isana sighed. "How much longer?"
"Most of three weeks, I am told. And that is an optimistic estimate that assumes fresh teams of Knights Aeris await us at way stations."