The Azure Rider Ch. 08

"Er... I don't remember," Agatha confessed, glancing up from the letter, then immersed herself in the writing again.

"I do not care much for the band, but I will feel a little sad if my best friend falls asleep during the wedding. Come with me, I have the nicest liquor you will ever find in Lohenstraad." Lyla raised the bottle in her hand to show it to Agatha.

Agatha laid down her quill and followed Lyla to their favourite corner of the infirmary, where they sat side by side. Lyla poured out the mulberry gin into two crystals and handed one to Agatha. She took a sip and grimaced. It was quite strong, and she was certain that Lyla, petite as she was, would be unconscious before the evening was over.

They talked about frivolous things, things that didn't remind either of them about the time that they had left behind, and despite the mountain of responsibilities looming at the edge of her consciousness, Agatha felt happy and mellowed under the influence of the gin.

"You know, I never got around to asking you," Agatha ventured, her barriers of propriety pulled down by liquor, "what made you realize that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him?"

"He made me laugh at a time when I had given up on happiness," Lyla answered with a languid smile.

Agatha stared uneasily at Lyla, the happy oblivion from the liquor ebbing away, and reluctantly remembered a conversation with Siegel a few days ago.

***

The day of the wedding dawned bright and chilly and Agatha spent the better part of the morning rushing about, ensuring that every apparatus and arrangement were laid out to perfection. An army of handmaids readied the blushing bride and it was not before noon that Agatha had the opportunity to sit down for her own handmaid. Anabella, a petite woman who had been in charge of dolling her up for court proceedings for the past months, laid out an ostentatious, jewel-encrusted gown that Agatha dismissed almost immediately. Instead, she insisted on wearing a moss green muslin dress that she had bought with her coin a while ago. She asked Anabella to fetch it from her closet, pinching the braid that Anabella was working on so that it did not unravel. Anabella complied and brought it out, then hesitated, "Miss, are you sure you want to wear something so plain?"

Agatha stared at the dress held up by Anabella in her mirror and responded, "it is my best friend's wedding, Ana. I want all eyes to be on her tonight."

Anabella sighed, "as you wish, Miss," clearly disapproving of her choice. Agatha smiled a little, thinking of how Georgina would have reacted in an identical situation. She would have probably told Agatha that her livelihood depended on the Princess turning up fashionably, so it would behoove her to follow her orders.

Anabella compensated for the dress by wrapping her in a whalebone corset that left her midsection disproportionately tiny and nearly faint from lack of air and braiding her thick, long hair into two elaborate buns on the top of her head and embellishing them in jewel encrusted pins. She tried to follow this with a flamboyant choker for her neck but Agatha declined it firmly.

The wedding celebrations were to take place in the Great Hall, and even the royal family decided to grace it with their presence. Lyla looked radiant in a white silk dress and Sir Blaxton could not stop grinning like a fool. The wedding band arrived on time and started playing, and food and wine flowed thick and fast from the scullery. Agatha stood in one corner of the Hall, happy to have arrived at that point without any major disruptions.

"Now, now, Sir Blaxton is more intelligent than I gave him credit for, don't you think?" A terribly familiar drawl rang out from her side and Agatha turned to stare into the clouded eyes of Sir Alexander. He was nursing a crystal of mead and already seemed under the influence of liquor. "When he realized that he did not stand a chance with you, he moved on to your friend admirably quickly," he continued.

Agatha chose not to grace his comment with a response. Unperturbed, Sir Alexander continued, "I could not help but notice that Orion is not as taken in by you as he used to be, either. Not to worry... men often grow tired of seeing the same hole every day... It's quite natural. Now, if it's men in high ranks that you are after.... allow me to remind you that I am the General now."

Agatha was tempted to offer him a scathing reply about his manhood, but she exercised self command and turned her face away dignifiedly.

"I know you are a witch, you know," Sir Alexander whispered, staring at her. "If you refuse me, who knows, I might decide to speak about it."

Agatha leaned towards him and placed her lips by his ear. When she spoke, her voice could be mistaken as seductive.

"I am also half Elven, and you will not be the first man to slander a woman he has been repeatedly rejected by. By all means, please try to find someone who will believe you."

Sir Alexander stared at her uncomprehendingly, then ambled over to a nearby chair and collapsed into it. Within a few minutes, he was snoring.

"What did you do to him?" Orion asked suspiciously, approaching her from the other side.

"It never fails to surprise me that you inevitably look at me for apportioning blame whenever an untoward incident occurs," Agatha replied.

"You do have a history of assaulting him with a mason jar," Orion reminded her matter-of-factly.

"If my memory serves me correctly, I was assaulted first on that occasion. Do not worry, Orion, your precious General is in no danger from a frail woman half his size."

"You seem to be eager to embrace this purported frailty as and when it serves your purpose. It is a touch hypocritical, considering that you claimed it as an inaccurate description so vehemently only a few days ago."

"You can hardly blame a woman for employing deception as one of her weapons."

"Of course not. It's only reprehensible when a man does it, isn't it?" Orion said pleasantly, then extended a hand towards her. "Would your frail disposition allow you to dance with me?"

Agatha considered him for a few moments, then placed her gloved hand in his. A dance could not hurt.

Orion led her out onto the dance floor. It was a slow song, and he drew her in close, not enough to cross the boundaries of propriety, but enough to make her want for more. He twirled her around, taking control of the dance like everything else in his life.

"You look lovely today," he commented, "especially for someone who clearly hasn't slept for the past week and is gasping for air."

Agatha smiled ruefully. "Everything turned out rather fine, don't you think?"

Orion nodded. "I think Lyla should be thankful to have a friend like you," he said gravely, all traces of humour gone from his face. "Leowfin Vulfoliac is not too happy from what I hear, though," he added flippantly.

"Don't remind me of him," Agatha muttered, suppressing a strong desire to strangle the parsimonious Court Treasurer.

"Have you heard from Siegel since?" Orion asked. Agatha shook her head, feeling a little guilty about the part she had possibly played in driving him away. She concentrated on the familiar smell of pinewood coming from Orion and chose not to focus on Siegel. A little while later, she realized that Orion was drawing soothing circles over her exposed upper back, staring down at her with a faint crease between his brows.

"Don't," Agatha scowled, hating how that simple gesture made her feel. He moved his hand to her waist immediately and drew her closer.

"It's not your fault," he reminded her.

"I know," Agatha said, fixing his eyes with a resolute stare.

***

Winter passed them by in a haze of snowstorms and freezing rain. The window panes rattled from the incessant attack of hailstones and thick, large droplets of rain; the cruel north wind whistled down the chimneys for days on end. On one white, cold, blustery morning, Meister Erwan was found dead in his bed. He had passed away in his sleep and had a slight frown etched across his wrinkled face, as though even in the moment of departure, he had found fault with the grim reaper who had come to harvest his soul. Agatha stood in front of his bed and stared uncomprehendingly at her erstwhile mentor's waspish face while men and women moved about her, talking in unintelligible sentences. When two men from the scullery made to haul him out of his bed, she stopped them and knelt by his side, putting a finger on his pulse.

"My Lady," one of them called out hesitantly. "Please, we have to move him."

"No," Agatha stressed, searching for his wrist under the covers, averting the grim eventuality staring at her in the face.

"Princess, he's dead," Kikoma's voice called out from behind her. When that did not elicit a response out of her, she called, "Agatha!"

Faintly, she heard Orion's voice from the entryway to Meister Erwan's bedchamber, asking the men to move. A little while later, a warm, calloused hand seized her wrist and attempted to pull her away from the bed.

"No, you don't understand," Agatha argued obstinately, staring up at Orion's limpid blue eyes. "I talked with him last night. He was fine. He... we are making a mistake here." She tried to kneel down by the bed and slap her mentor into consciousness. Orion pulled her away from the bed, more forcefully this time.

"Please... please don't let them take him away," Agatha begged, "He is fine. He must be fine. I must be making a mistake..." her voice drifted away into uncertainty as two men raised the frail body of Meister Erwan and carried him out. Agatha struggled fruitlessly against the strong arm wrapped around her chest.

"Let me go, Orion!" she screeched as the assembled men began to trickle out of the room. He said something in response but she could not hear, nor did she care; a blinding, uncharacteristic rage was building at the back of her mind, and she scratched at the hand holding her prisoner, and tried to stomp on his legs. "Let me go!" she screamed. Orion released the death bind around her chest, but wrapped his fingers around her upper arm and led her away from the chamber.

"Where are you taking me?" Agatha asked as he led her away from the congregation that was carrying Meister Erwan. "Orion!"

"We will take your cloak and join them at the burial ground," Orion answered. Agatha noticed two rapidly healing scratches on his forearm but she felt quite remorseless; she wanted to claw at his calm, composed face until she drew blood, until he, too, felt a morsel of the dreadful emptiness growing inside her. But she didn't, and allowed Orion to lead her into her bedchamber and wrap her cloak around her shoulders. When they left, Rowan followed them at a respectable distance, always on alert lest any harm befall the princess.

Meister Erwan had no living relations and was buried at the public burial ground on the eastern flank of Rubenstraad, by the broad Isiya river that flowed sluggishly and inexorably under a treacherous sheet of ice. Agatha stood still with dry eyes as a priest read the rites for the safe passage of Meister Erwan's soul to heaven, and a soft snow started to fall as he was lowered into the ground. Despite Orion's entreaties, Agatha did not move from her place while the snow accumulated steadily in her hair, nor would she permit him to raise the hood of her cloak. Orion conceded defeat and stood by her, silently sharing the burden of her grief just as she had shared his not so long ago.

The tears came later that afternoon, when she was sitting in front of the fire in her bedchamber. Orion had divested her of her sodden outer clothes and had wrapped her in a blanket upon their return, and after ensuring that she finished the bowl of thick, creamy stew that he placed in front of her, presently sat beside her with the languid ease of a man who had not a single commitment in the world. Agatha had importuned him to leave multiple times, but every time he had shrugged and said that he had nothing better to do. And thus, they had sat in silence while Agatha's hair dried from the heat of the fire and her shivers abated. After about an hour of this, Agatha decided that she wanted to talk.

"When he learnt that I was a witch, he said: I do not care how you have healed patients in the past, in my infirmary, we will rely on brews, potions and salts. If I ever see you using a spell on one of my patients you will be carted back to your Academy instantly."

"I'm glad he said that," Orion offered quietly. "It ensured your safety."

"I don't know what to do," Agatha sobbed. "He always told me what to do. I don't know how to look after the patients without his help."

"You have looked after patients outside of his supervision in the past," Orion reminded her.

"I should have known that something was wrong with him, Orion. He would sit in the infirmary late at night, unable to go to sleep. He said it was due to old age and I did not contest it. I could have bought him time."

"Perhaps it was his choice to leave on his own terms."

"But..." Agatha could not explain to him that Meister Erwan was her last link to a life that had a semblance of normalcy about it, and that she grieved for her old, mortal life as much as she grieved for him. Lyla had not come to visit her and Agatha wondered if she had heard the news. She did not begrudge her old friend's flight to freedom, but a part of her wished for what Lyla had, what Siegel had promised to her so many years ago: a family, children and a mortal life, untainted by the certain, terrifying eventuality of outliving every last loved one.

"It gets easier," Orion said softly, as though he had read her mind. For some reason, it only made her cry harder.

***

Leowfin Vulfoliac approached her soon afterwards and asked her if she wanted the role of the court physician. Agatha agreed, and quickly sent out a notice for an apprentice to the Academy of Magical Sciences. Isabella Everleigh, a young girl and an old acquaintance of Agatha's from the Academy, turned up at the Keep a few days later to fill her erstwhile position.

Lyla was soon busy enjoying the bliss that marital life brought and Orion brazenly supplanted the vacuum left behind by her and Siegel and Meister Erwan. He lounged about in the infirmary in the evenings, helping Agatha out with her duties. Isabella appeared to be particularly taken in by Orion - the young girl dropped whatever she was holding whenever he talked to her. Agatha smiled internally whenever she noticed an exchange like that; Isabella's rapturous devotion towards Orion reminded her of her own past fixation with him. With some happiness, she reflected that she had travelled a long way from the starry eyed girl that had left the Keep for the Forgers' Realm two years ago.

When spring arrived, Orion built a high fence around her garden to keep out the fauns. The pixies were still an unresolved problem; they visited her garden in flocks and flopped unconscious on the grass after drinking their fill of valerian sap, and every morning Agatha had to resort to plucking them out of the grass by hand lest she stepped on them. When the fence was finished, he kept visiting her with the excuse to paint over it, and when that was over, he simply came by and helped out with the more physical aspects of gardening.

At first, Agatha conversed with him out of civility, but he wore away at the defenses she mounted slowly and inexorably, making her laugh on days happiness was nowhere to be found. On account of her existing bias for him, she did not really stand a chance against his unapologetically persistent attempts to weave himself into her life. Unlike Siegel, he made no show of possessiveness, and unlike Archibald Mannering, he did not try to woo her with flowers or dresses, he knew her well enough to understand that none of those methods would work, but by the time fall came around, Agatha had the sturdiest raised beds in all of Rubenstraad, and an enviable collection of exotic medicinal herbs in her glass house. One day, after Orion had procured a particularly rare herb for her, Agatha asked him whether he was trying to bribe her into marrying him. Orion shrugged with all outward appearance of nonchalance and said, "if you wish to flatter yourself I won't stop you." Then, struggling to contain a smile, he reached for the plant and said, "if you don't need it I can always return it to the seller." Agatha snatched the pot out of his way and did not speak to him for the rest of the day.

She fell in love with him slowly and silently, the way a fine, misty spring rain seeps insidiously into grey, leafless old-growth forests. It happened over arguments across the oval table in Council meetings, during long rides on their Dragons' backs across the length and breadth of Lohenstraad, over sparring with each other in the practice arena in front of the Armoury, and for a very long time Agatha battled with her heart with the last shred of willpower left in her conscious mind.

One day, out of the blue, Agatha said, "Finthalion wasn't right, you know."

"About what?" Orion asked in a preoccupied manner as they chose their blades for a practice session in the Armoury.

"It wasn't your fault that she died."

Orion stiffened, then turned to stare at her with an inscrutable face.

"The weight of the world is not on your shoulders," Agatha said quietly, picking out a spear.

Orion looked like he wanted to kiss her, but he restrained himself and walked out into the practice arena.

Life moved on at a reasonably happy pace in Lohenstraad. Trade flourished and the economy showed promising signs of recovery, now that the Great War was finally over. The vampire population remained under control and their feeding habits were strictly monitored by the Night Guards. Vladimir Evanoff was as obnoxious as ever and it was often a source of great personal amusement to Agatha to watch Henry Baldric argue with the man in the Council meetings. Orion usually refrained from intervening until the two men came close to exchanging blows. Not every news was a happy one, however, the farmers continued to suffer some losses from the forays of fauns and pixies. Across Lohenstraad and Vandan, witches and wizards condemned to death were mysteriously disappearing from burning pyres. On the bright side, Lyla gave birth to a beautiful boy about a year after her marriage and Sir Blaxton wept profusely when he held him in his arms. By the time winter rolled in, Agatha decided that she had been at war with herself for long enough.

And thus, she was found plodding across the thick snow over the Castle grounds one grey, overcast evening, making her way towards the Azure Tower. Jonathan opened the double doors after a knock and beckoned her in with a toothless grin.

"Is he upstairs?" Agatha asked. Jonathan nodded. She unclasped the Elven Cloak and hung it from the cloak rack beside the door, tapped the soles of her riding boots over the rug on the entryway to rid herself of the worst of the snow and mud, and climbed up the spiral staircase with her heart thudding in her chest.

Orion raised his eyebrows in surprise when he saw her, but he opened the door to his bedchamber and shifted to one side wordlessly, allowing her to enter. Agatha noticed that though he was dressed in a sleeping robe, he had been writing missives on his desk; his fingers were stained with ink.

"More disappearances?" Agatha asked, nodding towards the scrolls piled atop the work surface.

"Unfortunately, yes," Orion nodded. "I planted some of my men in those ceremonies, and according to nearly every account, they all felt curiously dizzy for a while, then the stake was suddenly empty of whoever it was they were trying to set alight."

Agatha scratched the back of her neck and said, "oh." She had not meant to walk in on him at a busy hour.