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When Ivy awoke, her eyes were wet for reasons she could no longer remember.
She blinked away the evidence of whatever unwelcome dream had been tormenting her, and sat up. The sand shifted beneath her body. She grimaced at the thought of how many tiny specks of grit had buried themselves in the folds of her dress, among… other unmentionable places. How had she let Princess Timerra talk her into sleeping under the stars, again?
The fire had burned down to embers, the last of the flames timidly licking the coals. In the dim light, she took in the sleeping faces of her companions. Timerra and Fogado, of course, looked right at home, Fogado’s arm draped across his sister’s stomach in a display of sticky-sweet sibling affection. The same could not be said for Alfred, who was tossing and turning upon his thin bedroll, and Céline, whose hair was tied up into the tightest possible bun to keep the sand out.
At least the Divine One looked comfortable, their chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm that brought a warm flutter to Ivy’s heart. But next to them was Alcryst – curled up in a tight ball, trembling in the cool night air. He looked like he was in the throes of a nightmare.
Not that Ivy could do anything about it. To the young Brodian prince, her mere presence in the Divine Dragon’s army must be a nightmare in itself. But the sight of him made her wonder why she herself was not shivering, despite the lack of a fire. That question was answered when she looked down.
She’d recognize that hue of red anywhere. She had been taught to watch for it since she was a child. It was the foul crimson of Brodia, and it meant danger.
But the thick, woolen cloak draped over her didn’t feel dangerous. It was heavy, certainly, and there was a strange animal-like musk that made her nose crinkle. Was that what alpaca wool smelled like? And that wasn’t the only smell trapped in its folds; her nose caught whiffs of woodsmoke, and sweat, and the scent – halfway between metal and meat – of dried blood.
The stench of war could not be so easily washed out of this cape, it seemed.
But despite all of that, it was warm, and it blocked the twilight winds blowing over the sand dunes, and Ivy couldn’t help but pull it snug around her shoulders as she stood.
She padded silently across the shifting sands towards the lone palm tree a few feet away.
The figure leaning against the trunk looked to be in danger of concussing himself with the hilt of his own sword, which was balanced between his knees. His head hung motionlessly, his broad shoulders slumped and his body relaxed. Fast asleep.
Ivy felt an odd feeling stirring within her heart, and quickly spoke before her mind could try to put a name to it.
“Dozing off on guard duty? The Divine One should have you fired.”
Diamant jolted awake. Ivy watched his hand fly to his sword. Even after he blinked up at her and delivered a nod of acknowledgement, his fingers didn’t uncurl from its hilt. Ivy didn’t take it personally. Her own fingers were wrapped around the spine of her Elthunder tome, after all.
“Well met, Princess Ivy.” Diamant assumed a thin smile as he ran a hand down his tired face. “You have my apologies for the shameful display of vigilance.”
“I would rather have you well-rested for the trials to come.”
“First my retainers, then my brother, and now you. Is my fatigue truly so obvious?”
Ivy took him in by the light of the moon. Indeed, his complexion was pale, and the bags under his eyes seemed to have doubled in size in the weeks since Destinea Cathedral. “Well…”
“That was rhetorical.” Diamant stretched. “What has roused you at such an hour, besides monitoring my sleep habits?”
Ivy hesitated. Allies though they might be, she had no intention of admitting to her own insomnia. She still had some Elusian pride to maintain. So she drew Diamant’s cloak tighter around her shoulder blades, with a sniff.
“If you must know,” she said, “I was watching the stars.”
The lie was only a lie for a heartbeat, for when she lifted her head skywards, the sparkling blanket above them truly did take her breath away. The skies over Elusia were ill-suited for stargazing, for the mountains drew in thick curtains of clouds. But here in the desert, with no obstructions to speak of, the horizon stretched above them in an endless, glittering dome. Thousands upon thousands of stars shone down, dousing the sand dunes in shadowy light.
Diamant was silent beside her. Ivy tore her eyes away to see him gazing heavenwards, admiring the legions of stars as well. After a moment, he exhaled softly – an amused puff of air.
“Interesting,” he murmured.
“What is?”
“I’m not used to seeing these constellations at this time of year. It must be because we’re so far south.” Diamant pointed. “Like that one. Do you see that row of four bright stars? That’s the crown of Anatase, Brodia’s first sovereign. You can see their sword in their left hand, there – and their shield in their right.”
Ivy followed his pointer finger with her eyes, taking in the shapes etched into the sky. “Brodia enshrines its monarchs in the stars?”
“Only the most formidable ones. And Sovereign Anatase was certainly a force to be reckoned with. They brought the twelve provinces of Brodia together under one banner, putting an end to centuries of civil war.”
“They were a peacemaker, then?”
“Yes, but in many respects, they were ruthless. If the legends are to be believed, they were said to execute on the spot anyone who mistakenly referred to them as a man or a woman.”
“How… draconian.”
“Indeed. But effective. Their impact upon Brodia’s current acceptance of all genders cannot be overstated.”
“A grand vessel of peace, floating upon an ocean of blood.”
Diamant cocked an eyebrow. “Few civil liberties are won by asking nicely.”
“As a monarch yourself, that doesn’t disturb you?”
To her surprise, the corner of Diamant’s mouth quirked into a genuine smile. “Trust that I have no plans to be the kind of ruler whose citizens must turn to violence to earn my attention.”
Ivy scoffed, not caring terribly if it was an unprincesslike sound. “I should certainly hope not.” She returned her gaze to the stars. “I can’t say I have ever heard such an interpretation of that constellation.”
“What do you mean?”
“Among Elusian astronomers, that collection of stars is well-known to form the figure of Queen Delphinium. She was the founder of the Holy Sage Conservatoire, Elusia’s oldest magic academy, over two thousand years ago.”
Diamant furrowed his brow. “A lovely story, but how do you turn Anatase into Delphinium?”
“It’s simple. That “shield”, as you called it, is actually her tome of spells. And her “sword” is an icicle. She was a master of ice magic, after all.”
“Ah.” Diamant squinted. “I think I can see what you mean.”
“You think you can? It’s obvious. But I suppose Brodians are predisposed to jumping to the most violent conclusions.”
Diamant didn’t miss a beat. “And I suppose Elusians are fond of bending reality to justify their claims.”
They stared each other down for a long moment – and at the same time, both their resolves cracked, and they snickered.
“I see our alliance has only sharpened your tongue, if anything,” said Diamant, not even trying to smother his grin.
“I could say the same of you.” Ivy adjusted the Brodian cape around her shoulders. “Though I will concede that Delphinium could very well be wielding a sword. There’s no proof to say she couldn’t.”
“Thank you. And I admit to the possibility that Anatase could be about to conjure an icicle. The legends never say they didn’t know magic.”
And Ivy sensed that was the most either of them were willing to acquiesce to tonight, so she decided to leave it at that.
“Very well.” She stepped towards the palm tree. “What I will not compromise upon is taking the next watch. Go and rest.”
“Are you certain?”
“I am not fond of repeating myself.”
Another smile from Diamant. “Then I will not force you to.” He pushed himself up from the ground, retrieving his sword. “Thank you for your consideration. And for the astronomy lesson.”
“You should be grateful. I usually charge for my guest lectures at the academy.”
“Then next time, I’ll be sure to compensate you fairly.”
For some reason, those words brought that odd, fluttering feeling back to her chest. The surge of warmth reminded her. “Hold a moment-” She made to remove his cloak. “I almost forgot to return this to you-”
He stopped her with a wave of his hand. “Please, keep it. I am not cold.”
Before she could protest, he had retreated to the campfire. She watched him step carefully around their sleeping allies, navigating the shifting sands with ease. She watched him toss a new log onto the dying fire, flinching back as a shower of sparks burst forth.
And she watched him settle down between Alear and Alcryst – and while he didn’t go near the Divine One’s slumbering form, he made sure his brother was tucked in before sliding into his own bedroll.
Ivy swallowed, and a chill flooded her bones that not even the thickest alpaca wool could block.
Hortensia…
She trained her gaze on the desert, and the thoughts of her sister, and Destinea Cathedral, and her father, and the country she’d abandoned, and Diamant all swirled together in a blur of sand and sky.