ARC 7-Cursed Fates-88 (Patreon)

Unfortunately, we linger too long and miss our opportunity to sneak off. As we whisper to each other in the dark, our guests are shown out and Rey serves tea. All is calm until Alana raises her voice. “What is your problem?”

I turn my gaze back to the parlor and find my lovely knight staring daggers at her sister while Yulia refuses to meet the strong gaze, busying herself with a cup of Rey’s horrible tea.

“I don’t have a problem.”

“Tell that to your face.”

“Really, Ally? There’s no need to be juvenile.”

“That’s funny coming from the woman who won’t even look at me.”

Yulia lets out a deep, put upon sigh. “Fine. If you must know, I feel a little redundant.”

“…nevermind. Forget I asked.”

The snow bunny scoffs. “If you are going to be callous, you shouldn’t have asked.” Alana’s frustration and desire to escape the situation is clearly written across her face, but the obvious reluctance doesn’t stop her sister. “The reason I came here was to advise you and your…betrothed on matters of peace. Yet, there is a distinct lack of peace to be found.”

“Oh, by the ancestors! We tried, Yulia. It was a nice thought but these people, warriors, brutes, idiots, don’t respond to good intentions.”

“You tried? When was this? Before Lou chased her assassins into the street after they were already retreating? When you all effortlessly slaughtered the Teppin knights? I suppose it could have been during. Some say that death is the ultimate peace.”

“We don’t start fights. We end them.”

“If there’s anything these fights, and the March for that matter, has shown me, it’s that Lou has the power to end a fight however she wants. She chose to kill everyone. And now, she’s going to kill, no, assassinate several more people because it’s the easy way.”

I admit, hearing her criticisms is a little annoying but there’s no need for me to defend myself. Alana is more than up to the task. With a sound between a hiss and a garbled curse, she jumps to her feet, hands balling in anger.

“There is nothing easy about swinging a sword. Something you of all people should know.” Yulia’s shoulders tense, probably with shame, but Alana doesn’t stop. “Once again, someone else is making the hard decisions for you, to protect you, to protect everyone, and you dare speak badly about her? Have you forgotten that these people tried to kill us first? Have you already forgotten what it was like to hold Allen tight while men with knives stalked the halls?”

Yulia frowns but the expression smoothens out in the span of a blink. “If peace were easy, everyone would do it. Few people have the capacity to enforce it. You all are those people but peace clearly isn’t what you want. I understand, of course. One becomes accustomed to the mentality of war growing up in the north. I just question my presence if you were willing to pick up your swords so easily.”

Alana laughs, though there is little humor in the sound. “I’ve questioned your presence from the beginning. Don’t blame us, Yulia. You invited yourself. Your entire plan to make nice with the south was nobody’s ambition but yours. You should be thanking us for humoring and protecting you, but instead, you’re pouting because things didn’t go the way you wanted. As always. This is why—”

She cuts off suddenly, a hand rising to pinch the bridge of her nose as she lets out an explosive sigh. A sure sign of someone trying to calm themselves down and a perfect moment for Yulia to walk away.

Unfortunately, Yulia is a James. She comes off as mild-mannered and agreeable, but she has a stubborn streak. One that chooses to make itself known at terrible times. I wince internally as Yulia pops to her feet. One would think that, given she survived a campaign, she would have a stronger sense of self-preservation.

“Oh, yes. My being disappointed or otherwise upset is always a personal affront to you. This is just what you wanted, isn’t it? You’re enjoying the fact that I’ve failed.”

“Enjoying? You’re making the same mistake you always do. The one where you assume everything is about you.”

“You asked!”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have. If you feel so bad about it, why don’t you go home?”

Yulia scowls and, this time, she doesn’t bother to hide her expression. “Don’t think I haven’t considered it. I realized I might be out of my depth on the road, but I stayed. I stayed because—”

“Because you didn’t have any other option?”

“Because I thought I could help. I wanted to help. I still think I have something to offer, as the only one with a proper understanding of the kind of assets necessary to placate Father and the March. But if you disagree—”

“Then what? Are you going to walk out the front door? No, wait.” Alana’s massaging fingers move to the sides of her head. “Fucking ancestors. I don’t want you to leave and get yourself killed. I don’t even know why I’m getting angry. This is stupid.”

Yulia does a double-take, mouth gaping slightly. Once again, Alana proves their relation. The longer she stares at Yulia with those big, blue eyes of hers, the more the elder James daughter softens.

“I may have…lost my temper. A little,” the snow bunny finally admits in a soft voice. She forcefully gathers herself, straightening up and relaxing her tense shoulders. “It’s…disappointing. Realizing one is worthless.”

“Oh, for…you’re not worthless.”

Ah. This took a strange turn.

“Aren’t I? What have I done on this trip besides take advantage of your generosity? I’m attending parties while my husband and family grapple with ancestors know what. I…excuse me.”

Her façade crumples as the snow bunny rushes out of the room, making a spectacle of herself. She doesn’t give me or Kierra so much as a glance as she just short of runs away, disappearing deeper into the house. Alana watches her go with disbelief while slowly approaching us.

“That was…” My voice stalls as I struggle to find the right words. The first things that come to mind feel too insulting.

“She called herself worthless,” my future wife mutters. “Yulia called herself worthless.”

Kierra hums. “Emotions are as volatile as a storm.”

“I’m worried about her.”

My first instinct is to laugh off the concern. What is there to be worried about? So, Yulia is feeling a little down. Her ideals might have crashed and burned but she’s whole and healthy. No danger got within an arm’s reach of her or her son. She’s eating well, drinking well, and sleeping well. Compared to that, failure is nothing. A little disappointment never hurt anyone. I would know. My life was nothing but disappointment before I met that glossy elemental.

But Alana’s worry makes me think about the situation more deeply. To try and imagine everything from Yulia’s perspective. She’s not suited for the north, is she? Her warm nature that makes her so popular amongst the cold warriors also makes her home suffocating. I’m not blind to how excited she’s been while traveling. Maybe, just maybe, despite being born with that face of hers and being catered to, she hasn’t had the easiest life.

She’s also weak. Not by the capital’s standards. Yulia could probably take on a palace full of dainty court ladies. But by Victory’s standards, she’s as soft as freshly baked bread. Both in mind and body. She doesn’t have the heart for war. Maybe not for blood or violence.

Someone like that was just targeted by assassins. Spent most of a night wondering if men with dark cloth covering their faces would kick down the door to murder her and her son. She had to watch several men be slaughtered. Heard them scream, cry, and beg for mercy. Had to walk past their corpses to reach the front door.

Ah.

I may have been a little insensitive.

“Maybe it would be best if she went home,” I say slowly. Quest hasn’t been kind to her delicate sensibilities.

Alana runs a frustrated hand through her hair. “She shouldn’t have come in the first place but that’s the last thing she probably wants to hear. The Stars that were supposed to be her escorts should arrive in the city soon. They can take her back to Victory. Until then, just…” She sighs. “Humor her. Please.”

“Humor her? Sweetie, we’re way beyond pretending to negotiate.” If we follow up on the information that Slaid gives us, we’re just beating the guilds into submission.

“Yulia just wants to be seen and heard. That’s all she ever—” I watch as she swallows her bitter feelings. She really is trying to make things better with her sister, isn’t she? “She wants to change people’s opinion of the north, but we’ve been building our bad reputation for five centuries. Even she has to realize that one visit, in the middle of a crisis no less, isn’t going to change that. What she wants is a stage. When all the real work is done, let her waltz in with her pretty smile, soothe feelings, and be fawned over. That’s what she’s good at.”

…she is trying, right?

“Don’t worry,” I tell her as I brush her cheek with a fingertip. I can’t help but smile as she tries to lean into the touch. “This will all be over soon. Once we take care of these Sword people, we’ll reasonably rob the guilds and send Yulia home with the spoils before she gets herself into trouble. Then we can focus on us.”

“Saints willing,” she mutters. “I’m ready for things to settle down. The one good thing about the campaigns is that they only happen once a year. Victory is rather tame outside of that.”

I guess the duels, bloodshed, and crazy traditions are tame.

Kierra chuckles and pulls Alana toward her, trapping us both in her embrace. “My foolish clan,” she whispers into our hair. “You are Atainna now. Trouble is normal.”