“Menavillion. You?”
“Whoever will have me.” She replies with a shrug.
“Are you coming to the dinner tonight then?” she hesitates a second before shaking her head, her face falling a little.
“What’s the matter?”
She lifts a single shoulder. “I don’t know, I’m fine with fighting for them, but the thought of sharing dinner with a fae terrifies me. You know to my people the fae are known as the Fair Folk. You don’t walk with the Fair Folk, Chastmir. That’s what my pa used to always say.”
“So why are you trying to become a fae’s champion?”
“For a favor, why else? A sickness has ravaged my people for as long as I can remember. It stole my mother from me and turned my father into a cruel man. I will ask for the cure of this disease in return for my servitude to the fae.”
“Oh,” I say after a brief silence. “That’s very honorable.”
“What do you wish to gain from Menavillion?” she inquires, tilting her head so that her braid falls to the side.
I nibble the edge of my lip. “It’s not going to sound nearly as worthy a cause as yours.”
“It’s something you are willing to swear away your future for so clearly it’s important to you.”
I ball my hand into a fist. “I’d like to ask for more magic, so that I can no longer be considered less-than the rest of my kind.”
“I cannot fault you for that,” Chastmir replies stepping back. She offers me a tight smile. “I wish you the best in your endeavors. If I can, I shall attempt to gain the interest of a different fae so that you can have yours.”
“Thank you,” I reply with a small smile in return. Perhaps this year won’t be so bad after all. So, what if I failed my first mock battle? I will have plenty other opportunities to prove myself in the future. My time at this academy is only just beginning.
“Besides, I’ve heard rumors that Menavillion would like to leave the academy within the week so that he can return to his affairs. I assume that word of his early departure means he at least has an idea of who he will be taking with him. I hope it’s you.”
My stomach drops at her words as I realize that I don’t have time to improve. I need to be better now, and I have this banquet to prove to him that I’m the person he should be bringing home not Byron.
The question is justhow?
“Would it truly be the end of the world if Menavillion didn’t choose you as his knight?” Marvin asks fidgeting with the ends of his decorated tunic. I think that he is just as uncomfortable all dressed up like this as I am.
“Yes,” I reply stonily, mad that Marvin would even speak of a scenario where that would happen even if it’s all I’ve been able to think about since leaving my room.
Marvin shakes his head. “You could always try to get your magic from a different fae lord, I know that not every fae will trade in magic, but there have to be some others here who will. And Byron has a real reason for needing Menavillion’s patronage.”
I whip my head around. “Wait you’ve taken his side now?” I demand but before Marvin can respond I whirl on him, clutching my skirts so I don’t trip. “What has he told you?”
Marvin opens his mouth but then closes it. He swallows hard, his eyes so wide that he puts me in mind of an owl. “It…it isn’t my story to share. All I’m saying is that perhaps you should speak with him. This silent treatment and rivalry thing is really quite juvenile, and I think it’s gotten to Byron’s head. He’s barely sleeping anymore.”
I bite down on my lip. I want to argue with Marvin, tell him that it’s taking its toll on me to the point where I can barely focus, but I refrain from it for fear of him stating that it’s all my fault, and I created a problem out of nothing. That I made this rift between me and Byron that’s clearly affecting us both. Or worse he will once again falsely claim that the only reason that I’ve detested Byron since we were children was because I actually liked him and just didn’t know how to process those emotions.
Maybe he would be right, but it’s not something I want to hear right now. Much like when I was a child, I’m having a hard time processing anything right now. All I know is that I have a banquet to attend, a fae lord to impress, and I must do it all while not tripping over the long skirts of my dress.
I suppose it’s a good thing that Istaria gave me clothes as her repayment to me because I’ve never seen anything half as fine as this dress, let alone owned it. I’d be showing up in my torn tunic and leggings instead of looking like an otherworldly princess of the sky. The gauzy skirts are multiple layered and see through revealing the skirts underneath each taking a darker and darker hue. The fitted bodice has beads hanging from it that look like stars twinkling against the blue skirts.
If I wasn’t so worried about tripping and falling on my face then this dress would give me some much needed confidence, but instead it delivers it with a good level of self-consciousness. The dress is gorgeous, it’s me that’s the problem. I don’t know how to properly wear it.
When I’m a knight, at least I’ll be able to wear armor and no longer have to worry about gowns and banquets and impressing people. I’ll only have to worry about Menavillion’s safety and honor and valor and other things that I feel much more suited for than dressing like a noble lady.
My nerves are feeling rather unsteady by the time we reach the large doors of the banquet hall. “I don’t know if I can do this,” I whisper to Marvin, my foot stalling a bit.
Marvin continues walking, throwing a quick, “If you don’t go, then Byron wins.”
That isn’t half as motivating as it should be. Which causes me to pause and wonder if Byron winning would be the worst thing that could happen to me. I’d be forced to set my sights on a different fae patron but I’m sure that I could figure something out. And then Byron would go with Menavillion and… well, that’s the part that causes me some pause. Byron would be gone; he would no longer be living just down the street in the blacksmith’s hut.
