T. A. Star
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42 - Best Cookies
🕑 Added 2024-07-17 00:00:03 +0000 UTC
Phoenix thought over the list of people “in the know” for Uriel’s divine secret. Most made sense if the goal was limiting access to it but that idea nagged a bit at her, “Wait, if the AOA Director and duke both know…” she hesitated, realizing what she was about to say might come off as an insult or suggestion, “Actually, I’m not sure I should ask…”
Uriel gave her an almost amused look as he said, “Phoenix, right now I actually want you to ask whatever questions you have just to make sure I’m not forgetting anything that might make you change your mind about keeping me near.”
She rolled her eyes at him, “I’m not going to change my mind about that. Not unless you somehow completely swap out your personality for that of an insufferable jerk who is constantly cruel to me or the others.”
“Well good to know you have an actual limit and aren’t just being stubborn about this,” he replied with a laugh, “So what’s your question regarding the director and duke?”
“If you had this mark and blessing from a dark god, why didn’t they just kill you if it was such a bad thing? Did you get put on trial or anything? I’m not entirely sure how the legal system here works… which I now realize I should probably learn, but is it illegal to be blessed by an evil god?”
“Technically, it’s not illegal to worship or be blessed by any god; it’s the evil acts that are punished. I did get a sort of trial when I arrived, but I was still young, not quite fifteen. My trial was overseen by Duke Tul himself as a follower of the Adjudicator, and it was behind closed doors. Only Paul’s party, High Priestess Deserin, and Priest Jacob were there for it.”
“What was your trial for if your mark wasn’t illegal?” she asked in confusion.
He paused, looking at her for a long moment before saying carefully, “All the people I killed while I was with the cult, the Disciples of the Destroyer. I was there for over a year, and during that time alone, I killed almost three hundred people. They made me fight in the Rings every day after my parents died. Killing other people in duels to the death so my sisters would live.”
“Sounds like gladiators. Slaves forced to fight for entertainment,” she said distastefully.
“Basically. My trial was to find out if I did any of that by my own free will. The duke decided that I didn’t, so let me go on to the Temple of the Parent instead of figuring out a way to kill me.”
“Figuring out?”
“Scholar gave them a little warning about my particular Soul Mark,” he said, taking another cookie that Bliss held out to him, “The last time a Chosen of the Destroyer was killed, the nation that sanctioned it was erased from the map.”
“Doesn’t seem to stop people from killing me,” she grumbled.
“Depends on the type of god… wait, who tried killing you since you revealed your Mark?” he asked, turning to stare at her.
She thought about that for a moment, “Um... Soul Reapers and monsters? ...And myself or Scholar, I guess, if the ritual counts,” she admitted.
He shook his head again before continuing, “Apparently, if anyone decides to kill me when I’m helpless and not fighting back, it triggers a failsafe in Destroyer’s Soul Mark, and I’ll take everyone nearby with me.”
“I guess that’s one way for an evil god to protect their investment…”
“Also keeps me from committing–” Uriel’s words were cut off as the door opened, and a slightly disheveled-looking amethyst gemite barged in.
Dazien was feeling conflicted about this whole event. On one hand, it was invigorating to be socializing on this scale with many of the tundra’s most influential people. On the other hand, quite a few were not as adept at political wordsmithing as he had hoped and lacked the social tact that he had wrongfully assumed would be second nature to a noble.
Nevertheless, he smiled and gave respectful bows of greeting. He continued drinking the expensive alcohol despite it having no effect on him due to his Natural Talent. Part of him was glad there wasn’t any dancing at a Noble Reveal as some of the younger scions had already approached him to form “house alliances,” and he did exactly as advised, redirecting them to Patricia to be considered later.
After their last discussion about his eligibility, he had opened up to her more; clarifying his plans to branch off eventually and establish an actual independent nation. The world had plenty of unclaimed space still and he had plans long in the making to find a place for himself. She had seemed grateful for the discussion rather than Paul’s explanation solely consisting of, “The kid wants to be an actual king someday.”
Dazien had also explained that, while he wasn’t open to the idea of Uriel being cast aside, they would likely never marry, so he was open to meeting potential matches that Pati believed would be supportive of his goals.
While Priestess Yavuz had often talked down to him about being open with his relationships –or really having any relationships at all– Priestess Deserin had been more supportive, directing him to a Priestess of the Lover to talk with and learn about healthy relationships and managing boundaries along with expectations.
It was there at the temple of the Lover that he had learned that the nobility was more inclined to marry for politics rather than love yet would still seek out the latter without issue. That all came down to those same boundaries and expectations. What you were both entering into the relationship for. He could work with that and told Pati as much.
Still, as the night wore on, he was getting less enthusiastic about the prospects he had on the tundra. As people drank more, their tongues became looser and their hands freer. This led to more pointed questions and propositions along with more physical dodging.
It was a relief when Noble Chriss Stratford took the place of a very intoxicated woman trying to pet his hair. That relief was short-lived, however, when she tapped a seemingly random crystal on the arm of her dress, activating the subtle Song and Illusion magic spell around them designed for a private conversation.
“I have a distinct feeling that you need to get to whatever room Uriel and Phoenix are in. I’ll cover for you for a few minutes. Make sure you come back,” she pointedly said and the sudden panic that came had him quickly thanking the woman and leaving as discreetly as possible.
Once clear of the room, he turned and sprinted down the corridors to the room he believed they should have been in. If Chriss had deemed it a necessity to extract him, then he knew something was very, very wrong.
His confusion hit a peak when he barged into his bedroom to see Uriel with Phoenix sitting on the sofa across from the hearth, each with cookies in hand, with Orebela hovering nearby and a discarded traveling pack on the ground. It took him another moment to register the gleaming golden item beside the backpack as Uriel’s bracer that hid his most dangerous secret.
His head snapped back up to the pair as he shut the door behind him and asked, “You finally told her?”
“What are you doing here?” Uriel asked incredulously, “You should be at your party.”
“Screw it,” he retorted, walking across the space to join them, “You’re more important. I showed my face and walking out just makes me seem more like Paul.”
The pair of friends both snorted a laugh, and he couldn’t help but smile in return. Then he spotted Bliss sitting on the floor in front of a mostly devoured plate of cookies while trying to covertly place one into Uriel’s hand. That explained how Chriss knew to inform him, “So what happened here? What’s with the bag?”
“Uriel tried to run away because he thinks he’ll ruin our reputations and somehow put us in more danger than we already put ourselves in,” Phoenix retorted, obviously upset by the idea.
He paused at the news, confusion and worry filling him as he reexamined the pack on the floor before looking around the room for what might be missing.
There’s no way that could be true.
Uriel had stayed beside him for years, and while he knew the man worried about how he might be seen in social circles, his seneschal had never before voiced the desire to leave.
But things were missing.
Things they didn’t normally take when going on a mission. The picture of them on the mantle, the small painting Bliss had passed on from Faelyn, the stone carving of a Storm Dragon he had gotten Uriel one Winter’s Break. Little things like that which belonged in their home.
Dazien knew his friends were staring at him, waiting for his reaction, but he didn’t know what to say. He was grateful once again that he didn’t need to breathe anymore; otherwise, he knew his rising emotions would be given away. He wasn’t even clear on what exactly he was feeling. Anger? Sadness? Resignation? Betrayal? Confusion.
Why would Uriel feel the sudden need to flee without him?
“I’m sorry, King,” Uriel’s voice reached him, and he realized he hadn’t been moving for far too long. He almost couldn’t bring himself to look at the man who had been holding a dagger over his heart, ready to plunge it into his chest the moment he had returned to find an empty room.
“Why?” was the only word he could trust himself to say. He had learned his lesson about jumping to conclusions when he had let his pile of frustrations spill over and lash out at Phoenix months ago. He needed to cling to the hope that his partner wasn’t abandoning him without reason.
Uriel stood, walking closer to him as the mage carefully replied, “Not because of anything you did. Not because of who or what you are. Not because I don’t care about you.”
The gemite finally met his eyes and repeated, “Then why?”
The cinderen took one of his hands and said quietly, “I realized I was being selfish. That –with you and Phoenix in the spotlight as Waylands– people will start looking for leverage. That I’m the greatest weakness to both of you. Your greatest threat to a bright future.”
He frowned and denied that thought, “The brightest future I can imagine is one with you by my side. You thought I would desire any future without you? We’ve been part of each other’s lives for over seven years, and you were going to just throw that away because of politics?”
“You’re stronger without me–”
“I’m incomplete without you, Uriel,” he interjected, the anger beginning to win in the battle of emotions. “You are a part of me. A piece of my puzzle that no one else can fill. You know this. That hasn’t changed just because my name did.”
The mage looked back to the floor, repentant as he whispered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Well, you did. It sounds like you hurt Phoenix too,” he snapped, then took a deep breath. He didn’t want to get angry again.
In a calmer voice, he said, “I understand that your intentions may have been to protect us. However, you didn’t even say anything. You didn’t ask for our opinions. That’s not what being friends or partners means. I’m hurt more by that than anything else.”
“Want a cookie?” Bliss asked suddenly from beside him, her small humanoid form lifting one of the cookies towards him as she added, “King smells like sadness and anger. Cookies fix that, even if not Uriel’s Best Cookies.”
His eyes narrowed at the Chimera slightly, “You’re almost as bad as Saiya with that.” When Bliss merely grinned, he shook his head and gave a heavy sigh. Taking the cookie, he pulled Uriel back to the sofa and made Phoenix scoot over to place Uriel between them.
Dazien redirected his next question towards Phoenix, “Will you catch me up on everything he told you? I want to hear your perspective on it.”
“Well, first, I want to say how insanely unfair it is that he got his Soul Mark on his arm instead of the middle of his chest,” the Wayfarer complained, “Seriously, if it can go anywhere, why would Hero and Rebel think it was a good idea to put in right here?!” she exclaimed gesturing to the mark positioned right above her slight cleavage, “I don’t want to wear dresses like this!”
The gemite gave a laugh, “At least it’s still able to be hidden that way,” he pointed out, “I’ve heard of a past Chosen who got one on their forehead.”
“Don’t try and make me feel better about this injustice,” Phoenix scolded, causing him and Uriel to both chuckle and nod in agreement.
Comments
Siddharth Patel
I wish I had mind reading powers so I can just read everything you've wrote for this series from your amazing creative dome. This is getting so goood!
