Eagles and Swans
Chapter 38: Titles, Glories and Other Inconsequential Things
“It’s ironic. I'll have a title. And the worst title too—something that ties me inseparably to the religion and the state. I barely know if it’s a victory.”
Chancing upon Aligon in the lobby amidst his entourage of Weavers, Ruthenia managed to catch his attention and his greeting, and he invited her into their tight circle--an invitation she knew better than to refuse.
“Power can be powerlessness,” said the Arcane King as they walked and braved a stampede of journalists. He spoke with a jovial smile and swept his furry red cloak out for the cameras, and she walked straighter just so she would not look like a fool this time.
“So, is it likely that you will be inviting your brother to rejoin your family? Seeing as I was the cause of his expulsion in the first place…”
“How kind of you to care!” he laughed. “My condition for Aleigh's return was that you be acquitted of all your crimes. I did not veto the jury's decision, did I?” He grinned, and she nodded. “Congratulations, Ruthenia. You have quite thoroughly turned the tables on me. That does not frequently happen.”
She shook her head. “There is a lot of suppressed discontent in the country, and you ought to heed it. It’s only just beginning.”
Recognising the threat, Aligon sighed. “Oh, I know it is. And now that you’re a holy emissary, we are almost on equal footing. That ought to make things interesting, eh? Blessed Ruthenia, patron of scientific inquiry?”
She cringed. “That sounds terrible,” she muttered.
“You will grow accustomed to it eventually.” He smiled. “Also, congratulations on the marked improvements you have made upon your tone and bearing. A proper diplomat you’ll become!”
A sickening feeling of defeat washed over her. But she did not get a chance to reel with it, for the Arcane King gestured to dismiss her, and she took the cue, reentering the fray.
At once, Ruthenia found herself being assaulted with the most unalike of exclamations and inquiries from the crowd. Hazen’s son, the ten-year-old Ordinary Prince Liae, made very sure to inform her that he still believed her message had been a well-planned light show. At the gateway, Caela begged her to repeat the words of Ihir’s message in her “spooky voice”, which she, sadly, found she could not. A reporter attacked her with a conical radio receiver.
“Miss Cendina, how do you explain this very sudden turn in your fortune?” she shouted, pointing the brass tool at her mouth.
Ruthenia shrugged. “I had the help of a lot of friends,” she replied. “And a lot of planning.”
She braced herself for the barrage of questions that would follow. Some other time—some four months ago, maybe—this attention, the camera flashes, the swinging of open receivers, would have been thrilling. The thrill was there, alright, but it wasn’t nearly as pleasant as she’d expected, and by the twentieth question she was twitching to escape.
“That is all!” she snapped at the next one who approached. “Aren't you all engorged with information already? Go use what you have! I'd like to talk to my friends!”
They hounded her still, but in thinner groups. Ruthenia was almost glad for the bottleneck of the bridge to the flight deck, where no more than two could follow directly behind, and those two happened to be Anio and Cathia, squeezing themselves in behind her before the mayhem could follow.
“Oh, I am so relieved to see you,” Ruthenia gasped. “Those reporters just don’t know when enough’s enough.”
“It's not unbearable,” added Anio, “but they can get pesky very fast.”
Cathia giggled. “Tell them. Some of the younger ones get scared and run off.”
When Ruthenia finally escaped the bridge into the air at the other end, she stretched her arms with a deep breath to welcome the warm afternoon—but promptly went still at the sight of the Arcane King conversing with his brother at the edge of the premise.
Cathia quickly interrupted Ruthenia's motionlessness staring with a nudge. "Does His Highness not look terribly discomfited? The poor boy. Ruthenia, you must go remedy his mood at once."
Nodding quickly, she slowed into a tentative advance in their direction, passing through the throng, which parted for her. Aligon was first to notice her approach; his face lit up with a smile as he turned. “Ruthenia Cendina,” he said, and only then did Aleigh turn as well. “Shall I stay, or are there matters to be discussed in private?”
“Stay if you want,” Ruthenia muttered when she arrived beside him, wrinkling her nose at his furry cloak.
“Oh, your affairs do not concern me. I only ask that you not implicate my brother in yet another of your heinous plots,” answered the King with a trace of a smirk. A snap of his fingers brought his royal guard again. He turned to his brother. “I sincerely hope only pleasant interactions pave the way forward.”
With one last pointed smile at Ruthenia, the Arcane King glided away in a rustle of cloaks, his guards encircling him once more.
“I hope things are fine with you all now,” she said, watching to ensure he had left, before turning to the brother.
With a sigh, Aleigh turned to the city beyond the platform. “Legally and officially, yes,” he replied. “This entire business with you and Lilin has proven to be a diplomatic disaster for my family, and Aligon is convinced you are a curse upon us.”
“Hey, I can’t help being a curse, can I?” she answered with a grin.
“He’s determined to turn the curse around.”
"For such a shrewd man, he can be idiotically stubborn."
"I can hardly bear to speak to him on the people of Astra. He reminds me of my previous folly."
"Well, he can change, right? Maybe it's your turn to teach someone." She shook her head. “What will you do when you’re home?”
“Home? I shall set myself to becoming a broader-minded council member.”
“I was referring to what you’d do once you arrived at home this evening,” she laughed. “But tell me more about your political plans, if they interest you more.”
He blinked. “Oh. Well...unfortunately, it appears that over the past week, I have made myself a symbol of something, in saying what I did in the broadcast, and in rejecting my brother. Of Arcane reformation, or so I hear. In any case, I do agree that my brother could use a better understanding of the plights of the people he rules, and I intend to be that voice unto him.”
Ruthenia nodded. “I know politics aren’t the sort of thing we can settle between friends like dinner plans...but I could advise you on that.”
He nodded once. “I would be pleased to hear your advice.”
In the pause that followed, they found no words to say, only exchanged a long look with each other.
“You are fine, are you not?” asked Aleigh. “You have been incredibly quiet all day.”
She shook her head. Visions and sensations of swirling ocean currents enwrapped her, and she shivered. “I'm tired.”
He paused, perhaps to consider his words, before finally settling on a simple, “Have yourself a proper rest when you arrive at home.”
Walking up to the edge of the deck, Ruthenia watched a distant ferry pass between high blocks and towers of Helika City. The sky was so unbelievably, immensely blue. She wished she could dive into it.
Perhaps realising then that Ruthenia would not be offering any more conversation, Aleigh excused himself. Too late she turned, watching him weave away through the crowd. Ihir, the boy certainly had a habit of leaving without warning, didn't he?
“What's he like?” She leapt at the sound of the voice from behind her. A startled glance about revealed that the question’s asker was Iurita, who stood behind her with her arms folded.
“Who, Aleigh?”
Sweeping her skirt out, Iurita nodded. “We all know how he is to officials and to regular acquaintances. But how does he treat people he particularly likes?”
“Me? He doesn't particularly like me.”
At this she laughed. “No, I think you will find he holds you in higher regard than any other person in this world. He gave his title up for you, did he not? Is there a gesture less ambiguous?”
“I don’t know why you’re telling me this. Aligon will pick a noblewoman for him and the matter will be laid to rest.”
"Oh, Ruthenia, I never did say anything about romance, now, did I?" Iurita sang. "I think you have betrayed your own feelings on the subject."
"I..." She felt herself go hot. "I...yes, well..."
“Well, you know class is no object, in today’s social climate,” Iurita replied with a knowing smile.
“And he’s not just some lord,” Ruthenia muttered, and found that emptiness and regret gnawed hard on her. She took it upon herself to steer the conversation away. “Well, what are you doing, talking to me, anyway? Last time we spoke, we were sworn enemies.”
“Well, I have come to realise that I was--I suppose--wrong about you, and that I grossly misjudged your character.”
Her brow furrowed. “Oh? I would’ve thought my deeds would have made you angrier.”
To her surprise, Iurita shook her head. “Many things happened in the past week, Ruthenia. I never did understand your unbridled disregard, your rage. It was incomprehensible to me, and it made me terrified. But I cannot help but to understand, now.” She cleared her throat. “Not that this exempts you of basic standards of courtesy, of course.”
It was only then that it dawned on her that Iurita—Iurita Astrapia—had just lost her mother.
“I’m sorry,” she replied meekly. “I never meant for any of that to happen. I didn’t want any of that.”
“None of it was your fault. Anger and hatred are difficult to rein, and big groups of angry people feel safe doing things they normally would not.” The Arcane girl’s smile was strained, her voice constricted. “Let us call a truce.”
“That sounds good to me.”
A shadow crossed them. Both turned.
“Oh, good afternoon, Your Highness.”
He extended a hand, and Iurita bowed to kiss it, lowering her left knee, as she should.
“Good afternoon, Miss Astrapia,” said Aleigh. “My sincerest condolences.”
Iurita touched a hand to her heart. “I appreciate it, Your Highness.”
Benedice peered over his shoulder. Wind whirled round across the platform, fluttering the equine’s feathers, and the hem of Ruthenia’s skirt.
Iurita glanced from Aleigh to Ruthenia. “Oh, yes! I was just leaving.” She lowered her head in a bow. “I shall see the both of you in class.”
Before departing, she fired Ruthenia another smile, to which she felt herself once again blushing in indignation. They watched while their classmate drifted back into the crowd, her long silk gown fluttering behind her.
“Well, I imagine much is to change between the both of you, following this entire...happening.”
She turned. “One less battle to fight.”
“So...you will be returning home now, won't you?” asked Aleigh. “You ought to find a new flight mount.”
For some seconds, Ruthenia stood stone-still as it dawned upon her that she'd have to learn to fly, all over again. She reserved her regret to a shrug. “Eventually,” she sighed. “Would you...would you mind acting as my escort again?”
“With pleasure,” answered the Arcane Prince of Astra, extending a hand, which she took.
Ruthenia spent the flight trying not to notice how close Aleigh was. Or how much narrower that distance became when their flight lurched and she bumped against him.
They followed the winding of the River Colura, and at Ruthenia’s request, the flight sank low so they could listen to its burbling. She tilted out over Benedice’s right flank to stare at her reflection. “Don't go falling off,” warned the Arcane Prince over his shoulder, as Benedice’s hooves skimmed the water. “I don't think you survived your adventure with Lilin only to lose your life here.”
She swatted his gaze away. “I’m no child!” she exclaimed. In answer, he flicked the reins, and their flight ascended suddenly. Ruthenia yelled, snatching for her companion’s waist while her shout turned to laughter.
By the twentieth minute of their flight, the sky had turned gold around them. The warmth made her feel lazy, and she yawned. “How are you feeling, Blessed Lady?” he asked.
"Please, don't call me that." Ruthenia watched Helika's border segue into sinking grassland beneath Benedice’s hooves. “I'm content—I think. I’m happy I’ll never have to do it again. At least I dearly hope I won't.”
For many minutes, she listened to the beating of Benedice’s wings and the rustle of the wheat below. Then Beacon Way appeared at the horizon, houses queued in an undulating line through the sky. And there, among them, was her home.
“The shed,” she said, leaning out to the right, one arm still hooked around his waist. “That’s mine.”
“It’s smaller than I’d anticipated,” he replied.
“Everything’s smaller than you’d anticipate.”
With a tug of the reins, Benedice lifted from the wheat in a billowing of wings and a grand rustle of leaves and stalks. He climbed through the sky in a dizzying lurch, and circled Tanio’s house once, showing her the back views of their homes, before braking and landing on her patio, hooves clopping across the wood.
Ruthenia slid off Benedice's back and landed with a thump on her patio. Without the wind in her face, heat crept back into the blouse she wore, and the air went still around her. Then the sound of marsh birds in the bubbling river grew into audibility, alongside the rustle of wheat, ready for harvest, and the creaking moan of Tanio's turbine overhead.
It was as if she had never left. The place looked and sounded as it had before.
Well, almost. She heard Aleigh dismount behind her, and turned to find him examining the tiny wooden building. Standing there, all dressed in the stern formality of upper Helika, the Arcane Prince looked out of place beside the poorly-sawed wood.
Ruthenia stared as he crossed the porch and lifted his gaze to regard the sunset, where it spilled red and purple all over the sky. Again she found herself standing mesmerised. Ihir, people weren't supposed to look as good as they did in their portraits.
“Ruth?” She hardly noticed Aleigh turning to her. “You really ought to take a rest. You seem more dazed than I have ever seen you.”
“I’ll do that after my bath.” Ruthenia forced herself to smile. “Why don’t you come inside? Since you’re here. I’d, well, I’d like to show you my home.”
His eyebrows rose, and he said, “I would love to see it.”
Heart leaping, Ruthenia slipped in through her front door, and he followed, the sound of his shoes unfamiliar on the wood.
The light of the sunset cast a golden streak across the dim room that was briefly broken as they entered. Ruthenia pulled the switch. Aleigh stared at the electric filament as it flickered to life, quickly assuming a steady glow.
“Well, here we are,” she said, turning to him with a grin. She kicked papers out of the way. “Sorry about the mess.”
He regarded her for a second, before laughing softly. “I expected one.”
Giddy with the sound of his laughter, Ruthenia walked to her workbench and pointed at it. “That’s where I build and repair things,” she said. “People bring stuff in, and I beat it into shape, weld it, tighten screws, whatever it needs.” Then she pointed a thumb at the hammock behind her. “And that’s where I sleep.”
“In that? How?” he said.
“Somehow,” she replied, grinning at his perplexion.
Meanwhile, she crossed the room to her desk, and leapt onto it with a thud. The sunlight was orange as fire, warming the back of her head. She leaned back on her palms, soaking in the balminess. From here she could see her entire room, light and shadow in sharp contrast, and Aleigh by her work bench, inspecting the space with growing surprise. He made everything in the room look grander than it was, as if his very presence made it fit for royalty. Motes of dust danced through the air like sparks.
“Here’s where I do my homework,” she said, patting her desktop. “What do you think?”
Aleigh’s gaze moved to her desk, and then to her. They stared at each other across the glowing room for a while, beginning to smile, before he finally decided to cross to where she was. “Your home is lovely,” he said, eyes still trained on her. “And it is patently yours.”
Ruthenia snorted. “Because it’s crudely-made?” she replied, trying to ignore his gaze. The birds in the river beneath chorused.
"It’s everything it has to be, nothing more. Not like the palace at all.”
“No, it’s nothing like the palace,” Ruthenia said. “I wish I could see your home. But I guess I never will, and I’ll just have to accept that.”
“That depends,” he replied. “Well, my room is somewhat larger than this one--”
She laughed and rolled her eyes. “Really? Surely not!”
“It’s not big enough for a banquet table, no,” he replied, with a mirthful smile. “It has several bookshelves--”
“Bookshelves,” she sniffed. “How predictable.”
"I do admit I am not a terribly surprising person," he said, before casting another glance about. “This has been a very interesting tour. Thank you.”
“Of course,” she said, unable to find the right words for a coda to their conversation. By now, he was barely a foot from where she sat. Ihir help her, he was in her room. In her shed on Beacon Way. And the way he was looking-- “Thank you for taking me here on Benedice.”
“Unfortunately, I must be leaving soon.”
She began to wish him goodbye, but the impulse to keep him here overthrew her sensibilities. “That’s a pity!” she replied. “Couldn’t you stay a little longer?” The scent of the afternoon overwhelmed her senses.
“A minute more, perhaps?” he replied.
“A minute is good, very good,” she answered in a breath.
It was perhaps inevitable, then, when Ruthenia snatched Aleigh's shoulders and pulled him forcefully towards herself to kiss him full on the mouth. Or, she tried to, but her lips met his at an awkward angle and because she’d never done it before, she suddenly found herself at a complete loss as to how to proceed, all her thoughts beginning to scream. But then she felt his fingers clasp the back of her head, and he leant into her invitation, lips parting, to return the kiss with conviction. His body bore against hers, knee pressing into her shin.
She felt his tongue push against hers, and at once her eyes went wide, as did his.
Stiffening, Ruthenia shoved him away by the shoulders, face and neck blazing. “Damn it!” she shouted, gasping for breath, mouth tasting slightly unfamiliar.
“I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, covering his eyes with a hand, although that did nothing to hide his steadily reddening blush.
Ruthenia caught her breath. "No, don’t be!” she replied.
He shook his head. “Please forget this, I barely knew what I was doing—”
“Why?” She sat paralysed while he began towards the door, and her heart sank when she realised that none of her questions had been answered by that stupid gesture. She only barely found it in herself to leap off her desk and escort him out, laughing nervously beside him, and she watched him mount Benedice in the reddening light.
“Well, I must be leaving,” he called down. “Good evening to you.” He was in far too much of a hurry to leave; the equine leapt into the sky barely seconds later, white wings unfurling about him.
When he’d vanished from view, Ruthenia buried her face in her hands and sighed. “Ihir, save me!” she shouted.
The next time they met, Ruthenia realised with a sinking of her heart, it'd be in school.
Remembering the afternoon still drove chills through her, so she tried not to. It all seemed much too dreamlike in her memory, anyway, all full of strange light and unimportant details—so perhaps that’s all it had been.
Ruthenia spent the remains of the Saturday in Tanio's living room, trying to reconcile herself with all these incongruities that had sprung up. She was some public figure now. Some creature to be adored. The thought made her sick in the stomach. Everything she did had to mean something. She would be given no time to acclimatise, or to mourn everything, everyone she’d lost. Her first class at the Ihira Circle began in two weeks.
Did Ihir change His law just so that the entire country could be privy to my blunders? Is this His idea of a good cosmic joke?
That evening, Tanio introduced her to the tower of signed letters that had built itself on his coffee table. A good majority were overwhelmingly pacific, even adulatory. A number were job offers, reinstatements of membership, well-veiled pleas for partnership, and others regarded her christening. Majority of them were from people whom they’d never met.
Enclosed, for your perusal, is an introductory guide to clerichood and the religious doctrines, laws and behavioural codes associated with the position.
Amidst the piles of envelopes there was a slender paperback guidebook on behaviour, courtesy of one Iurita Astrapia. The most precious of the pack was the official release and acquittal warrant, which was stiff and card-like, and smelt of palace-lavender.
One particularly important-looking letter among them bore the Sign of the Swan in many places—in the seal, the watermark, the letterhead, and stamped beneath two very pretty signatures. It was the formal apologies of the royal families, printed on the sort of paper that she imagined was reserved for diplomatic letters.
A sigh left her. She wielded so much power that she didn't understand, like an invisible rapier she swung wherever she turned. She only hoped she wouldn't accidentally thrust it straight into someone's gut.
***
Ruthenia was almost afraid to arrive in school on Monday morning. This fear was quite a trivial thing in comparison with what she’d suffered in the past week, and yet she almost believed she would never live through it at all.
The sort of fear Hollia suffered on a daily basis, or so the epiphany came while she was clinging for her dear life to the sides of Tanio's surfboard on her way to school. She slid queasily off the surfboard at the arch, and offered him a wave goodbye.
Almost at once, she was greeted by Mr. Nychus, who offered her a bow despite her being alone. She returned it with a bewildered smile, and dashed off through the corridors.
The welcome she got was resounding. Hollia obliged to hug her, as did Telis and Caela, queueing after her best friend to pounce on her with hugs of their own. People she’d never thought would care expressed relief for her safety. All day, she was on the receiving end of embraces and kisses on her cheeks.
It was tempting to think they were merely courting her favour because of her newfound fame. But she chose to believe it genuine, that her absence truly had rent their hearts. It was better that way.
Although none of the teachers addressed her any differently, they let her be when she fell asleep at the desk. Tea break, she spent alone, for she could not bring herself to speak to the Arcane Prince.
At the chime of the five-thirty bell, Ruthenia packed her bag and sighed in the golden light, the exhaustion still hanging on her bones. She had another interview at seven o’clock, one she had tried to refuse until the journalist had kindly offered to meet her close to Beacon Way.
She froze when she found Aleigh awaiting her by the doorway, books stacked in his arms. Well, there was no avoiding him now, then. He cast a glance about, as if for invisible accosters, before deciding to bring his full focus to her.
“Where were you at teatime?” he said. “I wished to talk to you.”
The pleading in his voice made her heart ache. “I couldn't do it,” she replied. Even looking him in the eye was a mistake.
As before, they took the walk to the stables together. Ruthenia recalled the first time she’d spoken to him here, back when she'd thought of him as a symbol and not a person. Someone she’d had no business bothering.
"I'm sorry," he said, all of a sudden.
"Don't be sorry," she snapped. "None of it mattered, if you don’t want it to matter." She paused, trying to think of some topic with which to remedy their moods. But her companion had departed for the stables.
As usual, Ruthenia found herself awaiting him on the steps to the platform, until he reappeared with his equine, who nuzzled her hair as she stood. She didn't pull away like she'd once have.
“I’m sorry that your family is getting implicated by my deeds,” she said.
"Your concern is appreciated," Aleigh replied, slipping comfortably into his diplomat’s persona at once, "but the Kings chose what they did of their own accord, and it's only fair they deal with the consequences."
"If only I'd stayed put in my shed, and not tried anything," she muttered. “Maybe Aligon wouldn’t think me an enemy now. Maybe he’d be the best Arcane monarch we’ve ever had.”
"You're devaluing everything you almost gave your life for," he answered.
"I was an idiot."
"You're always going to be an idiot, some way or another. You’ll always manage to convince yourself of it, even when you did much good."
"Well, never mind that. I meant to ask about something else too."
"What about?"
“The interview,” she replied. “And what you said. About me. Including the part at the end.”
“Ah.” He pursed his lips. “Could we...discuss this tomorrow?” She nodded, only barely quelling her frustration.
Their goodbye was without any sudden outbursts. Aleigh mounted Benedice and slid the briefcase into the saddlebag, while Ruthenia watched, none of the ideas in her head making her brave enough to speak.
Of course, they were not to speak of it again for almost two weeks.