fathers and daughters
Weaver tried to fill Oberon’s shoes, but he always failed to live up to our eldest brother’s golden standard. Even I could feel my father’s disappointment. I wonder if it was a relief for my brother when he became a husk. It was a more peaceful existence than the one he was trying to live up to. Of course, when he disappeared, it was like losing him twice.
“And on the third day, Basileus exiled Asta to live as a pariah, destined to perish in solitude alongside Domus, the most insufferable man alive,” Esteria recited.
“I’m quite certain it doesn’t say that” Linnie said from her easel, eyes squinted in focus despite her teasing.
Esteria looked up from her pocket-sized codex. “It may as well. I thought you of all people would support my newfound interest in religion.”
“If I thought it was genuine, I would, but I remain suspect.” Linnie’s head tilted as she examined the canvas, paintbrush resting in her fingertips.
Hip was cocked to the side, and her simple jumpsuit was splattered with paint, her own garden of color amongst the sea of roses around them. They lined every inch of palace garden, growing along the trickling streams, threading through the wooden bridges.
“You’re quite callous in my time of need.” Esteria sighed as a cat languidly approached, spine curling around Esteria’s legs. Esteria picked her up and lightly ran her nails down her back in familiarity. “It’s like you don’t even care that I’m being banished.”
“You’re not being banished.” Linnie rolled her eyes, returning to her canvas. “You’re just trying to avoid talking about how you lost your temper last night.”
Esteria pouted. “I would have been fine if I hadn’t been dealing with Dacre Nightingale all day.”
“Ah, well that makes more sense then.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Linnie laughed. “No one riles you up like Nightingale. You’ve had it out for him for forever.”
“I’ve had it out for him?”
“Yes.”
Esteria scowled. “You cannot honestly say you enjoy the man.”
“He’s been nothing but kind to me.” Linnie sniffed, drawing her brush downward.
Esteria raised a brow. “I told you what he did in Brinewell. He—”
“Has a hard job.” Linnie leaned back to examine her work. “I can’t judge him for that.”
“Well, I can. He’s detestable.”
“Yes, you’ve said,” Linnie said, setting down her palette and brush and turning to face her. “Are you going to keep pouting or do you want to hear my news?”
“News?”
Linnie bit back a smile. “It will be easier if I show you.”
She picked up an empty glass and carried it over to Esteria. “Watch.”
Crystalline water slowly filled the empty cup. Esteria’s eyes widened. “How are you doing that? That’s impossible.”
Linnie’s smile grew. “Unless I’m Estia’s arcana.”
The last known arcana of Estia—the goddess of water—had died only a year ago. No one knew who the goddess would choose next, a mystery that could have remained so for a lifetime, for many lifetimes, since many arcanas kept their existence a secret.
All Fargardians were blessed by the twenty-one, marked at birth and granted access to certain affinities. But each god only chose one person to be their arcana, one mortal upon whom to bestow their boon, and no one but the arcanas themselves knew what that entailed.
Esteria had witnessed Dacre’s boon firsthand last night, and history books talked of her father’s multiple gifts, but this was the first she’d witnessed so casually.
“Linnie,” she squealed, jumping up—the cat yelped at being displaced—and pulled her friend into a hug. “Do you know what this means? You’re one of the twenty-one most powerful people in Fargarde, less actually, because of my father.”
Linnie’s smile faltered. “I don’t necessarily want to be powerful.”
“Why not?” Though Esteria had been marked by Asta, the goddess of the stars, she’d never been able to access even the base affinities most people could, so she’d spent her life forcing herself into rooms she wasn’t allowed in, listening in on conversations she wasn’t supposed to know about instead.
She’d always dragged Linnie along on these missions. Partly because it was funny to witness her calm-and-collected friend so nervous, but also because she’d thought that they shared those same desires. Had she misunderstood?
Linnie looked down. “I almost didn’t want to tell you. It would mean so much more for you to have this. Part of me wishes I could give it to you. You are my benefactor.”
Esteria hated when Linnie mentioned that. Her friend had first come to the palace as a young artist seeking sponsorship at only seven years old, but the two of them had become so much more.
Esteria picked up her friend’s hands. “That’s not how it works, and you shouldn’t say that. I became your sponsor because you’re incredible. You don’t have to want the same things that I do or feel guilty in appreciating this. You’ve been blessed, Linnie. Estia chose you.”
First her family, and now her best friend. Maybe the gods had better taste than Esteria gave them credit for.
“It feels”—Linnie let out a relieved breath, her voice steeped with giddiness—“more personal than I thought it would, more intimate. I don’t think I want anyone else to know.”
Esteria nodded reassuringly. She didn’t understand it, but she didn’t have to. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”
“Dangerous is the telling.”
Esteria dropped Linnie’s hand, and they spun to find an old woman hovering at the edge of the courtyard. Her long hair was white as snow, and her papery skin was almost as light. Fortunately for Linnie, Cala was the one person that could have overheard their conversation to no consequence.
“Cala,” Linnie said. “What are you doing out here?”
Cala drifted over to them, face blank, a permanent expression. It was a byproduct of becoming a husk.
Although nearly as rare as arcanas, the huskssuffered a much crueler fate. Instead of being blessed by the gods, they were cursed. A person would wake up one day, and everything about them was… gone—their wants, their fears, their memories—leaving behind an empty shell. Some husks retained a shadow of the person they’d been, specific speech patterns, an attachment to certain people, but their condition was so heartbreaking that most citizens allowed their loved ones to stay at the palace to be cared for. Cala had been there since Esteria was a baby.
Linnie placed a tentative hand on Cala’s shoulder. “Do you need help getting back to your rooms?”
Cala looked past Linnie and stared directly into Esteria’s eyes, though her gaze remained unfocused. “The chariot is gilded with rubies.”
“Um, sure.” Esteria exchanged a look with Linnie who hooked her arm with Cala’s.
“I’ll get her back,” Linnie said. “She’s always worse around Solstice.”
“Husks don’t get worse. They just… are. They don’t feel anything.”
“I’ll feel better knowing she’s somewhere safe. Arioch likes to follow her around. He might not be dangerous, but he makes her uncomfortable.”
Esteria hadn’t seen Arioch, another one of the husks, for quite some time, but she didn’t argue. “Are you sure?”
“I’m going to check for telegrams anyway. That’s right next to the husk quarters.”
“Checking for word from a certain sunbird?” Esteria teased.
Linnie swatted at Esteria’s arm. “At least the man I’m a fool for is age appropriate.”
“Pickled, salted, or smoked,” Cala blurted, and they jumped. “It’s all the same.”
Linnie patted the old woman on the arm. “Let’s head back, alright?”
Esteria made to follow. “I’ll come with you.”
“I don’t think you will.”
“Why?”
Linnie nodded past Esteria’s head. She turned.
Her father stood at the edge of the courtyard.
Esteria’s back stiffened. “Father.”
She expected the thunderous man from the night before, the angry and terrible one whom she’d sworn to never forgive.
But that wasn’t the man before her today. Quiet and unassuming, Aelius held his hands behind his back, a soft smile on his lips. He addressed Linnie first. “My dear, can you give us a moment?”
“Of course.” Her friend bowed her head but paused, kneeling to pick up the cat, who’d fled into a bush. She gave the creature a brief nuzzle before handing her to Esteria. “Here, take Seren with you on your journey.”
Esteria blinked. Though they both considered the tan and black speckled kitchen cat theirs, Esteria knew how attached Linnie was to her. Esteria once again embraced her friend, squeezing Seren between them. She couldn’t help the tears that leaked out, already missing her.
Linnie pulled away and gave an encouraging nod before taking Cala’s arm and guiding the woman from the gardens.
Aelius gestured for Esteria to sit, and she did so cautiously, settling Seren on the bench. Her father revealed a bouquet of pale pink roses, presenting them to her as he sat beside her. Esteria’s eyes pricked before she accepted them, a bit of her guard coming down. She never felt quite right when she and her father were fighting.
Neither of them said anything for a long time, the irrigation system bubbling loudly. Esteria’s anger melted with every passing second, but still her leg jiggled, and she fingered the rose stems nervously.
“Your mother used to love it here,” Aelius finally said.
She blinked. “Here?”
“The gardens. She spent a lot of her time here. I wonder if something about it calls to the both of you.”
She resisted the urge to squirm. Her father so rarely gave her details about her mother, and she didn’t want him to know how starved she was for them. “Do you miss her?”
“Every day.” He tucked a hair behind her ear, his hand lingering to cup her cheek. It was warm, and she couldn’t help but lean into it. “You are so much like her, you know—her fire, her spirit. She lives on in you. I wish more than anything that she could have watched you grow up.”
She pulled back a bit. “Father, I’m not a child anymore.”
His hand fell to his lap. “No, I suppose you’re not.” His eyes lingered on the small fountain beside them. “I want to apologize to you.” Her shock nearly destabilized her. Her father rarely apologized. Of course, he almost never needed to. “I haven’t been treating you like I treated your brothers, like my heir. It’s not because I think less of you. I hope you know that.”
A part of her still held onto the anger from the night before, but the other part—she swallowed the lump in her throat—the other part loved her father, so very much. “You’re worried for my safety.”
“I’m not just worried. I’m frightened. More than you’ll ever know until you become a parent yourself, I think. It would surprise you how many… regrets I have when it comes to your brothers.”
She loved when he let her in, when he let her see past the king of Fargarde, see past the pompous titles. She could never remain angry with him for long, could never hold a grudge, not the way she could if he were anyone else.
“Oberon and I weren’t speaking when he disappeared.” She fiddled with the bouquet on her lap, unsure what made her want to admit that now. “We’d gotten into a fight. The same one we always did, about him treating me like a child. I said”—she swallowed—“I said that I’d never forgive him. Those were my last words to him before…”
I don’t forgive. Words spoken as a hard line, followed by a flash of pain across Oberon’s usually stern face, a flash of betrayal. Her father reached to still her hands. “I miss him too. I miss all of them.”
They never talked about this. It was too painful. Even now, years later, a giant piece of her was just… lost, the edges of the hole refusing to heal. It never got easier, the loss. She would just forget about it for a while, but it always came back, hurting just the same. “I can’t accept that they’re dead.”
“I have to.” A quiet anger settled over his features. “The alternative… I cannot accept the alternative.”
If the Raze hadn’t murdered her brothers, then they were hostages, alive, beyond the borders, where chaos and cruelty reigned. Death was the more merciful fate.
Silence returned, heavier this time. This was why they didn’t discuss her brothers.
“I have something else for you,” Aelius said eventually.
“You didn’t have to get me anything.” She set the roses aside.
Aelius only shook his head before producing something from his pocket, pressing it into her palm.
It was a small gold ring, cold to the touch and heavier than its size suggested. It was engraved with a symbol she knew well. Her eyes widened. “Is this your signet?”
“It’s your own.” He pointed at the engraving. “There are a few subtle differences, but it will carry nearly the same authority.”
Her father’s signet bore the seal of Fargarde, intersecting triangles in a complex pattern, with an albatross aloft in the center. Hers had the same crisscrossing triangles etched into the gold, but instead of an albatross, there was a heron with its wings spread wide.
She looked up. “Does this mean I’m going with you?”
“No, you’re not ready, but I hope to remedy that. I’ve asked Lord Nightingale to train you.” A swell of disgust rose in her chest, but Aelius reached over to slide the signet onto her finger. “I realize that the two of you don’t see eye to eye, but he trained with your brothers. He is the only one qualified apart from myself.”
“Why can’t you do it?”
Aelius shook his head. “I would if I could. The Raze continues to press for advantage. I’m needed in Solamere.”
“Does it have to be you?”
Aelius touched her cheek. “Who else would it be?”
Esteria twisted the new ring on her finger, testing its weight. “I know you think I object to Nightingale on principle, but it’s more than dislike. I don’t trust him. He’s too callous. Too cruel. I worry about what he does in your name.”
“You’re speaking of Brinewell.”
“He completely undermined me. He…” She looked down, focusing on her fingernails. “It was disappointing. I can’t believe you sent him. I’d negotiated a scenario in which no one had to pay with their life, and he completely ruined it.”
Aelius’s smile turned fond but also… sad. “Sometimes our lives are the only tender we have, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t precious. I hope you never forget that, the value of life and death. Power has a way of reframing our values.” He released her, hands falling to his sides. “Lord Nightingale, while his methods may seem harsh and cruel to you, knows what it means to hold power.”
“But you’re not like him. You never would have killed those people.”
Aelius’s brow dipped, a flicker of emotion she couldn’t read. “Power is a burden. It forces you to make quick decisions, sometimes cruel decisions, decisions that would turn your dreams into nightmares, but such is the nature of the beast. I didn’t ask for any of this—this power, this crown—but I bear their weight all the same.”
Esteria knew the story well, of how her father had risen to the throne. She tried to picture him as the young man he’d been then, the one who’d received word of an attack on Solstice, a plan to slaughter the royal family. Looking into her father’s eyes now, she understood why the captain of the guard believed him. Though they were able to fend off the attack, restoring order, saving thousands, the royal family perished anyway. They’d cowered in their fortress only to be poisoned by one of their servants. Servants could be rebels too, and those particular rebels would later form the Raze.
Because of his bravery, Aelius had become a hero to the people and a favorite of the gods. Three of them—Basileus, Hostia, and Aeon—made him their arcana, the royal family’s boons became his, and his subsequent ascension had been only natural.
That was over two hundred years ago now, but how could she possibly live up to someone like that, someone so beloved, someone so brave? She took a deep breath and met her father’s gaze head on. “So, this training, what would it entail? Self-defense? Combat?”
Aelius smiled warmly at her. “To start. I’ve instructed Lord Nightingale to help you with your affinities as well.”
“Oh, must he? I’m terrible with them, and it’s not like I’m an arcana like you or Linnie—”
Her mouth snapped shut, but if her father noticed her slip, he didn’t comment on it, just gently patted her arm in comfort. “You hold yourself to too high a standard. Arcanas are rare, and there are plenty of things to learn without being one. I know you haven’t had luck with this before, but Lord Nightingale’s patron god is somewhat… similar to yours. It could prove helpful.”
She grimaced but didn’t object further. She was getting what she wanted. Sort of. “Once I’ve trained enough, I’ll be able to join you?”
“That is my hope.” Aelius drew her in to kiss the top of her head. “If not this time, then the next. As it stands, I will miss you, my starfire.”
It all fell upon her at once. It wasn’t just Linnie that she was saying goodbye to. It was everything. Everything she loved. Everything she knew. She was suddenly so very glad she was taking Seren with her. She buried her head in her father’s chest and held tight, breathing in the smell of roses.
“I’ll miss you too.” She let go of her anger toward him. She would always forgive her father. Always.
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