Young Writers Society

“Oh Aria, you poor thing!” Carys fussed, laying her hand on Aria’s shoulder. “You’re a mess! Come inside this instant. You go upstairs; I’ll get someone to bring water for a bath. Tristen! Owen is inside, he’ll let you borrow some clothes and for goodness sake we’ll get you a bath too. And…you two,” she said, motioning to Adar and Marcus, “we’ll tend to you as well.”

Marcus growled painfully, holding his arm and shivering in the cold. “Give me a bed and some ale and I’ll be fine.” He received a snort from Carys who waved to Bryn and Bran to find the healers for his arm and then show him to a room. She motioned to Adar to follow her, but the fire mage stood still where he was. He looked at Aria and then at the armed guards behind him.

“Adar, come on! It’s freezing out here. It’s alright.” Aria beckoned him to her with his hands, and Adar slowly came. He was shaking violently.

“Mother!” Carys called. “Mother!”

A tall lady with long, silver-blond hair and icy blue eyes came hurrying down the steps. She was wrapped in a thick shawl over her long white dress. “Yes Carys?” The lady looked at Aria and gasped, then at Adar. “Goodness. Carys, take Aria to your room and help her get cleaned up.” She looked at Adar. “You sir, follow me. The servants will prepare a bath and I’ll get you some tea for afterwards. You’re near frozen.”

Adar did look terrible. Now that they were inside the palace the light showed how dirty and pale he was. He was freezing, but feverish even for a fire elemental. He moved stiffly after Carys’ mother, still trying to remember how to move his freezing limbs. His feet and hands were numb, and he was too weak and too afraid to warm himself with his fire. Aria cast him a reassuring glance before heading upstairs with Carys. She could sense his uneasiness. Adar followed Carys’ mother and her servants while Aria was hurried away by Carys.

“Here, there’s a bath-room upstairs and there should already be some hot water on the fire.” Carys pulled Aria into a hot and very steamy room. There were several pails stacked in the corner and racks with towels hanging on them. A large tub sat in the corner of the room and there was shelf on the wall above it laden with various bottles of oils and cakes of soap. The room smelled like lavender and citrus, mingled with a slight but pleasant nutty smell from the soaps.

A servant with an apron tied tightly about her waist hurried in and shooed the two women out of the way, pouring a pail of boiling water into the cold water in the tub. After doing this five or six times, the water was hot and steaming.

Aria’s skin prickled at the warm air of the room, the bone chilling cold of outside finally wearing away. She shrugged off her cloak, and Carys gasped.

“Your hair…Aria, use as much oil as you need on that and try to get the mats out. If you can’t, would you want to possibly…cut a little off?” Carys seemed troubled at the sight of Aria’s hair, which rather resembled a rat’s nest.

“I don’t care. Just let me take a bath and try to fix it a little, I’m too tired to make decisions right now.” Aria sat down on a wooden stool and tugged her boots off.

“Alright. I’ll go find you a dress of mine you can wear.” Carys made quickly for the door.

“Might want to let me borrow one of Aderyn’s instead, I don’t think I can fit in yours.” Aria looked at the slightly built woman standing at the door. Carys was notably thinner than Aria, but Aria was a little taller and stronger. Aria’s love of hunting and horseback riding had kept her muscles in shape, and she was in no way lacking strength in her core.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Carys said, “but hurry up and get clean. There’s more water if you need it.”

Aria watched as she left then sighed. She pulled the hanging curtain around the tub and undressed, so glad to get out of the sweaty, smelly clothes. She hoped she’d never see them again. After kicking the clothes under the curtain she stepped into the warm bath. She sighed as she submerged herself under the soapy, sweet smelling water. All but the very top of her face was under water.

Then to work. Aria sat up and took a cloth from the stool next to the tub. She proceeded to scrub every inch of herself, taking all the nasty dirt and sweat off her skin and leaving it finally clean again. Once this was done and her hair was washed, she decided the bathwater was in great need of changing. She looked at the other tub half full of cold water and then the giant metal pot on the stove. She climbed out of the tub into the room, which now seemed quite cold. She wrapped herself in a bathrobe and finished filling the other tub with boiling water. Once the water had reached the desired temperature, she stepped into it.

It was amusing, she thought, that it took two full baths to get her clean. She wondered if Marcus would even consent to getting a bath, and if he did how many tubfulls it would take to get him even close to clean. Tristen and Adar wouldn’t put up a fight, but stubborn old Marcus probably wouldn’t consent to even looking civilized.

Aria looked into a small mirror and groaned. Her hair was a matted mess. She held a small knife in her hand and debated whether or not to use it. Finally, after washing her hair and trying to get the mats out, she decided she didn’t have much of a choice. She took the knife and cut a few inches off her hair, leaving it about shoulder length. She then oiled and combed it again, and finally after almost an hour of work, her hair was clean and free from tangles and knots.

“Aria?” Carys poked her head into the room, and seeing Aria had drawn the curtain, stepped in. She was holding a nightgown and a dress as well as a robe and some slippers over her arm.

Aria jumped. She was lying back in the now lukewarm water. She must have dozed off. She sat up.

“Yes Carys?”

“Here, come on out of there before you fall asleep. Mother has tea and some hot bread ready, and then you’re going to bed.

Aria’s stomach growled. She climbed out of the tub and wrapped in a towel. She came out from behind the curtain.

“I see you cut your hair. It still needs a little trim, it’s not quite even in some places.” Carys handed Aria the nightgown.

Aria rolled her eyes. “I could really not care less right now.” She pulled the nightgown on after drying off and rubbed her hair nearly dry. She took the robe and wrapped up tight, then the slippers. She was very comfortable, and would have fallen asleep sitting on the stool had not Carys helped her up.

“Let’s go to your room. I’ve brought some clothes for you. Here’s a dress for tomorrow, how’s this look?” Carys said, holding up a simple but beautiful palace dress, a deep green in color.

“It’s fine, Carys.” Aria barely glanced at the dress. It wasn’t that she didn’t like it, it was just that fashion wasn’t on her mind at the moment. She was exhausted and hungry, and just wanted some tea and then to sleep for a week.

The room Carys had set up for Aria was one of the spare rooms on the same level as the rest of the Wintershaw family. Aria’s room was right next to Carys’s and Tristen’s was next to Owen’s. Owen was Carys’s older brother by three years.

There was a pot of tea and a plate of bread on the small table in the room when Carys and Aria went in. Carys poured Aria a cup and put a thick slice of the gently buttered bread on a plate. Aria ate the bread faster than considered ladylike, but Carys held her tongue. Aria was glad of it and sipped down the hot tea before standing up and making her way to the heavenly looking bed. She took off the robe and draped it over the end of the bed and kicked the slippers off. The covers were heavy but soft and the bed felt like it was made of the softest feathers in Theals. Aria let a groan of pleasure escape her as she buried herself within the depths of warmth and comfort, pulling the quilt over her.

She was asleep within a minute. Carys made sure the fire was stoked then slipped out, shutting the door behind her.

***

A level below was the guest level. Bran marched along beside the wet-headed Marcus, who was dressed in a very clean tunic and trousers. His hair was shorter than it had been and he was clean-shaven. Bran bore two black eyes to show his efforts in getting the former thief cleaned. It had taken the strength of both him and Bryn to get Marcus in a decent condition.

“You are impossible.” Bran growled.

Marcus snarled back. “First your quack healers poke and prod and pour things on my arm, then I’m shoved in a tub of hot water and shorn like a sheep! Ask me not to object to that one more time.”

“It was Prince Tristen’s orders that you got cleaned up.” Bran snapped. “So don’t hit the messengers!”

Marcus muttered something under his breath that he was lucky Bran didn’t catch. Even the Thealians wouldn’t tolerate disrespect to Erland royalty, at least not when the person being disrespected was staying in their country.

Bran brought Marcus to a room. He held the look of disdain on his face, as if he didn’t think such a cantankerous fellow should be given the privilege of living in the guest’s quarters. The guard’s quarters would have been more suiting, but then he realized that meant Marcus would be staying with a lot of other gruff fellows, and that would lead to disaster. Marcus growled and stepped over to the table. He poured himself a cup of tea, doing it with the mock genteelness he knew the servants would. He tore a hunk off the bread and ate it with his tea, growling as Bran walked out. He ran his hand through his short hair and snorted.

There were more footsteps from outside. Bryn was bringing Adar to the room next to Marcus. Adar was wrapped in a thick robe over his clean new clothes and a blanket. Still, he was shivering. He looked much better than before though and the light was back in his eyes. He sat down at the table and took a little tea and a small bit of bread before crawling into the bed and burying himself completely under the covers. Soon he was wheezing softly in his sleep.

As Bryn and Bran turned to leave, Marcus poked his head out of his room.

“You Thealians keep any ale or brandy? Or is it red wine for the lot of you?” Marcus smirked.

Bryn laughed, but Bran looked like he was about to club Marcus over the head with the nearest chair. Bryn held up his hand for Bran to calm down.

“Maybe, Sir. I’ll see what we’ve got, but only if you do us a favor. Keep an eye on the lad next door. He’s doing a little poorer than the rest of you, not used to this cold. Get a servant if he needs anything, alright? I’ll see if there’s that keg of brandy I saw Bran sneaking from the other day.

Bran stared at his brother with a mixed look of amazement and frustration. He growled and crossed his arms. Marcus grumbled but agreed to watch Adar. Bryn gave him a good natured thump on the shoulder and he and Bran walked away.

“How did you know where my keg was?” Bran finally asked, genuinely worried. He’d have to find another place to hide his things, Bryn always found them sooner or later.

“Little mouse told me. Said your brew was stinking up his hole.” Bryn flashed a grin at Bran, who just glared at him sullenly.

Tristen walked on his own to his room. He too was tired, but had made sure his sister and companions were well off before going to bed. He had also spent nearly a half an hour going over a brief version of their adventures so far with Aeron, the Duke of Theals. He opened the door to his room and sighed, shutting the door and going to the table over in the corner. He sat down and poured himself a cup of tea and took a slice of bread. Slowly drinking his tea, he took the bread with it, in little bits at a time. He fished in his pocket and set half of the small tokenstone on the table. Absently spinning it with his fingers, he thought again of what the little thing really meant to him. Aria had the other half, and according to the Guardian, the little rock had been necessary for them to gain their power.

When Carnae had been killed before they entered the desert, he and Aria had both felt a change. Crossing the desert, they had learned from the Shapeshifter how to draw water from the ground. In the tombs of Zaikaan, they had learned to defend themselves from attack. Their shields and weapons were stronger and withstood the fight in the tombs and hardly had a dent to show for it.

However there was one thing that stuck in his head. When the fire mages Adar and Skoro had been fighting, Aria had been cornered by two Taaltic guards. Tristen had managed to fight his way over to her, but he was nearly too late. He wasn’t fast enough, and why hadn’t his power helped? His angered blows did no more than they usually would have for a person without his power. He had hammered his way through the defense, but his fury had done little to help.

Tristen stood up and took the stone with him, setting it on the nightstand as he got into bed. Unlike the others, it took him much longer to fall asleep. He lay staring at the ceiling.

“Why did I weaken then? I could have lost her. It would have all been my fault. Why did my power have to fail me?”

In her room, Aria murmured in her sleep. She turned over in bed and curled up.

“Quiet Tristen, go to sleep already…”

Tristen sighed and closed his eyes. Even though the doubt still shadowed him, the fact that his sister was indeed alright soothed him for the time being. Soon he was asleep like all the others, and the palace in Faolan was quiet, except for Marcus’s snoring.