CHAPTER 115 – Shifting Sands

Winning concessions from the consensus did not come without cost. Saphienne had embarrassed Tolduin before his peers, and the elder wouldn’t be quick to forget the humiliation a mere child had so rudely inflicted on him. That he’d not been found negligent in his care for Lynnariel, only too conservative and inflexible, meant that he was unlikely to reflect on his overturned decisions — and he resented Saphienne for meddling with what she wasn’t old enough to understand.

Fortunately, while he remained priest to her mother and herself, no one had been blind to their mutual antipathy by the end of the meeting, and it was in everyone’s interest to make sure that peace would prevail.

Saphienne had duly proposed two adults to arbitrate disputes between them. In seeming rapprochement toward Tolduin, she’d first named a priest, one whom he believed to be his ally, thus contriving to appear reasonable before she’d then also nominated a longtime critic of his care for her mother. While she justified the pair as achieving balance between traditional and contemporary opinion, Saphienne felt confident that Nelathiel and Gaelyn would support her should the elder undertake any petulant reprisals.

Whether in fairness or out of obligation, Tolduin had acquiesced.

Outside, appearing to have left the ugliness of their dispute in the meeting hall, Saphienne stood smiling beside Tolduin as a proclamation of the regional consensus was read to the public from atop the steps. No mention was made of her grandstanding or the censure that had nearly befallen her, and the intervention granted to her was elided as additional support for the wellbeing of her mother.

Tolduin contrived humility. “I confess to underestimating you, Master Saphienne.”

Her reply was wry. “I expect you’ll tell me that you won’t make that mistake again?”

“Fear not: vengeance belongs to the gods alone.” He patted her shoulder as the crowd before them cheered. “You shall distrust me, but I fain hope that you are right about Lynnariel. I will pray that my fears are unfounded. Should the gods be kind, I would that we not have cause to revisit our dispute.”

“Am I to believe we will be friends?”

“Of course not.” He laughed genially. “Not until you realise your inexperience, and apologise. I expect the day of your contrition will not soon arrive.”

As Saphienne was cheered with Thessa, she shrugged his hand away and went down the steps to meet her admirers. “May we both live so very long, Master Tolduin.”

 

* * *

 

Her heart yearned to go straight to her mother, but Saphienne knew that too many people would accompany her, and Lynnariel wouldn’t do well under their attention. She therefore chose to walk through the village with her friends and girlfriend – Laewyn having joined Celaena, Faylar, Iolas, Thessa, and Laelansa – in the direction of the teahouse, indirectly summarising recent events. “Thessa can share the rest with you, later.”

Already warned to exercise discretion, the artist inclined her head.

“Forget the past,” Faylar insisted, “what about the future? Did Master Almon say when he’ll be–”

“No, and we’re not going to press the matter.” Saphienne poked him. “Your future master will honour his promise once he’s stopped grumbling; until he does, we can rely on a another nagging voice to keep reminding him.”

Celaena and Iolas grinned at her oblique reference to Peacock.

Laelansa slipped her arm around Saphienne’s shoulders, indifferent to inferences of their romance by onlookers. “What about the rest of today?”

She’d been contemplating how to occupy the hundreds of literal followers who even now were tailing them down the grove. “I know I’m asking for a lot of favours–”

Excluding Laelansa, all of Saphienne’s friends laughed.

“I’ll take that as your agreement. Faylar, since you’ve spoken to my mother the most: could you, Laelansa, and whoever else wants to help please gather supplies and visit her? Don’t let her refuse to see you. The house will need cleaning, and she’ll need encouragement to bathe and then eat. I’d go myself, but all these people–”

Celaena snatched up her hand. “Saphienne, we’re not stupid. What do you want us to say to her?”

Her steps slowed. “…Tell her that things have changed for the better. Tell her that I’ll come to see her as soon as I can slip away. Tell her that…”

Both Laelansa and Celaena squeezed her as she struggled for words.

“…Tell her that I’m looking forward to getting to know her again. I’ll say the rest myself.”

 

* * *

 

Iolas opted to stay with Saphienne when he learned she was going up to the lake, and after goodbyes were exchanged he wandered with her ahead of the curious multitude.

“…How long do you think it’ll be,” he wondered, “before someone works up the nerve to approach us?”

She contemplated a gaggle of children running on through the trees, their merriment frequently punctured by backward glances and giggles. “Not too long… one of the children will be dared to ask me a question, and the rest will take it as a sign they can intrude… then the adults will catch up.”

“Why not go somewhere private?”

“They’d just wait outside.” Saphienne rolled her eyes. “I’m apparently the most interesting person in the vale, and everyone visiting wants to be able to say they met me, and have a personal anecdote about what I’m really like.”

“Gods help them if they find out,” he teased. “Maybe I should tell them you enjoy going for long walks in the rain?”

“I really do…” Wistfulness made her glance up at the clouds, which gave no indication whether they might indulge her. “Doesn’t make for a very dignified appearance, though. Do you think seeing me soaked to the skin would deter the hero worship?”

Iolas’ smile was small. “Hasn’t deterred me.”

She snorted and nudged him.

“…While we still have a moment to talk,” he added, rubbing behind his ear, “I want to say that I meant what I told you earlier: I’ve forgiven you for the spell you cast on me.”

Saphienne groaned. “Your master has informed me that I don’t face any sanction, and he went so far as to say that he approved. He mentioned something about you being passionate when rising to the defence of others.”

“Headstrong, he means.” Iolas thrust his hands in his pockets, staring at the ground as they strolled up the valley. “…I feel very strange around you now. Not because of that — but it does underline what I’ve been struggling with.”

She observed him without turning her head. “Don’t be coy.”

He opened his mouth, shut it, then settled on a grin. “…I used to be your senior.”

Saphienne smiled as she shifted her gaze forward. “Would it be odd of me to admit I feel like you still are?”

“Odd? More like foolish.” He shook his head. “I’m the same person I was when I met you, but you’ve changed.”

“Iolas, I swear: if you tell me how much I’ve grown? I’m fascinating you again.”

He laughed.

“I’ve changed in many ways,” she agreed, feeling impossible horns upon her brow, a tail twining restlessly behind her. “You wouldn’t believe me if I shared them all. For what it’s worth, while I’m your superior in the Great Art–”

“That doesn’t trouble me.” He leaned against her briefly. “I’ve known that you’re better than me from the night we met. Hurt my ego a little, but it was good for me.”

Saphienne wanted to say she wasn’t better than him… but she was a peerless dragon, and he an elf of the woodlands. “I don’t matter more as a person.”

He canted his head toward the gossipers hanging back. “They’d disagree.”

“They’re misinformed.”

“I disagree, then.”

“As your superior,” she imperiously decreed, “I hereby overrule your opinion.”

They chuckled together.

“I may be taller now,” Saphienne conceded, “but to me you’re still the older and wiser child, the boy who took the time to try to understand me — and whom I led astray. Were it not for your patience and empathy back then, I wouldn’t seem so impressive from a distance today. I’m grateful to have you as friend…” She held her hand out to him. “…And I’ve missed you, Iolas. I’ve been–”

She blinked back unexpected tears.

“…I’ve been very lonely.”

His voice was soft as he squeezed her palm. “I wondered. When Faylar mentioned that story about a swan raised by ducks? I was thinking that swans look composed above the surface, but their legs are frantically kicking below. When you went off with Kelas yesterday, I could feel you were upset about…” Tact made him trail off.

“I’m not a man.”

His acknowledgement was amiable. “I wouldn’t care if you were.”

“I’m not.” Part of her wished she could share her much more fantastical preoccupation with him. “I just felt estranged from myself, and wanted to find an easy answer. I need to feel like myself, to feel like I belong.”

Iolas appraised her. “You’re more at ease. Should I thank the dragon?”

Her grin was toothy. “More than I can express.”

They climbed a shallow rise in companionable quiet, listening to the murmur of the people they led.

Saphienne pulled him closer. “What’s the point we’re circling around, Iolas? That you’re unsure how to relate to me, now I’m not a sullen little girl with something to prove?”

“That I find it hard,” Iolas confided, “to reconcile the way I used to feel toward you with the person you’ve gr– that you’ve become over time.”

“Smooth.” She kept smiling as she reflected on her friendships. “You know, you’re not the only one? Celaena is far better at keeping her cool than she used to be, but she was flustered when she saw me this morning.”

“Saphienne, I want to stress that I’m not making a pass at you when I say–”

“Oh how you disappoint me, Iolas!”

He flushed at her sarcasm. “Very funny. The truth is that you’re impeccably dressed, your personal style is striking, and Laelansa will tell you that you’re devastatingly beautiful, especially when you smile.”

She narrowed her eyes as she studied him. “Laelansa will tell me, will she?”

He pretended not to catch her insinuation. “She is your girlfriend.”

Feeling affectionate and mischievous in equal measure, Saphienne was dissatisfied by the reservedness still holding Iolas back. He’d always been self-conscious that he was older than her and Celaena and Faylar and Laewyn, keeping himself tidied away, maintaining appropriate boundaries. Yet his mother’s advice had outlived its usefulness, what had formerly made him irreproachable now become a hinderance to their bonding.

He misread her meditative silence, tried to explain himself. “I only mean that… Laelansa is the person you should listen to when she tells you who you are. If girlfriends can’t be honest with each other, what’s the point?”

She recalled how Laewyn had often cut through shyness. “…Orgasms?”

Iolas recoiled, stunned. “Saphienne!”

Saphienne giggled at his scandalised expression.

“Since when have you–”

“I believe girls start at the same time as boys?”

He was flabbergasted by her brazenness. “Saphienne!”

Choking back her laughter, she slipped her arm through his. “Celaena was right about you, Iolas: you really are very proper about things. But if you’ll forgive me being crude to make a point,” she continued as she dragged him along, “you need to get used to me not being a little girl anymore. I’m comfortable with you admiring me, but I’m not going to accept you withholding yourself for fear of what I – or anyone else – might think. I don’t want us to drift apart again — so save your formality for when I tutor you.”

“…You’re like a new person.” He marvelled at his friend as her maturity sank in. “What did Thessa say, when she first met you? ‘I like you,’ I think it was.”

“Your sister used to be carefree around me, before all the wizardry intimidated her.” Saphienne glanced meaningfully at him. “Does that run in the family?”

His blushing smile was fond. “I suppose it might have done. Sorry about that. And I’m sorry for behaving like you’re still my junior… I do think you’re beautiful, Saphienne.”

“Devastatingly beautiful — so I’m led to believe.”

Just then, a girl no more than seven years old inched toward them from where she’d been waiting atop the incline, her playmates watching at a distance as she bowed. “Excuse me, Master Sa… Master Saph… master wizard?”

Saphienne was endeared where she shared a grin with Iolas. “Yes?”

“Why were you laughing? What was so funny?”

Iolas cringed with such intensity that Saphienne vicariously felt his embarrassment, and she let go of him to lean over the child with what she hoped was a friendly smile. “Would you like to hear a joke?”

The young girl nodded.

“What’s the difference between an elf and a dragon?”

“…I don’t know…”

“Yes — I can tell!” Saphienne pounced with a gentle roar.

The girl sprang away with a squeal, then ran off, giggling.

Amused, Iolas offered her his arm again. “Just like you predicted. Or was that a prophesy? Did you augur the future for us, Master Saphienne?”

She accepted as she observed the girl excitedly sharing with the other children. “Doesn’t take a divination to see what’s coming. Hopefully, it won’t be too bad…”

On cue, the group hurried down to meet them.

 

* * *

 

There were endless questions.

“How big was the dragon?”

“Bigger than that tree…”

“Were you scared?”

“Only that other people would be harmed.”

Iolas attested that Saphienne had never been afraid of getting hurt.

“Why was the dragon here?”

“She was injured and needed to land.”

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Will it come back?”

“No. I told her to leave the woodlands, and she will keep her word.”

One of the adults queried her, “How is it possible that a dragon was able to reach us? Aren’t we supposed to be protected by the Luminary Vale?”

She stopped walking. When she faced her questioner, she crossed her arms, imagining fiery wings conjured imposingly about herself. “What do you think occurred? How the dragon entered the woodlands will be answered by others, but make no mistake: you were protected by the Luminary Vale, for I have been accepted within.”

An apology was swiftly delivered.

“Let me speak unambiguously.” She surveyed her audience. “None of you were in any danger from the dragon. Even had I not been there, I am certain the dragon would have withdrawn without harming anyone. The Eastern Vale is safe–”

“Because you’re here!”

She tried to wave off the ensuing applause. “Even if I wasn’t–”

But the very idea was booed, and Iolas interceded to move on.

 

* * *

 

Upon reaching the shore of the lake Saphienne pointedly thanked her well-wishers for their escort, informing them that she had magical matters on which to attend. She left them milling about the southern edge as she headed for the crossing to the island.

Iolas hesitated. “Master Saphienne, is your purpose here suitable for a junior apprentice to–”

She smirked as she stalked over the sand. “Do come along, Apprentice Iolas! Educational though you may find this, it shan’t be from anything I teach you.”

He followed awkwardly at her heel.

However, while her curiosity was aroused by robed figures she spied across the stepping stones, Saphienne didn’t proceed directly to them, her attention stolen by an insistent wind that nudged her toward the tree line — at which she gasped.

On the exact spot where Saphienne had been seated when the dragon descended, the spirits of the woodlands had since raised a monument.

Iolas swallowed. “…This might be getting out of hand…”

They had captured her likeness almost perfectly, grown from flawless birch and embellished with yellow flowers that spilled down in imitation of her long hair. Her dress was formed from stark blossoms, her jewellery’s rosy gold reproduced with pink roses, and her feet were bare where their roots vanished into the ground.

But what disturbed Saphienne was the staging, nearby trunks shifted closer to interweave their raised limbs in the style of offering trees, the blanketing blooms of her hair extended and rising to make a canopy–

And her eyes embellished with sunflowers, golden where she gazed upon the isle.

Unnerved, Iolas was hushed. “This has gone beyond adoring you with flowers; they’ve sanctified you.”

Saphienne needed every reserve she could draw upon not to show her dismay, adopting a fragile smile as she paced over to the grass. “What a lovely sentiment! Yet I think the spirits do me too great an honour–”

“We do not do more than the gods demand.”

Saphienne turned, seeing a bloomkith embodied in a shell woven from sharp leaves that she needed a moment to recognise. “…That is a bold claim to make, Holly.”

The spirit rattled as she bowed to Saphienne, her proportions reminiscent of the priest of Our Lord of the Endless Hunt with whom she often associated. “I tell you true: in you we see Their hand. Your elders too have recognised this fact — by will divine they said that you did act!”

Saphienne remembered the wording of the motion passed by the regional consensus, unable to hide her wince. “Holly, ‘in awe of the will of the gods made manifest’ is just a poetic phrase. They only meant that what I did had impressed–”

“Not so,” said another voice. “Thou art a child beatified.”

Glancing to the body of marigolds that approached from the other side, Saphienne immediately placed who spoke. “Ruddles, with respect for your faith, I have to question your wisdom. Did you arrange this?”