The Break of Day: Chapter 1-4
Mar. 4th, 2011 04:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: Greetings, friends! It's another freeficFriday and so another chapter of The Break of Day. I sure hope you enjoy!
October 31st, 1978
Kieran was all but dancing in the street as he walked beside Azriel. Excitement made him jittery and stretched his grin from ear to ear. He couldn't recall the last time he'd been invited over to a friend's house.
No, scratch that. He'd been to Yonah's and Lyra's houses plenty of times. And he'd even managed to sneak out to Moriarty to visit Souya's mom once or twice. But this was the first time he'd been invited to Azriel's place.
For once, Azriel didn't have to work. For twice, neither did his mother.
Such a rare treat indeed! A chance to see the natural habitat of the rare and elusive Azriel Hadley. He could hardly contain himself.
Sure, they were supposed to be studying, but Kieran didn't mind that so much. He enjoyed Conservatory and the work necessary to complete his studies. It came easy to him. He didn't even mind having to study.
But he was finally going to see Azriel's house! Kieran couldn't remember the last time he'd been so excited.
Brown eyes glanced his direction. A smile curved Azriel's lips.
“Did you eat another half-dozen of Miss Violet's cinnamon twists again? You are as energetic as a child.”
Kieran grinned sheepishly. “Is it that obvious?”
“Only to anyone who's paying you the least bit of attention.”
But he sounded amused more than anything.
“I can't help it,” Kieran countered, anxiously craning his neck around in hopes of correctly guessing and then spotting Azriel's home.
All of the houses on this side of Grayshire, closer to the gate that separated it from Moriarty, were so quaint and original. They had personality and spunk, rather than the drab, large, and boring manors that populated the upper end of Grayshire. Kieran should know; he lived in one of those huge and pretentious places. The houses here were smaller, probably larger than what the commoners in Moriarty built but still small by comparison to Kieran's home.
It felt like walking in a whole new world.
Azriel chuckled then. “I hope you're not disappointed.”
“Why would I be?” Kieran retorted, obviously not getting it. “Are we close?”
“Yes, oh-impatient-one. It's right over there.”
Azriel pointed to a house just down the lane, surrounded by a fence that had curls of dark ivy winding about the wooden posts. Bright flowers in shades of purple and orange blossomed from the vines, and Kieran felt his heart skip a beat. He grinned, pace increasing as he hurried to get his first good look at Azriel's house.
It was modest in comparison but still unique. It had only one story, but more ivy crawled up the front and sides as though trying to reclaim it for nature. A cobbled path led up to the front door with a bed of flowers lining it to either side. It looked warm and cozy and so very inviting.
“Well?” Azriel questioned as he pushed open the gate and waved Kieran inside.
“I love it!” Kieran beamed as he moved past Azriel and waited for him to close the gate. “I wonder what it looks like on the inside.”
Azriel sniggered. “You'll have chance to see soon enough,” he said, and Kieran followed him down the path and to the door.
The moment it was opened, a wash of warm air cascaded over Kieran. It was peppered with the wonderful scent of dinner in preparation. His mouth watered, and he inhaled deeply. It smelled delicious, whatever it was, and his stomach gurgled in appreciation.
“Ah, Mother must be home already,” Azriel commented to himself as they paused in the entryway to remove their shoes and overrobes. Otherwise though, he seemed oddly quiet for some reason.
Well, to be fair, Azriel wasn't a noisy person to begin with. Kieran more than made enough sound for the both of them. But he was acting more silent than usual. Kieran wondered if something were bothering him.
He was still puzzling over that, cast eager glances every direction, as he followed Azriel down the hallway. Their footfalls were muffled by thick rugs as they went, and Kieran happily wiggled his toes with each step. Azriel paused at the first open doorway, showing Kieran into a large room filled with furniture and warmed by the hearth.
“Azriel?”
“In the den,” Azriel called out and shooed Kieran in ahead of him. “Pick a seat. I'll be right back.”
Kieran was left to his own devices as Azriel slipped out of the den. He looked around, taking in the muted shades of amber and burgundy that seemed prevalent. A small pot of incense sat above the hearth, filling the room with a pleasant cinnamon aroma that made his stomach gurgle again. The scent was a tad too close to Violet’s twists for anything else.
He selected a comfortable sofa, sinking down into the cushion that covered an otherwise wooden frame. His bag thunked to the floor at his feet, heavy with books and schoolwork. Azriel's house reminded him more of Souya's than that of anyone else, but Kieran wasn't surprised. He liked it. Kieran's own home wasn't exactly stark, but it just didn't have the same open and welcoming feeling. As a little kid, he’d even been scared to touch anything for fear of his father’s disapproval.
Noises in the doorway announced Azriel's return, and when Kieran looked, his friend was accompanied by a woman who had to be his mother. Her hair was a soft brown the same shade as Azriel’s own, and his nose and the curve of his jaw obviously came from her. Still, Azriel didn't look much like her though. He more resembled his uncles and by proxy his father no doubt, but the relation to Madam Hadley was still clear.
Kieran immediately stood and offered a broad smile.
“I told you that you didn't have to do that,” Azriel was saying, voice a mix of exasperation and genuine affection as he approached.
“Hush, dear,” Madam Hadley retorted, and her blue eyes sparkled with warmth and mirth as she urged her son in ahead of her. “I'll do as I like. If you boys plan to study, you'll need something to eat.”
The topic of their disagreement, Kieran guessed, was the tray that Madam Hadley was carrying. She had heaped all sorts of food on it – cut up celery, carrots, and fresh broccoli, along with slices of a hearty bread and a smaller dish loaded with cookies. Azriel was carrying another tray, this one with cups and a steaming teapot.
Kieran's stomach grumbled a third time. He told it to shut up. Now, wasn’t the time.
Azriel sighed in a manner that proved he knew he couldn't argue with his mother. He set the tray down on the small table within easy reach.
“Mother,” he said instead then, “this is Kieran Azura. Kieran, this is my mother, Neorah Hadley.”
Setting down her own tray, Neorah smiled and held out a hand in greeting. “Hello, I've heard a lot about you.”
“The pleasure’s mine,” Kieran returned, taking her hand and bowing politely. “You’ve a lovely home, Madam Hadley.”
Her smile widened. “Please, dear, call me Neorah. We don't stand much on formality.”
“You wouldn't know it from the way Azriel acts sometimes,” Kieran retorted, the comment slipping from his lips before he could stop himself.
Luckily, Neorah took it for the joke it was and chuckled. Ah, there was something else mother and son had in common; they laughed the same.
“I'm afraid my son did grow up a little too fast,” Neorah allowed pleasantly.
“Mother.” To Kieran's delight, Azriel's cheeks were turning a rosy color, proving that he wasn't as in control of himself as he pretended to be. “Didn't you have something you were in the middle of doing?”
He was embarrassed. How cute.
Neorah shot a glance at her son, as amused as Kieran. “I do in fact. So I'll leave you two boys to your studying.” She turned to Kieran, flashing him a warm look that reminded Kieran of his own mother. “We'll speak again, dear. Probably when Azriel isn't looking.”
“Great!” Kieran rubbed his hands together. “I want to hear stories from his childhood. The more embarrassing the better!”
Azriel didn’t quite push his mother out the door; that was too rude for him. But he did hold it open for her on her way out. And yes, his ears were oh-so-obviously burning the entire time.
“Thank you for the snacks,” he said, urging her to move quicker.
Kieran laughed to himself and sat back down, eyes turning toward the tray of goodies that’d been left behind. He reached first for the cookies, eagerly biting into soft deliciousness marked with the taste of bitter chocolate. It was utter bliss.
“You really have a sweet tooth, don't you?” Azriel questioned as he chose the second sofa in the room.
Kieran grinned and brushed away the crumbs that had already gathered on the corner of his mouth. “I fully believe in enjoying my food,” he shot back. “I like your mother. She's got a great sense of humor.”
“Yes, you two will get along famously,” Azriel said with a roll of his eyes. He pulled the second tray closer to him, pouring out a fragrant tea into the two cups. “Can we concentrate on studying now?”
“That was just an excuse to come over here,” Kieran grumbled with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I don't really need to study, and neither do you.”
Azriel arched a brow. He pulled one cup toward him.
“Then why are your marks in history barely passing?” he asked loftily.
“Because it's boring?” Kieran said innocently.
The answer was more a question and one that he didn't mean for Azriel to answer. His father wasn't too impressed with Kieran's marks there either. Though Marduk conveniently overlooked the fact Kieran was still near the top of his class. The only ones who might’ve been ahead of him were Lyra and surprisingly Souya.
“Besides,” Kieran added, “I'm not the one who's asking a first-year to explain the mathematical theory of an advanced senior class either.”
Azriel hid behind his tea cup. “There are only a few points that are unclear, and it's not my fault you were taught these things as a child.”
“While all you did was read,” Kieran said with a grin. “So quiz me on history, and I'll show you how to handle those pesky imaginary numbers. Deal?”
Azriel gave him a look. But he didn’t argue.
He sighed. “Deal.”
o0o0o
Kieran threw his quill down to let it clatter on the tabletop. Seconds afterward, he threw himself backward and tossed his arm over his eyes.
“I'm done,” he announced. “No more. I'm not reading anything else or chanting anymore dates, Azriel.”
The other boy’s amused chuckle slid through the contemplative quiet. “It's only been a couple of hours. You can't give up yet.”
“This isn't giving up; this is a strategic retreat to save my sanity,” Kieran insisted and looked mournfully at the plate empty of snacks – save for the lingering celery that neither he nor Azriel had touched.
Azriel arched a brow. “That sounds like an excuse.”
“Call it what you want. I'm not changing my mind.”
Kieran closed his eyes and contemplated a nap. It was warm and cozy here in the den, and it’d be so easy to drift off. He could just spend the night here, too. No one in the family but his mother was likely to notice, and she already knew that he’d planned to be gone today.
“Perhaps what you need is a break,” Neorah announced then, suddenly appearing in the doorway.
Kieran eagerly sat up, arm falling from his eyes, hoping that she was carrying another tray of treats. Unfortunately, Neorah had no cookies. But she did have an armful of sweet potatoes for some reason, recently washed and all.
“We're supposed to be studying,” Azriel said quickly, eyes darting between Kieran and Neorah as though hoping they wouldn't start chatting again.
Blue eyes focused on her son, jaw squaring with stubbornness. “You don't even realize that it's Samhain, do you?” She shook her head when Azriel actually had to stop and consider her words. “My son, you work too hard.”
Kieran snickered. “I've been telling him that for weeks.”
The adorable flush from earlier returned with a vengeance. It started first on the bridge of Azriel's nose and carried over into his round cheeks.
“Mother, we're too old for that.”
“Perhaps for the disguise part of it,” Neorah countered and strolled into the room. “But not for the rest. Besides, the yard needs raking, and you know that Mr. Suga threw his back out last week.”
Kieran was intrigued. Disguises? Dressing up? He vaguely recalled Souya mentioning something along those lines a few days ago but couldn’t remember what.
“What's so special about Samhain?” he asked, racking his brain.
The name was unfamiliar to him, and he couldn't remember what was so important about this time of year. It wasn’t the beginning or end of autumn. Just the middle. Nothing too interesting. His Lordship's day was weeks away, and the nearest holiday that Kieran knew was Yule. The Winter Festival would be then, along with a long break from Conservatory that Kieran would embrace wholeheartedly. He loved attending class, but there were other aspects of Conservatory he didn't like so much.
Like history. Kieran was rapidly learning to loathe history. It was so dull and boring and half of it didn’t agree with the other half and teachers got snippy when one pointed that out.
Azriel glanced at his mother as they exchanged some kind of silent conversation. Finally, a verdict was reached, and Azriel turned back to Kieran.
“I guess you wouldn't know about Samhain, would you?” he questioned almost rhetorically. “The nobles don't celebrate it anymore.”
“It's not hard find in Moriarty, but it’s really common in the villages,” Neorah added, scrutinizing Kieran as though looking for something in particular.
Kieran nodded, but that still didn't really explain what Samhain was about. And really, the mystery alone was making it just a bit intriguing.
“What are we going to do then?”
“How about I show you?” Azriel suggested after exchanging another long look with his mother. He rose to his feet.
Brightening, Kieran leapt from his sofa and stacked his books into one haphazard pile. All the better to be shoved into his bag and out of sight in a moment's notice.
“Anything to get away from history,” he agreed gamely.
Neorah let out a laugh, pushing her armful of sweet potatoes at Azriel. “I'll bring the incense out once the yard's been raked.”
Azriel frowned but inclined his head. “Yes, Mother.”
Azriel took the yams, and Kieran followed him out of the den and down the hallway, opposite of the front door. They passed other rooms, and Kieran peered through open doorways, insatiably curious. One was an obvious bathroom with a huge wooden tub and a ceramic washbasin, and another lead to a kitchen, warm and smelling strongly of spices. Two more led to bedrooms, alternately that of Neorah and Azriel, while a third closed door was probably a storage room of some kind.
Kieran wanted to pause outside of Azriel's room. Maybe even take a peek inside and see what other interesting clues he could unravel about his friend, but Azriel didn't give him a chance. Kieran vowed he would return later and poke around. Perhaps find something he could use as fodder for teasing. Azriel was so amusing when he was embarrassed.
Azriel led him to a smaller back door, which opened into a garden in full bloom with autumn growth and shaded by trees that had lost half of their leaves, save for the evergreen in the middle. The ground below was completely carpeted by the fallen leaves, and a menagerie of flowers added a nice splash of color to what was already shifting into the dull browns of late fall.
Whoever had planted the garden had also been wise enough to include benches for seating and a stone path that wound about the garden in cute twists and turns. Kieran inclined his head, glancing over the garden with an approving eye.
“Nice,” he said and sucked in a huge breath of fresh air. He liked the comfort of Azriel's home, but there was something to be said about the taste of freedom.
“Thank you.” Azriel turned, dumping his load into Kieran's arms. “Gardening is Mother's hobby, though I'm often drafted into helping.” He gestured for his friend to stand just behind him, and he stepped forward, critically eying the leaf-strewn ground.
“Helping by raking, you mean?” Kieran asked, lips curled in a smile.
“Something like that.”
Azriel quieted then, concentration furrowing his brow. He lifted his arms, and a buzz of power seemed to rise in the air that made Kieran's skin tingle. Azriel's aether was like a quiet exhale, a breath of wind from seemingly nowhere that swirled into life over the garden and teased at his hair.
Kieran grinned, mouth stretching from ear to ear. As always, he was perfectly eager to watch Azriel get lost in the magic. There was something elegant and powerful about Azriel's aether. Kieran wasn't weak himself, but he wasn't so stupid that he couldn't recognize Azriel's superior ability either. It came as no surprise that Azriel was a Celestine by truth if not name. Really, he had too much power brimming inside of him to be anything less.
Azriel's hand waved through the air, as though he were petting an invisible cat, and then smoothly swirled to the right. The air responded, wind stirring, pushing at the bed of leaves and disturbing a chunk of them from their roost.
Kieran watched, impressed, as Azriel's arms moved slowly, almost like a dance, wind twirling and dancing across the soil. Leaves were picked up and carefully dropped into several neat piles, all without Azriel lifting a proverbial finger. This was precision and control; this was the sort of skill that made Kieran drool.
It took only minutes for Azriel to sweep the yard clear, his collection of leaves massing into two neat piles off to the side, revealing a stretch of browning grass and more cobbled paths. Azriel wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and lowered his arms, turning back toward Kieran.
“Is that part of Samhain?” Kieran asked before Azriel could get a word in.
The other boy chuckled. “No, I needed a clear space so that I didn't cause a fire. That and Mother prefers to have a clear garden. Shall I take those?” He reached for the yams.
Kieran dumped them into Azriel's arms. “That was incredible,” he stated and scratched at his chin. “How did you do that?”
Azriel looked embarrassed, but he didn't blush. Kieran was almost disappointed.
“Lots of practice.” He stepped down into the garden, heading toward one of the leaf piles. “You can't just command the wind to obey. You have to coax it, ask for a favor, and maybe she will respond. Maybe she won't.”
“She?”
Azriel paused as though startled. He shifted almost uneasily and cast a thoughtful look at the ground.
“Zephyrus,” he answered quietly. “Goddess of the winds.”
Kieran turned the name over in his head. But all he drew was a blank. Should he know it?
“I've never heard of her,” he admitted.
Azriel shifted again, and he looked up at the sky as if afraid to look at his friend. Kieran felt something in his belly rolled unpleasantly. He wasn’t afraid or even nervous, but he was cautious. If this was going where he thought, it could potentially be very uncomfortable.
“She's one of the old gods.”
It was soft, nearly a whisper. Like Azriel expected him to reel back in shock. Instead though, Kieran tilted his head to the side.
“You mean, before His Holiness?” he clarified, and his eyes were narrowed behind his glasses, giving Azriel an assessing look. “The gods that aren't real.”
Azriel stiffened. “It depends on what you define as real.” He shook his head, picking up his pace again. “I read a lot. I suppose those old legends stick with me.” He laughed, but it sounded fake, as though he'd stumbled into something dangerous and wasn't sure how to handle the situation. “Have you ever eaten baked yams, Kieran?”
He blinked at the sudden change in topic but decided it was in his best interest not to push. People were often touchy about religion. Nobles even more so. And any hint that His Majesty wasn’t getting his proper due could be a fatal error.
“Sure,” Kieran answered. He watched as Azriel knelt down in front of the smaller pile of leaves, setting the sweet potatoes off to the side and digging an impression into the mound. “But I suspect this is going to be slightly different than our typical candied yams.”
“Just a little,” Azriel replied, voice lighter than before but still wary.
Kieran watched as Azriel buried the half-dozen sweet potatoes beneath the leaves and withdrew tinderbox a from his pocket. Within a few strikes, a spark was born and the leaves were alit. It wasn't a huge bonfire by any means, but Azriel banked the flames until the leaves smoldered with soft embers. Azriel piled the leaves back on top, and smoke slowly curled from the mound, but it did not catch ablaze.
Interesting. Kieran had never seen such thing.
“Why did you do that?”
“To bake the yams,” Azriel returned simply and rose to his feet, dusting bits of grass and twigs from his knees. “I guarantee you've never tasted anything like leaf-smoldered yams.”
Kieran glanced at the smoking mound. It looked like it would take quite some time to cook much of anything, provided that the embers didn't burn themselves out. But Azriel wasn't the type to play jokes, so Kieran believed him.
“What comes next?” he asked, pretty sure that they weren't going to stand here and watch the sweet potatoes bake. Not even Azriel had that much patience.
Azriel shifted. “Now we thank the gods for the harvest.”
Kieran gave him an odd look. He wanted to ask. Almost desperately so. But now, just wasn’t the time.
“How?” he poised carefully.
“Normally, there’d be a huge bonfire, but we don't have that luxury here, so...” Azriel trailed off, gesturing to the cleared land between the two huge trees and their drooping branches. “We're going to do something on a smaller scale.”
Kieran clasped his hands behind his back and bounced on the balls of his feet. “Show me.”
Something in his simple words seemed to click with Azriel. The brunet inclined his head and moved toward the cleared section of land, stooping to gather up twigs along the way. Kieran followed, intrigued, curious about anything he had little knowledge of.
Azriel must’ve felt he hadn't gathered enough though because he also reached up and broke off a few of the drooping dead branches. He lowered himself to one knee, and Kieran circled around to watch. Kieran kept silent, thinking that it seemed proper to do so. Azriel wasn't speaking either, though his lips were moving. In silent prayer perhaps?
The twigs were carefully arranged in a triangle formation, braced against each other until Azriel's hand wasn’t needed to hold it together. A small hollow was left in the middle into which Azriel pushed a small bundle of dried grass that he twisted together. He then sat back on his heels, surveying his work.
It didn't look like much, but Kieran wasn't so stupid that he couldn't see the symbolism of it. For all intents and purposes, it resembled a mini-bonfire.
Footsteps padded quietly behind Kieran, swiftly crossing the garden until Neorah appeared at his left elbow. She was already untucking a few sticks of incense from her sleeve.
“Here you are,” she said, handing them to her son.
He turned, taking them from her and giving them a tentative sniff. “Perfect,” he commented. “Thank you.”
Neorah smiled gently, pleased, and then folded her arms into her sleeves. She didn't excuse herself, obviously intending to either take part or watch her son complete the ceremony. She exchanged a glance with Kieran and then gestured with her head for Kieran to watch. That wasn't exactly a struggle, so he redirected his gaze to what Azriel was doing.
Kneeling once more, Azriel carefully tucked the sticks of incense among the twigs so that they looked as if they'd been there all along. He took out the tinderbox again and skillfully set both the twist of dried grass and the incense sticks aflame. Like the sweet potatoes, it wasn't a burning blaze, but smoke curled toward the heavens with the fragrant scent of bergamot and fenugreek.
Azriel rose to his feet and stepped back, until he was standing on Kieran's other side, leaving the noble trapped between mother and son. He paused long enough to show Kieran a soft smile before facing the small bonfire he'd made once more. He pressed his fists together at the knuckles with thumbs pointed inward – a bow Kieran had seen Souya use a few times – and tipped his head forward with his eyes closed.
On Kieran's left, Neorah didn’t copy her son's motions. But her eyes were bright and clear as she watched Azriel and the small flames that licked at the twigs.
Azriel's lips were moving again.
Kieran was fascinated. He'd never seen anything quite like the quiet honoring that Azriel was doing here. This was worlds away from the loud and ostentatious displays that the nobles often used to express their loyalty to His Kingship. This was somehow more in every meaning of the word: more meaningful, more worthy, more honest.
It didn't take long for the flame to quickly consume Azriel's carefully gathered twigs, leaving it little more than smoldering embers on the cleared plot of land. Smoke still rose from the remains, but the chance of a fire spreading was nonexistent.
Neorah beamed and inclined his head. “Well done, Azriel.”
He shot her a look, one Kieran couldn't interpret. He felt like he had missed something between them, but since tension hadn't filled the air, he let it pass.
“Thank you, Mother,” he murmured, but it was pleased this time.
“Is there anything else?” Kieran asked hopefully.
He found all this very intriguing and wouldn't mind seeing a few more displays. Though admittedly, he was still disappointed he'd missed out on the costumes. It sounded amazing to dress-up.
Neorah squeezed his shoulder with a chuckle. “No, dear. That is all. Thank you for sharing this with us.”
Kieran deflated a little but beamed all the same. Particularly when Azriel glanced at him with half-lidded eyes.
“My pleasure.”
Her hand slid from his shoulder, and Neorah excused herself to the house with another long look toward her son that must have conveyed an entire silent conversation all at once. The bond between parent and child was strong, Kieran noticed, and he thought fondly of his own mother. Kieran was definitely closer to Aislin than he was to Marduk.
Azriel rose to his feet after checking the embers to make sure they wouldn't accidentally light the dried grass. With that done, he turned toward Kieran.
“What do you think?”
“Hmm.” Kieran thumbed his chin, wondering if he could put his impressions into words. “It was very simple, but more meaningful for that, if you know what I mean.”
Azriel's lips tilted toward a smile. “I do,” he said and then he looked at Kieran, eyes bright and earnest. “I could be arrested if anyone from Grayshire ever caught us doing this, Kieran. They tolerate the commoners and laugh at their superstitions and quaint holidays. But actually honoring the old gods, much less praying to them, is a death sentence.”
Kieran's mouth went dry. “But you... then why did you show me that!” he demanded.
But inwardly, he was ridiculously pleased that Azriel trusted him so much. In the back of his mind, he’d known what they were doing. Known that this was taboo and all sorts of forbidden. Sure, the commoners had their festivals and traditions, but none of them actually prayed to their gods. At least not openly. Nobody dared suggest someone was of equal importance as His Majesty; people had died for less.
And Azriel and his mother had just done it right in front of him! Right in front of the heir one of the seven great families! The only way he possibly could’ve made this worse was to bring out a forest spirit then and there! It was perhaps the only thing that’d get him executed faster.
Azriel must’ve seen the astonished look on Kieran’s face then. He hesitated and bit on his lip. As though he knew what he wanted to say but didn't want to sound too softhearted.
“I thought you’d understand,” Azriel finally admitted.
He would be right, too. Kieran did understand. If Azriel was going to show anyone, at least it’d been him. The last thing he was going to do was run to the nearest Brigade member and report Azriel. Kieran might not put much faith in the old gods, but he didn't have any faith in His Lordship either. He was lucky in that regard. The Azura outwardly recognized His Kingship as they were required to do, paid their lip service, but they didn't acknowledge His Lordship as their master and commander.
Science was their god, and that was the truth of it. A secret that they wisely kept to themselves.
Kieran was probably the only noble in all of the Conservatory who’d ever understand this. In all of Grayshire even.
Azriel trusted him though. His mind kept circling back to that, and a certain glee bubbled up in his chest, making his smile widen. This was a wonderful day, a momentous occasion. Even better than the day Azriel started using his first name. It had to be celebrated somehow!
“You trust me,” Kieran said aloud. He grinned as Azriel's cheeks heated and he promptly looked away. “You trust me,” he repeated.
“If you want to see it like that,” he replied grudgingly and stepped away, heading with dogged determination toward the smoking pile of leaves. “We should check on the yams.
Kieran started; Azriel wasn't getting away from him that easily.
He moved quickly across the ground on stealthy cat-feet, and Azriel never saw him coming. Just half-turned over his shoulder to see if Kieran was following, and his eyes widened in surprise when Kieran pounced. There was an aborted shout, a flailing of limbs, and then, the two boys crashed headlong into the convenient pile of leaves just behind Azriel. It was also the one not currently housing their baking yams, just as Kieran had planned.
Kieran laughed as leaves launched into the air, then fell back down slowly, like a soft rain. He landed half on Azriel and half in the pile, surrounded by the woodsy odor of the decaying vegetation and whatever Azriel washed his hair with.
“Kieran!”
He couldn't tell if Azriel was annoyed or amused. Perhaps both.
Kieran laughed again, flailing his limbs in an attempt to extricate himself from both the leaves and Azriel and failing at both. They tumbled backwards, scattering leaves in all directions and completely undoing Azriel's hard work.
It was like pretending to be a kid again, something Kieran suspected Azriel had never really experienced. So even though Azriel sounded like he was aggravated and wanted to throttle his so-called friend, he had no intentions of letting Azriel free any time soon.
Kieran was having far too much fun.
****
a/n: I do so love this series. Expect to see some of Whispers of Yesterday soon. I plan to get it readable asap.
Feedback is always welcome and appreciated!
Series: Infinity's End, Prequel
Master List: The Break of Day
Summary: A friendship that takes everyone by surprise slowly evolves into a deeper bond as Azriel, illegitimate son of the house Celestine, and Kieran, heir to the house Azura, throw themselves into the heart of a building altercation that explodes into an all out revolution.
Master List: The Break of Day
Summary: A friendship that takes everyone by surprise slowly evolves into a deeper bond as Azriel, illegitimate son of the house Celestine, and Kieran, heir to the house Azura, throw themselves into the heart of a building altercation that explodes into an all out revolution.
----------------------------------------
The Break of Day
Part One: Chapter Four
----------------------------------------
The Break of Day
Part One: Chapter Four
----------------------------------------
October 31st, 1978
Kieran was all but dancing in the street as he walked beside Azriel. Excitement made him jittery and stretched his grin from ear to ear. He couldn't recall the last time he'd been invited over to a friend's house.
No, scratch that. He'd been to Yonah's and Lyra's houses plenty of times. And he'd even managed to sneak out to Moriarty to visit Souya's mom once or twice. But this was the first time he'd been invited to Azriel's place.
For once, Azriel didn't have to work. For twice, neither did his mother.
Such a rare treat indeed! A chance to see the natural habitat of the rare and elusive Azriel Hadley. He could hardly contain himself.
Sure, they were supposed to be studying, but Kieran didn't mind that so much. He enjoyed Conservatory and the work necessary to complete his studies. It came easy to him. He didn't even mind having to study.
But he was finally going to see Azriel's house! Kieran couldn't remember the last time he'd been so excited.
Brown eyes glanced his direction. A smile curved Azriel's lips.
“Did you eat another half-dozen of Miss Violet's cinnamon twists again? You are as energetic as a child.”
Kieran grinned sheepishly. “Is it that obvious?”
“Only to anyone who's paying you the least bit of attention.”
But he sounded amused more than anything.
“I can't help it,” Kieran countered, anxiously craning his neck around in hopes of correctly guessing and then spotting Azriel's home.
All of the houses on this side of Grayshire, closer to the gate that separated it from Moriarty, were so quaint and original. They had personality and spunk, rather than the drab, large, and boring manors that populated the upper end of Grayshire. Kieran should know; he lived in one of those huge and pretentious places. The houses here were smaller, probably larger than what the commoners in Moriarty built but still small by comparison to Kieran's home.
It felt like walking in a whole new world.
Azriel chuckled then. “I hope you're not disappointed.”
“Why would I be?” Kieran retorted, obviously not getting it. “Are we close?”
“Yes, oh-impatient-one. It's right over there.”
Azriel pointed to a house just down the lane, surrounded by a fence that had curls of dark ivy winding about the wooden posts. Bright flowers in shades of purple and orange blossomed from the vines, and Kieran felt his heart skip a beat. He grinned, pace increasing as he hurried to get his first good look at Azriel's house.
It was modest in comparison but still unique. It had only one story, but more ivy crawled up the front and sides as though trying to reclaim it for nature. A cobbled path led up to the front door with a bed of flowers lining it to either side. It looked warm and cozy and so very inviting.
“Well?” Azriel questioned as he pushed open the gate and waved Kieran inside.
“I love it!” Kieran beamed as he moved past Azriel and waited for him to close the gate. “I wonder what it looks like on the inside.”
Azriel sniggered. “You'll have chance to see soon enough,” he said, and Kieran followed him down the path and to the door.
The moment it was opened, a wash of warm air cascaded over Kieran. It was peppered with the wonderful scent of dinner in preparation. His mouth watered, and he inhaled deeply. It smelled delicious, whatever it was, and his stomach gurgled in appreciation.
“Ah, Mother must be home already,” Azriel commented to himself as they paused in the entryway to remove their shoes and overrobes. Otherwise though, he seemed oddly quiet for some reason.
Well, to be fair, Azriel wasn't a noisy person to begin with. Kieran more than made enough sound for the both of them. But he was acting more silent than usual. Kieran wondered if something were bothering him.
He was still puzzling over that, cast eager glances every direction, as he followed Azriel down the hallway. Their footfalls were muffled by thick rugs as they went, and Kieran happily wiggled his toes with each step. Azriel paused at the first open doorway, showing Kieran into a large room filled with furniture and warmed by the hearth.
“Azriel?”
“In the den,” Azriel called out and shooed Kieran in ahead of him. “Pick a seat. I'll be right back.”
Kieran was left to his own devices as Azriel slipped out of the den. He looked around, taking in the muted shades of amber and burgundy that seemed prevalent. A small pot of incense sat above the hearth, filling the room with a pleasant cinnamon aroma that made his stomach gurgle again. The scent was a tad too close to Violet’s twists for anything else.
He selected a comfortable sofa, sinking down into the cushion that covered an otherwise wooden frame. His bag thunked to the floor at his feet, heavy with books and schoolwork. Azriel's house reminded him more of Souya's than that of anyone else, but Kieran wasn't surprised. He liked it. Kieran's own home wasn't exactly stark, but it just didn't have the same open and welcoming feeling. As a little kid, he’d even been scared to touch anything for fear of his father’s disapproval.
Noises in the doorway announced Azriel's return, and when Kieran looked, his friend was accompanied by a woman who had to be his mother. Her hair was a soft brown the same shade as Azriel’s own, and his nose and the curve of his jaw obviously came from her. Still, Azriel didn't look much like her though. He more resembled his uncles and by proxy his father no doubt, but the relation to Madam Hadley was still clear.
Kieran immediately stood and offered a broad smile.
“I told you that you didn't have to do that,” Azriel was saying, voice a mix of exasperation and genuine affection as he approached.
“Hush, dear,” Madam Hadley retorted, and her blue eyes sparkled with warmth and mirth as she urged her son in ahead of her. “I'll do as I like. If you boys plan to study, you'll need something to eat.”
The topic of their disagreement, Kieran guessed, was the tray that Madam Hadley was carrying. She had heaped all sorts of food on it – cut up celery, carrots, and fresh broccoli, along with slices of a hearty bread and a smaller dish loaded with cookies. Azriel was carrying another tray, this one with cups and a steaming teapot.
Kieran's stomach grumbled a third time. He told it to shut up. Now, wasn’t the time.
Azriel sighed in a manner that proved he knew he couldn't argue with his mother. He set the tray down on the small table within easy reach.
“Mother,” he said instead then, “this is Kieran Azura. Kieran, this is my mother, Neorah Hadley.”
Setting down her own tray, Neorah smiled and held out a hand in greeting. “Hello, I've heard a lot about you.”
“The pleasure’s mine,” Kieran returned, taking her hand and bowing politely. “You’ve a lovely home, Madam Hadley.”
Her smile widened. “Please, dear, call me Neorah. We don't stand much on formality.”
“You wouldn't know it from the way Azriel acts sometimes,” Kieran retorted, the comment slipping from his lips before he could stop himself.
Luckily, Neorah took it for the joke it was and chuckled. Ah, there was something else mother and son had in common; they laughed the same.
“I'm afraid my son did grow up a little too fast,” Neorah allowed pleasantly.
“Mother.” To Kieran's delight, Azriel's cheeks were turning a rosy color, proving that he wasn't as in control of himself as he pretended to be. “Didn't you have something you were in the middle of doing?”
He was embarrassed. How cute.
Neorah shot a glance at her son, as amused as Kieran. “I do in fact. So I'll leave you two boys to your studying.” She turned to Kieran, flashing him a warm look that reminded Kieran of his own mother. “We'll speak again, dear. Probably when Azriel isn't looking.”
“Great!” Kieran rubbed his hands together. “I want to hear stories from his childhood. The more embarrassing the better!”
Azriel didn’t quite push his mother out the door; that was too rude for him. But he did hold it open for her on her way out. And yes, his ears were oh-so-obviously burning the entire time.
“Thank you for the snacks,” he said, urging her to move quicker.
Kieran laughed to himself and sat back down, eyes turning toward the tray of goodies that’d been left behind. He reached first for the cookies, eagerly biting into soft deliciousness marked with the taste of bitter chocolate. It was utter bliss.
“You really have a sweet tooth, don't you?” Azriel questioned as he chose the second sofa in the room.
Kieran grinned and brushed away the crumbs that had already gathered on the corner of his mouth. “I fully believe in enjoying my food,” he shot back. “I like your mother. She's got a great sense of humor.”
“Yes, you two will get along famously,” Azriel said with a roll of his eyes. He pulled the second tray closer to him, pouring out a fragrant tea into the two cups. “Can we concentrate on studying now?”
“That was just an excuse to come over here,” Kieran grumbled with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I don't really need to study, and neither do you.”
Azriel arched a brow. He pulled one cup toward him.
“Then why are your marks in history barely passing?” he asked loftily.
“Because it's boring?” Kieran said innocently.
The answer was more a question and one that he didn't mean for Azriel to answer. His father wasn't too impressed with Kieran's marks there either. Though Marduk conveniently overlooked the fact Kieran was still near the top of his class. The only ones who might’ve been ahead of him were Lyra and surprisingly Souya.
“Besides,” Kieran added, “I'm not the one who's asking a first-year to explain the mathematical theory of an advanced senior class either.”
Azriel hid behind his tea cup. “There are only a few points that are unclear, and it's not my fault you were taught these things as a child.”
“While all you did was read,” Kieran said with a grin. “So quiz me on history, and I'll show you how to handle those pesky imaginary numbers. Deal?”
Azriel gave him a look. But he didn’t argue.
He sighed. “Deal.”
Kieran threw his quill down to let it clatter on the tabletop. Seconds afterward, he threw himself backward and tossed his arm over his eyes.
“I'm done,” he announced. “No more. I'm not reading anything else or chanting anymore dates, Azriel.”
The other boy’s amused chuckle slid through the contemplative quiet. “It's only been a couple of hours. You can't give up yet.”
“This isn't giving up; this is a strategic retreat to save my sanity,” Kieran insisted and looked mournfully at the plate empty of snacks – save for the lingering celery that neither he nor Azriel had touched.
Azriel arched a brow. “That sounds like an excuse.”
“Call it what you want. I'm not changing my mind.”
Kieran closed his eyes and contemplated a nap. It was warm and cozy here in the den, and it’d be so easy to drift off. He could just spend the night here, too. No one in the family but his mother was likely to notice, and she already knew that he’d planned to be gone today.
“Perhaps what you need is a break,” Neorah announced then, suddenly appearing in the doorway.
Kieran eagerly sat up, arm falling from his eyes, hoping that she was carrying another tray of treats. Unfortunately, Neorah had no cookies. But she did have an armful of sweet potatoes for some reason, recently washed and all.
“We're supposed to be studying,” Azriel said quickly, eyes darting between Kieran and Neorah as though hoping they wouldn't start chatting again.
Blue eyes focused on her son, jaw squaring with stubbornness. “You don't even realize that it's Samhain, do you?” She shook her head when Azriel actually had to stop and consider her words. “My son, you work too hard.”
Kieran snickered. “I've been telling him that for weeks.”
The adorable flush from earlier returned with a vengeance. It started first on the bridge of Azriel's nose and carried over into his round cheeks.
“Mother, we're too old for that.”
“Perhaps for the disguise part of it,” Neorah countered and strolled into the room. “But not for the rest. Besides, the yard needs raking, and you know that Mr. Suga threw his back out last week.”
Kieran was intrigued. Disguises? Dressing up? He vaguely recalled Souya mentioning something along those lines a few days ago but couldn’t remember what.
“What's so special about Samhain?” he asked, racking his brain.
The name was unfamiliar to him, and he couldn't remember what was so important about this time of year. It wasn’t the beginning or end of autumn. Just the middle. Nothing too interesting. His Lordship's day was weeks away, and the nearest holiday that Kieran knew was Yule. The Winter Festival would be then, along with a long break from Conservatory that Kieran would embrace wholeheartedly. He loved attending class, but there were other aspects of Conservatory he didn't like so much.
Like history. Kieran was rapidly learning to loathe history. It was so dull and boring and half of it didn’t agree with the other half and teachers got snippy when one pointed that out.
Azriel glanced at his mother as they exchanged some kind of silent conversation. Finally, a verdict was reached, and Azriel turned back to Kieran.
“I guess you wouldn't know about Samhain, would you?” he questioned almost rhetorically. “The nobles don't celebrate it anymore.”
“It's not hard find in Moriarty, but it’s really common in the villages,” Neorah added, scrutinizing Kieran as though looking for something in particular.
Kieran nodded, but that still didn't really explain what Samhain was about. And really, the mystery alone was making it just a bit intriguing.
“What are we going to do then?”
“How about I show you?” Azriel suggested after exchanging another long look with his mother. He rose to his feet.
Brightening, Kieran leapt from his sofa and stacked his books into one haphazard pile. All the better to be shoved into his bag and out of sight in a moment's notice.
“Anything to get away from history,” he agreed gamely.
Neorah let out a laugh, pushing her armful of sweet potatoes at Azriel. “I'll bring the incense out once the yard's been raked.”
Azriel frowned but inclined his head. “Yes, Mother.”
Azriel took the yams, and Kieran followed him out of the den and down the hallway, opposite of the front door. They passed other rooms, and Kieran peered through open doorways, insatiably curious. One was an obvious bathroom with a huge wooden tub and a ceramic washbasin, and another lead to a kitchen, warm and smelling strongly of spices. Two more led to bedrooms, alternately that of Neorah and Azriel, while a third closed door was probably a storage room of some kind.
Kieran wanted to pause outside of Azriel's room. Maybe even take a peek inside and see what other interesting clues he could unravel about his friend, but Azriel didn't give him a chance. Kieran vowed he would return later and poke around. Perhaps find something he could use as fodder for teasing. Azriel was so amusing when he was embarrassed.
Azriel led him to a smaller back door, which opened into a garden in full bloom with autumn growth and shaded by trees that had lost half of their leaves, save for the evergreen in the middle. The ground below was completely carpeted by the fallen leaves, and a menagerie of flowers added a nice splash of color to what was already shifting into the dull browns of late fall.
Whoever had planted the garden had also been wise enough to include benches for seating and a stone path that wound about the garden in cute twists and turns. Kieran inclined his head, glancing over the garden with an approving eye.
“Nice,” he said and sucked in a huge breath of fresh air. He liked the comfort of Azriel's home, but there was something to be said about the taste of freedom.
“Thank you.” Azriel turned, dumping his load into Kieran's arms. “Gardening is Mother's hobby, though I'm often drafted into helping.” He gestured for his friend to stand just behind him, and he stepped forward, critically eying the leaf-strewn ground.
“Helping by raking, you mean?” Kieran asked, lips curled in a smile.
“Something like that.”
Azriel quieted then, concentration furrowing his brow. He lifted his arms, and a buzz of power seemed to rise in the air that made Kieran's skin tingle. Azriel's aether was like a quiet exhale, a breath of wind from seemingly nowhere that swirled into life over the garden and teased at his hair.
Kieran grinned, mouth stretching from ear to ear. As always, he was perfectly eager to watch Azriel get lost in the magic. There was something elegant and powerful about Azriel's aether. Kieran wasn't weak himself, but he wasn't so stupid that he couldn't recognize Azriel's superior ability either. It came as no surprise that Azriel was a Celestine by truth if not name. Really, he had too much power brimming inside of him to be anything less.
Azriel's hand waved through the air, as though he were petting an invisible cat, and then smoothly swirled to the right. The air responded, wind stirring, pushing at the bed of leaves and disturbing a chunk of them from their roost.
Kieran watched, impressed, as Azriel's arms moved slowly, almost like a dance, wind twirling and dancing across the soil. Leaves were picked up and carefully dropped into several neat piles, all without Azriel lifting a proverbial finger. This was precision and control; this was the sort of skill that made Kieran drool.
It took only minutes for Azriel to sweep the yard clear, his collection of leaves massing into two neat piles off to the side, revealing a stretch of browning grass and more cobbled paths. Azriel wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and lowered his arms, turning back toward Kieran.
“Is that part of Samhain?” Kieran asked before Azriel could get a word in.
The other boy chuckled. “No, I needed a clear space so that I didn't cause a fire. That and Mother prefers to have a clear garden. Shall I take those?” He reached for the yams.
Kieran dumped them into Azriel's arms. “That was incredible,” he stated and scratched at his chin. “How did you do that?”
Azriel looked embarrassed, but he didn't blush. Kieran was almost disappointed.
“Lots of practice.” He stepped down into the garden, heading toward one of the leaf piles. “You can't just command the wind to obey. You have to coax it, ask for a favor, and maybe she will respond. Maybe she won't.”
“She?”
Azriel paused as though startled. He shifted almost uneasily and cast a thoughtful look at the ground.
“Zephyrus,” he answered quietly. “Goddess of the winds.”
Kieran turned the name over in his head. But all he drew was a blank. Should he know it?
“I've never heard of her,” he admitted.
Azriel shifted again, and he looked up at the sky as if afraid to look at his friend. Kieran felt something in his belly rolled unpleasantly. He wasn’t afraid or even nervous, but he was cautious. If this was going where he thought, it could potentially be very uncomfortable.
“She's one of the old gods.”
It was soft, nearly a whisper. Like Azriel expected him to reel back in shock. Instead though, Kieran tilted his head to the side.
“You mean, before His Holiness?” he clarified, and his eyes were narrowed behind his glasses, giving Azriel an assessing look. “The gods that aren't real.”
Azriel stiffened. “It depends on what you define as real.” He shook his head, picking up his pace again. “I read a lot. I suppose those old legends stick with me.” He laughed, but it sounded fake, as though he'd stumbled into something dangerous and wasn't sure how to handle the situation. “Have you ever eaten baked yams, Kieran?”
He blinked at the sudden change in topic but decided it was in his best interest not to push. People were often touchy about religion. Nobles even more so. And any hint that His Majesty wasn’t getting his proper due could be a fatal error.
“Sure,” Kieran answered. He watched as Azriel knelt down in front of the smaller pile of leaves, setting the sweet potatoes off to the side and digging an impression into the mound. “But I suspect this is going to be slightly different than our typical candied yams.”
“Just a little,” Azriel replied, voice lighter than before but still wary.
Kieran watched as Azriel buried the half-dozen sweet potatoes beneath the leaves and withdrew tinderbox a from his pocket. Within a few strikes, a spark was born and the leaves were alit. It wasn't a huge bonfire by any means, but Azriel banked the flames until the leaves smoldered with soft embers. Azriel piled the leaves back on top, and smoke slowly curled from the mound, but it did not catch ablaze.
Interesting. Kieran had never seen such thing.
“Why did you do that?”
“To bake the yams,” Azriel returned simply and rose to his feet, dusting bits of grass and twigs from his knees. “I guarantee you've never tasted anything like leaf-smoldered yams.”
Kieran glanced at the smoking mound. It looked like it would take quite some time to cook much of anything, provided that the embers didn't burn themselves out. But Azriel wasn't the type to play jokes, so Kieran believed him.
“What comes next?” he asked, pretty sure that they weren't going to stand here and watch the sweet potatoes bake. Not even Azriel had that much patience.
Azriel shifted. “Now we thank the gods for the harvest.”
Kieran gave him an odd look. He wanted to ask. Almost desperately so. But now, just wasn’t the time.
“How?” he poised carefully.
“Normally, there’d be a huge bonfire, but we don't have that luxury here, so...” Azriel trailed off, gesturing to the cleared land between the two huge trees and their drooping branches. “We're going to do something on a smaller scale.”
Kieran clasped his hands behind his back and bounced on the balls of his feet. “Show me.”
Something in his simple words seemed to click with Azriel. The brunet inclined his head and moved toward the cleared section of land, stooping to gather up twigs along the way. Kieran followed, intrigued, curious about anything he had little knowledge of.
Azriel must’ve felt he hadn't gathered enough though because he also reached up and broke off a few of the drooping dead branches. He lowered himself to one knee, and Kieran circled around to watch. Kieran kept silent, thinking that it seemed proper to do so. Azriel wasn't speaking either, though his lips were moving. In silent prayer perhaps?
The twigs were carefully arranged in a triangle formation, braced against each other until Azriel's hand wasn’t needed to hold it together. A small hollow was left in the middle into which Azriel pushed a small bundle of dried grass that he twisted together. He then sat back on his heels, surveying his work.
It didn't look like much, but Kieran wasn't so stupid that he couldn't see the symbolism of it. For all intents and purposes, it resembled a mini-bonfire.
Footsteps padded quietly behind Kieran, swiftly crossing the garden until Neorah appeared at his left elbow. She was already untucking a few sticks of incense from her sleeve.
“Here you are,” she said, handing them to her son.
He turned, taking them from her and giving them a tentative sniff. “Perfect,” he commented. “Thank you.”
Neorah smiled gently, pleased, and then folded her arms into her sleeves. She didn't excuse herself, obviously intending to either take part or watch her son complete the ceremony. She exchanged a glance with Kieran and then gestured with her head for Kieran to watch. That wasn't exactly a struggle, so he redirected his gaze to what Azriel was doing.
Kneeling once more, Azriel carefully tucked the sticks of incense among the twigs so that they looked as if they'd been there all along. He took out the tinderbox again and skillfully set both the twist of dried grass and the incense sticks aflame. Like the sweet potatoes, it wasn't a burning blaze, but smoke curled toward the heavens with the fragrant scent of bergamot and fenugreek.
Azriel rose to his feet and stepped back, until he was standing on Kieran's other side, leaving the noble trapped between mother and son. He paused long enough to show Kieran a soft smile before facing the small bonfire he'd made once more. He pressed his fists together at the knuckles with thumbs pointed inward – a bow Kieran had seen Souya use a few times – and tipped his head forward with his eyes closed.
On Kieran's left, Neorah didn’t copy her son's motions. But her eyes were bright and clear as she watched Azriel and the small flames that licked at the twigs.
Azriel's lips were moving again.
Kieran was fascinated. He'd never seen anything quite like the quiet honoring that Azriel was doing here. This was worlds away from the loud and ostentatious displays that the nobles often used to express their loyalty to His Kingship. This was somehow more in every meaning of the word: more meaningful, more worthy, more honest.
It didn't take long for the flame to quickly consume Azriel's carefully gathered twigs, leaving it little more than smoldering embers on the cleared plot of land. Smoke still rose from the remains, but the chance of a fire spreading was nonexistent.
Neorah beamed and inclined his head. “Well done, Azriel.”
He shot her a look, one Kieran couldn't interpret. He felt like he had missed something between them, but since tension hadn't filled the air, he let it pass.
“Thank you, Mother,” he murmured, but it was pleased this time.
“Is there anything else?” Kieran asked hopefully.
He found all this very intriguing and wouldn't mind seeing a few more displays. Though admittedly, he was still disappointed he'd missed out on the costumes. It sounded amazing to dress-up.
Neorah squeezed his shoulder with a chuckle. “No, dear. That is all. Thank you for sharing this with us.”
Kieran deflated a little but beamed all the same. Particularly when Azriel glanced at him with half-lidded eyes.
“My pleasure.”
Her hand slid from his shoulder, and Neorah excused herself to the house with another long look toward her son that must have conveyed an entire silent conversation all at once. The bond between parent and child was strong, Kieran noticed, and he thought fondly of his own mother. Kieran was definitely closer to Aislin than he was to Marduk.
Azriel rose to his feet after checking the embers to make sure they wouldn't accidentally light the dried grass. With that done, he turned toward Kieran.
“What do you think?”
“Hmm.” Kieran thumbed his chin, wondering if he could put his impressions into words. “It was very simple, but more meaningful for that, if you know what I mean.”
Azriel's lips tilted toward a smile. “I do,” he said and then he looked at Kieran, eyes bright and earnest. “I could be arrested if anyone from Grayshire ever caught us doing this, Kieran. They tolerate the commoners and laugh at their superstitions and quaint holidays. But actually honoring the old gods, much less praying to them, is a death sentence.”
Kieran's mouth went dry. “But you... then why did you show me that!” he demanded.
But inwardly, he was ridiculously pleased that Azriel trusted him so much. In the back of his mind, he’d known what they were doing. Known that this was taboo and all sorts of forbidden. Sure, the commoners had their festivals and traditions, but none of them actually prayed to their gods. At least not openly. Nobody dared suggest someone was of equal importance as His Majesty; people had died for less.
And Azriel and his mother had just done it right in front of him! Right in front of the heir one of the seven great families! The only way he possibly could’ve made this worse was to bring out a forest spirit then and there! It was perhaps the only thing that’d get him executed faster.
Azriel must’ve seen the astonished look on Kieran’s face then. He hesitated and bit on his lip. As though he knew what he wanted to say but didn't want to sound too softhearted.
“I thought you’d understand,” Azriel finally admitted.
He would be right, too. Kieran did understand. If Azriel was going to show anyone, at least it’d been him. The last thing he was going to do was run to the nearest Brigade member and report Azriel. Kieran might not put much faith in the old gods, but he didn't have any faith in His Lordship either. He was lucky in that regard. The Azura outwardly recognized His Kingship as they were required to do, paid their lip service, but they didn't acknowledge His Lordship as their master and commander.
Science was their god, and that was the truth of it. A secret that they wisely kept to themselves.
Kieran was probably the only noble in all of the Conservatory who’d ever understand this. In all of Grayshire even.
Azriel trusted him though. His mind kept circling back to that, and a certain glee bubbled up in his chest, making his smile widen. This was a wonderful day, a momentous occasion. Even better than the day Azriel started using his first name. It had to be celebrated somehow!
“You trust me,” Kieran said aloud. He grinned as Azriel's cheeks heated and he promptly looked away. “You trust me,” he repeated.
“If you want to see it like that,” he replied grudgingly and stepped away, heading with dogged determination toward the smoking pile of leaves. “We should check on the yams.
Kieran started; Azriel wasn't getting away from him that easily.
He moved quickly across the ground on stealthy cat-feet, and Azriel never saw him coming. Just half-turned over his shoulder to see if Kieran was following, and his eyes widened in surprise when Kieran pounced. There was an aborted shout, a flailing of limbs, and then, the two boys crashed headlong into the convenient pile of leaves just behind Azriel. It was also the one not currently housing their baking yams, just as Kieran had planned.
Kieran laughed as leaves launched into the air, then fell back down slowly, like a soft rain. He landed half on Azriel and half in the pile, surrounded by the woodsy odor of the decaying vegetation and whatever Azriel washed his hair with.
“Kieran!”
He couldn't tell if Azriel was annoyed or amused. Perhaps both.
Kieran laughed again, flailing his limbs in an attempt to extricate himself from both the leaves and Azriel and failing at both. They tumbled backwards, scattering leaves in all directions and completely undoing Azriel's hard work.
It was like pretending to be a kid again, something Kieran suspected Azriel had never really experienced. So even though Azriel sounded like he was aggravated and wanted to throttle his so-called friend, he had no intentions of letting Azriel free any time soon.
Kieran was having far too much fun.
a/n: I do so love this series. Expect to see some of Whispers of Yesterday soon. I plan to get it readable asap.
Feedback is always welcome and appreciated!
