Page 19 of Ceridor

Johann age 23, Ceridor 35

The Mulberry Inn, East Helvetica

Johann

I stumbled out of my room and scrambled into my shoes. My morning magical practices were my favorite part of the day; I'd gotten so into it over the last two years, my sessions had gotten longer and longer. Though I could jog over to Magnus's place where we began our workouts, I didn't want the prince regent and his men to leave without me.

"Morning!" my sister chirped.

"Morgen," I replied, chugging a cup of honeyed tea and wolfing down some bread.

Over the last two years, Hilda had become something of a grandmother to us as we learned innkeeping. Our training was quick and to the point, as Hilda was more than ready to retire,and with two eager learners under her wing she began planning to move away so she could live near her sister. We gladly took things over at the Mulberry Inn, taking the opportunity to shed our former names and titles and begin our new life by permanently adopting our nicknames. Hilda more than thanked us for all we did, and even placed Effie in her will to inherit the inn when the time came. In doing so she not only gave us a future but ensured the legacy of her own business.

Magnus was the prince regent, still waiting for his father the regent of East Helvetica to retire. Magnus's frequenting of the inn was a small pocket of familiarity when the rest of our lives had been overturned, and over the years his constant support of Effie and his puppy eyes finally won her over.

He had brought up to his father the prospect of marrying a friend, and his father had absolutely refused and threatened to arrange a political marriage for him. Ceridor had been in town at the time, but as his relationship with his father was quite chilly, he couldn't do much to lend support for his brother. Magnus simply fell silent on the marriage front and didn't breathe a word to his father after that.

He had then proposed to Effie, but my sister was frankly scared of marriage and the power it had held over her as a threat growing up. Magnus had been willing to put that desire aside, potentially permanently, so long as they could still be together. From what I could tell as Effie's twin, they seemed happy, and Magnus did not waiver in his devotion even though they were not legally tied. His seal as the regent prince was by the door of the inn, making it clear he not only approved of the business, but also extended his protection over it should anyone ever decide to mess with Effie.

While Effie and Magnus had made great strides in their relationship over the past two years, Ceridor and I had settled into a relationship of our own. I had become a phoenix, risingfrom the ashes of the abuse I'd endured at the hands of my father for over a decade. I'd then pivoted fully into magical training out of manuals from Diana Monastery, alongside combat training with Magnus and his men. Ceridor sent me poems to memorize while on his travels, forwarding them through Marit, his librarian friend at the monastery so as to keep my location a secret.

Ceridor's work as a bard was a cover. His actual work was as a spy for his brother.

At first, I'd been content to help Hilda and take over the inn alongside my sister, but as Magnus came more and more into our lives as a bedrock of protection, my role as support for my sibling gave way and made room for my own dreams. I trained with Magnus to keep up my fitness, swordsmanship and grappling skills. He graciously allowed me access to his library of statecraft texts and invited me to attend lessons with his tutor. With every workout and study session, my dream came closer and closer, and with Ceridor in my bed on his visits home, my dreams became undeniable.

I wanted to fight for Danubian High King Ulbrecht and earn back the kingship that would have been mine.

I set the cup of tea down with a nod in thanks, slipping my shoes on.

"Is that her?" Effie asked.

I paused and followed my sister's gaze to the far corner of the counter by the door.

"Ja, it's her," I answered. "Dunu." The mysterious creek nymph.

The last four months had been really hard. Ceridor hadn't shown on Christmas Eve despite his assurances that he would be home by then. Magnus had come over looking for him, and we had all been understandably frightened. The week after Christmas, we'd received a poem in the mail. That had beennormal: since Ceridor couldn't share details of his trips in letters that might be opened and read, he instead sent me poems that I could puzzle over and meditate on for my magical studies.

The problem with the poem-letter this time was that it wasn't in Ceridor's handwriting. Marit the monk-librarian at Diana Monastery must have sent the poem at Ceridor's request, because it was signed-M. If Marit was sending along a poem at Ceridor's request, this surely meant my partner still lived, but the terrifying question became why Ceridor couldn't write the letter himself.

The next week, we received a letter in horrid handwriting, barely legible:

J-

Sorry about Christmas. I'm injured.

At the archer's. I'll return once the passes open.

-C.

That had been him. But the fact that he was injured enough that his handwriting was that bad—Ceridor took pride in his calligraphy—had caused me many sleepless nights since then. I kept having nightmares that he would take a turn for the worse and never make it back to us after all.

A distraction from the stress of worrying about Ceridor had come in the form of our cute little Dunu.

One day a couple of months ago, a girl had reached out of the nearby creek and grabbed my ankle when I was washing my feet. She hadn't been holding her breath under the water; she hadn't needed to.

I'd been startled and scampered home, but she'd followed me, dripping water the whole way from long dark hair that hung in rivulets down her back like strands of kelp. Dunu had a greenish tinge to her skin. Her teeth were sharp, as if she had canines all the way across. She had large eyes just like a little girl's, her irises a deep dark brown, but her hands and feet were slightly webbed.By all appearances she could be a little human girl of about age eight, maybe in a costume forKarneval.

But we knew that wasn't true, because Effie couldn't see her.

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