Page 8 of Angel in Absentia
“It’s so good to see you,” Clea said to Iris, feeling a genuine wave of relief.
Iris kissed Clea’s sweaty forehead before squeezing her face. “I amsoglad you’re back.”
“You shouldn’t put your hands on her like that,” Dae warned, shifting again. She wasn’t sure she ever saw him so ill at ease anywhere else. He was a perfect soldier on the battlefield, but in the presence of public affection, which in Loda was rare, it looked like he wanted to escape out of his own skin.
Iris scoffed again and rolled her eyes.
“I mean it,” he barked. “You and Yvan can only be protected under her blessing for so long. Our people aren’t quite so tolerant and nor should they be.”
“Thank you, Iris,” Clea said with a sigh.
The woman turned, hazel eyes scanning back over Dae as she walked to the barrier around the arena and lifted her body on top of it. She crossed her legs slowly as she leaned back and observed them both. Dae was right. Her own people could be severe in their regard for her, but Clea didn’t need to tell Iristhat. Yvan, on the other hand, still needed constant reminders and increasingly took them as a challenge to her Virdain way of life.
“The fight is over,” Dae said to Clea. She wasn’t sure if he was reprimanding her or not. She often had to guess which was which with his tone.
“Dae,” Iris said, “don’t badger her. She has to deal with your badgering all the time. You’re the one who needs to unwind, quite as usual. You nag more than my late grandmother and you’re just as stiff.”
“I’m almost done,” Clea replied, unbothered by his prodding. “No one is asking you to stay here. Honestly, I’m not sure how you found me.”
“I had a feeling when you didn’t show up for the festivities,” replied Dae. “You need to close out your return, to close out the campaign. The fight is over. Plus, Yvan keeps trying to arm wrestle the council members, and I think you need to be around to occupy her. She’s your decision, you know. Her behavior reflects on you, and she’s too stubborn and ill-minded to listen to me. If she doesn’t learn some discretion, she’s bound to provoke the wrong person.”
“I haven’t met her yet, but she sounds brilliant,” Iris muttered in genuine admiration, picking something off her sleeve.
Clea chuckled dryly.
The fight was in fact over. Well, it was supposed to be, but Dae seemed irritated, as if it wouldn’t be truly over for him until it was over for her.
The fight was over. Her fight, and she’d made a deal.
After she conducted this campaign, she was to return and promptly marry and have children. Leaving the city for Virday again had incited a heated and messy debate with both her father and the council. She’d pushed to take a tremendous risk, and the only reason they’d all agreed was that her father was too weak to lead the campaign. While his illness restrained him to the castle, Clea taking on the mantle of leadership without qualms had made the Lodain royal family look capable and fearless again while not raising questions about her father’s illness. She was supposed to continue the Lodain legacy by producing an heir, but making that effort secondary, as if she had no doubts she’d return to Loda alive, had filled her people with ravenous hope.
The Golden Army had curled around their future queen with devastating power, the Heart of Loda inspiring the sword of its people into action. Ignat and Fillip, in their expertise, had spun the tale brilliantly. Iris had mobilized the Golden Army and appointed Dae and Achor as its generals. Her father had made the proclamation of the campaign in elegant prose. Catagard had organized them all like a conductor playing a symphony. The Lodain machine, when engaged, was a ferocious creature.
Now, it was over. Done. Somehow not enough, and yet she had to retire from the battlefield anyway. She’d expected to feel settled, relinquish herself into the next phase of her life. Now it was as if some part of her were clawing back into the forest.
Clea rubbed her face.
“Dae, leave her be. Come back to the celebration,” Iris called again. “I’d love to meet Yvan. You can introduce us. I haven’tbeen able to interview anyone about Virday’s version of history in ages.”
“Clea, this is a huge victory,” Dae urged, undeterred. “Historical.” He looked over at Iris. “You don’t understand the responsibilities of royalty. Not everyone can be a penniless artist, making her bed in a new house every night.”
“I’m a historian, Dae. You’re only jealous I have beauty and intelligence and all you have is the spear of Lodain ideology shoved up your—”
“Lodain ideology is ultimately what protects your gluttonous whoring,” he snapped back with obvious restraint. “You belong outside the walls, but somehow, you’ve found yourself inside the castle like a garden snake.”
She giggled, becoming more lighthearted the more heated Dae seemed. “Whoring? I wouldn’t be penniless, then, would I? Oh, no. I do what I do for the sheer fun of it. In fact, by the Lodain definition of things, I’m happily married. It only just happens that I’ve married quite a few men in the city. I consider it a public service.”
Dae’s expression faltered but quickly recovered. “Do you have no shame? Your Ruedain blood is a poison here.” He looked back at Clea. “Your Highness, I have acknowledged and accepted your tendencies as a healer to attract the deficient sorts. I understood the strategy behind Yvan to promote unity, and I stave off her impropriety while managing her breath of a general’s responsibility, but Iris is a tidal wave of unapologetic foolery that threatens to drown us all!”
Iris whistled in admiration. “Dae, when you are irritated, you are a poet, my dear.”
Clea rubbed her face and groaned. “Oh, Dae. I can’t do this right now.” She’d once watched one of the castle dogs bark relentlessly at a feral cat on a garden wall. The two had exchanged hisses and howls for hours until she’d been so distracted by her studies that she’d marched outside and shooed them both off. She felt a bit like that now. Dae was older than her and yet respected status with such rigidity it was almost comical how he submitted himself with rigor to her decisions as if they were decrees.
“Dae,” Iris said, tossing her hair. “Ask me nicely and maybe I’ll consider helping you with all of that tension.”
If Dae had looked taken aback before, he was now completely horrified. He gestured to Iris, eyes still set on Clea as if the woman had said something so offensive he could hardly look at her.
Clea exhaled, exhausted, and gave a pleading glance to Iris.
