Private Tales Sighing Shadows by the Light of the Moons

[Ciana]

Ciana’s lips pressed into the thinnest of smiles, but a smile all the same. Perhaps to him, she did not seem so ordinary after all.

At his question, her brows knit together. “I… was accused of such,” she admitted reluctantly, voice dropping to a whisper as though the very library might carry her confession to every ear. “But I do not quite remember exactly what happened. Only that it was… frightening.” Her fingers flexed slightly against her skirts.

When he drew the sapphire from his pocket, her eyes narrowed faintly, silently asking where did you get that?But she decided against asking aloud, best not to know, and instead reached for it with hesitant fingers.

She slipped off her glove first, her pale hand trembling faintly as it met the light. The gem was cool against her skin. She turned it over once, twice, three times, watching the way the deep blue caught the dim light and fractured it into sparks. Then, biting her lip, she closed her fingers around it and held it tight, her shoulders tense as though expecting something to happen.

A long moment passed.

At last, her shoulders slumped, and she let out a quiet sigh, shaking her head. “Nothing,” she murmured, her voice tinged with disappointment.

“Oh well..”

 

[Galen]

“Not to worry, we must be just missing an important step,” Galen said cheerfully, patting her bare hand absently.

“Ouch,” he yanked his hand away and shook it. “You’re blazing.”

Wait.

He held up his hand to forestall a noble-sensibilities meltdown, “I mean you’re burning up. Feverish. Here. Give it here. Your hand. Oh, don’t look at me like that. This isn’t a back alley shake down.”

Well. Not anymore anyway.

Galen held his own hand out, palm up. He studied her hand, nodding to himself. Partly because it was human nature. Partly because he’d watched Telemachus do the same, often. “Yes,” he mused, “Look at those glowing lines. It’s like your blood vessels uh - your humors - are practically bursting with energy. Lucky for you I’ve seen this before. Thakathi sorcerer. Absurdly powerful.”

How long had it been since he’d had a normal conversation with someone? Just sat down and talked like this? Well. A mostly normal conversation. Ages.

The mage smiled winsomely from where he hunched in his chair.

“Course that was right before the Thakathi sorcerer exploded into tiny pieces, but that probably won’t happen to you.”

Probably.

Ciana

 

[Ciana]

Ciana flinched at his startled reaction, panic flashing in her eyes as though she’d truly burned him. “Goodness, I’m so sorry, I—” she cut herself off as he lifted his hand, not in anger but in placation, and asked for hers.

Her cheeks bloomed crimson, and she darted a look over her shoulder to ensure they were still alone. With reluctant, hesitant movements, she set her hand in his, her fingers light against his palm as though afraid to hurt him again.

She studied him as he studied her, gaze darting between her own hand and his face. “My… humors?” she echoed uncertainly, frowning. “Is that a bad thing?”

But then came the comparison to a powerful sorcerer and she felt her throat go dry. Her head gave a tiny, desperate shake, curls swaying. She wasn’t powerful. She wasn’t anything like that.

And then.. “Exploded?” The word broke from her in a gasp, her heart hammering against her ribs. “Goodness, how do you know that won’t happen to me?!”

Her skin flared hotter in her fear, fever-bright, and she snatched her hand back, fumbling her glove back on with shaking fingers before standing abruptly.

“I should go home,” she blurted, panic rising sharp in her chest. “I shouldn’t be out. I shouldn’t be here, I—”

Her dizziness hit her like a blow, and she stumbled back into a leaning stack of books, sending them crashing to the floor.

“Gracious, I…” Her voice quavered, barely above a whisper as her breath came shallow and fast, her knuckles white on the edge of the table that slowly scorched under her grip.

 

[Galen]

Galen's eyes widened as he caught sight of the smoke rising from between her fingers and the smell of woodfire. He nearly fell out of his chair, lurching forward.

A fire? In a library? Not just any library, but this particular one? Oh gods. Oh gods above and below. There was a reason candles weren't allowed in here. Not because of the loss of the books, although that would be terrible enough, but because of the power that might be unleashed if some of those books burned up. Bound spells and spirits and worse.

The girl looked as if she might faint. If his hunch was right, that could make this even worse. Unconscious, she might not be able to control all that pent up magic within her. He didn't think she would melt a hole through the floor, but she might set the parchment around on fire. And once that blaze got started...

Galen darted forward, unthinking.

"Your hands!"

He reached out and grabbed them. They burned. He blew on them, working a simple spell. Frost spread across both their hands, cooling and melting almost instantly.

"Look at me, stay with me. We've never exchanged names, did you know that? I'm Galen. Stay with me. Look at me." Slowly he crouched so that they could both sink to their knees on the ground, ice-cold fingers still interlocking with her own. "Look at me. What's your name?"

Darkness still permeated the air in a circle around them.

Ciana

 

[Ciana]

'Your hands!'

Ciana flinched, lifting her hand from the table in a panic. The sight of her gloves, burned straight through, sent her heart into a frenzy. “Oh dear… I’m sorry, I—” Her words stumbled over each other, her breath coming too quick, shallow and panicked. Her chest ached. Her ears rang. Black spots bloomed at the edges of her vision. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. She was burning up, surely dying.

Then, cold.

The sudden chill of frost crawling over her skin startled her, forcing a sharp breath from her lungs. She stared with wide eyes up at Galen, listening to his voice as he guided her down, lowering her until her knees hit the floor.

“I—my name—” she stammered, struggling to hold on to thought and breath alike. She blinked through the haze, keeping her teary eyes locked on him as if he were the only solid thing in the room.

“That’s… a nice name,” she managed at last, her voice fragile..

Her gaze dropped briefly to their joined hands, his icy fingers a shock that steadied her racing pulse. “Your hands.. are cold,” she whispered.

The circle of darkness pressed close, soothing, cooling, and the heat beneath her skin slowly began to ebb.

“Ciana…” she finally said, quieter, calmer. “My name is Ciana.”

 

[Galen]

“Ciana,” repeated the mage from where crouched beside this syncope-prone noble. “That an Allirian name?”

The name reminded him of an Allirian pasta he once had, delicious. Why the pasta? Hmm. Maybe because he had not eaten this morning. But uh. He looked at her. He should not tell her that. No. He definitely should not tell her that. Should compare her to something else. Like a flower. Yeah.

So... an Allirian woman. He'd heard about them once from some sailors in a port bar. Certainly explained the attitude. He'd try to pretend he hadn't heard any of the other comments from the sailors. How would Ciana put it? Well. She wouldn't put it. If she heard them she would faint again. Not for uh... "polite" society, or something.

"It's a nice name too"

And it was. Nice pasta too.

Nobody ever told Galen they thought he had a nice name before. He might have to process that one later. He didn't tend to like hard G sounds, like Guh-ay-len, or Guh-ards, or Guh-et him he's getting away!

The mage frowned a bit and held one of his frosty hands to her forehead, while the other still held one of her hands reassuringly.

"Fever is receding somewhat," he muttered, then cupped her pallid cheek in that hand, "You're not exploding on anyone today, your highness. Have you considered ice baths?"

Ciana

 

[Ciana]

Her blue eyes stayed fixed on his, the sound of her name on his lips like a rope she could cling to, dragging herself out of the haze of panic that still rattled through her chest. It was ebbing now, each breath a little deeper, a little calmer.

“Mm… I’m from… Vinra,” she murmured, still faint, still half in the dark spiral she’d been tumbling through. Some small, sensible part of her wondered if she ought to have kept that to herself - besde Rhagos, Vinra’s reputation for its treatment of magic was hardly secret. But the words had already slipped out.

Her breath left her in a shudder as his cold hand cupped her face. Against all her upbringing, all the etiquette drilled into her since childhood, she leaned into that touch. Cool, soothing, grounding. He’d tried to rob her blind, yes, but right now he was the only thing holding her together.

A lazy, almost delirious smile curved across her lips, followed by a very unladylike snort as he called her highness.

“It’s… Lady Van’Santen, to you…” she corrected softly, though without any true sting, more like a girl reciting lines from a play she’d long since grown tired of performing.

“And yes…” she admitted with a sigh, eyes fluttering closed as the cool from his hands chased the fever heat away, “…ice baths are quite soothing.”

She let the quiet hang between them a moment longer, breathing finally steady, pulse no longer thundering in her ears. Then, with all the gravity she could muster in her half-dizzy state, she said slowly:

“I should warn you, ser… the last man to put a hand on me had his face melted.”

Her lips twitched at her own dry delivery, but she didn’t open her eyes, not yet. It was easier to stay here, in the dark and the cold, for just a little longer.

 

[Galen]

Casual death threats. The sailors were right after all. .

“Seems fair,” Galen nodded, “But if you melt my face off you have to deal with the mercenaries when they come to collect my corpse for necromantic resurrection.”

Gods, what a pain that would be.

He admitted to some reluctance to pulling his hand away. Her cheek felt warm against his skin. And soft. And she smelled of all the nice things that nobles tended to smell of, not like the gutter at all.

With her eyes closed and face pressed up against his hand she looked almost peaceful. How often did he get to comfort a fair maiden as she sighed into his hand after almost spontaneously combusting? Not every day, that’s for sure.

He wondered where Vinra was and if all the women there had moonlight hair and iceberg eyes.

The knots in the old wood floor started to dig into his knees. Ah well.

“We will figure out how to control your power… I’m sure there’s a book somewhere here on whatever is going on with you. Hmm or we could summon a devil or a fae to consult. That might be faster.”

Ciana

 

[Ciana]

She lingered for a moment longer, laughing softly under her breath though she wasn’t entirely sure if he was joking or not. Then he mentioned devils and fae, and her eyes opened again, searching his face, hoping, praying, to find some trace of a jest there.

Realisation washed over her all at once: where she was, what she was doing, who she was leaning against. Ciana straightened abruptly, as though waking from a dream.

“Goodness, I’m sorry… I mean, thank you, but I—” she faltered, smoothing invisible wrinkles in her skirts as though that could compose her. “I should just…”

Her cool fingers, absentminded, brushed against the charred edge of the table as she pulled herself to her feet, and she winced, clasping her hands together to keep them from causing further damage. The tension in her chest had eased, but she looked paler than before, worn down by the effort of it all.

“Thank you, Galen..” she said again, softer this time. “And please, don’t trouble any devils or fae with my problems.” The laugh that followed was quick and breathy, betraying her nerves. She’d only ever read of such things in books she wasn’t supposed to have, and she very much doubted he was serious.

“I should get home…” she murmured, almost to herself, before glancing at him again. “Perhaps, if you do find any of those books, you might bring them by?”

Her gaze dropped quickly to the floor, as though she’d said something too forward. “If you require more silver for your time, I can arrange that.”

Ciana reached for the little jewellery box and cradled it against her chest.

 

[Galen]

He was incredibly serious. His master had been a great conjurer. And who better knew the mysteries of the world than the ones who dwelled on different planes.

After you sorted through the riddles and the lies they could be quite useful.

Uh.

When they weren’t trying to get you killed, of course.

He scratched the back of his head. “Yeah. Look, I don’t need your silver. I feel bad about the whole business. I uh…” he laughed weakly, “I may have some debt collectors after me is all. On top of the mercenaries.”

Really, skulking about the school trying to avoid the lot of them was becoming quite the feat of invisibility spells.

“But the moment I find a book or two that might help I’ll come calling.”

Ciana

 

[Ciana]

Concern flickered across her pale features as he spoke of debt collectors being after him. She couldn’t pretend to understand what sort of life that was, her world had always been sheltered, even as sickly as it had been, but if it had him resorting to breaking into people’s homes, it had to be serious.

And yet, he really did seem remorseful.

“I’ve been very sick for a very long time,” she admitted quietly, her fingers curling around the little box against her chest. “My father agreed to send me here so that I might survive it…” Her frown deepened for a moment, before she drew a slow breath and forced a small smile.

“If you’re to help me with my troubles, then let me help you with yours. It’s the least I can do.” The smile stayed, but it cost her something to keep it there, her eyes already heavy with exhaustion.

She pulled her hood back over her pale hair, the shadow of it falling across her face. “Good afternoon Galen.”
And with that, she turned to leave him, steps careful and quiet.

 

[Galen]

Two days later, the sun just started sinking beyond the horizon when there came a rapping at Ciana's bedroom window shutters before they suddenly swung open of their own accord and a lanky mage stumbled through, carrying two books under an arm, while the other held one open.

"Ciana!" He cried, nose still buried inside the book as he absently dropped into the room and began wandering in circles, "It's right here. How could I have been so blind? Of course the color of the jewels matter. Everything matters in magic, you know. Even the pronunciation can cause drastic changes in a spell. So of course a blue sapphire wouldn't absorb magic born of fire."

He thunked the book into his forehead.

"What we needed was a ruby. I'm sure you have some rubies laying around, right? Ugh," then he lowered the book from his face and looked around, "Ciana? Where are you?"

Ciana

 

[Ciana]

Ciana had been deeply, blissfully asleep, the first real sleep she’d managed since arriving here in Elbion, when the sudden BANG! of the shutters flying open jolted her upright with a startled gasp.

By the time Galen came tumbling gracelessly through the window, she had already thrown her quilt over her head and curled into a defensive ball, as though the blankets could shield her from both impropriety and lunatic mages.

She stayed there, frozen, listening with growing incredulity as he began pacing her room and muttering about gemstones and pronunciation like a man possessed.

When he finally called her name, she groaned and let her voice out from beneath the quilt, muffled but dripping with exasperation.

“When I said to come by, Galen, I meant in a gentlemanly manner!” she huffed, poking her head out just far enough to fix him with a wide, affronted stare. “Are you entirely unfamiliar with the concept of a door, or do you simply prefer breaking into my home as a matter of habit?”

Slowly, she lowered the quilt to reveal the scandalous sight of her pale hair loose and tousled about her shoulders. A wild, rebellious look for a noblewoman, though she didn’t quite realise it in her sleepy state.

She blew an errant strand from her eyes with a most unladylike pfft before continuing with great dignity for someone who was still half under the covers.

“I require a moment to dress in something more appropriate for company,” she said primly, despite being in a heap of blankets. “If you would be so kind as to turn around and pretend you’ve any sense of propriety at all.”

 

[Galen]

“Huh,” the young mage looked perplexed.

The quilt dropped, revealing the sleepy-eyed Vinran with hair all wild and askew, a proper lion’s mane. Galen beamed, then she said something about impropriety and gentlemanly and he stopped beaming.

“Oh right.”

Dutifully, the mage turned and looked the other way. He studied her wallpaper quickly becoming bored and restless. Galen shifted his weight from foot to foot, glancing down at the open book in one hand, then back up to the wallpaper again and again.

“I’ll have you know, I’ve got loads of proprietary. But… I guess I shoulda asked if you had a paramour or something before I banged open the shutters.”

That would have been rude of him, he supposed. He shifted his arm carrying the other two books. They were really quite heavy.

“Anyway, grab a ruby if you’re changing. A big one!”

How long did it take noble women to change? Hours, probably. He’d heard that from someone, who was it? Maybe Spaghetti Roy who died when he tried to create a portal into the female dormitory. Spaghetti because that’s what he looked like when he came out the other end.

An itch plagued at his nose and he scratched at it with his shoulder.

Ciana

 

[Ciana]

With her skin as pale as it was, it didn't take much to put roses on her cheeks, and they went positively scarlet at the way he beamed at her. She ducked quickly behind the quilt, making some futile attempt to smooth down her hair with her fingers. The effort only made it worse, and she let out a frustrated huff before slipping from the bed. Her feet slapped softly across the floor as she all but darted behind the vanity partition, the rustle of fabric marking her hurried attempt at decency.

“Loads of— you most certainly do not have ‘loads of propriety,’” she muttered from behind the screen, still trying to gather her wits. And then he said something even more ludicrous.

“A para—!” she yelped, then slapped both hands over her mouth before anyone could come running. Her whisper was positively scandalised. “A paramour!? Don’t be so ridiculous!”

Most of her dresses required more than two hands to get into, and so she settled on a simple baby-blue shift, tugging a long housecoat over it to hide the fact she had dressed in an absolute rush. With as much dignity as she could muster, she emerged, glancing at him briefly before sweeping toward her vanity.

Seating herself, she dragged her brush through her wild mane with a briskness that betrayed her flustered state, staring at him through the mirror.

“I’m not sure you realise how entirely inappropriate this is,” she whispered sharply, as though the furniture might overhear. “If I were to be caught with a man in my bedroom, unchaperoned, my prospects would be ruined. Utterly ruined. And if anyone saw you climbing in my window like some… some brigand—” she flung him a pointed look over her shoulder, “my honour would be irreparably questioned.”

Huffing, she set down her brush with a soft clack, then opened her jewellery box. After a moment of rummaging, she plucked out a ruby pendant and held it toward him with a look that said she hadn’t quite forgiven him.

“Here.”

 

[Galen]

“Oh,” his mouth hung slightly open, looking between her and the glittering pendant.

The blue shift brought out her eyes and they burned through him in the dim light, accusation in their cold stare as she stared at him in the mirror. Galen stared back, then smiled weakly.

“A bit of sleep did you wonders, I think,” he said, setting down the two books onto the desk with a soft thunk, then the third atop it, still open to the page he was reading.

He stepped toward her chair, foot bumping it in the gloom of the room as the sun set beyond the horizon. He took the pendant, their fingers brushing for a moment, and he swallowed nervously. The links of the pendant’s chain settled into his hand and he stared into the true red depths of the ruby.

“Don’t know much about honor,” he muttered. “Or prospecting. And I have to use a bit of illusion magic to sneak around town in case the bankers’ men find me. So I doubt anyone saw… But…”

He crouched beside her chair so that they were at eye level.

“I guess I am a brigand. You sayin’ you want me to leave? You don’t find this all the least bit exciting?” He himself was a little breathless.

He held up the pendant. “Enough with the hair, lady. Vintrans,” he sighed and shook his head, as if he had known them all his life. “It’s time to start doing magic.”

Ciana

 

[Ciana]

Her brows lifted at his unexpected compliment, and she could not stop the faint curve tugging at her lips. Her gaze dropped shyly from his, her fingers curling into her palm as he took the pendant from her hand.

She let out a soft sigh at his talk of sneaking around, ready to lecture him again, but his question stopped her short.

“No, I—” she frowned, catching herself before her words turned sharper than she intended. “You’re not a brigand. A little unrefined perhaps, but you—” she broke off, shaking her head with a quiet huff that sounded almost like a laugh.

“I don't want you to go.. And yes,” she admitted, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “It is rather exciting.”

Her crystalline eyes brightened, a glimmer of mischief dancing there as she turned in her seat fully to face him.

“At the risk of burning my entire home to cinders,” she said wryly, nodding toward the ruby he held up, “all I want is to take whatever this is,” she pressed a gloved hand against her chest where her heart still beat a little too fast, “and pour it into the stone. Get rid of it.. Is that possible?”

 

[Galen]

“Get rid of it?” Galen looked at her stunned. No. Appalled.

“Why the blazes would you want to do that?” His eyes went big as an owl’s. “You - you’ve got more magic in your pinky than I do in my whole body. And you just want to get rid of it?”

He snatched the pendant out of her hand and waved it in her face.

“Sure you might burn everything you touch and faint under sunlight and maybe explode if you’re not careful, but…”

Oh.

No, he refused to accept that as a justification. No matter how much sense it made.

“You just can’t…” he sighed with exasperation, standing up and setting the pendant on the desk, then he crossed his arms.

“I mean maybe you can. This won’t do that though. It should just help store energy, so you don’t faint all the time. Until you learn to control it better…” he scowled, “or until you get rid of it.”

Ciana

 

[Ciana]

She hadn’t expected him to be so affronted, so irate with her. Ciana flinched back as though struck, her expression falling into something quiet and pained as she stared up at him. Did he really think she had that much power? The thought made her stomach twist.

Her teeth caught her lower lip, worrying it for a moment before she spoke, her voice soft and measured, but not without an edge of despair.

“It’s killing me, Galen…” Her head tilted slightly, brows knitting as though saying the words out loud cost her something. “It killed my mother.”

Silence lingered in the wake of her words. Her eyes dropped away from him, and she turned back to her mirror, resuming the slow, methodical combing of her hair as though that alone could soothe her rattled thoughts.

“I am not like you,” she murmured. “This is not my home. My home does not…” she hesitated, swallowing hard before forcing the words out, “…tolerate anything out of the ordinary. I have to go back. I am supposed to marry, and what worthy suitor would want a lady who might accidentally maim him? Goodness knows I’ve already ruined my prospects with the Baron’s son.”

Her voice wavered, crystalline eyes glistening as she set her comb down with a sharp little clink against the vanity.

“You keep it then,” she said bitterly, gesturing toward the ruby where he’d set it. “If it means so much to you, put whatever this is into the stone and take it. Use it. At least someone should get some good from all this.”