Silent Vows
“I intend to kidnap her,” Laszlo finished bluntly.
A stunned silence fell over the room. It hung like a heavy blanket for a few moments, until Caliburn barked out a humourless laugh.
“Kidnapping a teenage girl,” he said wryly. “And a princess, no less. Yes, why not?”
“Laszlo,” Theoderic spoke, in a low tone that Adelaide had heard enough whole sparring to recognize it as a warning. “You’d better have a good reason for this.”
“Of course!” Laszlo answered cheerily, as if one of the most intimidating people Adelaide had ever met hadn’t just implicitly threatened him.
Laszlo waved his hand, and Adamas made a gesture. The image of Eleanora shattered into shards of what resembled purple stained glass. The illusory glass collapsed back in on itself, reforming into an image of Radiance himself.
Sovereign-Radiance Edwin II Prismaris floated before them, spectral purple and semi-transparent. The image only showed him from the chest up, lazily rotating. He always seemed younger than Adelaide expected, somehow. She knew he was less than a decade older than she was, but she always thought of Radiance as being someone old and wizened.
Radiance, of course, had a distinct appearance. His nose was high and hawkish, and he had long, straight hair that was a dark enough brown to be almost black—though the illusion didn’t show color. His hair was loosely piled on top of his head in an elaborate updo that might have looked feminine on a different person. His eyes, Adelaide knew, would be the eerie pale grey of his house, and even through the illusion they seemed to stare keenly at her.
“Radiance and House Prismaris,” Laszlo continued. “Are perhaps the greatest obstacle in our path. Their armies, and their magic, keep the entire Realm in check.” He paused. “We have all heard of the Sundering?”
Adelaide felt a chill, and forced herself to nod. The Rite of Sundering was House Prismaris’s greatest weapon—a spell, passed down from the First Radiance himself, that could completely sever a person’s connection to magic. No more mana, no more spells… no more light. It was a punishment reserved for only the worst criminals or apostates. Adelaide had heard conflicting stories about what happened to its victims. Some said they withered to nothing. Some said they were driven to exile in the Darklands. Still others claimed they simply died, slowly and painfully.
“The Rite of Sundering,” Laszlo continued. “Has been the greatest weapon in the hands of the Radiances since the First Darkening. Any noble who grows too ambitious, or mage who grows too haughty, will suffer a fate worse than even the Rite of Erasure.” He smiled wryly.
“Obviously, the Sundering makes our goals… difficult, to say the least. At best, it will make rallying others to our cause more difficult. At worst, well…” he trailed off, still smiling.
“Where does the girl come in?” Theoderic demanded, his voice hard.
Laszlo held up two fingers. “She shall serve us twice,” he answered. “First, to dissuade Radiance from acting against us directly.
“Second,” he continued. “As I said, she is potentially a dyadic magician. We will possibly be able to recruit her, and barring that, we take a powerful magician away from Radiance.”
“So you plan to kidnap a child and use her as a hostage,” Theoderic said. It wasn’t a question.
Laszlo’s smile almost faltered. “Theoderic, my friend, you are often the first to counsel me of the difficulties of our decisions. You know better than most that harsh choices must be made if we are to achieve our goals.”
Theoderic grimaced. “I do know that, Laszlo,” he said, a hard edge still to his voice. “But that doesn’t mean I like this.”
Laszlo nodded. “I’d not expect you to. Nonetheless, I hope you will aid us. I would like you to lead this mission.”
Theoderic’s grimace deepened to a frown. “Even with my objection?”
“Precisely because of your objection. There is no one I would trust more to ensure the Princess’s safety in such a dangerous time.”
Theoderic crossed his arms, his eyes narrow, but he nodded slowly. “Fine,” he said simply.
Laszlo grinned wide, and cast his gaze over the rest of the Law.
“Do we have any other objections?” he asked.
Adelaide privately had at least a dozen objections, but couldn’t bring herself to speak up. She glanced around the table, and saw a mixture of trepidation and anticipation on most of her allies’ faces. Plum stood out, and not just because of Adelaide’s feelings for her: she stared at her hands, folded on the table in front of her, seemingly uncaring or unaware of what had just transpired. Adelaide ached to reach out and comfort her, but she hesitated.
“We shall be dividing into two groups,” Laszlo continued. Adelaide forced herself to look away from Plum. “The first, led by Theoderic, shall take the lightline to Adrail to capture the Princess as she is awaiting her magisterial induction. The second, led by myself, shall be on a rather more sensitive mission to gather some… information. The details of that one will need to be a bit more privileged.” He smiled knowingly.
“Theoderic, you shall take Adelaide, Caliburn, and Liana. I shall take Plumeria, Willam, and Obella. Minerva, I would like you to stay and mind the Law in my absence.”
Adelaide felt her heart plummet through the floor. She and Plum were going to be separated. She looked to Plum, wide-eyed, and saw her lover clenching her fists tight enough that a bead of blood formed where her nail dug into her palm.
Adelaide felt a chill, and glanced across the room to see Adamas watching her with an amount of focus that reminded her of a bird of prey. She realized that he hadn’t been assigned to one of the two teams.
Adelaide reached her hand out to take Plum’s, lacing their fingers together. It was as much for her own comfort as it was to stop Plum from hurting herself further.
Plum stood abruptly, tearing her hand away from Adelaide’s. All eyes in the room turned to her sharply. She said nothing, but looked across the room at Laszlo.
“Are you alright, Miss Delora?” Laszlo asked. The smile was still dancing across his face.
“No,” she said simply, her voice tight. “No, I will not be separated from her.”
“I understand your concern,” Laszlo began. “But I assure you, this is for the best.”
“Starlight,” Adelaide said softly. “Please sit.”
Plum shot a dark glance at Adelaide. Upon meeting her eyes, her gaze immediately softened a fraction, and she slowly took her seat.
“Fine,” she said, though to Adelaide it sounded far from fine. “Explain.”
Laszlo’s smile had not faltered. “Of course,” he said calmly. “The short version is that I have need of both of your particular talents on these separate missions.” He gestured to Adamas, and the illusion shifted to depictions of Adelaide and Plum, both with their dyadic magic alight.
“Adelaide, I believe that your barrier will be vital to the capture of the princess. The offensive potential of House Primaris’s magicians is immense, and I have heard of your performance at the Golden Hold. Should fighting erupt, I trust that you will be able to escape with the princess in tow.
“Plumeria, your offensive talents are unmatched. As I said, our mission is a touch more sensitive, but suffice it to say that I’ve need of firepower, and you are the best we have.”
“Have we not shown that we are more useful together?” Adelaide asked meekly. “Together, we fought an Archmagician to a standstill.”
“Perhaps,” Laszlo said, nodding. “But I firmly believe that if we are to achieve our goals, we must use our tools as effectively as we can.”
“And that is all we are to you?” Plum practically spat the words. “Tools, to use effectively.”
“Of course not,” Laszlo said, frowning. “You are far more than that.”
“But-” Adelaide began.
“For light’s sake, Vermillion,” Caliburn said suddenly. Adelaide could almost hear the eye roll before she shot a glance at him.
“I’d have expected this from Delora, but I thought you could be more sensible about this.”
Adelaide bristled, and Plum’s face was twisted with rage. Adelaide worried she would draw her wand.
“Prince-Magician,” Laszlo said warningly.
Caliburn rolled his eyes again, but fell silent.
The room was silent for a few heartbeats. Suddenly, Plum made a noise that was halfway between a grunt and a sob. She stood again and stormed out of the room like a thundercloud. Adelaide stood, too, and with an apologetic half-smile to the rest of the Law, followed Plum out.
Plum was halfway down the hall by the time Adelaide could see her back.
“Plum,” she called. “Plum!” she called again, more insistently, when there was no response.
Plum stopped at the end of the hallway. She half-turned to look at Adelaide, who stopped in her tracks when she saw the tears in Plum’s eyes.
“‘Tis happening,” she said, almost too soft for Adelaide to hear with the distance between them. She wrapped her arms around her torso tightly, as if trying to restrain herself.
Adelaide rushed to her lover and folded her into her arms, pulling her head against her own chest.
“What is happening, starlight?” Adelaide asked softly, her lips nearly pressed against Plum’s ear. She didn’t respond.
“Listen,” Adelaide began. “If we speak with Laszlo-”
“I’ve no desire to speak with that man any more,” Plum interrupted derisively.
“Fine, then I will,” Adelaide said. “I shall get him to agree to put us on the same mission.”
“‘Tis not the point, Adelaide,” Plum snapped, and Adelaide unfolded her arms to take a step back. Plum still had her arms tightly crossed around her chest, and she refused to meet Adelaide’s eyes.
“What is it, then?” Adelaide asked, trying not to sound hurt by Plum’s tone.
“I can not…” Plum trailed off, and hesitated. “I’ll not always be able to protect you, will I?” she asked, her voice nearly a whisper.
Adelaide felt a surge of… perhaps it was irritation?
“I do not need you to protect me, Plum.”
Plum glanced at her for half a heartbeat, and then looked away again.
“No,” she said, still almost a whisper. “No, you do not.”
Adelaide pushed down her irritation and took a slow breath in.
“I will be okay, Plum,” she said. “We both will.” She’d meant it to sound reassuring. Plum didn’t respond.
Adelaide made a sound that might’ve been a grunt of frustration. “Plum, we shall both be alright apart from each other for a few days. We are capable, powerful, and we will have some of the strongest magicians either of us have ever met at our sides.”
“I know that,” Plum answered.
“Then why are you acting like this?”
The familiar furrow in Plum’s brow deepened. “Like what, Adelaide?” she asked, finally meeting Adelaide’s gaze.
“Like you are…” Adelaide hesitated. “Angry,” she said eventually, though it didn’t quite feel right.
Plum laughed mirthlessly. “Angry?” she asked, incredulous. “I am not angry, Adelaide. I knew this was coming.”
“Knew what was coming?”
“This!” Plum shouted. Adelaide flinched at the sudden volume. “All of this!” Adelaide was reminded of when Plum exploded on her mother not so long ago.
Plum couldn’t meet Adelaide’s eyes again. She looked at a spot on the floor somewhere in between their feet, her arms still wrapped around herself. Her shoulders slumped, and she turned as if to leave.
“Plum,” Adelaide began, but didn’t know what to say next.
“I am sorry,” Plum said softly. Adelaide’s vision blurred as Plum rushed off down the hall. She reached out as if to grab her, but she was already long out of reach. Unsure of what to do, Adelaide wiped her eyes and turned to catch the rest of the meeting. When she sat, she could feel the emptiness of the chair beside her as if it were a missing limb.
“All is well, Adelaide?” Laszlo asked.
Adelaide shook her head. “No, not really.”
Laszlo gave her a sympathetic half-smile, but did not press the issue in front of the rest of the Law.
He continued the meeting, planning logistics of the next missions and discussing details. Adelaide did her best to listen, but it was difficult not to focus on Plum’s absence.
When the meeting was over, Laszlo beckoned Adelaide to his side. She obeyed, taking the seat next to him as the rest of the Law filtered out.
“Is she alright?” he asked softly once they were alone.
Adelaide sighed, and before she could speak, Laszlo offered her another sympathetic smile.
“That bad, I see,” he quipped.
Adelaide frowned. “She is… uncomfortable with the idea of us being separated.”
“That is quite understandable,” Laszlo said. “You two have been through darkness together.”
“That is true,” Adelaide began. Her leg began bouncing of its own accord with her anxiety. “But this feels like more than that. ‘Tis as though she fears that a few days apart will break us.”
Laszlo pondered for a moment, steepling his fingers.
“Miss Delora seems to be… damaged is perhaps too strong a word.” He rubbed his chin. “She carries her past darkness within her, and it shapes her more strongly than I suspect she would admit.”
“‘Tis so frustrating!” Adelaide said, surprising even herself with the intensity of her words. “All I have done is be there for her, be there with her, love her and support her, and yet she still expects the worst, even from me!”
“I do not think ‘tis personal, my lady.”
“Neither do I,” Adelaide said, sighing. “That does not make it less frustrating.”
“I can understand that,” Laszlo said. “Might I ask you something?”
Adelaide nodded. “Of course.”
“Do you wish she were different?”
Adelaide froze, and then swallowed hard. Did she wish that?
“No,” she said, before she’d fully realized she meant it. “No, I do not wish her to be different. I love who she is.”
Laszlo smiled. “And yet you wish her to be…” he waved a hand, searching for the right word. “Healthier? More well-adjusted?”
“I only wish she would talk with me instead of withdrawing like she does.” Adelaide could hear the frustration and the pain in her own voice.
Laszlo nodded knowingly. “May I offer some advice, Miss Vermillion?”
“Please do,” Adelaide pleaded. “I am at somewhat of a loss.”
“If my training as an indigo magician has taught me anything, ‘tis that these sorts of mental scars do not heal as easily as physical ones.” He ran his fingers over the lightning crackle scar that covered his face, from chin to scalp. “I believe that Miss Delora is afraid.”
Adelaide blinked. “Afraid?”
“Afraid,” Laszlo confirmed. “She is afraid of the day that you will no longer need her, and she is unsure how to handle such a fear.”
Adelaide pursed her lips, considering. “I have indeed relied on her for… years. She was the only person I trusted to not be Brandon around.”
Laszlo nodded knowingly. “And I suspect that a part of her fears that without that, you will have no desire to be with her at all, much less in the capacity you now share.”
Adelaide was reminded of Plum’s reaction when she’d revealed her secret to the Law, and her frown deepened.
“Perhaps ‘twould be best to give her space,” Laszlo continued. “Not forever, mind you,” he hastened to elaborate. “I simply mean that it may be worthwhile to show her that you will come back.”
Adelaide picked at the hem of her dress. “You mean to say…”
“Let this mission separate you for a few days,” Laszlo clarified. “Then, on your return, she will see that you are true to your word, standing beside her no matter the time that has passed. Words are not often enough to convince on their own.”
Adelaide was silent for a few moments. “There is a certain wisdom to your words, Laszlo,” she said eventually. “Though it shall not be easy to part with her.”
Laszlo’s smile this time was sad. “It never is.”
Adelaide suddenly felt ashamed. She felt her face grow warm with embarrassment.
“I am sorry, Laszlo,” she hurriedly added. “I did not mean-”
“‘Tis perfectly alright, Miss Vermillion,” Laszlo said calmly, interrupting her apology. “I will always miss Arthur, but I have long since made my peace.”
Adelaide let silence fall for a few moments, considering Laszlo’s words. It did make a certain amount of sense: Plum already seemed certain that Adelaide would abandon her, and no amount of words alone would change her mind.
“What if…” Adelaide paused, not entirely sure how to voice the thought she’d had. “What if leaving like this is enough to break us?”
“Do you think it will be?” Laszlo asked.
“I fear it will be,” Adelaide replied.
“I believe,” Laszlo said slowly, as if pausing to taste each word he said. “That if your love is strong enough, you will get through this.”
Adelaide chewed her lip, and then nodded slowly.
We will be that strong, she thought. We have to be.
“Thank you, Laszlo,” she said, preparing to stand.
Laszlo smiled warmly at her. “Of course, Adelaide. I know you will do what is best.”
That night, Plum didn’t come to bed until well into the night. Adelaide woke as she crawled under the covers next to her, but pretended she hadn’t.
She woke in the morning to find Plum curled up on the far edge of the bed, as far as she could get from Adelaide. She tried to tell herself that it didn’t hurt.
Theoderic’s team was to leave in the evening today. Adelaide knew that Laszlo’s team—with Plum—were to leave a few hours earlier. She figured she should probably wake Plum up: chances were good she didn’t even know when she was supposed to be leaving.
After some consideration, she decided to let Plum sleep a bit longer. She’d still have plenty of time to prepare if Adelaide got breakfast first.
An hour or so later, Adelaide returned to their chambers. Plum stirred slightly as she entered, but did not wake. Adelaide sat in the armchair and stared at Plum in the bed. While she was gone, Meeks had appeared, and now curled up on the spot Adelaide had vacated.
Adelaide’s leg bounced with anxiety again, so she rested her hand on her knee to steady it. Abruptly, she stood and stepped to Plum’s side of the bed. She shook her gently, attempting to rouse her.
“Plum,” Adelaide said gently. “‘Tis time to wake.”
Plum murmured something, and her eyelids fluttered open. Half-awake, and before Adelaide could react, she reached out and pulled Adelaide down onto the bed. Plum wrapped her arms around Adelaide tightly, as a child clutched a plush animal to sleep.
Adelaide stiffened momentarily, but then let herself melt into Plum’s embrace. She held her back, burying her face in her lover’s shoulder. She breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of her hair, like sandalwood and faintly of summer flowers, and like her. Plum mumbled something else, and Adelaide gasped as Plum’s lips fluttered over her neck. Adelaide was suddenly acutely aware of the placement of Plum’s hands, one pressed against her hip and the other on the back of her neck.
Adelaide gasped again as Plum’s fingers pressed in against the flesh at her hip. Her lips pressed more intently against Adelaide’s neck, and Adelaide felt the contact like electricity running from her neck all the way to her toes. She sighed, pressing her body harder against Plum’s, and let herself be swept away.
Plum lay atop Adelaide, her face pressed into the crook of Adelaide’s neck. By now, their breathing had calmed, and Adelaide dug her fingers into Plum’s scalp, scratching deep into her hair. Plum hummed softly as she did, an almost musical sound that Adelaide could feel reverberating into her own chest. She wished that this moment could last an eternity.
She knew that it couldn’t, though.
“Plum,” she said softly.
“Mmm,” Plum grunted. “Not yet.”
“Plumeria,” Adelaide said, more insistently this time.
Plum grunted again, stretching the sound out to last a few seconds. “Yes, yes,” she grumbled. “Very well.”
Plum pulled herself to a sitting position. Her hair was rumpled and tangled from Adelaide’s fingers, and she blew out in an ineffectual attempt to get some of it out of her face.
Adelaide smiled, and reached out to brush the hair out of Plum’s face. When their eyes met, Adelaide felt her heart flutter, and her smile broadened.
“Starlight,” she said breathily. “You know that I love you. More than anything.”
Plum smiled brilliantly, and Adelaide felt as though the world stopped to stare. “I love you, too.”
Adelaide opened her mouth, and then closed it again. She hated to ruin this moment.
“Plum,” she said again. Plum’s smile instantly faltered at her tone, and Adelaide felt a piece of her heart crack.
“No,” Plum said, her voice hard. “This does not have to end.”
“Nothing is ending except our morning,” Adelaide said.
Plum shook her head. “You have accepted it, have you not? Our separate missions?”
Adelaide pressed her mouth into a line. “I have.”
Plum’s shoulders sagged, and she let out a shuddering breath.
“Plum,” Adelaide said, reaching out to take her hand. “I will come back to you.” She used her other hand to angle Plum’s face so that she could look her in the eyes again. “I swear it. Nothing in this world, light or dark, will keep me from returning to your side.”
Plum didn’t respond, and averted her gaze from Adelaide’s. Her free hand clenched the sheets hard enough that her knuckles were losing color.
“Alright,” Plum said eventually. Her voice was small, barely above a whisper. She pulled away and stood, wordlessly pulling on a robe.
“I need the washroom,” she said, and then was gone.
Adelaide sighed and ran her hand through her hair. She sat on the bed alone for a few moments, until Meeks chirped at her and jumped next to her to demand some attention. She idly stroked his fur, chewing on the inside of her lip.
Even if you do not believe me, Adelaide thought. I shall prove it to you, Plum. I swear it.
I will come back to you.
Leave a Reply