22. Tairyn

twenty-two

Tairyn

A flash of bright firelight bursts across my study, the papers before me grabbing the orange warmth greedily. I suppress a sigh, pulling out the very-human pocket watch out to check the time. Not that fae or High Elves need a precise time. Our ancient animal instincts guide our perception of time, along with Mother Nature, of course.

Still, I like precision. And Mal is precisely thirteen minutes earlier than usual for these check ins.

As her face forms in the hearth, I lean against my desk with arms crossed over my chest like a shield. I wipe the sneer that's formed on my face, assuming my neutral yet displeased face.

Immediately her voice is shrill, sending an alarm spiking through me. "We've got a problem."

"What's happened?"

"Nothing yet," Malicryn begins, her features contorted with worry. The fire crackles in the background, casting wavering shadows onto her face. "But he finally shared his plan with me, and our roles in it."

Deliver the Vessel. That's my only role, or so I thought. "Tell me."

She doesn't even quirk an eyebrow at my demand, which is truly telling for how consumed she is. "He's going to break open The Great River, and he's gathering an army to ward off any challengers to his plan."

A cold shiver runs down my spine at her words, my heart pounding with the force of a war drum. That's not just a river - it's the spiritual life-force of our realm. I press my lips together, buying a moment to process.

Impossible, I decide. But…

"But why?" I press on. "To what end?"

"I don't know," she says simply.

"And our roles?"

"Protect the Vessel during the ritual."

"What does she have to do with the Great River?" I ask, genuinely confused. When tasked with delivering the Vessel to Malicryn and Yurghen, I assumed it was an act of revenge.

"That's what you're worried about, Tairyn? I just informed you he's going to rip apart the afterlife, and you're concerned about her?"

Even without the flames, I'd feel the heat in her eyes. I tap a steady rhythm against the dark mahogany table beneath my fingers. My gaze locks with hers through the flickering flames.

"Every piece on the board is critical," I respond evenly, ignoring the jab. "The world can be thrown into chaos or saved based on one player's move. I need to understand."

Knowledge, after all, is power. And I intend to use any power at my disposal.

"And what will you do when you understand, Tairyn? Will your purpose be to protect her, or to leverage her for your own gain?" She scrutinizes me with a penetrating gaze.

I smirk at her accusations. "You give me too much credit, Malicryn."

Her eyes narrow at my sarcasm. "Believe me, Tairyn, I don't give you nearly as much credit as you give yourself."

I make a soft humming noise in my chest, twisting my face to look thoughtful while I give myself a moment to consider this new information. She clearly doesn't like this idea any more than I do.

"You know I have a bonded bargain to serve him. If you are suggesting an alternative to this plan, I cannot join you."

Something undiscernible flickers across her face. "For once, we are in the same position."

"So, it's true. I suspected you made a bargain in exchange for damning my soul."

She rolls her eyes, clearly annoyed at the reminder. "The actions of a young, impulsive girl."

"Yet the repercussions remain," I retort, my words webbed with ice. Her eyes flicker with something akin to regret, but who knows with this one? "We're both bound by the choices we made long ago."

Rage is plain on her face as she spits, "Just do your job. Don't let the Vessel out of your sight."

Her face disappears, and the fire returns to a normal crackle, low light seeping across the white marble floors. Her words echo in my mind, spinning me deeper into a twisted labyrinth of unease and uncertainty. The Great River, the Vessel, an imminent war - it's all a dangerous cocktail threatening to explode at any moment.

The vision I once had about Callum comes flooding back to me. Like a tangled web of potential outcomes, they race through my mind. In every possible future, he stands alone against an unknown enemy and meets his demise. Constantly fighting for justice, even when it doesn't affect him personally, but goes against his morals. Weak and untrained, Callum dies repeatedly as he struggles to defend what is right.

I brought him here to protect him from this fate, to keep him safe with my act of injustice. But now I see it more clearly. This is the unknown he fought against in every future. No matter whether he met the Vessel or the other Shards.

Before I can even pace the well-worn path in my study, a soft knock taps at the door, and the Vessel appears in the doorway. Her hazel eyes linger on me, concern softening her hard gaze. I greet her, keeping my voice steady despite the thunder of thoughts in my head. "Come in."

"Are you alright?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper as she takes one of the two chairs beside the fire. I note the limp in her leg is nearly gone, despite the walk between her rooms and my study.

I want to respond with a joke or an innuendo, to deflect. My mind is tangled in a thorny thicket of conflicting thoughts and emotions, each one pulling and twisting in a different direction, like an intricate knot. Mal wants to move against Yurghen, but our hands are both tied. And he needs the Vessel to help him destroy the afterlife as we know it.

Just like every time I'm near the Vessel, the pulsing Pink Chroma in the corner of my eye grows insistent before disappearing. Eventually, I'll need to pay it heed.

"Fine," I huff out, taking the seat beside her. "What do you want?"

My tone is harsher than I intend, but I still want is to create a connection between us. Her gaze drops to the table, tracing the grains of the wood beneath her fingers as she speaks. "I…I'm not entirely sure. I just… I felt like I should come here."

"Is that so?" I keep my voice even despite the sudden pounding in my chest. I still find it disconcerting how she's tethered to me, drawn to me despite everything. "I'm not in the mood to watch you fumble with your Chroma tonight, so if you're here for a lesson, let's reschedule."

I hate the way she looks at me, assessing as if she can see through me. Finally, with a nod, she stands to leave. I'm relieved. I need time to think. How can I use this new information to my advantage? I could try to turn Yurghen against Mal, perhaps gain some favor too…

My thoughts are interrupted as a chess board slides onto the table and she slides back into the chair across from me. "How about a game? Or do you just have this sitting on a shelf for decoration?"

There's a twist of humor to her words, a tease. A challenge. I glance at the board before turning my gaze back to her. She's smiling, a small, subtle thing, but it lights up her face in a way that I find… compelling.

"Decorative and functional - the best kind of ornament." Despite the turmoil in my head, she seems to have a knack for throwing me off balance at the most unexpected times. A game could distract me, give me space to slow my thoughts and think it through.

Her eyes flash in amusement as she moves her pawn, daring me to engage in the game. I oblige, moving my own piece, my mind shifting gears to a different kind of game. Different stakes.

We play the game in silence for a time, both of us engrossed in our strategies. My mind gradually quiets as I focus on the board, the pieces becoming my soldiers, the squares turning into territories to win or lose.

A cruel grin plays at my lips as I capture her rook with my bishop. In return, she claims my knight with a pawn, her grin smug. I can't help but admire her quick moves, the way she clearly plans two or three steps ahead. But I'm doing the same, planning my strategy, waiting for her to slip. It's ironic how a simple game can reflect our current situation - pieces maneuvered across the board, every choice leading to inevitable consequences.

It's this kind of banter, the silent war of wit and tactics, that I can appreciate. Despite her naivety and her undue care for those she considers friends, she's a worthy opponent. But I can't be swayed by her games, not when there's so much at stake.

Checkmate.

Her expression hardens with a flash, but then she laughs lightly as if the game was nothing more than a casual distraction. "Rematch?"

A strange sensation sweeps over me. The feeling that I've just won something beyond the chessboard. "Only if you're prepared to lose again," I say, the corners of my mouth curving into a warning grin. Her eyes capture mine, and for a fleeting moment, they seem to hold something more.

"I'll take my chances," she counters confidently. Her fingers brush against mine as she resets the pieces on the board, and the touch sends an unexpected jolt through me. Not the Chroma from before. Something more electric.

I withdraw my hand hastily, making a show of resetting the board. Not wanting to give her the satisfaction of seeing my surprise.

As we settle into another match, my mind is more at ease. "Tell me of life with the humans, Vessel."

Her face twists as she moves a pawn. "For someone who hates being called Second, you sure call me Vessel a lot. A bit hypocritical, no?"

"Very, but that's the benefit of being in power." I suppress a tired sigh at my bravado. If she only knew how little power I truly possess.

Her eyes narrow, but the corner of her mouth quirks up in a smirk. "So, in your case, ‘power' is code for ‘arrogant jerk'?"

I chuckle, feeling some tension slipping away like sand through my fingers. "You wound me, Mira", I reply, enjoying the spark of surprise that flashes across her face. My cheeky smile widens as I reach out to make my move on the board.

Two moves later, she finally says, "I miss the comforts of home more than anything. If you're hungry, there's twenty places nearby to go grab whatever you're craving. The mattresses here feel like their made of feathers, but at home we have memory foam. It's a lot of small comforts I didn't realize I was so attached to."

Her eyes gaze off into the distance as she speaks, her fingers unconsciously tracing the edge of a pawn. I watch in silence, letting her talk. It's moments like this, when her guard is slightly lowered, that I find my own walls crumbling just a tad.

"And what of the people?" I ask, my curiosity piqued.

"I didn't have many people back home, to be honest. My family is either dead or estranged. My husband had an affair. I only have one friend-"

"You're married?" I can't hide my shock or the growing tension knotting inside me. The sadness in her voice, the defeat.

Shaking her head, she simply says, "Divorced." There is an edge to her voice, a bitter aftertaste that wasn't there before. I feel an unexpected pang of…relief? "Why does that matter?"

"It doesn't." I shrug, my fingers tapping on the edge of the chessboard, but inside I feel a sense of relief. Her gaze lingers on me for a moment longer before she returns to the game, her fingers sliding the queen across the board with a triumphant grin that tells me I'm in trouble.

"Checkmate."