It was the Defender’s Mark, Eirian realized. Sothing only vaguely written about in the Histories, and not sothing she would have ever truly thought was real before it had scrawled itself across her back. There was still so little information about it, about the people who’d worn it. There was Ceres, but his was about the only na people rembered in reference to it.
Eirian knew there were others, and she had an inkling about who they were. If she and her siblings had to complete great and terrible tasks to go ho, it would make sense that they were marked in so way. It was mind-boggling to think that she was related to a boy who’d lived thousands of years before and on the other side of the Rock. That would also an there were more. Death had talked as if he experienced multiple tis, multiple lives at once, so Eirian’s siblings were scattered throughout history, living lives that would never intersect until they returned ho. Hell, they probably wouldn’t hear or even know about one another unless they all had a run-in with Death like Eirian had.
And she hadn’t seen him since, so she couldn’t ask him any questions. If she ever saw him again, she was going to tie him to a chair until he answered all her questions.
Chenzhou and Mingzhe managed to find two small handheld mirrors, arranging them so Eirian could see the mark across her back.
“It’s your life,” Mingzhe had said, and he said it again. “It’s your life. Is this your magic?” He paused. “Is this going to happen to ?” He didn’t sound pleased at the idea. A bit panicked, really.
Eirian snorted. “I doubt it.”
“So it’s not magic?” Chenzhou sounded doubtful.
“No, it is, but a different kind.” Eirian rolled her shoulders and watched the mark shift with her skin. It was hypnotizing to watch the color shift with her muscle and bone, and she did it a few more tis just to see. Mingzhe and Chenzhou seed just as entranced.
The blank space was strange. She could figure out what most of the images correlated to. Things she’d done, that part wasn’t hard. She even rembered most of them, but a few of the smaller ones she’d have to think on. The fire was so obvious, and it was the biggest image of all of them.
What the hell was she supposed to do after doing that? After stopping a world-destroying wildfire? And destroying the miasma? It wasn’t that she didn’t mind the work; any excuse to use her magic was always a good one. And she didn’t exactly mind saving lives. But how much tragedy and danger were they supposed to deal with in one lifeti?
“I’ve heard stories,” Chenzhou murmured. “But not many.”
“There aren’t many.” Eirian sighed. “I’ve tried to find more, but there’s just…Nothing.” Eirian was one of the first of her siblings to live. Or they’d simply been forgotten, gone unnoticed, or wiped from the history records.
“Perhaps now that things have cald, we can dedicate more resources to searching,” Mingzhe suggested.
“I wouldn’t say things are calm.” Chenzhou pointed out. “The court is still demanding an accounting, and you know that will take years before it’s finally put to bed.”
“How do they feel about the peace?” It hadn’t occured to Eirian to worry about the court until now.
Chenzhou grimaced. “Doubtful. Perhaps worse. It’s hard to tell since…” He glanced apologetically at Mingzhe.
Eirian turned to him, too.
Mingzhe managed a smile, putting on a brave front. “They are focused on my failure. It seems to be taking most of their attention.”
“When did you fail?” Eirian snapped.
“The ambushes.”
“That wasn’t your fault.” She bristled, turning to face them. Chenzhou put the mirrors on the night table.
“It wasn’t.” Mingzhe agreed. “But what happens to my soldiers is my responsibility no matter what, and I will answer for it.”
“That isn’t fair!” Why wasn’t he fighting? Eirian couldn’t understand. “You can’t let them bla you for sothing that wasn’t your fault.”
“I’m not, but there is so level of responsibility that must be answered for.” Mingzhe tried to explain.
He was far too reasonable for Eirian’s tastes. “There is not.” Eirian insisted. “They ambushed your soldiers because they had inside information from a traitor. A traitor we haven’t even identified. At least, not all of them.” She anded.
“And they will take so of the bla,” Mingzhe admitted. “When we find them. But no matter what, the court will want to hold accountable, and the rumors are not helping.”
“Rumors?” Eirian demanded. “What else have you not been telling while I’ve been trapped in the hospital?”
Chenzhou winced. “I wasn’t hiding it from you.”
“Did I say that?” Eirian asked, dangerously.
Chenzhou swallowed, but he squared his shoulders and pushed on. “I wasn’t hiding it. I told you the court wanted to question everyone. There was no point in worrying you when you needed to heal. You would have left the second I told you.” He t her gaze fearlessly because he knew he was right. “I don’t keep secrets from you.”
Eirian studied him through narrowed eyes. In his defense, Chenzhou had been nothing but honest with her since they’d t, and she knew he regretted how everything had started. And there had been tis when she’d delayed news for a few days to protect soone.
It was still annoying, and she would make sure he didn’t dare do it again, but she supposed she could afford so leniency now, when they were all tired and recovering.
Besides, it was nice to see Chenzhou developing sothing of a spine, even if it was in relation to her. There was little joy to be found in a relationship that wasn’t of equals, and Eirian knew herself well enough to know she’d never be truly happy with soone who wasn’t afraid to stand up to her.
Mingzhe watched them, quietly observing the shifting balance between them. A small smile tugged at his mouth. A silent pride in what they were building.
Sothing he wasn’t going to allow anyone to harm.
~ tbc
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