[Short Story] The Third Birthday Gift

Hey peeps!

Here is September's short story (this time from Evianna's perspective). SPOILER ALERT--this gives away things that happen in Warlord Arcanist, so if you haven't finished, you might want to skip this.

It takes place alongside a couple chapters in the novel.

Here it is!

The Third Birthday Gift

Knightmare magic forced me to think in abstract ways.

I stood in the garden of Volke’s estate, allowing the darkness of night to aid in my training. When I waved my hands, I controlled the shadows, willing them to wrap around plants and yank them from the ground. It still surprised me how solid the darkness could become. I never thought shadows could be used in such a way.

“Layshl,” I said as I lowered my hand. “How well do you think I’m doing?”

My knightmare eldrin waited to the side of the garden path. She was an empty suit of scaled-leather armor, as inky as the void. Not all parts of her existed, however. It was like she was an unfinished set—which meant she was a younger knightmare. The older she became, the more filled out she would become.

Her cowl was empty, but shaped as though it hung over an invisible person. It was difficult not seeing a face—Layshl’s emotions remained hidden until she spoke to me.

“You’ve progressed quickly, my arcanist.”

“But, like, how quickly?” I demanded.

We both turned our attention to the pile of plants next to the stone pathway. I had ripped up flowers, shrubs, and now a small tree. I suspected the gardeners wouldn’t care for me after all, but my training was more important than a beautiful landscape.

And if this were anything like King Drake Castle, the estate was probably maintained by a dryad arcanist. With their dryad magic, they’d be able to clean up my mess in a matter of moments.

“I don’t have many knightmare arcanists to compare you to,” Layshl said, her voice dark and serious. “But you’ve dedicated yourself to your magic. I can see it in your progress. Like muscles, the strength becomes greater and greater.”

“Until you reach a limit.” I crossed my arms and huffed. “I haven’t reached that yet. That’s not acceptable.”

“I apologize, my arcanist. You won’t reach it until I’m older—until my magic has matured. That takes time.”

And more of my soul.

I rubbed my hand on my chest, wondering if there was some way I could just empower Layshl and make her older. The thought swirled in my head until I realized how ironic the wish was. All my life, I wanted to be older than I was. I hated being a child. I hated being on the cusp of adulthood. I hated that I wasn’t a master arcanist right now.

Layshl walked over to me, her steps as silent as the dead. Her cape—which looked more like dragon wings—fluttered behind her.

“My arcanist, perhaps you should rest. You’ve been focused on training since early this morning.” She pointed to the sky with an empty glove. “It will be dawn in a few short hours.”

“I need to train just a little more,” I said as I manipulated the darkness again, this time turning my attention to a nearby tree—one of the fully grown ones. “Volke had fought so amazingly in the world serpent’s lair. I need to be able to do that!”

I used the darkness and wrapped it around the trunk of the oak tree, squeezing at the bark and urging the shadows to become hooks. My fine control was better than my larger shadows—which I thought was interesting. Volke had struggled with his finer control, but excelled at the larger shadows when he manipulated them.

Pushing the magic through the darkness, I strained at the edge of my capacity to lift the tree.

The ground shook, and cracks formed around the roots. I gritted my teeth, hoping the inky night would help me accomplish my goals. The branches quaked and leaves fell from the branches at alarming rates.

I hadn’t taken a breath since I started, and the moment my magic failed, I gasped and gulped down air. The shadows retreated from the tree, leaving slash marks across the trunk.

“If we were merged, this would be easier,” Layshl said.

No! I had to do this. I had to make myself strong. After a deep breath, where I held the air in my lungs and balled my fists, I said, “I can’t rely on you for everything. I want to make sure I’m competent first.” I didn’t want anyone to say I was only strong with Layshl.

“It’s part of being a knightmare arcanist.” Layshl stepped into the shadows, and then rose up next to me. “Our strength comes from being together, not apart.”

A long minute passed between us. I didn’t want to be considered weak, but… Perhaps Layshl was correct. Very few eldrin merged with their masters, and the point of it was to become stronger as a team. Was I being childish when I thought I had to do everything on my own?

I sighed. “Okay. You’re right. Layshl—tomorrow we’ll do training together. As one.”

She nodded once.

“Let’s practice shadow-stepping as we make my way back to my bedroom,” I said matter-of-factly. “Now is the time for sleeping.”

Layshl said nothing, but I liked to imagine her expression as a positive one.

I stepped into the shadow, dropping down into the darkness until I was completely submerged. As soon as I was in the void, I slipped through the shadows, shooting across the garden and only emerging once I had reached a second-story balcony. When I merged, I took a deep breath, like poking my head above the water.

After shaking out my arms, I stepped back into the darkness, allowing its cold and protective nature to comfort me. Then I traveled through the void until I slipped into a window and then into the hall of Volke’s estate. After one more emergence, I dove again. It was easier this time. Although I couldn’t see out of the shadows, I could feel what was happening, like grabbing around the floor as I traveled.

Layshl slipped under the door of my bedroom, and I followed closely behind her. She emerged near the foot of my bed, and then I did the same.

It wasn’t technically my room, but I had claimed it for my own the other night. Volke had grown up with a simple life and obviously didn’t understand the importance of being a proper host. As the lord of this manor, he should’ve assigned everyone a place to sleep based on their station. All the master arcanists should’ve had luxurious bedrooms, and the apprentices should’ve shared rooms on the ground floor.

Instead, it was a free-for-all. People slept in any room they wanted, changing on a whim, with no rhyme or reason. Preposterous! Nothing like this would’ve happened in King Drake Castle. Then again, we had a seneschal who kept track of such matters. Volke, on the other hand, had a million tasks on his plate. Perhaps who slept where wasn’t of significance to him.

I glanced around my bedroom. When I had lived in King Drake Castle, I had my own personal bedroom, a study, a small library, a bathing room, and an outdoor garden. In Volke’s estate, I had a room with a bed, table, chairs, and a couch.

Quaint. Simple. Small in comparison.

But something was wrong. The fireplace was lit! I hadn’t done that.

Then I spotted someone, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. They were kneeling in front of the fire, one hand on the marble tile.

The disheveled black hair betrayed the person’s identity.

“Volke?” I asked. “What’re you doing here?”

“I live here now,” Volke quipped, though he didn’t bother standing.

“I know that! I meant, why are you in this room? I slept here the other night.”

“Oh, uh, I didn’t know that.” He frowned slightly, like he always did when he regretted an action. “I couldn’t sleep in the other room because I was, uh, in the wrong place.” He yanked at his arm, but his hand remained on the floor, which was very bizarre. “Why are you just now going to bed?” he asked, like he was trying to distract me from his odd position.

My face heated at the question. I turned away and shrugged. “I was just training. I lost track of time.”

Layshl shifted in the darkness behind me, fluttering the shadows. She said nothing, and I wondered if she wanted me to explain my actions further.

With his other hand, Volke patted down his unruly hair. “Okay, well, do you mind if I have this bedroom tonight? I’m quite attached to it.”

I walked closer to him, fidgeting with my fingers. I glanced around the room, glaring at the corners, wondering if Fain were here, or if Moonbeam were listening. It was difficult to find quiet time with Volke—I wanted it more than anything, but I couldn’t admit that. Nothing was worse than seeming desperate. I had to be a princess. I had to be confident and sure of myself.

“You’re alone in here… right?” I asked.

“Well, I think so,” Volke said with a shrug. “Fain? You here?” He waited a long moment. “Yeah, I’m alone.”

I narrowed my eyes as I examined his hand. It was actually in the floor. Somehow. “Volke,” I said, “why are you kneeling like that? Are you okay?”

With his free hand, Volke rubbed the sweat from his face. His cheeks reddened, as did his ears. He was… rather adorable when embarrassed. It made me wonder what was happening with the marble tile.

“This is your own doing, isn’t it?” I asked, sardonic. When Volke said nothing, I giggled. “You were manipulating the marble before I got here, and I scared you, right? Your concentration broke when I expertly exited the shadows.”

With a nervous laugh, Volke shrugged. “Your training is really paying off. You were very quiet.”

A compliment from the true form knightmare arcanist himself! I loved every word. Then I beamed and hurried to his side. If he were stuck in the floor, I would need to help him.

I knelt next to Volke and placed my hand near one of his. He was so much taller than me, and muscular and handsome—in a rugged and swashbuckler way. Like he wore clothes for adventures only and didn’t care how the wind styled his hair.

I focused on his hand half-buried in the floor, pushing those thoughts to the side. “Let me help you.”

I hardened the shadows, and with the fine precision of small knives, I chipped at the tile around Volke’s hand, slowly carving out gaps big enough for him to wiggle his fingers. Although my shadows were sharp enough to slice skin, I never harmed Volke. I wanted to impress him with my skill, and any nick to his flesh would prove me to be immature.

Once he had enough room, Volke pulled his hand from the marble and smiled. “I’m impressed, Evianna. Thank you.”

I straightened myself and nodded once. “It wasn’t a problem, Warlord. I’m devoted to helping you win against the Second Ascension.” That sounded princess-like. Important. Diplomatic.

Volke stood, but his expression returned to a frown. “Please,” he said. “Don’t. Everyone has been doing that lately, and it gets annoying.”

“What’re you talking about? It’s not annoying.” I crossed my arms, already in a tizzy. “It reminds me of home. People addressed me as Princess Evianna and Your Highness constantly. Here at the Frith Guild, I’m only known as an apprentice.” I tilted my head to one side and sighed. Why couldn’t he see this was normal? It was standard for nobility. “I miss the respect people used to pay me.”

“Calling me warlord or world serpent arcanist doesn’t feel like respect,” Volke muttered as he wandered over to the foot of my luxurious bed. Then he sat on the silk sheets, never really looking at me.

“Well, that’s not entirely true,” he said. “When some people say it, I can feel they mean it. But with others… It feels like fear. Like they’re saying it just because they think I want to hear it. They say it to avoid getting on my bad side.”

I hurried over, trying to mimic Layshl’s steps so that I moved without making a sound. I sat next to Volke on the foot of the bed. “You’re probably right,” I said. “But shouldn’t they fear you? I saw your duel with King Odion. You were amazing! You’re barely an arcanist—only a few weeks—and already your magic can destroy entire gardens and alter the terrain. You don’t think that deserves respect?” How was he so blind to his own greatness? It was a flaw of his!

Volke shrugged. “I guess I just don’t want people to think that I’ll be upset if they don’t. I’m here to help them, not to subjugate them.”

Then he said nothing else. I dwelled on his words. Was he afraid the titles made people fearful? My sister had said something similar at one point. She always gave careful consideration to everyone around her. I… never seemed to achieve that trait.

“Everything okay?” Volke asked, glancing over.

“You sound like my sister,” I murmured. Then I stared at my hands, wondering why I wasn’t more like Lyvia. “Anyone else would be thrilled to be called Your Highness, but she hated it.”

“Lyvia?” Volke asked.

I slowly nodded. “Yeah. You’re so similar. Even while I watched your duel with Odion. It was like… I was about to see someone I care about die all over again.” I clenched her hands into fists again, hating that I was always so far behind. I wanted to be older, wiser, and powerful.

I leapt off the bed and stood. Layshl knew what I wanted. She rushed to the shadows and then lifted up all around me, the cold blanket of darkness forming around my body and becoming armor. The shadows became hard and fastened themselves to my form. Layshl’s wing-like cape hung on my back, making me feel regal.

“We are one,” Layshl said telepathically. “Whatever you need, I am here for you, my arcanist.”

I smiled to myself.

“I should let you get some rest,” Layshl and I said, their voices combining to form a single tone. “I’ve taken too much of your time as it is.”

“Did you want this room?” Volke asked, waving his hand around. “I can find another. Apparently, each building has twenty-eight bedrooms. I can find a spare.”

Part of me wanted the room. Part of me wanted us to share the room. But all of me knew that Volke didn’t want either outcome. He wanted things to be proper and tidy, and I wanted to prove to him that I was considerate of his desires.

I glanced over my shoulder at him. The fireplace cast harsh shadows, and the light flickered across every surface. He seemed confident, even if he was tired. It reminded me of the night he saved me from the Second Ascension… back when King Drake Castle was under attack.

Volke was always confident in the face of danger.

I smirked. “I miss being a princess, and being addressed as Your Highness, but it occurs to me that perhaps I should earn that right again.” I swished my cape and walked toward one of the windows.

“You need your rest as well,” Volke said. “Just relax tonight, okay? Take care of yourself.”

I stutter-stepped near the sill. He was right, of course. I wouldn’t deny it. Then glanced back at him. “Okay. I will. Thank you, Volke.”

Then I stepped into the darkness and shadow-stepped out of the room. I’d find another place to sleep, and when I awoke, I’d do my training all over again, this time more intense than before.

***

Volke’s birthday celebration.

What an auspicious time. I couldn’t let it go to waste.

I stood on the roof of his main building, staring down at the garden below. Just as I had suspected, a dryad and her arcanist walked the stone paths, touching shrubs and trees, and healing them from the damage of my attacks. All the shrubbery I had ripped up was placed back in the ground with caring hands.

Dryads were wondrous creatures. They had bark bodies, rough and callous, with leaves as hair, some so luscious, the green sparkled in the light. They only bonded to people who cared for the plants, who had no voices. The dryad arcanist shuffled slowly on the path, touching each flower and each bush, examining it with a critical eye. He was a thin man, who wore trousers with large pockets. Sometimes, he removed a flower from the ground, and placed it somewhere else, keeping it safe in his pocket in the meantime.

I turned away from the garden and paced the peak of the roof. The slant on either side of me was enough to cause someone to fall, but I was a knightmare arcanist. I wouldn’t fall—I’d dive into the shadows and walk out the other side.

“My arcanist,” Layshl said as she lifted from the darkness.

We were alone on top of the building. Except the wind. The wind bothered us constantly, and I found myself shivering.

“Layshl,” I said. “I’m going to do it. This time, I’m going to confess everything to Volke.”

“You already tried to marry him,” Layshl sarcastically said. “What more could you say?”

I turned on my heel and glared at her. “I was younger then! And also, I realize now that I wasn’t doing it right. I need talk to him. As an equal.” My throat tightened as I said, “I want to work together with him. We’re stronger as a team.”

Layshl’s cape fluttered with the breeze. It took her a long time before she replied to me.

“My arcanist, if you push too hard, and he rejects your advances, you will need to leave him alone.”

I swept back my white hair. “I understand. But he won’t.”

I didn’t know that, but it was the mantra I told myself.

“What are you going to get him as a gift for his birthday?” Layshl asked. “Affection and love are born from sacrifice, after all. Gifts are both a chance to display your knowledge of the person, and to demonstrate a small portion of what you’re willing to sacrifice for them—whether it’s time, coin, or emotion.”

I nodded with her words as I returned to my pacing. No one ever went to the roof, which meant I could have all the time in the world to myself. It also meant that people like Fain wouldn’t be here.

Hopefully.

“I’ve got an idea,” I said, holding up a finger. “First, I’m going to get a blanket. Then, I’m going to confess my affections for him. Lastly, I will present him with this.”

I reached into the pocket of my trousers and withdrew a tiny wooden box. I opened it up and showed the contents to Layshl.

It was the shell of a glitter crab.

They were creatures who lived in the rivers of the Argo Empire. According to legend, they were good luck, and their shells sparkled with a light amount of magical energy. They were definitely good luck, because I had been searching for a glitter crab the day I had met Volke.

I held the box close to my chest. “I’m sure he’ll understand the significance.”

It had been difficult securing one while in Fortuna. The docks and markets had exotic goods from all over, but I wasn’t deep in coin. I had to do a few small jobs before I could trade up and get myself a glitter crab shell.”

Layshl nodded once. “A fantastic gift idea, my arcanist. Simple and easy.”

“Simple?” I snapped.

The shadows around the roof fluttered with my statement.

“I don’t want it to be simple.”

Layshl motioned to the small box. “There is a lot of romance in simple gifts. Just present it to him, and I’m sure Volke will enjoy it.”

I held my breath and returned to pacing. No. It couldn’t be simple. That wasn’t befitting a princess. I would have to get a better box. And maybe something else. Something spectacular to go with it. Perhaps I could get a trinket that created fireworks? Or flowers? No. A warrior like Volke would have no use for flowers.

I tapped the side of my head. “Think, Evianna. Think.”

Layshl stepped into the darkness and lifted up near me. The bright midafternoon sun harmed her shadows a bit, but she pushed through. “My arcanist, perhaps you just need the element of surprise. Bring Volke to the roof, and then declare you have a gift, wait a moment, and then return with it. This way, you build anticipation.”

That was a wonderful idea.

I snapped my fingers. “Good idea.” With my thoughts swirling, I imagined the situation. Volke would appreciate a good entrance, wouldn’t he? “It needs to be perfect, though. Maybe… I can bring back his favorite confection as well.”

“Perhaps, my arcanist.”

“Yes! Something good. And memorable.”

Everything needed to be perfect! I couldn’t approach a god-arcanist without a plan. Volke would repeat this story forever—to our future children and their grandchildren—and I wanted the story to be grand.

I was probably getting ahead of myself. We weren’t even together, and already I imagined telling stories to our many children… But I didn’t care. They were my thoughts, and I would have fun inside them if I wanted.

Part of me wondered if Moonbeam would tell Volke any of this.

“You better not say a word,” I said to the bright sky.

No response.

That was probably a good sign.

***

Volke’s party had been a success so far.

The guests gathered in the main building, speaking to the many arcanists of the Frith Guild. And while they were discussing matters of diplomacy, I had Volke all to myself here on the roof. The night wind was chill, but his arms were warm. We laid on the blanket I had prepared for at least an hour. Kissing him had been wonderful, and his acceptance had been everything I had hoped for.

What would the others say? I was certain the doppelgänger arcanist, Karna, would have words with me. I wouldn’t be swayed or scared away, though.

“I’m not going to play nice with anyone who tries to take you from me,” I stated matter-of-factly, gripping Volke tight.

“That’s… aggressive,” Volke muttered, half-chuckling.

“You’re too nice. One of us needs to be aggressive.” I nuzzled my chest, enjoying everything about him, even his sea salt scent.

“I’ve killed a lot of people,” he said, quiet and distant. “I’d say that’s at least somewhat aggressive.”

While he made a good point, that reminded me of my gift! My glitter crab shell would bring him good luck. I needed to get it. I had to give it to him in a beautiful and perfect way. It couldn’t be an afterthought. It had to be the most glorious gift of all time!

I sat up, my heart beating with so much excitement I thought it would explode out my chest. “Oh! Wait right here. I’ll be back.” I jumped to my feet. “I have one more gift, remember?”

Volke smiled gently, no hurry in his tone. “I’d rather you just stay.” He motioned to the blankets.

Didn’t he understand we needed to create stories together? I had a perfect gift to give him!

“No, no,” I said. “I have to get it! You’ll love the gift. I promise.”

Then I slipped into the shadows and left him on the blanket. I needed to do this! If anything went wrong, I’d never forgive myself. In the arena of romance, I wanted to be remembered as extraordinary, at least for Volke.

He deserved no less than the best.