Chapter Text
“He did what,” the prince said, and Tiir winced.
“Essentially tell me to go ahead and dissect him,” Salea's princess returned, her back to both Tiir and her brother as she fiddled with her hair in front of the mirror much like she had in the morning. “And that you wouldn't find out. I'm sorry to say, you two have a lot of things to work through.”
The prince moved his horrified gaze from her to Tiir and, after a moment, asked, “What were you thinking?”
Tiir didn't even try to come up with a reply – whatever he said was bound to either sound even worse to the prince than his sister's matter-of-fact revelation or offend the woman because he would be as good as accusing her of being ridiculous in even bringing this to the prince's attention. Most likely, any answer he might end up giving would succeed in making the situation worse in not just one, but both of these ways.
“That I consider him some interesting thing for study, apparently,” Salea's princess replied for him, clearly having no such concerns. “Well, I can't blame him. I love my team, but I wouldn't trust half of them with him. People get weird about the Magic Eyes.” She twirled a strand of her hair around her finger and tore it out. “Damn, why is my hair in knots again? I even combed it today!”
The prince returned his attention to his sister with a suspicious frown. “Did you spend all day asking him questions about his eyes?”
“Excuse me?” The woman stopped picking at the ends of her hair and finally turned to face her brother. “I will have you know I was perfectly polite! I mean, I might have forgotten to feed him-”
“You what,” the prince said.
“Oh, shut up, you know I forget these things! At least I didn't leave him with anyone he thought would cut him open and play unscrupulous scientist with his innards!” The woman's outburst unsettled Tiir mainly because he knew it would unsettle the prince.
The man in question had gone pale. “But-- why would he--”
Salea's princess wasn't done. “And when I told him I would tell you, that's the closest to panicked I've seen him – why is that?”
“I... don't know?” The prince looked shocked, and also rather lost. He glanced at Tiir, no doubt wondering what he'd done wrong.
It did not make Tiir feel guilty.
Salea's princess stepped over to her brother and squinted at him. “You do treat him like a person, don't you?”
“Of course!” the prince exclaimed, and Tiir hated him just a little for not knowing when to keep his mouth shut.
He told himself that the prince's assertion couldn't entirely surprise the woman, that surely the half-Gastark mage had been displeased enough by the prince's behavior towards him that she would have already told Salea's princess all about it. He didn't know if that made this less or more dangerous, but at least it was unlikely she would storm off after the confrontation sure to follow and do something to harm the children, in her anger caring little about how valuable they might otherwise be to her.
“And you give him decent food and don't make him sit on the floor or forbid him from talking?”
“What? How isn't all of that included already in treating someone like a person? I told you-”
The woman cut her brother off by ruffling his hair. “Well, I had to make sure,” she told him, and Tiir blinked, no less taken aback by her sudden cheer than the prince. “People do get weird about the Magic Eyes. And your friend's behavior has been somewhat disturbing.” She glanced at Tiir. “No offense.”
“All right,” the prince said, “I'm not sure I understand entirely what's going on. Do I need to be worried? About more than the obvious, that is. Have you at least eaten something by now – both of you?”
The woman made a dismissive gesture. “It was just a late dinner. But yes, you should definitely be worried. I mean – Tiir, come here.” Tiir cautiously approached her. Salea's princess did not look happy. “See this? He just does what I tell him to. This is terrible! What do I do?”
Tiir felt very much out of his depth.
The prince looked uneasy, but after a while said, his tone rather cross, “Well, you could start by not ordering him around.”
“I tried! But he- Ecylan, he thinks if he breathes too loud around me, I'll do who knows what. You know this-- you know people aren't my forte. You should have warned me!”
“Well, how should I have known!”
“Then Lymeia should have warned me. Come on, he can't be more scared of me than of Lymeia, I refuse to believe that. Please tell me you aren't.”
Tiir shifted when she turned her gaze on him, but didn't look away, since unlike the half-Gastark magician, it seemed to irritate her when he did. However, he didn't speak. What did she want him to tell her? That at least with the other mage woman, he knew roughly where he stood? Surely not.
But he also didn't see why she should want him to lie about this, or how he could possibly make the lie convincing enough to not come off as mere insolence.
Salea's princess focused her attention on her brother again with an almost pained expression. “See what I mean?”
“All right,” the prince said, clearly trying to appear calm, but not completely succeeding, “how about-- Tiir, can I talk to you for a moment? Malyrei, do you mind?”
“I'm stealing your comb,” the man's sister declared in reply and strode out of the room.
When the door had fallen shut behind her, the prince turned to Tiir and drew a deep breath. “All right,” he repeated, slowly. “Can we talk about this?”
“About what?” Tiir asked, attempting flippancy.
The prince gave him a look, and Tiir glanced away.
“How about we start with what made you think my sister was going to dissect you,” the prince suggested.
Tiir snorted softly. Was the young royal really asking him this? “She's a human, she researches magic, she thinks our eyes are interesting. What else am I going to assume?”
The prince shook his head. He seemed appalled, and Tiir thought he must be the most naïve human there was. “Fine,” the man began at last, “let's say that's a reasonable conclusion to draw. You thought I'd leave you alone with someone who'd do that to you?”
The young royal sounded less incredulous than hurt, and Tiir found himself once more avoiding his gaze. “Not intentionally,” he offered, hoping it would at least prevent any misunderstandings.
The prince exhaled audibly. “Well, that's something, I guess. But I don't understand – why would you want to keep this from me? The way Malyrei told it, you'd think me finding out is worse in your mind than her-- actually hurting you.”
“Because of this,” Tiir hissed, suddenly angry. He was sick of this, sick of constantly having to watch himself. “I don't need you to fuss over me. What do you think your darling sister will do if you get into fights with her over me? What your queen will do? If you keep acting like this, the other humans will realize just how very concerned you are for me, and do you think they will be pleased? Already I've been warned not to have you pity me, like the mere notion doesn't make me want to vomit. If this one, too-”
“Tiir,” the wide-eyed human interrupted him. He gingerly placed a hand on Tiir's upper arm. Tiir stiffened, but let him. “No one is going to hurt the children because I'm against you being tortured. Least of all my sister. Did you miss the part where she would have thrown me out my own room if I'd said I don't let you use the furniture like a person?”
Tiir shook off the human's hand. “Don't be naïve.”
“So why do you think she acts like she's decidedly in favor of not treating you like a scientific experiment?”
“I don't know!”
The prince sighed. “But you're convinced she's just pretending.”
The man's tone irked Tiir. “Of course I am,” he said, eyes narrowed. “For us – for the bearers of the Divine Eyes – that's the only kindness we can expect from a human.”
The prince winced. “I'm sorry,” he said in a subdued voice, and stepped away from Tiir.
Tiir resisted the ridiculous urge to grab his wrist and stop him. Instead he said, softly and trying not to stumble over the words, “Isn't it enough that I don't expect the same from you?”
As soon as he finished speaking, he regretted it. It was an admission that went against his entire being, and making it out loud felt like a betrayal – a betrayal of himself, the denial of a truth he had known from the second he had come into this world. He felt like this was the moment where his own foolishness should slap him in the face. If the human threw back his head now and laughed at how gullible Tiir was, Tiir deserved nothing better.
But of course the prince did no such thing. The human froze for a moment, then slowly broke into a smile that was both shy and pleased – and though Tiir only then felt like he could breathe again, he was not surprised.
Which one of them was the naïve one, really? With every shred of his being, down to the last drop of his blood, Tiir should know that humans were the enemy, and could never be anything more. That they were vicious and treacherous and that trusting them only meant leaving them with the quickest means to destroy you. If his fellow bearers of the Iino Doue could see him now, they would be appalled – appalled, and probably scared, because this should not be possible, and there was only one way it could end.
“I don't know if it's enough,” the prince said, “but it means a lot to me. And I promise-- I won't disappoint you.” He paused, looking at Tiir like he was considering something. “I care a lot about you, you know that, right? This isn't just-- I wouldn't want you hurt no matter what, but I worry about you like I would about Yalyst, or Livarys. I don't want you to think you're only a responsibility to me, or someone I feel guilty towards.” The human glanced away for a moment, then directed his gaze to Tiir again with a tentative smile. “I'm sorry if it makes me more annoying.”
This time, it was Tiir who stepped back. “I don't understand you,” he said. “What could you possibly want with me? I hate your kind, I would kill you all if I could. Care about me? What have I ever done for you? What would I ever do for you, if I had a choice?”
“But caring about someone isn't just about what they would do for you, is it?” The prince's smile had turned sad. “Not even for humans.”
“So what is it about for you, then? That I'd love to kill those around you? That I'd enjoy the taste of your blood? That if I had met you in any other situation, if you had lived to tell the tale, it would only have been because you were beneath my notice?” Tiir laughed. “What is there to care about, for a human, in a bearer of the Iino Doue?”
The prince didn't reply immediately. Instead, he moved forward, and after a moment of hesitation, gingerly brushed back Tiir's bangs. “That you're kind,” he said. “And fun, and brave. And well, I'm sure your brain tissue is delicious.” The man grinned and let his hand sink. “The whole eating people thing might distract from it a bit at first, but really, you're a very likable person.”
Tiir flinched. “Kind? I'm not kind. To you, I-”
“No, you're not kind to humans,” the prince cut him off, matter-of-factly. “But then, we're not kind to you, are we? So we can't expect you to be. You're right – why should you make the first move? Why should you have to risk it? And yet, I've almost killed you, am imprisoning you and keeping you from the ones you love, and you say that you don't hate me. That you don't expect the worst from me, despite everything. And when you say something that hurts me, even if it's warranted, you feel bad about it. So what have you done for me? You don't hate me, for one – I think that's already pretty generous.”
Tiir swallowed and tore his gaze from the human's. “I want to hate you,” he said, not looking at the man's face. “You make it very difficult.”
The prince laughed, and it was not a happy sound. “You're my prisoner and you think it's difficult to hate me. Tiir, I don't think you understand how-” he broke off and shook his head, a hand in front of his face.
“What are you-- are you crying?”
“I'm not crying,” the prince said, and it was a pathetic lie if Tiir had ever heard one.
What was he supposed to do? “I'm not trying very hard to hate you,” he said, hurriedly. “I'm not-- I don't--” But the prince just cried harder.
After a while, because he was at a loss, Tiir tentatively put a hand on the man's shoulder. The prince made a noise that was half laugh, half sob, but didn't pull away, and so Tiir just patted him awkwardly, waiting for him to stop weeping.
*
“What did you have to leave the palace for?” Tiir broke the silence after the prince seemed to have calmed down. Not sure what he had done to upset the man, it seemed a safe topic to switch to.
The prince, however, grimaced. “This seems like such a bad time to talk about it.” He rubbed his forehead and moved away from Tiir, making his way to the bed. “I'm sorry for crying, by the way.”
Tiir snorted.
The prince shot him a smile. “Do you want to sit?” Tiir hesitated, then seated himself next to the man. “All right, so, me leaving the palace today. Please don't assume anything horrible when I say this. I went to start negotiations with the Guild.”
Tiir looked at the man sharply. “Negotiations?”
The prince nodded. “About... everything, really. Lymeia and Mother thought it wasn't a good sign to have the Bard's right hand show up at the ball and that we shouldn't delay any longer. It's going pretty well so far, though – don't worry.”
Tiir narrowed his eyes. “What does 'pretty well' mean to you, exactly?”
Clearly it was the right question to ask, because the prince looked uncomfortable, if not surprised. “Well,” he said. “The children-- Ren and Karda should be safe from them. Are,” he corrected quickly as Tiir's expression shifted. “They are safe from them. I'm not completely precluding the possibility of them trying to obtain some leeway there, but they wouldn't get anywhere and they know it. They'd do it out of principle, if at all. Even Lymeia agrees, so I'm not just being optimistic.”
The prince made a face. “It went very much like Lymeia predicted, honestly. The main part of what we're discussing with them is where this should go from here. And I'm still pissed at her – of course I am –, but gods am I glad to have her on my side. First the Bard let us wait around for hours and then she was just being really creepy, and guess out of Lymeia and me, which one managed to not look like they wanted to run and hide the whole time.” A pause. “Actually Lymeia was also being pretty creepy. Anyway, the only big problem we have so far is that one of the things she was right about is that they want to see you before even considering relinquishing any say they might have in what Salea should do about the bearers of the Divine Eyes in the future.”
Tiir relaxed a little. If them wanting to see him was truly the greatest problem Salea's Guild posed to them at the moment, he could live with that. “It's fine.”
“No, I really don't think-”
“Ecylan, it's fine,” he snapped, and they stared at each other.
The prince... Ecylan opened his mouth and closed it again. Finally he said, quietly, “You don't understand. This is the Guild. I can't-- I can't control them, or force them to tell me whatever it is they want with you. I couldn't even properly sanction them if they-- If I agree to this--”
“If you can't control them,” Tiir said, “that's just one more reason to accept their terms. I can kneel to them. I can do what they want. Whatever it is, I will heal. I can bear it, but I can't-- let me protect those I need to protect. Please.”
Ecylan shook his head, but he looked pained, and Tiir knew he was not going to deny him this.
And Tiir could still not wrap his head around the idea that a human wanted to keep him safe and would be sad if he was harmed, but even so, he believed it. Because he was foolish. Because he did not know what else to believe.
Because he did not like seeing Ecylan cry, and there was no longer any use pretending he meant nothing to Tiir.
*
“It's a wise decision.”
Ecylan did not glare at the half-Gastark magician, but it was obvious that he wanted to. “Of course you would say that.”
“Someone has to behave like a rational human being about this, after all.”
“Ugh, why are you so-”
“Now, now,” Salea's princess interrupted just as Tiir tensed in anticipation of Ecylan doing something ill-advised yet again. “We're all here in pursuit of a common goal, aren't we? How about we sit down and have some tea while we discuss-”
“Crows, she's trying to be sensible. This is painful to watch.”
“Lymeia, I swear I will empty this pot over your head.”
“Do try.” However, despite her words and the contemptuous smile curling her lips, the half-Gastark mage sat down at the table next to the other woman.
“You too, Tiir,” Salea's princess said with a nod towards the chair across from her, next to Ecylan's. “Sit down, please.”
Tiir looked between her and the half-Gastark magician. He expected the latter to contradict her fellow mage's order, or at the very least, to make a comment about inviting animals to the table. Instead, she didn't even spare Tiir a glance, looking entirely indifferent to the matter.
Whether or not she truly was, Tiir decided she wouldn't approve if he ignored the other human's command. In that case, he would displease them both if he remained standing, and so slowly, he pulled back the indicated chair and took a seat.
“Great,” Salea's princess said. “Now, smoothing things over with the Guild and at the same time preventing them from doing terrible things to Tiir here. While having Tiir not so much as defy a single order of theirs because that could go very wrong. Lymeia, what do you say?”
“I say this is a waste of time. It should simply do as it is told. They can't do a lot of damage in a single day.”
Salea's princess moved her attention to Tiir. “Please excuse how incredibly rude she is.” She turned back to her fellow mage, eyes narrowed. “They can do enough, though. I agree with Ecylan, you're being an asshole.”
“That's my job,” the half-Gastark magician said, unconcerned. “What do you want me to tell you? I can stay close during and check in on your pet once in a while to make sure it's still in one piece, but whatever I find, it's not going to want me to interfere. In this, the Guild is not to be crossed.”
“Then what can we do?” Ecylan asked.
The half-Gastark magician shrugged. “Emphasize the royal house's interest in its well-being. Based on practical considerations, of course. Your position as heir to the throne is already precarious enough – you can't afford to appear weak in front of the Guild, of all people. I don't need to remind you what will happen if they judge you unsuited to the crown.”
“That's unlikely to happen, though,” Salea's princess threw in.
“It's not worth risking over a badly trained pet,” the half-Gastark magician said, disdainfully.
Salea's princess shot up from her chair. “What in the name of all the saints is your prob-”
“Besides,” the other woman interrupted her, keeping her eyes trained on the prince. “You want the Guild to delegate all matters pertaining to Cursed Eye bearers to you. The last thing you want to do is give the impression you're confusing monsters with puppies.” A pause. “Even if you are.”
“All right,” Salea's princess said, slowly sitting back down. “What about me, then? I'm a person so obsessed with magic I stepped out the line of succession. Also, I'm very good at what I do. I get to be a bit eccentric, wouldn't you say?”
Everyone stared at her.
“Malyrei,” Ecylan said. “You already are eccentric.” The man's sister stuck her tongue out at him, but then they both turned to the half-Gastark magician, hopeful.
The woman in question looked like she was biting on something sour. “It could work,” she conceded after a moment. “The Guild rather respects your expertise and you don't have anything to lose.” She gave her fellow mage a cold look. “Except their esteem.”
“That's fine!” Salea's princess declared cheerfully. “And anyway, the Bard likes me.”
“She likes toying with you,” the half-Gastark woman said.
Salea's princess waved her hand. “Same thing.” A pause. “What? She's pretty. She can toy with me all she-”
“Malyrei!” Ecylan exclaimed.
The man's sister laughed. “Oh please, we've just talked talked about magic once or twice. No inappropriate details to tell you even if I wanted to.”
“Well, that's good to know, because she is creepy.”
“How so?” Salea's princess asked, sounding curious.
“How so?” Ecylan echoed, disbelieving. “How about the way she talks and the way she smiles and I swear that was blood in her hair.”
“I thought she had a nice smile,” Salea's princess said, like she hadn't heard the rest.
“Blood,” Ecylan repeated. “In her hair.”
“Can the both of you stop wasting my time with trivial arguments yet,” the half-Gastark magician said.
“How is someone deliberately appearing to a meeting with me with blood in her hair trivial?”
Salea's princess, meanwhile, gave her fellow mage woman a sidelong glance. “Like you are one to talk,” she said. She leaned forward conspiratorially and whispered to her brother and Tiir, non-too-quietly, “She thinks Gastark's King is hot.”
Tiir tried very hard not to stare.
Next to him, Ecylan choked on air.
The woman being discussed, meanwhile, seemed entirely unimpressed. “I believe the word I used was 'charismatic'.”
Salea's princess waved her hand. “Details, details.” Then, to her brother and Tiir again, “It's nearly the highest compliment she deals out. Come on, it's funny.”
Tiir and Ecylan looked at each other, and Tiir was reasonably sure they were thinking the same thing.
Ecylan turned back to his sister. “Not really.” He paused. “Also, that was disturbing and I hate you.”
“Why does no one have a sense of humor?”
“I wonder,” the half-Gastark magician said. “Now, if you'll excuse me...” She made to stand up, but Salea's princess caught her by the arm.
“Come on, we're not done yet! For one, there are those rumors-”
The half-Gastark magician looked at the other woman sharply. “We will not discuss them here.”
Tiir glanced between the humans, wary.
“What rumors?” Ecylan asked.
“They are of no concern to you.”
“Lymeia, next time he goes to negotiate with the Guild, he's going to find out anyway, don't you think?”
“Perhaps. But the matter will already have been dealt with then.”
“What the hell is going on?”
“If you won't tell him, I will. Come on, he's not ten!”
Ecylan huffed. “Well, I'm glad someone finally noticed.”
The half-Gastark magician treated the prince to a cool stare. Finally, she crossed her arms. “Colonel Arsan should still be at the palace. Have someone get him so you can send your pet out of the room and we can talk.”
“Why-” the prince started.
“It's fine,” Tiir cut in before the man could do or say anything more damaging. His voice was soft, but Ecylan fell silent immediately.
“Well, if it keeps this up, at least the Guild might believe it's well-trained. Of course, it shouldn't quite so freely interrupt you then, but I'm sure it won't make that thoughtless a blunder in front of anyone who might misunderstand.”
Tiir bowed his head, accepting the reproach without protest even as his fingernails dug into his knees.
“Lymeia,” Salea's princess said. “He's a person, not a dog.”
“And I would care why?”
“He hardly chose to be here. He doesn't need to put up with your horseshit on top of everything.”
“Oh please. It can have whole villages for dinner – it can survive without me coddling it. His Highness is doing quite enough of that.”
“Treating someone like a person is not 'coddling them'.”
“No,” the half-Gastark magician agreed. “Which makes me inclined to believe His Highness is instead confusing something that would annihilate this place in a heartbeat if it was afforded the opportunity with a domesticated animal.” She looked at the prince. “Or do you usually keep the company of mass murderers?”
“I keep your company,” Ecylan said.
“Ouch,” Salea's princess commented.
“The difference,” the half-Gastark woman said, “lies in who I kill, and for whom.” She smiled. “If you were anyone else, I wouldn't advise you to turn your back to me, either.”
“I am done with this,” Salea's princess declared. “I'm taking Tiir to Arsan and you two stay here. Lymeia, behave. Also, Ecylan, don't try to assume moral high ground you don't have – without Lymeia doing her job under Mother's orders for the sake of the country you help rule you'd be long dead and you know it.”
Ecylan made a frustrated angry noise, but didn't say anything. After a moment, he glanced at Tiir.
Tiir offered him a subtle nod to assure him that this was fine and rose shortly after the man's sister did. At her beckoning, he followed her out of the room.
*
“Don't mind Lymeia,” Salea's princess said as they descended the stairs to the lower area of the palace. “She's more bark than bite. Well, as long as you don't do something really stupid – like pull her hair. I swear, I did it once and never again. Also there was that time I braided a ribbon into it.” A dramatic shudder. “But since I doubt you plan to do anything so foolish, you should be safe. I'm sorry she talks to you like that, though.”
The human didn't turn around to him as she spoke and kept walking at a steady pace.
Tiir knew he should say something, but he didn't know what. He had not thought she'd be like this – couldn't begin to fathom what 'this' even was. What was there for her to gain by acting as though he was anything but a convenient research subject for her?
It must be something of significance for her to take matters as far as she was doing, but Tiir couldn't imagine what that should be, and it unsettled him. It could not be something as simple as her brother's regard she was after – she already had that, and whatever image she wanted him to have of her, she needn't go to such lengths to secure it, needn't put up so flawless an act for Tiir in order to cultivate it.
In particular, it made no sense that she should suggest lowering her standing in the eyes of other powerful humans for the sake of something she already firmly had. Whatever complaints he might otherwise have about her, it was obvious at a glance that Ecylan adored this woman.
“Are you all right?” Salea's princess asked, this time turning her head to look at him as she spoke.
“Yes,” Tiir said, not missing a beat. Then, after a moment, added, “Thank you.” He wasn't quite sure what he was expressing gratitude for, but was content letting the human take her pick.
The woman caught his gaze. “If you ever need help with anything, let me know – you shouldn't have to be so worried all the time. Some people here do care about your and those kids' well-being.”
Tiir snorted before he could think better of it, then froze. But the human only shot him a look of surprise before actually smiling at him and continuing on her path without comment.
“Arsan's quarters are down this corridor,” the woman informed him when she finally halted. “He's not in them often, but this is about the right time of the day to catch him there. Well, or it should be, if nothing's changed. Otherwise we'll just have to keep looking.” She turned to Tiir. “You don't mind Arsan, do you?”
Tiir averted his gaze. “No.”
Salea's princess considered him. “If you do, that's fine. I can figure something out.”
Tiir exhaled slowly. “I don't particularly mind.”
The human regarded him a moment longer. “All right, then,” she said at last. “Come on.”
As it turned out, the soldier was indeed in his room, and clearly taken aback by his princess' presence in front of is door. Then his eyes fell on Tiir, and a disgruntled expression flickered over his features before he returned his attention to his fellow human. “Your Highness.” He bowed his head. “What can I do for you?”
“Arsan, nice to see you! Can I leave Tiir here with you for a bit?”
“...Tiir?”
“Really? I expect this kind of rudeness from Lymeia, but you, too? What have you even been calling him until now? No, I don't want to know, just stop, don't be an ass.”
“Your Highness--”
Out of the corner of his eyes, Tiir saw Salea's princess glaring at the man. “This might take a while. I don't want to come back and find he's not eaten dinner, or stood around the whole time, or sat on the floor like some kind of dog.”
Tiir shifted uneasily. He didn't know why she should play her role to this extent.
“Your Highness,” the soldier began again, this time more hesitantly. “Don't you think this is a bit excessive?”
“You think not letting him starve is excessive?” Salea's princess asked, her voice angry and incredulous.
“Of course not. But, Your Highness, no matter what your brother might believe, it's a monster. Surely you realize that. I'm not saying you should hand it over to Lord Remdra, but treating it so much like a human--”
“Oh my god. Come on, Tiir, we're leaving.” And she actually grabbed his hand and started pulling him after her.
Tiir froze for the barest of moments, then reluctantly allowed himself to be dragged after her.
“Your Highness!” the soldier called behind them, but Salea's princess ignored him. Only when they'd rounded the corner into an empty corridor did she stop walking.
She let go of his hand and turned around. “Sorry.”
Tiir eyed her warily.
“I didn't think he'd be this bad,” the human said. “I have no idea what to do now, to be honest. I have to get back to Ecylan and Lymeia, but clearly Arsan's not an option. Just give me a moment to figure something out.”
Tiir did, but judging from the way the woman was biting her lip with a frustrated look on her face, she wouldn't come up with a solution any time soon.
Reluctantly, Tiir spoke up. “Don't mind me. It's fine.”
“That kind of behavior is not 'fine', Tiir.” She looked about ready to get into an argument with him about the issue.
This was just bizarre.
He thought about how he would handle the situation if it was Ecylan expressing concern. “He's not going to do anything to harm me,” he tried. “And I doubt he would go against your orders at all.”
The human narrowed her eyes. “That doesn't mean you should have to deal with him,” she said, but didn't contradict him.
For once, Tiir was careful to hold her gaze. “I would just like to get this over with, if that's all right with you.”
She didn't reply for a long while. At last, she asked, “You're sure?”
“Yes.”
A sigh, and the woman's stance relaxed. “Fine. One word from you and I'll have his head, though. Uh. Not literally. The things I have to clarify these days.”
Once again not knowing how to respond, Tiir simply followed her back to where they'd just come from. Not for the life of him could he figure out what she might be thinking.
Too bad, of course, that his life wasn't the only one at stake.
Unsurprisingly, the soldier had returned to his quarters by the time they arrived, but he opened the door the moment Salea's princess knocked. “Your Highness,” he said, carefully.
“I do need to leave Tiir with you, but what I told you holds. He's not some thing. I'm sorry to disturb you during your break, but you're going to treat him like a person, and if you don't you'll have me to answer to.”
“Your Highness, it-- he,” the soldier amended quickly at his superior's glare, “won't appreciate your concern. You know I'll do as you wish, and I don't mean to offend you, but this isn't just about him not being human. I understand His Highness' efforts on behalf of the Alpha Stigma bearers, I really do. They're harmless when properly contained, children. It's true they can't help what they are, and to see them hurt unnecessarily would leave a bad taste in my mouth, as well.”
The man's gaze swept to Tiir, who was keeping the scorn and loathing off his face with some difficulty. “But to this one, I am no more a person than he is to me. Perhaps less so. I don't think we're more to it than food under the best of circumstances, and I don't know how your brother can stand sleeping in the same room as i-- him. He's forgetting what he's dealing with, and frankly, I'd hoped you would have a word with him about that.”
Tiir glanced at Salea's princess, more agitated than he cared to admit, because he could not deny the truth in the soldier's words. It would be the most natural thing for Ecylan to find him repulsive. Even if he was not malicious, even if he did not hate Tiir for being a bearer of the Divine Eyes alone, he knew what he was capable of, what he had done a thousand times and would do again with no remorse.
Surely if Ecylan had any sense, he would want nothing to do with Tiir.
And Tiir found that even though he didn't feel guilty about having killed and consumed humans the way he had and never would, he regretted that his actions had affect Ecylan, the way he thought of him. It was not the same as how he regretted the same within his comrades, but he didn't know if it was better or worse, and that in itself was disturbing.
“Arsan,” Salea's Princess said, and paused.
And though Tiir could not help being worried about what she would say next, because there was no point for her in denying an obvious truth, he was curious for the same reason. Would she drop her act, or at least part of it? Or if she didn't, what lie could she even come up with that would not sound entirely ludicrous to even the most gullible?
“I'm not going to,” the woman said at last. “I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not. Ecylan's no longer a child, and you-- we all don't get to use bearers of the Magic Eyes and then claim they're the ones who're wrong, or dangerous. You may not like Tiir and he might not like you, either, but since he's the one who's stuck here against his will, it's your responsibility to not be an asshole about it.”
A short silence. “So, I'm leaving him with you,” she finished. “Don't make me regret trusting you this much.” She turned to Tiir. “Hopefully we won't take too long, but I can't promise anything.”
Tiir inclined his head, grateful for the excuse to not look at her. Of course her words were empty, nothing but pretty pretense. But even so...
He could not believe she would go this far.
After her little speech she made her exit swiftly, and Tiir and the soldier were left to deal with each other.
Remembering the half-Gastark magician's warning all too clear, Tiir avoided looking at the man directly.
“Well,” the human said after a while, his voice far from pleased. “Come in.”
He stepped aside, and Tiir reluctantly entered the soldier's room.
He didn't take the time to look around. There were few places he wanted to be in less, and if it were safe, he would gladly have pretended to be somewhere else altogether. But of course, he could not risk offending this human – should in fact worry about undoing some of the damage he had already done in that regard.
The mere idea revolted him.
Standing motionless in the middle of the room, Tiir stared at the sparingly adorned wall ahead of him as he considered his options. As he moved his gaze further to the right, it lingered on the large closed window located there, then on the red-leaved potted plant in front of it.
For the children's sake, Tiir needed the half-Gastark magician to no longer think of him as too volatile to be truly useful, and she had pointed him in the general direction of the path he needed to take if that was his aim. But he had burned bridges without realizing it – if it had ever been possible to convince this man he had been cowed so thoroughly into submission as to have been rendered harmless, that time had passed.
But he could do his best in putting on a show, perhaps soothe the man's hurt ego in the process, and hope the half-Gastark mage would satisfy herself with the attempt.
He would need to make this good.
Tiir turned around to look at the soldier, and did not glance away or blink as he slowly proceeded to make his way over. The man tensed, hand moving to where he would normally carry his sword, but wasn't at the moment – as if it could have afforded him any protection had Tiir been planning to crush his throat or rip off his head.
Tiir waited until he was but an arm's reach from the soldier, then, his movements as deliberate as when he'd approached the human and his gaze still not leaving the man's face, sank to his knees in front of him. He allowed himself a moment to take in the shock on the human's features before bowing his head.
“The last time we spoke I forgot my place,” he said quietly. “I apologize. It won't happen again.”
As he waited for the human to react in a way that went beyond staring at him, Tiir told himself that this was his choice, a small price to pay for making his brethren just a little safer and certainly preferable to groveling before the loathsome mage woman. No matter the man's reaction, so long as she heard about it, it should prove to her Tiir's willingness to heed even the more outrageous of her demands.
What she would do with that proof was another matter, but at the very least, Tiir could not afford the humans believing they needed to come up with more creative ways to keep him in line.
That this man apparently held sway with several influential nobles was just another reason this was necessary, not worth getting worked up about.
Even so, Tiir resented it with every fiber of his being.
The human took his time responding, and surprised Tiir when he did. “Did Lymeia put you up to this?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Tiir admitted after a beat.
He wondered if the human found that more or less satisfying than Tiir acting on his own. Probably the former. To begin with, the man would likely have distrusted Tiir's sudden change of heart otherwise.
He could hear the soldier shift. “And how did she convince you?” he asked, his tone giving away nothing.
Tiir curled his fists, but otherwise did not so much as twitch. “Isn't it obvious?” As he spoke, he remembered the half-Gastark magician's annoyance at his answering with a question to a question, adding to the thinly-veiled rancor in his voice.
“Well,” the soldier said after a moment, sounding gruff. “Since I really do not want Princess Malyrei coming after me, you better get up. I don't want to imagine what she'd do if she walked in right now, though I'm sure you'd find it amusing.”
'Amusing' was the last adjective Tiir would have ascribed to the woman, but he refrained from pointing this out to the human. Instead, he glanced up at the man, trying to gauge his mood. From his words and tone, he would have guessed at annoyed, but surprisingly, he looked more uncomfortable than anything.
Tiir barely managed to keep his lips from curling in distaste. There were no bounds to the cowardice of humans.
He rose and stepped back, when he would have loved nothing better than to see what it'd take to send this human running.
“You still think you're better than us, don't you?” the human asked.
This time Tiir could not prevent the sardonic smile from passing his lips, even as he had the sense to keep his mouth firmly shut.
“Yes,” the human said in his stead, obviously irked, “I'm sure you won't be forgetting what you believe to be 'your place'.”
Once again Tiir remained silent, knowing it would be answer enough even as he took care to keep any further emotions off his face.
“The gods know how you got the Princess on your side,” the soldier said, “I would have expected her to show a little more caution where her brother is concerned. But don't fool yourself – if you cause His Highness grief, she'll be the first to make you sorry.”
Tiir appreciated how he didn't even have to speak for the human's frustration to increase. That he had little desire to do what the man claimed to be worried about was nothing his enemy needed to know.
Or, well. It occurred to Tiir that with how far he had already gone, it was fatuous to provoke the human now, however subtly. Even so...
He shook himself, and said, softly, “I'll keep that in mind.”
The human narrowed his eyes at him, clearly trying to find the mockery behind his words.
Tiir knew that feeling.
“Well,” the soldier said when he finally gave up, clearly everything but happy. “Sit down, will you. Her Highness was very clear about what she thinks of you remaining standing.” Tiir inclined his head the barest inch before making to seat himself by the wall furthest from his enemy, but was interrupted by the human, “She was even clearer about what she thinks about you sitting on the floor. Use the couch, or a chair.”
Tiir blinked and turned back around to the man, who was glaring at him as if to challenge him to respond with something less than polite.
Instead, Tiir hovered for a moment, and then wordlessly picked the couch, because unlike the alternatives, it did not put him into the immediate vicinity of the soldier.
Still, this was just uncomfortable.
The human seemed to think so, too, and he continued glowering at Tiir.
Tiir finally averted his gaze.
“I don't know what you're thinking,” the soldier said after a while.
“Well, of course.” Tiir tried, and failed, to keep the taunt out of his voice as his eyes once more met those of the soldier. “Since I'm not human.”
“I'm not sure that's the only reason.”
“Of course it is.” Tiir allowed himself the tiniest twist of his lips. “I never know what your kind is thinking, either.”
“Like you never know what pigs are thinking?”
“Just so.”
The soldier's expression darkened, and Tiir almost made a face at his own inability to control himself. “I apologize,” he said, the words tasting foul.
“You don't know what's good for you, do you. It's a wonder you survived facing the Council.”
Tiir decided to do the smart thing and just not say anything from now on.
But of course the human could not leave well enough alone. “If you're so concerned about the Alpha Stigma bearers, then why do you provoke those keeping them out of harm's way? I remember what you said about His Highness, and clearly you've not changed your tune. Aren't you worried he'll decide you're not worth the trouble and leave them to their fate?” Knowing letting his fury show would do him no good, Tiir bit his tongue, but apparently determined to get a response, the human added, “Well?”
“Ah, but is your prince so petty?” Tiir returned, in a tone as neutral as he could manage.
“He's certainly not unlikely to decide you're not worth the trouble,” the human said instead of answering.
“That's fine.”
“I hope you're not counting on Princess Malyrei protecting you instead, because--”
The scoff had escaped Tiir before he could catch himself. “Rest assured I have no such lofty expectations.”
The human narrowed his eyes. “As much as His Highness does not agree with Lord Remdra, do you think he'll want to be around someone all day every day who thinks of him as 'lower than a pig'?”
“What do you wish me to tell you? That I'll be sorry when your prince tires of me? Or, perhaps, that I've changed my mind about him since we last spoke? Would you believe it? I'm trying not to provoke you, but you seem determined to make it difficult. Or is that your goal, perhaps? To be able to tell your fellow humans the monster's still not learned its place? But it seems like quite a waste of effort – whatever you tell them I said or did, they will believe you, regardless of the truth, no?”
“Are you saying I'd stoop so low as to lie to Lymeia and His Highness just to get rid of you?”
“Ah, I see.” Tiir wondered how worried he should be. If the soldier told his fellow humans what Tiir'd said so far... well, it wouldn't reflect all that well on him, but of course Ecylan wouldn't care, and as for the half-Gastark magician, perhaps as a start it would be enough for her that he'd come as far as he had in acting subservient to the man?
But she had specifically warned him against not reining in his tongue.
Tiir suppressed a wince.
“You see?” the human echoed. “I don't know what you're thinking, but I'm not trying to goad you – though the gods know you'd be the last in a position to criticize me for it. I just want you to be very clear that it's in your best interest to not make His Highness' life difficult. More difficult than you're already making it by having him keep you around, but I can't say anyone else savory is volunteering.”
Tiir couldn't tell if the human was speaking the truth. From what he knew of the man, he supposed it was possible. Elaborates schemes did not seem to be his forte. And Tiir had to admit if the soldier wanted to try and push him into doing something foolish, there were simpler ways.
Amused despite himself, Tiir asked, “It matters if they're 'savory'?”
The human crossed his arms. “Well, I'm not saying to throw you to the wolves. No doubt His Highness would be troubled, not to mention the Alpha Stigma bearers.”
“You'd be worried about them finding out?” Tiir allowed his lips to twist into a smile. “Your security must be very sloppy.”
“Are you trying to do whatever Lymeia told you to do or are you trying to get into a fight?”
Tiir dropped his smile and looked away.
There was a short silence. “I can see why she's worried about your ability to hold yourself in check.”
Tiir kept his eyes carefully trained on a potted plant on the man's window sill.
“Well, it's a step up from you deliberately antagonizing me, I suppose,” the human said after a while. “I take it at this point you at least try not to insult His Highness to his face?”
“I have no wish to turn your prince against me,” Tiir said, still not looking at the soldier.
“That's not what I asked.”
Tiir shot the man a covet look, trying to determine how much of Tiir's private interactions with the prince he would label insulting and how likely it was that he would learn of them in the future. Being accused of lying then wouldn't do.
“I'm attempting to be civil,” he tried at last.
“But not succeeding?”
This question was easier to answer. “Not always,” he said, and though the honesty of the words did not sit well with him, the human would never have believed him had he claimed otherwise.
“Well, I guess that's all I could expect,” the soldier said, almost grudgingly. “So you want to convince me to do what, tell Lymeia you apologized and I accepted? Give His Highness my approval? What precisely were you trying to achieve by kneeling to me? Other than getting me in more trouble with Her Highness, that is.”
Tiir was glaring at the man before he could think better of it. “I'm not trying to achieve anything except do as I've been told. Excuse me for-” He caught himself, and bit his tongue.
The human did not look amused. “So what is it you've been told, exactly?”
Tiir glanced away and didn't answer.
He doubted the half-Gastark magician would mind if he did, as it would be much more Tiir's problem than hers if doing so were to result in angering the soldier further, but just to be safe, he'd rather not. Besides, he had no idea what he even could say. The most truthful ways to answer were also the ones most likely to sound to the human like Tiir had been attempting to manipulate him.
Which wasn't surprising, considering Tiir was fairly sure playing to the human's natural arrogance counted as doing exactly that. Of course, more than about pacifying the man, Tiir was concerned about satisfying the half-Gastark magician, but admitting this would possibly be even more insolent than anything he had said in the last twenty minutes.
“Should I ask Lymeia instead?” the human wanted to know, a note of annoyance entering his tone.
Tiir tensed. “As you said, she's concerned about my ability to control myself,” he said, reluctantly and hoping to keep his voice free of the loathing he held for these humans. “So in light of my behavior last time, she encouraged me to to use this opportunity to demonstrate that I can.”
There was a pause. “You're doing a terrible job, you realize that?”
“Well, I apologize that you find my attempts at groveling to be lacking,” Tiir all but hissed at the human, then caught himself. “Just tell me what you want me to do. I'm not very good at minding my tongue, yes, but I can learn, and I can keep my mouth shut. I can kneel, or I can not kneel, or I can do whatever else you wish. Is that not enough?”
The soldier looked at him for a long while without speaking, then slowly shook his head. “I only want you to not make His Highness' life more difficult than necessary.”
Tiir barely kept himself from narrowing his eyes at the man. Surely that wasn't all. If Tiir were to return to mocking the colonel himself, for one, he had no doubt the human would be enraged.
But it wasn't Tiir's place to question him. Not if he wanted his comrades to perhaps be just a little safer. So he followed his own words and bit his tongue and bowed his head.
He wished the human would content himself with this and leave him alone. He wished he could rip out the pest's throat.
“Whatever you're afraid Lymeia might do, I don't plan on saying anything that would cause her to. I don't care if you have trouble keeping your thoughts to yourself, so long as you do not upset His Highness.”
Tiir raised his gaze again, perplexed and skeptical in equal measure, and some of it must have shown on his face, because the human crossed his arms and said, almost defensively, “Instead of apologizing to me, how about you apologize to His Highness. I'm sure you've given him a lot more reason to appreciate it.”
Tiir had not expected this, and a snort escaped him before he could stop himself.
The human narrowed his eyes at him. “What?”
'Nothing' was what Tiir wanted to say, but the suspicion evident in the man's voice and features told him that would not suffice. Honesty was the only solution he could think of. “Your wish was for me not to upset your prince, wasn't it? So I believe I should refrain.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
Tiir shrugged. “Just that your prince finds strange things upsetting.“
“Like you insulting him?” the human asked, rather sarcastically.
“Like me not talking to him, or not drinking enough, or not seeming entirely cheerful,” Tiir said after a moment. Revealing this much shouldn't be a problem, seeing how the half-Gastark magician was already well aware of Ecylan's concern for him and the soldier himself was bound to find out sooner or later, if he didn't have an idea already. “Apologizing to him for being trouble would hardly go over well. But of course, my opinion is quite worthless to you, isn't it. So if you insist--”
“You've got the sharpest tongue, haven't you,” the soldier said, and to Tiir's ire sounded like he wanted to roll his eyes. “I've not insisted yet, so how about you save the snappishness for after I reply.” He paused, then continued, in an incredulous tone of voice, “So what, you upset His Highness not by insulting him, but by moping around all day?”
Tiir bristled. “Hardly,” he said, and managed to not sound entirely as furious as he felt.
There was a pause. “Well this is just rich,” the human said then, and Tiir really, really wanted to kill him. “Forget I said anything. No wonder Her Highness was visibly contemplating throwing a very nasty spell at me. I'm going to let you mope in peace.”
Tiir opened his mouth to respond with something ill-advised, then closed it again and simply went back to staring at the potted plant. He was not going to let himself be provoked by so trivial a mockery. And to think the creature had called him petty.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the human taking a stack of paper out of his bedside drawer and proceeding to sift through it. Finally he put some of it back inside the drawer, sat down on the nearest chair, and started reading through the remaining documents. Now and then he glanced at Tiir, but that was the extent of the attention the human continued to pay him.
Tiir relaxed a little. This was familiar, and he was getting quite adapt at ignoring hostile humans, so long as they didn't force him to interact with them. All he had to do was wait quietly until Ecylan and the two mage women were done with their conversation.
That he could think of little but how much he wanted to be somewhere else while he did wasn't worth getting wound up about.
Unfortunately, it didn't help that the only other thought he managed to focus on for any significant amount of time was the question of what it was those humans were discussing that required Tiir to not be present. He cautiously decided it was unlike that it was about the children. If there was something wrong with them, surely Salea's princess would not have heard about it in rumors. Besides, she had almost brought the topic up in front of Tiir even after the half-Gastark woman's warning, and she hadn't seemed concerned about it.
Perhaps it had something to do with Gastark, then. In that case, it might not be better than there being anything wrong with Ren and Karda, and Tiir found himself more uneasy with every second he thought about it.
A quarter of an hour passed, then another one, and Tiir was feeling restless. What was taking the humans so long? Did their prolonged absence indicate the gravity of the matter they were discussing, or were they simply arguing over petty matters as humans were prone to?
Or perhaps Ecylan had decided to use the opportunity to catch up with his sister without Tiir being around to disturb them.
Tiir glanced at the human he was stuck with in the meantime. The soldier still seemed busy reading, but Tiir wasn't entirely sure he wasn't just pretending so as to have an excuse to not pay any further attention to him. After all, Tiir himself would have been quite glad to be able to do the same.
The human looked up at him, and Tiir quickly averted his gaze.
“Bored?” the soldier asked.
“Not at all.”
The human raised his eyebrows at him, but went back to reading without saying anything further.
No ten minutes later, however, the soldier put down the documents and focused his attention on Tiir again. “Well. I'm supposed to make sure you eat dinner.”
“I'm not hungry.”
The human glowered at him. “You're not just saying that to be contrary, are you.”
Tiir sniffed. “Hardly.”
“Fine. You explain that to Her Highness, then.”
Tiir almost grimaced. Justifying his lack of appetite to Salea's princess was among the things he least felt like doing, but it was indeed not unlikely it would come to that, whether the soldier brought the subject up or she herself did. Tiir was tempted to take back his words and simply force himself to eat, but he didn't know what he should say, or whether he would even be able to make himself finish a meal.
Inadvertently, his gaze was drawn to a bowl of fruit on the human's bedside table. If it was just an apple or orange, he supposed that would be all right, and he would have eaten something – surely no one would question that.
Much, he amended, thinking of Ecylan. For his sister's act, however, it shouldn't matter whether Tiir just ate an apple or a warm meal.
Not that Tiir could be entirely certain, with how the woman had behaved so far. What could she possible be thinking--
“Fruit?” the soldier asked. His tone was no longer one of irritation, but quite calm, if slightly baffled.
“I--” Tiir began, caught off-guard.
Before he could think of something intelligent to say, the soldier walked over to the bowl, grabbed it, and finally held it out to Tiir, who blinked.
After a moment, he slowly took the closest apple. “Thank you,” he said routinely, because he had manners.
The human, who was watching him with an expression that was hard to read, opened his mouth, but unsurprisingly – and thankfully – did not respond with 'you're welcome'. Instead he simply shut it again and wordlessly returned the bowl to its former place before sitting back down. He did not pick up the documents again, however.
Tiir had never felt so uncomfortable eating an apple.
He hadn't quite finished when there was a knock at the door. As he had hoped, but not expected, it was not Salea's princess who entered a moment later, but her brother.
“Your Highness,” the soldier said, and sounded more surprised than Tiir was.
“Arsan,” Ecylan returned. “Thanks for letting Tiir stay. I'm afraid we're in a bit of a hurry, though.”
“Of course,” the soldier said, and before he'd finished speaking Tiir already stood.
“I'll drop by properly some other time,” the prince promised.
“Don't trouble yourself.”
As Tiir arrived next to him, Ecylan offered him a smile that was only a little too shaky to sit well with him.
Despite having doubts he would be able to find out even the slightest thing about what was going on, Tiir was impatient to get back to the prince's quarters to try. Even so, he took the time to incline his head to the other human present before following Ecylan out of the room. He could at least end this on a respectful note.
No matter how little the man in question deserved anything resembling respect from him.
As he left, Tiir glanced at the piece of fruit he still held in and – what remained of it –, and made a face. Even the apple had tasted sour.