Incite, page 17
“My father.” Calix scoops Amiria’s hair up, tying it with the ribbon as he stumbles through his explanation, “He’s not someone you say no to.”
Amiria’s face falls flat as she revisits the memory of how her captain, Calix’s father, struck him out in the open corridor. He belittled him where anyone could have witnessed, “And your mother?”
Calix’s hand falls to her upper arm holding on lightly. “You mean the general? Because I have a general, not a mother.”
Amiria turns slowly letting his hand slide down her arm to her wrist where he spins her leather bracelet around with his thumb. “I see, I’d rather have a field marshall too busy to keep track of my movements.”
With a sigh, he holds his elbow out. “Me, too.”
Amiria jumps to his side, linking her arm in his. “Well, let’s get this over with.”
“If we must.” Calix smiles, leading them out of her room.
A castle servant pulls open one of the double doors leading into a secondary hall half the size of the grand hall for Calix and Amiria. The smaller hall is a colorfully decorated room emphasized by the midday light pouring in through the two-story windows. The walls are painted with sceneries; of the mountains, wild dragons flying around their island to the southeast, men in armor riding on horseback, and women in beautiful gowns holding the hands of children. Gold trims the pillars and the arches supporting the ceilings and, in Amiria’s eyes, clashes with the red rugs layering the usually cold castle flooring.
Tables are set up in a box frame for the banquet allowing servants to set and change out the courses periodically without having to reach over those who are in charge of them. Entertainment will also conduct their acts, dances, and jokes in the center to please the top brass of the Calvary and their immediate families.
“Amiria Rey, I haven’t seen you at one of these banquets before.” Captain Gautier twirls his lunch wine inside his silver chalice.
“Captain Gautier.” Amiria nods, bowing her head in respect to her captain. “I have always been too preoccupied with training and work to set assigned time for such...lavish events.”
Captain Gautier smiles with approval. “If only my children saw to their responsibilities with such dedication.” Still speaking to Amiria, he glares down his nose at Calix. “Instead of wasting their youth with frivolous acts.” He doesn’t unlatch his matching diamond eyes as he stabs into Calix. “But It appears he isn’t useless after all.”
Amiria refrains from stepping between them, her eyes flipping from her captain over to her newly assigned betrothed. She tilts her head at the muscle twitching in Calix’s cheek. Shifting eagerly on her feet she holds back the question resting on the tip of her tongue, what does he mean, isn’t useless after all?
Feeling Amiria’s impatient movements, Calix’s face turns before his eyes break their contact with his father’s. He answers as if he could read her mind, “It’s nothing, don’t mind him. Let’s go wait for lunch to start by the window.”
Amiria bows her head at her captain once more. “I’ll see you around, Captain,” she manages to say before she is dragged away by Calix.
Reaching the skinny and elongated windows, Calix’s shoulders relax as he slumps down on the window sill. Amiria remains standing, slowly inching closer for the social security of the boy she arrived with. The one person she would have purposefully avoided in this situation is now her safety blanket from awkward social encounters with these Calvary executives. Why did she agree to this again?
She looks over at the boy with his head resting back on the window, dark stubble lining his square jaw, and thick eyelashes brushing his cheeks on either side of his straight nose.
He opens his eyes, smirking. “Something on your mind?”
“Nope,” she says quickly, shifting her gaze to scan the room. “Just wondering if you were going to play dead and leave me alone to these vicious creatures.”
Her eyes fall to the head table of the room, her father already seated, mingles with the Major. Beside him, General Gautier with her light brown hair pulled back into a tight knot sits painfully straight. Her eyelids hang low on her eyes as if the conversation being spoken beside her isn’t worth her oxygen to join. Amiria’s father breaks away from his discussion long enough to give Amiria a nod of approval before carrying on with the Major.
General Gautier’s eyes slither across the room to find who had caught the Field Marshal's brief attention. Her caramel eyes strike like a coiled snake as they stop on her second eldest son gazing longingly at the girl whom he is only betrothed to for the sake of her name. What a vulgar girl. General Gautier’s mouth is no more than a crease on her face as Amiria finishes scanning the room and meets her son’s eyes.
She should be grateful for who her father is. If she wasn’t the next Field Marshal, she would never let one of her own offsprings even converse with someone who carries themselves in such an aloof and heedless manner. A leader does not hide from her people. A leader represents them and makes a display of how one should conduct themselves, not punch a lord at a ball.
Amiria’s eyes flit to General Guatier then back to Calix. “Your mother looks enthused.”
Calix scoots on the window sill to peer out the glass refusing to acknowledge his mother. “General.”
“Sorry. The general looks enthused.”
Calix doesn’t remove his eyes from the clouds gathering outside for a light shower, “That is her happy face, trust me.” He blinks, flicking his eyes up to her. “No emotion is the better option.”
“Oh,” Amiria learns, understanding quickly. She has never had to deal with the general herself. She has been lucky enough to skip the ranking ladder and speak to the field marshal on every occasion. The field marshal. In a short amount of years, her father will retire, and she will occupy the seat at the head table. Will Calix sit beside her in the general’s chair or will—”
“Hello.” A young girl about the same height as Amiria and around eighteen leans one shoulder against the wall. Her dark hair matching Calix’s is french braided on either side of her head down into two long braids. Her caramel eyes, the same as her mother’s, crinkle as she smiles at Amiria. Her olive skin and tanned from years exposed to the sun, the same as the majority of the Winged Riders, glows against her rose pink bliaut gown slit down the sides over a pair of tights for better mobility.
“Go away, Kinsey,” Calix groans.
If Kinsey heard Calix, she doesn’t show it. Her eyes and ears fixated on Amiria and know nothing past her. Her face remains neutral as she speaks, “Surprised to see you show your face after the fiasco you caused at the ball.” Kinsey playing the role of a sympathetic younger sister pouts her lower lip, “Sorry you are forced into marriage with my brother. You can only hope he doesn’t fail like our eldest brother. He will never make it past a sergeant now. Not like you and I though.” Kinsey shows her teeth, “We will be in charge of the Calvary soon enough.” She finally focuses past Amiria to Calix whose eyes roll to the back of his head, “Then everyone will be under our command.”
Amiria’s voice lowers an octave as authority ripples from her like heat from a flame, “You look at me when you speak to me.” Kinsey’s eyes shoot back to Amiria. “There isn’t a we, there is a me. I will be the field marshal, you will be only second in command, my subordinate if you do become general. You will take orders from me like your mother takes orders from my father. Learn your place and learn it quickly or we will have another one of those fiascos.”
Calix lets out a low and long whistle.
A guttural sound emanates deep inside Kinsey as a growl slips past her deceiving smile. She talks through her gritted teeth. “It was a pleasure to officially meet you, Amiria Rey.”
“I wish I could say the same.” Amiria stiffens her posture.
Kinsey’s artificial smile flashes into a sneer. Correcting her mask, she smiles with a curtsey before sauntering off.
“Here, I thought you couldn’t get any more attractive. That was beautiful, absolutely stunning,” Calix flirts.
Bashful, Amiria playfully hits Calix on the shoulder. “Shut up,” she says, joining him on the window sill, “I’m not going to lie, your sister is awful.”
Calix’s head bobs between a yes and no, “Yeah, I agree, but out of my three siblings she’s probably the best. She is the only one who acknowledges me—Well, maybe that’s not a good thing. But my older brother resents us all. He hasn’t spoken to us since I was twelve and before that, he caused—” Calix stops skipping over the details. Taking a deep breath, he starts again. “His scores didn’t meet my parents' expectations.”
Amiria shrugs. “So, they told him he won’t be captain or general?”
“Disowned him,” Calix says blatantly.
Amiria leans away to get a better view of Calix. “Disowned! Like disowned, disowned?”
“Well, yeah, he isn’t inheriting any of the leadership positions, so they had no need for him,” Calix states with a detached demeanor.
“Isn’t that a bit on the harsh side?” Amiria points out.
“Is that not normal?” Calix asks, honestly confused.
Amiria looks Calix over, “No. I don’t believe so.”
She thinks of her childhood. Her real mother is only the faintest of memories, but she remembers the warmth of her love. She can always recall the kisses goodnight. After her passing, nannies raised her until she started officially training at the age of ten.
Busy with training, she finished raising herself from there on out. She rarely saw her father, but she never thought he would discard her like a broken tool no longer fit for its designed intentions. He has never shown it, but she knows her father loves her in some form or another. She touches the bracelet on her wrist. It belonged to Stirling’s mother; he saved Stirling nearly a decade ago. He saved Stirling because he would want someone to save her if the roles were reversed.
Hanging his head, Calix watches the waves of emotions crossover Amiria’s face. She steadies her expressions scooting closer to Calix till their hips touch.
Calix's breath hitches. He holds himself still as she reaches over as if she was a small bird landing on him that he doesn’t want to scare away. She slips her hand into his, giving him a comforting squeeze. She doesn’t know what to say in response. She has no words to mend what she doesn’t understand. She can’t fathom what kind of childhood he endured. Calix squeezes her hand back.
“You said the only one out of three siblings,” Amiria brings back the sensitive topic, unsure of why she wants to know more. “Who is the third?”
“My younger brother Keaton, he’s fifteen getting close to graduation and has been cursing me to fail since he could talk. He desperately wishes to become captain, but I’m currently the only thing standing in his way. That’s him over there,” Calix points to a boy who is almost a male replica of the general.
Keaton feels eyes on him, and with his instinct correct his eyes snap to Calix who merely lowers his hand back to his lap. Amiria tenses. With his face turned to them she can see the yellowing bruise healing on the side of his face. That’s the kind of childhood Calix grew up with.
Narrowing, Keaton’s eyes are blades; they are unsheathed, ready to tear down their opponent. Calix sucks in a deep breath dropping his gaze. He lets it sit in his lungs, waiting until they begin to burn before releasing it.
Sitting back, he removes his hand from Amiria’s to sling his arm around her shoulders already exasperated with the banquette, “When are they going to start serving food so we can get this over with?”
Amiria clues into the change of topic, but her mind does not. “Not soon enough. Watching people mingle is kind of entertaining though, like what do you think floppy hat Colonel and is talking to bird beak hat Brigadier about?”
“I think it goes a bit like this,” Calix holds up his nose putting himself in character. “Say, Sir Terrowin, may I ask? Have you come upon the solution to that of removing a stick from one’s bottom? No, Sir Aimar, I’m afraid I have not. But do not fret, I have my most reliable scholars researching at this very moment.”
Amiria slaps her hand to her mouth, her ugly laugh seeping through the gaps in her fingers as she fails to hold it back.
“Yeah, you find that funny?” Calix laughs.
Amiria keeps her hand over her mouth turning red as she nods her head. “I do,” she manages to say through her giggles.
He can’t stop another piece of his heart from falling for her. Each time she laughs she takes another part of him. If she keeps up this pace, she will own all of him and he is more than willing to give it up. He finally takes his eyes off of her as platters of divine dishes come pouring through the doors and lunch is to be served.
Twenty-Six
“How did I get here?” Stirling wonders. The few sunspots streaming down through the patchy roof of the stable come into focus as he wakes.
“I dragged you here,” Ignis informs.
Stirling lays in the bed of straw beside Ignis who is protectively curled around him. Placing his hand on Ignis’ front leg he sits himself up.
“AHH!” he cries out, hugging his torso. A sharp pain shoots up his abdomen and around his rib cage. He smacks his lips, tasting iron in his mouth.
With pain-shaking hands, he lifts his tunic to peek at his stomach. Only lifting the hem of his tunic, he exposes up to his belly button. He can already see the vibrant purple splotches on his skin.
Pushing his tunic back down hiding the evidence, he moves his tongue around as he inspects the gash on one side.
“Damn,” he mutters, lying back down. “What happened? I remember that guy Merek attacking me, but that’s it,” Stirling questions, his memory running blank.
“After I chased them off, you were unconscious. You started to wake, but you still weren’t responding so I dragged you back here.”
“I don’t remember any of that last part,” Stirling admits, unsure of what had happened to him.
Pushing through the pain Stirling sits himself up. “I’m going to need some help walking to the match today.”
“You’re still going to compete? Aren’t you injured?” Ignis points out.
“I can’t let them stop me.” He grimaces as he crawls out of Ignis’ nest. “I can’t let them have power over me.”
Grabbing hold of the stable’s wall he rises, each breath sending sharp stabs through him.
“You’re crazy, you know that right?” Ignis states.
“I’m aware.”
He holds onto Ignis’ saddle for assistance, desperately wishing he was able to walk without moving his torso. Each excruciating step brings him closer to his match of the day. He grinds his teeth, already perspiring across his forehead.
As they approach the competition grounds, Stirling analyzes the course. They had altered the racing track into an agility run. With the help of dragons, the crew was able to set up large wooden structures over the night. Hoops with a circumference only wide enough to fit Ignis’ body through so you need to time the beat of your wings perfectly to lower the chances of clipping them on the rings and receiving penalties.
A long downwards sloping tunnel constructed of canvas stretched around a ringlet spine, even the smallest mistake is unforgivable. The only possible execution is with a calculated dive.
Tight-knit poles protrude from the water in a single file line. Shouldn’t be any harder to weave through than dodging Taika’s fire.
The finale is a single shot with a bow and arrow. A haystack has been lifted into the air on a platform with a target painted on it.
A horde of fans surrounds the entrance to the fenced-off area reserved for racers only, allowing them privacy to prepare themselves for their meet. Several of the racers have stopped outside the fence to mingle with their adoring fans. Shaking hands and offering hugs they do what they must to hold the hearts of the people, and to convince the people to purchase the merchandise with their color and number.
Several girls with orange ribbons in their hair and boys with orange bandanas around their necks or tied around their wrists turn their attention to the arriving Stirling and Ignis.
Stirling and Ignis stop short as their fans rush over to them.
“STIRLING! STIRLING!” A clatter of mixed voices shouts excitedly.
Their overlapping bodies create a solid wall blocking him from his escape.
“What’s it like out there?”
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“How long have you been flying?”
“Will you marry me?”
“Did you really come from a small village like me?”
So many questions. Too many questions. His body sways light-headed. The overwhelming amount of voices sucking the oxygen out from around him. Perspiration forms on his palms and underarms. Each beat of his heart is faster than before. His mind commands him to run, it begs him to flee.
He takes a panicked step back, his body pressing into Ignis. The circling fans close the wall around him trapping him inside. Ignis needs to move, he has no room to escape. He can’t even tell what they are even asking anymore. A new question is asked before the other one is finished.
Gripping the saddle, he buries his face into his arms. “I-I-I—” he stammers into his sleeve, his swollen tongue unable to form words.
A female voice calls out over the crowd. “Okay, move it along, move it along. You guys are scaring the boy. He’s new, he isn’t used to the attention yet.” Eve pushes her way through the wall to Stirling.
“And you are?” one of the girls asks, eyeing Eve.
Bernard’s voice washes over them drowning out everyone else, “We’re his family. So, if you don’t mind we would like a moment with him.”
They peer up at Bernard’s mountainous size and shrink into themselves.
“Excuse us,” they mumble while filing away.
“Vultures.” Eve scowls.
“It’s whatever,” Stirling says quietly emerging from his hiding place. The wound on his tongue hits his teeth with each syllable.
