Chapter 149: The Problem With Being Remembered

Theoran read the first line twice, which was not encouraging.

I watched his eyes go down the page, stop, and start again, and I shifted Dream Haven higher behind my back. A royal seal on expensive paper, marked for immediate delivery. Nothing about the envelope suggested peace, which turned out to be ironic.

"Bad?"

"No."

"That took too long."

Theoran ignored me. He reached the bottom of the page and laid it on the desk.

"The peace treaty with the western beastkin territories is ready for formal signing."

I stopped moving. Not much, but Theoran saw it.

"When?"

"Three weeks."

For years people had talked about the treaty as something that might happen eventually. Negotiations, border talks, trade routes, prisoner exchanges, recognition of territory: the words adults used when they wanted several years of arguing to sound organized. Now, apparently, someone had finished arguing.

"Three weeks," I repeated.

"Yes."

"That’s soon."

"It has been under negotiation for considerably longer than three weeks."

"I meant for me."

Theoran’s eyes narrowed slightly, and I realized I had said something suspicious.

"For preparing emotionally," I added.

"Naturally."

He picked up a second page. Royalty had never learned to use one sheet of paper when three would do. He read it in silence, and I waited, and then waited longer, and finally leaned forward.

"Why was this sent to you?"

"The Crown has requested Zenith’s participation."

"Send flowers."

"No."

"A letter."

"No."

"One of the professors."

"No."

"Several professors?"

Theoran looked up at me, and I didn’t like the look.

"Why are you looking at me?"

"The Crown has specifically requested the five first-year SSS-potential students."

I stared at him. He stared back.

"No."

"You haven’t heard the rest."

"I understood enough."

"Alash."

"I have classes."

"The Academy is authorizing the absence."

"Cultivation."

"Selene will adjust your schedule."

"Responsibilities."

"Penelope can manage Sanctuary."

That one hurt, because it was true. I sank lower against Dream Haven.

"This feels targeted."

"It is a royal request."

"Exactly."

Theoran slid the letter across the desk. I didn’t take it. Paper had caused enough trouble in my life.

"Why all five?"

"The official reason?"

"There’s an unofficial one?"

"There are always several." He tapped the letter. "The Crown wants the signing to mean more than a pause in hostilities. Five students with SSS potential, from different families and backgrounds, standing beside representatives of both peoples, makes a useful image."

"An image."

"Yes."

"I can send a portrait."

"No."

"A recent one."

"No."

"I could lie down during the ceremony."

"No."

"I could attend by letter."

"No."

"You didn’t even consider that."

"I did."

"For how long?"

"Less than a second."

Harsh. I picked up the letter after all.

The language was every bit as unpleasant as I had expected: formal, polite, and full of phrases like shared future and lasting cooperation. Nobody ever wrote that you were required to stand somewhere and look symbolic for several hours, although it would have saved everyone time.

Five names were listed further down. Elizabeth Aurelius. James Vellaroux. Sophie Trohan. Daphne Spinster. Alash Vortex.

"Elizabeth makes sense," I said.

"The First Princess."

"James too."

"One of the kingdom’s most prominent young nobles."

"Sophie was common-born."

"Which is politically useful."

"So was Daphne."

"Also useful."

I looked at my own name. "And me?"

Theoran was quiet for half a second. "You’re asking?"

"Yes."

"Interesting. You normally assume you were included by mistake."

"That remains possible."

"It isn’t."

The first page described the five of us as representatives of Zenith’s first-year generation. We would attend as witnesses: the kind of people who stood behind the ones doing the actual work and tried not to yawn. I could do that. There would be chairs. Treaties were important, and important events had chairs, usually.

Then I reached the final paragraph and read it twice.

The beastkin delegation had requested that Lord Alash Vortex be included among Zenith’s representatives.

I sat up, and Dream Haven slid down behind me. Theoran watched me read the sentence a third time.

"The beastkin requested me."

"Yes."

"Specifically."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Theoran leaned back. "You tell me."

I didn’t answer, because the cave had come back first: dark stone, Mia, Lyssairia. Then the rest of it, in no particular order. Three black envelopes. Nyra. Caelum. Vessa. Garron. Hands around a throat. Water exploding through the trees, and my father standing in the wreckage afterwards.

I stopped there. The room had gone quiet, and so had the jokes.

"Do you know who’s attending?" I asked. "From their side?"

"The final delegation list hasn’t been provided to Zenith."

"Miarielle?"

"I don’t know."

"Lyssairia?"

"I don’t know."

"Valerian?"

"Master Valerian is human."

"I know. I meant, will he be near the border."

"Possibly."

That was not enough information, and I disliked not having enough information about people I hadn’t seen in years.

"Where’s the signing?"

"Fort Halden."

I knew it. Not well, but well enough. A human fort a few days from the crossing routes I had used when I was younger, closer to beastkin territory than Zenith was, and closer to everything I had spent years carefully not thinking about.

"You know the area," Theoran said.

"A little."

"How little?"

"Enough to know the roads are terrible."

"That was not what I asked."

"It was what I answered."

He let it go, for now.

The beastkin delegation had asked for me. Not the Crown, and not Zenith: them. My chest tightened, and I couldn’t decide whether it hurt. It felt like proof that those years had happened somewhere other than inside my own head. Someone on the other side of the border remembered me, and that mattered more than I wanted it to.

[Your objections have changed.]

’No.’

[Previously, your primary concerns were travel, formal clothing, prolonged standing, speeches, and the probability of inadequate seating.]

’Those remain serious.’

[They are no longer first.]

I didn’t answer.

[You ranked seating above international diplomacy.]

’Chairs affect me directly.’

[...]

’That’s how ranking works.’

The System wisely stopped.

Theoran folded his hands. "Do you want to go?"

That caught me off guard. "Isn’t it a royal request?"

"Yes."

"So it doesn’t matter."

"That wasn’t my question."

I looked down at the letter. The first answer was no, obviously. Travel was exhausting and ceremonies were worse. There would be nobles and soldiers and officials talking for hours about things they had already agreed, and probably banners, and banners were never comfortable.

But the beastkin had asked for me. I thought of Mia, and of the people who had bowed to me in the cave, and of the three who had walked me toward human territory and had not walked back. A treaty would not undo any of that. It might mean fewer people died on those roads, though, and that seemed worth standing up for.

"Yes," I said.

Theoran’s expression did not change. Mine probably did.

"Don’t look pleased."

"I am not."

"You look pleased."

"I look eighty-one."

"That isn’t a defense."

"It has worked for some time."

I pushed the letter back toward him. "Do the others know?"

"Not yet. This afternoon. Together."

"Why together? I’ve already said yes."

"That does not exempt you from being informed properly."

"I have the letter."

"You skimmed the letter. You ignored half the second page."

I looked at the second page. There was more on it.

***

The meeting was held after afternoon theory, and I arrived first. Not out of eagerness: Theoran had kept me in his office until it was nearly time, and walking back to Sanctuary in between would have taken extra effort. Efficiency. Dream Haven was under one arm and the advancement book under the other, and I already regretted agreeing to keep it.

The room was smaller than I had expected: one long table and seven chairs, with Theoran at the head, Selene by the window, and five places for us. I took the chair with the best wall behind it.

Sophie came in first. She looked at me, then at Dream Haven, then at the enormous book.

"Are you studying?"

"No."

"It’s a book."

"I know."

"Then why are you carrying it?"

"Punishment."

Theoran made a sound that might have been a sigh. Sophie sat down across from me.

James arrived next, and Elizabeth less than a minute after him. Daphne came last. Not late, just last. She looked around the room once and took the chair with the clearest view of both doors. I noticed. So did Elizabeth. Nobody mentioned it.

Elizabeth’s eyes went to the royal envelope before she had finished sitting down.

"That’s my father’s seal."

"Yes," said Theoran.

James glanced at her. "You knew about this?"

"No."

Her mouth tightened very slightly, which I took to mean she disliked not having known.

Theoran passed four copies of the letter down the table. I didn’t get one, since I already had mine, and for about eight seconds this made me feel experienced.

Elizabeth finished reading first, then James, then Daphne. Sophie took longer. I watched their faces. Elizabeth went still. James frowned. Daphne showed almost nothing. Sophie looked up.

"The treaty’s finished?"

"The final language has been approved by both delegations," Theoran said. "The formal signing takes place in three weeks."

Sophie smiled, small and genuine. "That’s good."

"Potentially," said Elizabeth. She tapped the paper. "A signature ends negotiations. It doesn’t automatically end hostility."

She said it without excitement and without cynicism, as a plain fact.

James leaned back. "Still better than fighting."

"Yes," said Elizabeth at once, and then, more quietly, "It is."

Daphne had reached the part with our names. "We’re going."

It wasn’t a question.

"The Crown has requested all five of you," Theoran said.

James’s frown deepened. "For what?"

Elizabeth answered before Theoran could. "Visibility. Five SSS-potential students from the kingdom’s most prominent academy, the First Princess among them, standing at a peace signing."

"Propaganda," said James.

"Symbolism."

"Same thing with nicer clothes."

Elizabeth gave him a look. "Sometimes."

Sophie looked down at her copy. "We’re not part of the negotiations."

"No," said Theoran. "You will attend as witnesses and representatives of Zenith. You will not take part in treaty discussions unless an authorized official addresses you directly."

Good. I liked rules that required me to do less.

James crossed his arms. "So we stand there."

"Among other things."

"Other things?" I asked.

Theoran looked at me. "You’ve already read this."

"I skipped that part."

Elizabeth turned her head. "You skipped parts of a royal request?"

"I found my name."

"That doesn’t answer my question."

"It answers the important part."

She stared at me a moment longer, then turned to Theoran. "What other obligations?"

Theoran listed them: the journey, several official dinners, a reception, one appearance on behalf of the Academy, a joint event with a youth delegation from the beastkin side, the signing itself, and a formal portrait sitting afterwards. I stopped listening somewhere around the youth delegation. This was becoming dangerous.

"How long will we be gone?"

"Close to three weeks, including travel."

I looked at Selene. She was already looking at me.

"My cultivation."

"Will continue under modified supervision."

"On the road?"

"Yes."

"That sounds unsafe."

"It is less unsafe than letting you decide afterwards that three unsupervised weeks need making up for."

I had not been going to do that. Probably.

"The five of you will travel together," Theoran went on, "with an academy escort, and Crown security for parts of the journey."

James nodded; that seemed to be his favorite part. Sophie asked about classes. Daphne asked about training access. Elizabeth asked who would be attending from the Crown. All reasonable questions. I waited until they were finished, and then asked mine.

"Will there be chairs?"

Four people looked at me. Theoran closed his eyes. Selene didn’t react at all; she had experience.

Elizabeth stared. "At the treaty signing?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"For sitting."

"I know what chairs are for."

"Then we’re making progress."

James covered his mouth. Sophie’s shoulders started shaking over her paper. Traitors, both of them.

Elizabeth leaned back. "Most formal treaty ceremonies are conducted standing."

"Why?"

"Because they’re formal."

"That isn’t a reason."

"It’s tradition."

"That still isn’t a reason."

"Alash."

"I’ve had injuries."

"You are currently healthy."

"Preventive medicine."

Daphne spoke without looking up from her letter. "You could sit before it starts."

I turned to her with real gratitude. Finally, someone serious.

Elizabeth looked at Daphne. Daphne kept reading.

"What?" said Daphne.

"Nothing," said Elizabeth.

I made a mental note to arrive early, sit down first, and stand only when someone forced me to. The trip was becoming manageable.

Then Elizabeth reached the final paragraph. Her eyes stopped moving, and she looked up at me.

"The beastkin delegation requested you."

Nobody gasped, and nobody stood up, but every head at the table turned my way. James looked at me. Sophie did too. Daphne lifted her eyes from the paper.

I adjusted Dream Haven under my arm. "Apparently."

"Why?" said Elizabeth.

I had expected the question. I still didn’t want it.

"I spent time near the border."

"We know that."

"I also spent time on the other side."

James frowned. "You mean when you were kidnapped."

"Partly."

Elizabeth’s eyes sharpened, and I knew at once that partly had been a poor word to choose.

Sophie leaned forward. "You met them?"

"Some of them."

"Who?"

"I don’t know who’s attending."

"That isn’t what I asked," Elizabeth said, sounding exactly like Theoran, which was an unwelcome development.

I looked down at the letter. "A few people."

"That explains nothing," said James.

"It explains several words."

"Alash."

The jokes were getting harder to find, so I stopped looking for them.

"I knew people there."

The silence after that wasn’t long, but it was long enough.

Sophie spoke first. "Friends?"

I thought of Mia and Lyssairia, of the cave, of the road and the three who had walked it with me.

"I don’t know," I said, which was true. Some relationships are hard to name after years of silence.

Elizabeth studied me, and I could almost see the questions lining themselves up behind her eyes. She didn’t ask any of them. Not yet.

Daphne went back to her letter. "The request means they remember him."

Everyone looked at her, and she lifted one shoulder.

"It’s specific."

She was right. That was exactly what had caught in me in Theoran’s office, though I hadn’t put it so plainly.

Theoran let the quiet sit for a moment before he spoke. "Whatever history Lord Vortex has with the beastkin delegation, it is one reason the Crown considers his attendance useful."

Useful. It was a familiar word, and it bothered me less than it used to. Perhaps because, this time, the usefulness belonged to something I actually wanted to succeed.

Elizabeth folded her copy into precise thirds. "When do we leave?"

"In twelve days."

That was sooner than I had expected. James asked about equipment. Sophie asked whether we would pass through civilian towns. Daphne wanted to know who commanded the escort. Elizabeth wanted the current draft of the treaty, naturally. Theoran answered what he could, and I mostly listened, and thought about Fort Halden, and the border, and whether Mia would be there, or people I had never met who remembered the same roads I did.

Travel, formal clothes, speeches, standing for hours. All of it terrible, and I still wanted to go, which was worse.

[Your priorities remain unusual.]

’They’re correctly ordered.’

[You complained about chairs for six minutes.]

’And I still agreed to attend.’

[Because the beastkin requested you.]

I didn’t answer, and the System didn’t need me to.

Across the table, Elizabeth was reading the letter again. James had started discussing which weapons he was allowed to travel with, and Selene was patiently refusing most of them. Sophie was asking whether students would be allowed to speak freely with the beastkin delegation. Daphne was memorizing the route.

Five people, going to the same place. Five vessels.

The thought arrived quietly, and the humor left with it. None of them knew. Not James, not Sophie, not Elizabeth, not Daphne. And now we would spend most of three weeks traveling together.

I looked at each of them once. Nobody noticed except Elizabeth, whose eyes met mine across the table. I looked away first.

Twelve days until departure. For the first time, formal clothes were not the worst thing I had to prepare for.