Sunset of the Wandering Souls

Innin didn’t try to continue our conversation from last night, nor did I want to dwell on it. He only made a comment that my eyes look redder than usual, and I ignored him to thread my fingers through my hair. I didn’t want his help when he offered to tie my hair back for me, and while I regretted not taking his advice to dress more warmly as it had started to snow, I wanted Innin to know how upset I was at his words. I knew I was acting like a child, but I didn’t know how else to act convey my feelings to Innin. Pili asked if there was something bothering me, I brushed him off with by saying I’d tell him later.

I shivered as the icy wind blew snow into my face. I glared at Innin out of the corner of my eye when I saw him start to take his coat off. He clicked his tongue in what I assumed he thought was inconspicuously, it only made me more irritated. I grabbed Pili’s hand, heart hammering as I pulled him along. I went in the direction of the room we ate in last night, I was fine with anywhere that was away from Innin, though. I only headed that way because Pili mentioned Tani wanted to check the frostbite on his fingers. If Innin didn’t match our speed, we’d—I’d have a few minutes to compose myself, to pretend I wasn’t hurt by his words. But I still ended up letting go of Pili’s hand the moment the door was slid open, and I saw Tani inside already tending to a pot. I felt foolish for having held onto Pili’s hand for so long, his fingers were injured as well, I should’ve known better. There was a small comfort that he hadn’t tried to pry his hand free, nor had complained that I was hurting him.

Innin came in behind us only a moment later, much sooner than I had anticipated. He took in a ragged breathe, coughed once or twice which drew Tani’s attention. “Are you getting sick, little devil?” Tani asked while gingerly unwrapping Pili’s fingers. Innin cleared his throat and rather irritably, said the Reissu weren’t devils and calling them such was to mock us. “My mistake, little flighted,” he said through a laugh. “Would you like some tea, then? I can put some on in a moment.”

“No,” Innin let a small cough escape, “but Ezollen would like to speak to Luyun.” The way he said my name made me ball my hands into fists. I hoped it was my imagination, that he wasn’t being curt with me for acting like a child. I knew I should apologize to him, yet I wrung my tail with my hands. That only caused Innin to yank it out of my grip and to scold me for playing with it. “Where might he be?”

Tani looked up from rewrapping Pili’s fingers. “Mercifully asleep, if not awake and writhing in pain.” He glanced at Pili’s small hand in his large ones. “There’s not much a Flodkaros can do for a Qriacin’s wing.”

“I may be able to help,” Innin said. “Reissu and Qriacin wings are practically the same—save for some differences in appearance—and I’ve had…practice with…alleviating discomfort…in Reissu wings.”

“Thank you,” he shook his head, “but there’s nothing that can be done for a wing no longer present. You’re all set, little fish.” Tani let go of Pili’s hands and turned back to his pot. Innin voiced the thought the first thing that had floated into my head upon hearing Luyun had a missing wing; almost in disbelief, Innin asked if he had it correct that Luyun was a noble who could no longer fly. “Yes,” Tani said. “A price he paid for not submitting to the rebellion. He should’ve bled out on the Qotut-Interior border.” He scooped portions of rice into four bowls, almost solemn as he garnished it with pieces of grilled fish. Tani handed us each a bowl and spoon before standing with his own bowl in hand. “Help yourselves to seconds while I check on Luyun.”

I sat by the fire away from Innin to eat, Pili joining me on the other side of the fire pit. Innin didn’t try to sit by me, keeping his distance in what felt like him waiting for me to get past this. I wasn’t going to, certainly not today, and not tomorrow. I sensed Pili had something he wanted to ask to me, and I figured it had to do with what was bothering me. I was only saved from sorting my broken thoughts by Tani returning, carrying Luyun in one large arm. Tani sat Luyun by the fire where he pulled his jacket tighter around his shoulders, leaning against Tani’s frame. “Forgive me,” Luyun said, closing his eyes, “for the state I’m in, but storms tend to linger in the Northern Territories, and I’ve no way of knowing when I’ll feel well enough to talk.” He repositioned himself, soon giving up supporting his own weight and allowing Tani to hold him in his lap. I picked at my fingers watching them, thinking there was more to their relationship than I first assumed. “Tani has mentioned,” he took a moment to breathe through a flash of pain, “you wish to help my efforts?”

Innin looked at me, and I pulled at a hangnail. “Y-yes,” I said quietly. “I won’t speak for Pili, however.”

Luyun opened his eyes, eyes like a bird of prey’s. “But you will on behalf of the Reissu?”

I started to answer him that I would when Innin spoke. “He cannot,” he practically growled, his ire directed at me more than at Luyun. “He may be the Crown Prince, but he has no power until coronation.”

“Then who does?” Luyun asked. “Queen Mirgen?”

Innin coughed into the crook of his elbow, a long, hacking cough. “In part.” He cleared his throat. “Though, our constitution states in the absence of a king, the Crown Prince’s retainer is the de-facto authority. The queen was always intended to act as a face.” Innin pushed his messy hair out of his eyes, while I picked at hangnails until they bled. “In all legalities, I am the highest authority in the Interior, and the leader of the Reissu until Ezollen’s coronation.” I was certain he would’ve punctuated his sentence by unfurling his large wings if the walls weren’t so close together.

Luyun fell quiet for awhile before taking a deep breath. “Did they know?” His voice was barely a whisper, a smile growing on his face. “Did they know that by killing King Saromon it’d only push the Interior’s most feared warrior into power?”

“You want a war,” I said, realizing what it was he meant. “You want Innin to head a war.”

“I want—” Luyun let out a noise of pain, but continued through it anyway, “I want my duchy back. I want my country back.” He calmed down whatever anger was bubbling up inside him. “If that means going to war, then so be it. What will it be, commoner king?”