Alistair and Aria, Part 4

“How did we develop this kind of repertoire?” Alistair laughed. “The night before your seventeenth birthday, and that’s what you have to ask me?” “You said in exchange for a physical present this year that you would tell me the truth about something. I’ve thought about it for a week. I want to know how…

Alistair and Aria, Part 3

“We didn’t grow up together,” Aria explained as she practiced her swordsmanship with Valtteri, eldest son of the prince of the Southern Arm. “I only saw him a few times when I was a child, but he was always kind to me. The day my parents died, he asked if I trusted him, and I…

Alistair and Aria, Part 2

Buried in a disused study somewhere in Suvid, a scroll existed in broken, childish handwriting granting Alistair the authority to act as regent to Queen Aria of House Kolenikova until she turned eighteen. He didn’t like to think of that day—the morning he’d killed her parents in self defense, though with a lingering feeling of…

Alistair and Aria, Part 1

Aria dreamed of that day often—the fateful day she became queen at eight years old—though she always blocked a few details out. She never saw her parent’s bodies again, nor did she see the blood or remember the fright. Often she would just skip over it, as if her subconscious mind recognized that she was…