Relic

III: Martius 31 Year 242, A.H.

The last bell before Evensong sounds. Never have I been so happy to hear the tolling of the Campana that dictates every tick of our existence. The bell means that our guests must leave, taking their endless chatter about the glories of past Testings along with them. I can’t stand another tick.

Painful. That’s what the past two bells have been, not that I’ve revealed my discomfort. With a gracious Maidenly smile on my face, I have endured bells of stories from relatives and friends. Last year, I listened in wonder. These are the stories that form the core of the New North. The true legends about how age-old winners braved the indomitable ice to make unprecedented discoveries. The true legends like the one that made my father Chief Archon.

“Remember the gown they found years back?” Jasper’s uncle Ian cried after a few too many meads. As Chief Lexor, Ian rarely smiles, let alone laughs, but tonight is a special night. The lines in his face, etched as harshly as the stones on the floor, wriggle with secret delight. “The one without the sleeves?”

The Ladies and Gentlewomen tittered appropriately at the notion of a dress without sleeves. Modesty is at the very heart of The Lex: other than that of your face and hands, let no swath of skin be seen by the Aerie or Boundary men of New North. Females are in need of the Gods’ special protection. Besides, what of the exposure to the elements?

“Or the gown that rose above the knee?” Ian’s wife bandied back. With this, the Ladies and Gentlewomen gasped. This sort of debauchery was almost too much for them to imagine, even with their bellies full of mead. My father raised his voice, “That will be enough of the scandalous talk.” But he exchanged a knowing smirk with Ian.

Of course this, too, was part of the ritual: these long-winded exchanges of artifacts the Testors uncovered—not just the immodest clothes, but dangerous remedies, Apple amulets, and even one rare Apple altar, the empty glass surface where the pre-Healing people spent countless bells staring at themselves in false worship—each meant to be more shocking than the last. I also understood they were meant to embolden me and Jasper for the days ahead. But they didn’t. All the talk about artifacts just reminded me of my major Testing weakness.

Lukas taught me the ways of arctic living so that I could stand a chance in the early Test Advantages where the Testors prove their survival skills. Still, I don’t know enough about the world before the Healing. Testors typically dedicate years to learning about pre-Healing history so they can identify artifacts and craft cautionary tales, an act that is the very heart of the Testing and the Triad’s efforts to reinforce the critical message of The Praebulum and Lex. Instead, I spent my School days studying the Ark and perfecting the ways of the Maiden, neither of which will help me in the Testing. All my time training with Lukas can’t make up for this flaw.

At the final warning gong before the Evensong bell, my muscles ache from keeping still. The desperation is a fever: to race up to my room away from all the chattering guests, muster my courage in private, and count down the bells until dawn. But I assume my Maiden duties. As befitting the daughter of the Chief Archon, I rise from my chair and stroll to the front door for the formal farewells. They seek my father’s blessing and vale first. Then, taking each guest’s hand in my own as The Lex for Hosts require, I thank them for their blessings.

My manners falter only when I reach Jasper, the last in line. Tomorrow we’ll be fellow Testors. So strange that we’ve known each other our whole lives; he was friends with Eamon, after all. And his uncle and my father are so very close.

But there’s something else. Something that I only consider now. Recently I’ve felt his eyes on me. I’ve seen him flustered, as if he feels something other than simple friendship or the bind of family ties. As if he might feel the same way as our families about a Union. Not that I’ve been in a frame of mind to really consider anything other than my grief and the Testing. Regardless of how either of us feels, I know that everything changes as of tonight. How we speak to one another, how we look at each other, even how we think about the other. We’ll become fierce competitors. Not friends. Certainly not more than friends.

The expectant gaze of my parents and his parents bears down on us. This, too, is a test. I take Jasper’s hands in mine, and look into his face. I see my unspoken words reflected in his eyes. I say all I can under the circumstances, the ritual blessing for those few permitted to journey beyond the Ring. “May the Gods travel with you.”

“May the Gods travel with you also.”

With a last squeeze of my hand, Jasper ties his fur cloak around his waist and disappears with his parents out into the frigid night.

Lukas closes the heavy stone door behind our guests and bolts it tightly. I see a slight softening in the rigid block of his shoulders, and even my parents breathe an audible sigh of relief. The ritual is over. We can relax.

The solar great room begins to darken as the servants extinguish the candles and lamps. Just as I start toward the stone staircase, I hear a heavy tapping at the door.

We all freeze. No one knocks on doors in the ticks before Evensong Bell when all inhabitants of the Aerie must be in their homes. Only the Triad—the Lexors, Archons, and Basilikons—have the right to move freely at any time. Lukas’s body stiffens, and he glances over at my father, who nods permission for him to unbolt the lock. We stand at the ready.

I see the distinctive fur mantle before he steps into the room. It’s Jasper. He and Lukas exchange glances but not welcomes—Lukas is only a Boundary Companion, no matter how highly regarded.

Jasper bows deeply to my father. “I’m so sorry, but I had to come back,” he offers, his face a mask of contrition for my parents. “I accidentally left my great-grandfather’s sealskin cloak behind.”

“The cloak Magnus wore while Testing?” my mother asks, her voice whispery again in its Lady-pitch.

I know he’s lying. There’s no way he’d forget that cloak. Before the guests had lost themselves in drink, much of the dinner conversation was devoted to Magnus’s exploits, who won his year’s Testing to become the Archon. According to the legend, Magnus had made it to the Testing Site in record time. And Jasper’s mother made a very public display this evening of giving Jasper the cloak for luck in his own Testing.

“The very one,” he says.

“Oh, well, you must have the cloak for tomorrow!” my mother exclaims, “Eva, help Jasper find it. Quickly.”

I follow Jasper into the dining hall, trying to figure out what kind of game my mother is playing, though I can guess. She wants Jasper to have luck. She wants him to win, and for me to lose but return alive, so we can be Betrothed, and the awful tragedy of Eamon’s death can be forgotten in the wake of a new beginning. As we peer under the heavy trestle table and search under the benches, I get a much closer look at Jasper’s sandy hair and light blue-green eyes than The Lex normally allows. He looks more real, more vulnerable than his public Gallant appearance.

“I had to come back, Eva,” he suddenly whispers. “To say a real vale.”

I blink back shock. Jasper always abides by The Lex; he has faith in its importance to the survival of the Aerie people. That he might break a cardinal rule like observance of the Evensong bell, just to say goodbye—it’s unthinkable. Not to mention he just lied about his reason for being here, something else The Lex strictly forbids: let no untruths pass over your lips or through your hearts. Then again, my mom knows. She must.

Jasper smiles at my astonished expression. Despite the circumstances, I can’t help but smile back; his grin reveals the lighter side under that constant dutifulness. He usually keeps it hidden under lock and key. I know that, rather than smiling back, I should protest. In fact, the proper Maiden reaction would be to admonish him for taking the risk and for his audacity. He’s speaking out of turn for a Gallant, after all. Professions related to Unions can never occur without parents as witnesses—and, only then, once formal agreements have been entered at the parents’ initiation and the Triad’s approval. But I want to hear what he has to say. So I stay quiet.

“I’ve spent a lot of time over the past few months trying to get you to not Test,” he says.

“I lost count of your legal arguments at a hundred. You might consider serving as a Lexor if the Testing doesn’t work out.” I’m nervous at what Jasper might say, and my sorry attempt at a joke just slips out. A Maiden should be more solemn: let no humor cross your lips unless invited by the Gallant, Gentleman, or Lord in your company.

Jasper smirks, but he quickly recovers. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you the support you needed, Eva. It must’ve been really hard for you to listen to me when you were already dealing with so much over Eamon.”

“Your protests didn’t help.” I don’t see any sense in denying it, no matter the niceties demanded by normal Aerie conversation. Given that we’re already in flagrant defiance of The Lex right now, honesty seems the only course.

“I need you to understand now why I tried to talk you out of Testing.”

I nod. The Lex forbids the Testors to speak to one another for the duration of the Testing. More than one Testor has been sent back to the Aerie for violating that single rule. “Okay,” I say quietly.

Jasper breaks our gaze and stares down at the rough floor before continuing. “Eva, for a long time now, I’ve hoped that we could have a future together.”

I can’t help but wonder if my mother anticipated he’d make this confession as a last ditch effort to make me withdraw. My heart pounds. She’d be taking a huge risk, but of course, she could deny everything. Unions are strictly the purview of parents and Triad. Not Maidens and Gallants. A part of me is flattered; Jasper is considered one of the most eligible Gallants in the Aerie. But still, I don’t know how I feel about him. I haven’t allowed myself to experience any emotion since Eamon died. I’m fearful that, if I let in a single sentiment, the floodgates of grief will burst. Then I might as well withdraw.

I don’t want to commit to anything right now, and I definitely don’t want to insult him. Nor do I want to give my mother a victory. So I say as little as possible, using her logic. “I understand. It wouldn’t be appropriate for a future wife to Commit to the Testing. No female has competed for over one hundred years.”

Jasper looks up from the floor and grabs my hands. “That isn’t it at all, Eva. You have as much a right to compete as any other Founding family member. You proved to us all there are no Lex rules stopping you. And I don’t care what your mother or my mother or anyone else thinks about your behavior and The Lex for Maidens …” He pauses, blushing. “It’s just that I can’t stand the idea of you getting hurt, and the Testing is dangerous. I couldn’t go on if something happened to you.”

I open my mouth, but no words come. I have no option but to hide behind my Maiden mask of modesty. Lowering my gaze, I manage, “Oh.”

“Eva, I’ll do whatever I can to help you during the Testing, no matter The Lex, no matter—”

“Jasper?” My father’s voice bellows from the solar. “Have you found what you are looking for? Evensong will ring momentarily.”

I glance over at Jasper. He pulls the sealskin cloak out from under his fur mantle, where it had been all along.

“Yes, sir. I think I have.”