vivienne

Luciana’s heart was beating so wildly that it felt as though it would burst out her chest any moment now. Behind her, her wings were flapping just as furiously as she made her final ascent toward the small home Eragon had once shared with his family, before his ambitions brought him to the citadel. Eragon’s mother met her at the door, face pinched and drawn, a monument to a mother’s grief. And though she ached to go to Eragon straight away, Luciana paused, taking the other woman’s hands in her own and squeezing gently.

Despite her grief, the woman managed a small smile. “It was good of you to come.”

“How could I not?” she returned. “What happened was…”

Monstrous? Unspeakable? None of the words seemed to capture the depth of the tragedy.

“He’s in her room.”

Luciana hugged the woman she had come to see as her own mother, then headed for the staircase. The steps seemed endless, but most things that stood between Luciana and her intentions did. Especially when that intention was Eragon. The closer she got to the bedroom, the more the walls narrowed, like she was heading deep into a tunnel where no light could be seen. Eragon kneeled in front of a wooden chest, wings splayed out behind him. His usual poise was gone, lost in despair. He didn’t look up from the doll he cradled, though Luciana was sure he’d heard her approach. Amicus was quiet, watching over the entire scene from his makeshift perch – a small chair, half-pulled out from the desk like the owner had just left, and would be returning any minute now. But she wouldn’t. Luciana didn’t disturb the silence, simply sitting on the ground beside Eragon. It felt like almost an eternity had passed when he finally spoke.

“Have the perpetrators been punished?”

“The adults were stripped of their wings.” She threw a cautious side glance at him. “The child was imprisoned.”

Try as she might, she wasn’t able to keep the disapproval out of her voice. Reddened eyes finally looked up. “You think it’s undeserved?”

She exhaled, long and slow. “It’s not my place to judge.”

“Luciana…"

She was suddenly brought back to memories of their time at the academy, when Eragon was less jaded and more willing to hear out her controversial ideas.

“Devil’s advocate, the humans would say.”

“Satan hardly needs someone to speak on his behalf.”

Still, he played along, carefully dissecting and countering her arguments. Most often, their debates would end in a stalemate, but only after they had annoyed all the students and teachers unfortunate enough to be in their vicinity.

“I just think a child shouldn’t pay for their parents’ actions, is all.”

His jaw twitched. “He was too dangerous. You saw what happened at Christmas–”

“He was a terrified child, Eragon. If Shepha is all-powerful, surely there was another way to deal with him?”

She was dangerously close to sacrilege.

Diverting the topic to safer waters, she nodded at the doll Eragon was holding. “Is that supposed to be Amicus?”

He tightened his grip on the toy. “A birthday gift. I don’t even remember giving it to her.”

He’d hardly made time to come back home after being assigned to council. And the little girl, it seemed, had clung to the only thing she had of her brother: a worn-out toy holding memories of better times and a boy who loved his little sister.

“Why didn’t I make time, Luciana?”

She didn’t have an answer to his question, didn’t have anything that could soothe his despair. All she had was her arms, which winded around him as if the grief could be knocked out if only she held him tighter.

They sat like that through the night, even as the early morning light started filtering through the curtains. In the heat of the sun, Luciana made a silent vow.

I won’t ever leave you. I’ll always be by your side. I promise.