A visit from a princess...

The vardo clattered up the east lane of the academy under the weight of late afternoon light. Its blue-painted sides were streaked with road dust, the red shutters slightly sun-faded, and the silver trim around its edges still managed to gleam. Brass bells jingled under the eaves, soft and rhythmic, marking its passage without apology.

Zinna guided the reins with one hand, the other resting on the worn seat beside her. As the courtyard came into view, she clicked her tongue, and the vardo slowed to a stop near the garden wall—technically not a place meant for wagons, but no one rushed out to tell her so. A few students looked up from their benches and scrolls. Some glanced toward her with vague curiosity; others didn’t bother, too engrossed in their studies. 

Zinna rose and stepped down from the seat, her boots landing softly on the stone. Her skirt swayed with the motion—deep blue, with a silver-stitched hem that brushed her ankles. The red blouse she wore caught the sun at the shoulders, and her loose hair slipped forward until she pushed it back with a sigh. A single braid hung behind one ear, lined with soft little bells. Her bangles clinked lightly when she reached up to tug her shawl into place.

Three silver rings glinted on her fingers. She twisted one absently as she looked toward the tall doors. Zinna straightened, adjusted her vest, and walked across the courtyard with purpose. Not fast, not slow—just steady. She caught the scent of paper and herbs drifting from a windowsill, heard the scratch of a chalkboard inside somewhere. It was all quiet and thoughtful, which only made her own jangling nerves feel louder in contrast.

At the front entry, the assistant at the desk looked up with a start. 

“Good afternoon. I’m here to speak with Nymera, if she's available.” Zinna said simply, her voice calm but not cold.

The assistant opened his mouth, paused, then nodded. “Right—yes. I’ll fetch her. If you’ll wait—”

“I’ll wait here.”

Zinna stepped aside and folded her arms, gazing across the courtyard instead of watching the door. The light hit the vardo just right then—blue and red, silver shining against the stone buildings—and for a moment, it looked like a memory she hadn’t quite left behind.

 

 

A few minutes pass by and a door opens down the hall. Nymera walks briskly down the hall, nodding to and greeting any students or teachers she passes by. She is wearing a deep green dress that just barely brushes the floor and a gold trimmed apron over that which she is brushing and patting as she walks. Little clouds of flour puff into the air with each pat and she clicks her tongue as she's walking up to Zinna. 

"P-Princess? Zinna. I'm sorry. I don't quite know how I should greet you. Formally? That feels so..." Nymera places her hands clasped in front of her and lets out a soft breath. "How are you? I haven't seen you in months. I've been worried about you." She leans forward slightly and whispers. "I can ask that right? Would you like to walk the grounds?" She holds out her elbow, an invitation. 

When Nymera approached, Zinna’s face lit just slightly—not with her usual full smile, but with something quieter, more familiar. She dipped into a curtsy with practiced ease, and when she rose, her smile came, soft and genuine, though the spark behind it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” she said with a breath of a laugh, the words lighter than they might have been for anyone else.

Her gaze flicked around the courtyard—at the students pretending not to watch, the glint of sunlight catching polished stone, the subtle hum of a place always listening. Then her eyes found Nymera’s again, and her posture relaxed a touch as she accepted the offered elbow.

“A walk through the grounds would be wonderful,” she said with quiet warmth, letting her hand settle comfortably at Nymera’s arm like it had many times before.

As they began down the path, the faint jingling of the bells in Zinna’s braid accompanied their steps like a soft memory. She took another look around—more habit than worry—and leaned in just slightly, her voice low and steady.

“We can speak freely here, correct?” she murmured, not quite worried, but careful. “I know there are always eyes and ears watching and listening. I’d rather not risk putting either of us in more danger… especially since I’m not nearly as graceful with my words as Ba or Edgar.”

Nymera walks with Zinna towards the inner courtyard, setting her hand over Zinna's on her arm in a familiar comforting gesture.  

She looks over and smiles at Zinna. "I don't know how secretive you need to be exactly but we are safe in these walls. I remember they explained the details to me when they hired me but magic tends to go right over my head. Though it was made very clear to me that the protections on this place are superb." She chuckles and leans a little closer. "The gardens are usually pretty empty this time of day or we could go to my office. I have an office! Whatever makes you most comfortable."  

 

Zinna smiled softly again and gave a small nod.

“The gardens will be fine. I’ve recently remembered how much I do love the open air. The smells of plants and flowers drifting on the breeze…” She tilted her head, letting her gaze wander over the landscape with a wistful breath. “The few plants tough enough to survive this blight, anyway.”

She paused, taking in the subtle curves of the garden paths, the stubborn little blooms clinging to life where they could. It wasn’t lush, but it was alive. That mattered more than she expected it to.

Her eyes flicked back to Nymera. She opened her mouth to speak, hesitated, and closed it again with a quiet exhale. Something unspoken flickered across her face—uncertainty, maybe, or restraint.

After another glance around the open space, she caught sight of a quiet seating area nestled beneath a canopy of twisted old trees. “There,” she said softly, inclining her head toward the bench.

The two walked in companionable silence, the rustle of leaves and the faint ringing of Zinna’s bells the only sound between them. When they reached the stone bench, Zinna sank into it slowly, smoothing out her blue and silver skirts with practiced fingers. Her bangles chimed as she adjusted her sleeves, though her motions were restless.

“I…” she began, then faltered. She glanced at Nymera, then down at her hands in her lap. “I don’t know where to begin. I know I can’t speak entirely freely. I’ve learned to keep my most passionate opinions behind my teeth.”

She let out a soft, wry breath—equal parts bitterness and sorrow.

“But I don’t want to lose you, too,” she added, her voice quieter now. “Even though I know I will, sooner or later. It’s only a matter of time before the Queen Mother must be... locked away. For safety. For order. For appearances.”

She shook her head, not in disagreement, but in resignation.

“I’m honestly surprised you haven’t already been whisked off to some distant keep or enchanted grove,” she said, eyes flicking up with a faint, crooked smile. “Though I’d wager Ba and Edgar have a small army of invisible guardians trailing your every step.”

Her gaze shifted again—not to the flowers or the paths, but to the empty air around them. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she searched for a sign of the unseen. 

She shook her head with a soft, almost bitter chuckle. “Freedom,” she sighed, the word dry on her tongue. “It’s a lovely idea, isn’t it? Shame it’s only ever been an illusion.”

Nymera joins her on the bench. When they sit, she reaches over and lets her hand settle over Zinna's. The few students wondering the gardens glance their way but quickly return to their own studies or rushing to their next class, leaving the two of them almost entirely alone in the garden. 

She gives Zinna a worried look. "I'm... Free as I can be. And want to be. Considering all I saw for almost a hundred years was the farm. I know I'm... A target, I suppose." She chuckles but it isn't heartfelt. She squeezes Zinna's hand gently. "Zinna... Talk to me. What's going on? Where have you been?" She sighs. "I know things went badly between you and Kalil. Talk to me. I'm listening."