She hurried through the winding corridors of the estate, avoiding the busier sections where other servants might question her haste.
She exited through a servants' passage into the southwestern garden, where the night-blooming luminias cast a blue glow over the carefully tended paths.
There, seated on an ornate bench beneath a flowering arbour, was a woman engaged in a conversation with two people.
Elara, the woman and the two people were Tolian and Orimus.
Elara's beauty was cold and calculating, like a perfectly cut gemstone. Her platinum blonde hair was pulled back severely from her face, accentuating features that might have been lovely had they not been perpetually arranged in an expression of disdain. She wore robes of midnight blue, embroidered with silver threads that caught the light of the luminias.
"My lady," Lysa curtsied, slightly out of breath from her hurried journey through the estate.
Elara's eyes narrowed at the chambermaid's approach. "What news, Lysa? You wouldn't dare interrupt my solitude without good reason."
"The most interesting news, my lady," Lysa replied, lowering her voice even though they were alone in the garden. "Your grandmother plans to seek out Lord Jolthar. She intends to ask him to return to the estate—to the family."
A flash of something dangerous crossed Elara's face. "Does she now? How... sentimental." She tapped one long fingernail against the bench, the sound unnaturally loud in the quiet garden.
Tolian and Orimus were visibly startled. To bring him back? Why?
After Jolthar left, no one cared about his absence or why he left. They moved on with their lives, and Orimus, as much as he wanted to see Jolthar die, thought it was better he was left alone.
Tolian felt his face with his hand; still, the sensation lingered. How Jolthar beat the crap out of him in the banquet, and it was brutal, and he wouldn't dare cross paths with him again. But he was happy when Jolthar left the clan.
But now, their grandmother was thinking of bringing him back. And it made them visibly pale.
Elara was calm and composed as she asked, "And when does she plan this touching reunion?"
"She leaves at first light, my lady."
"I see." Elara rose from the bench in one graceful motion. "You've done well, Lysa. Now leave me. I have matters to consider."
The chambermaid bowed again and retreated, knowing better than to linger when dismissed. Elara waited until she was truly alone before allowing her facade of calm to crack, revealing the fury beneath.
Jolthar returning to the estate? To the family's good graces? It was unthinkable.
Tolian and Orimus saw her standing and were about to leave. Orimus asked, "Where are you going?"
She looked at him and said, "Can you kill Jolthar?"
Orimus stared at her, and she knew he couldn't do it; he wasn't as strong as Jolthar, so he couldn't kill him.
"Stay here and drink some tea, Orimus. I will be back in a short while."
Then she turned on her heel, leaving the two men staring at her.
She set off with purpose toward another wing of the estate, where she knew Wayde—the second son of the patriarch and now first in line to lead the clan—would be engaged in his nightly study of battle magic.
Unlike his father and other brothers, Wayde had always been more interested in the destructive aspects of their sword magic heritage than in clan politics or preservation.
Elara found him in his personal training chamber, swinging his sword at animated targets that dodged and weaved through the air. Sweat gleamed on his brow, and his handsome face was contorted with concentration. He paused at her entrance, the last target exploding into harmless sparks.
"Cousin," he acknowledged her, reaching for a cloth to wipe his face. "What brings you here at this hour?"
Elara moved closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "News that concerns us, dear Wayde. Grandmother plans to bring the prodigal son back into the fold." Orıginal content can be found at novèlfire.net
Wayde's expression darkened immediately. "Jolthar? She wants to bring that traitor back to Sandornen?"
"Why would she do that? Didn't she say he was a weak-willed boy? Why did she change her mind?"
Elara shrugged. "Well, people change, I guess."
"What is she thinking?" Wayde muttered.
"She leaves tomorrow to find him," Elara confirmed, watching the anger build in her cousin's eyes. "She means to appeal to whatever family sentiment might remain in his cold heart."
"And my father? Does he know of this?"
"I doubt Lord Caelum would approve such a mission," Elara said carefully.
"This appears to be the old woman's initiative, supported by your dear sister."
Wayde began to pace, his agitation manifesting as small sparks that crackled around his clenched fists. "This cannot happen. You know what Jolthar is capable of—what he's done."
"Do I?" Elara's voice was silky smooth. "Perhaps you should remind me of the many reasons why Jolthar Kaezhlar should remain in exile."
And so she began her careful poisoning of Wayde's mind, feeding his existing resentment with half-truths and carefully crafted insinuations. She reminded him of the rumours that Jolthar had been seen with members of the Naemarys clan before their attack. She speculated about the strange magics he had been developing—magics that could undermine the traditional power structures that kept the Kaezhlar clan at the pinnacle of society.
Initially, Wayde wasn't wary of Jolthar. He didn't even acknowledge him, but after the last battle in the clan, his opinion changed. He saw Jolthar as a threat and potential foe to be taken care of.
Elara, for her own benefit, filled Wayde's mind with even more of her poison, increasing his hatred towards Jolthar. She had already gotten close to Wayde, as he was the next patriarch.
"Think of your position, Wayde," she murmured. "With your brother gone, you are the next in line. But if Jolthar returns..." She let the implication hang in the air.
"I would be second," Wayde finished the thought, his face contorted with rage. "Second in a house where only the first two matter."
"Unless," Elara suggested delicately, "something was to prevent this touching family reunion."
Wayde's eyes met hers, understanding passing between them without the need for explicit words.
Elara smiled, satisfied. Her hatred for Jolthar—born of a rejection years ago that still stung her pride—had found its perfect vessel in Wayde's ambition and insecurity.
"What do we do, though? It's not like he is some regular swordsman that we can just kill off."
"Just give me a word, and I will take care of him."
"But Grandmother won't be happy. We need to deal with him quietly."
"Leave that to me." Elara smiled at him.
Wayde looked at her; her smile made him feel uneasy. But he wouldn't ask her what she was going to do. It was better that way, he thought.
The plan formed between them in the shadowed chamber, wrapped in layers of plausible deniability and mutual benefit. Neither spoke of their true motivations—Elara's bitter hatred or Wayde's fear of further displacement.
Instead, they couched their plotting in terms of clan security and the protection of Kaezhlar's interests.
By the time they parted ways, the fate of Johamma's mission hung in precarious balance, threatened by enemies within her own family—enemies whose ambitions and resentments had festered in the days since Jolthar's departure, growing as twisted and dangerous as the forbidden magics they claimed to abhor.
Meanwhile, in the same estate, on the other side, was a single room a little away from the walls of the estate; in that room, two women sat on the ornate sofa, drinking wine.
One of them leaned back on the sofa, her legs stretched onto the table before the sofa. "Elowen, you need to let go of that matter. He is no longer in the clan. Why do you worry about him?"
Elowen, the lady of the Kaezhlar clan, sat on the other side of the sofa, with her head tilted to the side, her hand supporting her head to the side. She held a wine glass with the other, all while staring at the red liquid inside.
"Maena, do I look like I am worried about that stray? I am being cautious. He is an anomaly that needs to be taken care of with immediate action."
"Didn't you see what he did during the last assault on our clan? That much power; he is still so young yet to wield a force that strong. No, we cannot let him be."
Maena sipped her wine and sighed, "You know, if your children weren't so harsh on him, he wouldn't have turned this way."
Elowen glared at her immediately after she finished her statement. However, she didn't say anything to defend or support her children's actions. She felt it was a significant loss for the clan to lose such a promising young man, especially one wielding Horgarth, the strongest sword of the clan.
"Nevertheless, he needs to be taken care of. That aside, when are you leaving for the depths?"
"I have to leave tonight, though I am not ready." Maena stretched her free hand, her laziness evident in her movements.
"You have to go. Your brother is needed here; we still don't know when those bastards will attack the clan."
"I know, I know." Maena got up and was ready to leave.
Elowen simply gazed at the wine, her mind occupied by thoughts of Jolthar.