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From the corner of his eye, Naolin watches Sloane Mairi sitting in a booth across the bar as he wipes down the counter. She’s been there for a while now, sulking in the shadows and refusing to engage in conversation. She slouches forward against the table now with her fingers digging into her straw blonde hair. It’s closing time and she hasn’t decided to leave yet. She still doesn’t move from her spot by the time he’s finished mopping the floor behind the counter.
Naolin sighs in annoyance as he hangs his apron on the small rack in the nearby closet before approaching her. His steps slow ever so slightly as he feels the familiar pulse of magic rolling off her in powerful waves. He isn’t sure if she senses it like he does or if it’s just an additional curse he’s acquired from becoming a maven, but the amount she’s releasing tells him that she’s going through a difficult time in her life.
The urge to draw on her power is more than enticing but he reminds himself that doing so had ruined his relationships with… everyone. He remembers the look of horror on Brennan’s face, Tàirn’s wrath, and the soul crushing regret to stave off the gnawing hunger. Exhaling slowly, he lets his shoulders fall and strides forward.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” he says politely, stopping mere inches away from her, “the dining area is closed for the evening.”
The first-year sniffs and slowly lifts her head. Her baby blue eyes are bloodshot from snorting crushed opium poppies earlier when she thought he wasn’t looking. “What? Oh… Shit, my bad.” She gets to her feet, using the table as support, and stumbles forward.
Naolin extends an arm for her to hold onto. “Here, let me walk you to your dorm.”
“I can handle myself,” she says stubbornly.
“I’m sure you can, but it’s late and you’re overflowing with power. The last thing we need is you accidentally bringing a venin into Aretia.”
“You’re not even a rider. You wouldn’t know a damn thing about—”
“You are Sloane Mairi, daughter of Colonel Oighrig Mairi, and the last of your family’s name. You’re also a siphon — a very bad one at that.”
Her eyes widen in shock and indignation. “How…?”
“I keep tabs on every rider in Aretia. It’s part of my job. Now, will you let me escort you or do you want to be locked in here until morning?” Naolin asks. He can feel his patience running thin with each passing second.
Sloane scowls and stalks towards the door. “Threats don’t mean shit to me. I killed venin and fought at Bàsgiath.”
“Yeah? How’d that go for you?” he asks casually, flicking through the ring of keys for the right one. When he glances her way there’s a pained expression on her face. She quickly masks it when she notices him.
“I killed Violet’s mom,” she says stiffly.
“Good. Someone needed to do it.” He brushes against her oh so slightly as he holds the door open for her. “Ladies first.”
The blonde scoffs and storms past him into the dark night without even so much as a thank you. Naolin resists the urge to roll his eyes as he locks both doors behind him.
“Kids these days,” he mutters under his breath with a shake of his head. He easily catches up to her and lets his hair fall free from its usual professional bun. “I heard you haven’t been training your signet as often as you should.”
“What are you? My dad?”
“I am a servant of Tyrrendor’s duke and Lieutenant Colonel Aisereigh’s close confidante.”
She stops and frowns at him. Her gaze skims over his person, lingering on the alloy blade poking out from underneath his coat, before she turns away. “You should be in Lewellen, not some run down bar.”
“I go where my master needs me to be. Who teaches your wielding classes?”
Sloane shrugs. “Dunno. Probably doesn’t matter since I won’t be using my signet anyway.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to!” She clenches her fists at her side. The warring emotions in her eyes physically manifest as a short burst of pitiful energy. It tastes sweet and tangy with a hint of umami. “The last time I used my signet someone died and-and I didn’t mean to — I didn’t want to — but Violet…” She swallows back a lump in her throat. “I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for—”
“Did you forget that her mother killed your entire family?” Naolin cuts in. He rests a hand on her shoulder and forces her to turn so she can face him. “You are the last Mairi because of her. Do not feel shame for killing demons; that is cruelty upon yourself.”
She blinks back a few tears before hastily wiping them with the cuff of her uniform. She looks like a child in the faint light of the moon; the thought stirs something inside him. It might be pity or some other complex emotion he doesn’t want to dwell on.
<Empathy.> The gruff voice of his wyvern, Taranus, enters his mind. <That is the term you seek.>
<I do not empathize with riders.>
<Then explain your bizarre feelings towards the resurrected one to me.>
<Our relationship is strictly professional.>
<Define professional.> He’s starting to sound far too similar to Tàirneanach.
<Go to sleep,> Naolin instructs, having had enough of this particular conversation, and closes the bond between them.
He does not feel empathy anymore. That was the first to be taken from him when he drew from the earth. Still, this new sensation in his chest is annoying and he doesn’t know why. Brennan is the only thing keeping him from blowing up the Continent and he wants to keep it that way.
“I just… I don’t know what to do,” Sloane admits quietly, glancing down at her hands. “I don’t want this power. All I do is kill with it.”
“Siphoning is more than just taking energy from someone.” Naolin takes her hand in his and holds it up a little. “It’s the living embodiment of equilibrium.” He squeezes her hand lightly, easing a tiny piece of his own power into her palm. The roiling mass of chaotic energy surrounding her calms when it comes into contact with the Source.
Sloane stares at their entwined fingers in amazement for just a fraction of a moment. “Wait. How did you…?” Her eyes narrow. “You can siphon.” Oh, good. She’s more perceptive than the lightning wielder.
“I can.” He lets go of her hand and continues walking.
“You could’ve helped imbue the wardstone. You could’ve saved so many lives at Bàsgiath.”
“Yes, well, I am not exactly on speaking terms with my… father,” he admits quietly though he hesitates on the last word. It shouldn’t hurt having to say it. The black dragon had made it abundantly clear that they were not to meet again under any circumstances and that was fine. It wasn’t as if he had anything of note to say to him either.
Sloane tilts her head at him. “Why not? Is he an ass?”
“He disowned me many years ago and said that if he ever saw me again, he’d kill me. I wasn’t going to risk running into him on the battlefield. Besides, he has a new daughter to show off.”
“Oh shit. That’s… I’m so sorry for you.”
“It’s fine. I’ve made my peace.” He clears his throat. “You should learn how to control your signet. I know it’s not the easiest to control but it will benefit you in the long run.”
She falls silent and doesn’t speak for a little while. “Can… Can you teach me?” she asks hesitantly. “Just a little bit?”
“Are you asking me to be your instructor?”
“No! I just… I’ve never met another siphon before.” Her cheeks flush a little for whatever reason. She must feel embarrassed. The sight is oddly endearing.
“Of course I can,” Naolin says softly. “Our powers will balance each other out in time.” At least he hopes it will. He doesn’t want to have to kill her anytime soon and disappoint Brennan. He’s doing a very good job at not drawing from the Source, much more than that Riorson boy. He’d hate to lose his six hundred day streak. Not that it’s a competition or anything.
He wonders if keeping Sloane around might be good for him. Maybe he can hate himself less if he thinks of her as a little blonde version of his old self. But he knows he can never face that part of him ever again. The first-year would hate him just as much, perhaps even more so he purges this train of thought instantly.
They reach the end of the hall that leads to Sloane’s room a moment later. “Thanks for, uh, all that,” she says awkwardly. “I’ll see you around.”
“Same time tomorrow?”
“I guess.” She shrugs.
“Hm. Sleep well, cadet.” He watches her enter the room before turning back the way he came towards his house.