Princess Sayuri hadn’t slept again, Tomiris recognized at once from her wearied gait and strained blinking that she tried to hide by looking away. That only made it more obvious. I wonder if she even tried to sleep, or if she simply remained awake conjuring up catastrophes and terrors. There was only so much blame she warranted for that, in truth. Tomiris, too, had lived through her share of sleepless nights, and she was of an age with Sayuri. And the burdens I bore were not as laden as those of a princess who was practically an exile.
Mantled, wrapped in spellwoven silks, she almost managed to look regal in spite of her exhaustion. The gown was splendid in a shade of blue darker than the Princess’ hair, accented with white ribbons along her chest, small pink roses glowing softly on her fingernails. These are not the colors of her home, Tomiris thought. Tawarasato’s royalty dressed in crimson, but with Sayuri, even her roses took on different colors, their pale pink somewhat girlish in contrast to her opulent dress. Such fabrics as the Blossoms adorned themselves with always bent easily to their will, bending and twisting fluidly, gracefully, their movements unrestrained, and though upon their fingertips they felt like whispers given shape, an ordinary sword could hack at them with great might to little avail.
Though the Tower of Rebirth remained the farthest it could be from lively, new novitiates arrived each day, selected from Rosa Aeterna, from Cartasinde’s guilds, and, arriving by railways, girls from Crecenza and Eschenstadt. Some were nobility, but not most. It was a fine line, Henriette had remarked, between gilding the Rose with much-needed prestige, and in filling her ranks with girls more likely to be loyal to their countries than their bloom-sisters. Many who have said our words and made our pledges were false in their speech, she said during the last council, when Tomiris and Sayuri were seated to the left of Lady Irene Nimautt, who had flown from the cold heart of Orgamun on wyvern wings and frightened poor Faustyna to tears as she tended to the pegasi in the eyrie.
“My life is yours,” she said when the Blossoms received her in Marinor Mycroft’s office. “I tire of the gasbagging of eunuchs and whores at court and their prattling over how to gain from the Rose’s loss as though the covenant between my home and your Ruby Blossom was a gift from us. We need the Rose more than we need my noble kin ill-worth the piss that sowed them from their latrines.”
“You are Duchess Nimautt, my Lady,” said Aissa Haidar. “You cannot-”
“Fuck Nimautt,” she said. “I was not educated in Orgamun, thank the stars, so I don’t need to take my boots off to count to twenty. And so I know that without Blossoms, Orgamun is defenseless against whatever crawls out of the World-Wound and any unwelcome shadow rift. My peers,” she said that word with disdain, “might not value their lives, and, I suppose, neither do I, but there are people in my frigid home that don’t deserve to die. So I have come here to offer you my sword. If you won’t take me as Blossom, I will nevertheless aid you in any way I can, with all the resources I can muster. Surely there must be some girls suited for Efflorescence underneath the snow.”
“Why are we discussing this matter?” Elanor asked. “Sweet Irene can fight, ride, and fly. So often we struggle to find girls willing to throw their lives away for the Rose, so why should we not embrace in our arms a girl so eager to live and die for our Order?”
“We cannot allow any girl to walk into the Tower of Rebirth and claim the right to Efflorescence,” Aissa insisted. “And Duchess Nimautt-”
“Was a ward in Altengrie,” Lunéciel interrupted, “where she was one of the mystai of Angelion, initiated into the weft of magic by the Duke Ersteal… Liege lord of the Nighting Coast, when there was such a place. With her potential, she would have been recommended to the Rose, but…”
But. No more words needed saying. Those who bore the scars of fell forces allowed to spree unbridled knew better than all others that there were fouler things than death to fear. With Lune’s backing, Duchess Irene Nimautt was welcomed into the fold in spite of Faustyna’s protestations that the Tower’s eyrie was suited for noble pterippi stock, not the brutish lizards and griffins of uncivilized lands. She then went on about what an abomination it was to breed such freaks that nature abhorred, before praising the intelligence and demeanor of pegasi. Somehow Elanor appeared interested in the subject, but everyone else was glad to leave as soon as possible.
Princess Ryscrux is known for her fondness for fine horseflesh, Tomiris recalled. Sayuri suggested taking her to the eyrie when introducing her to the Tower of Rebirth, a fine enough notion if not for Princess Krisolde’s hysterical aversion to equines – or, for that matter, any animal larger than a kitten. She could travel only by stagecoach, as inside the carriage she would not need to gaze upon the animals, but even so, rumor had it that she could only board when blindfolded and guided by hand by her sister or mother.
Tomiris could not judge. She was not too fond of horses, either. She did not mention it to anyone, for whenever she had done so in years past, invariably the other person would consider it the height of wit to remark how unusual that was for a native of Noiongat! She was quick to befriend Katria, as an initiate, simply because she had actually asked questions and wished to learn about Tomiris rather than making assumptions of her. Small a thing as it was, for a girl so young and so far away from home, that kindness meant a whole deal. Princess Sayuri must have endured the same, she thought, but does not seem to have made many friends. And now the one remaining compatriot within their Order was a girl who despised her. In spite of everything, Tomiris had to admire the courage it took for the Princess to carry on and do her duty.
They took the lengthy flights of stairs to the ground floor, rather than one of the enchanted marble platforms that eased the traversal of the Tower of Rebirth’s hundreds of meters. They made Tomiris feel nauseous, not that she’d admit it. Stone was not meant to float like that, and even worse were the gleaming runic doorways that led to spiral stairs which led to the ground floor of the Tower after a single flight. It didn’t matter how many times Tomiris heard the magical principles behind it explained, she did not trust an enchantment that so brazenly violated the base laws of both time and space all for the sake of convenience. Meddling with the primal forces of nature in such a way was to court a shadow breach or worse.
The two were not the only ones who preferred the stairs, for six flights down they were expected by the Lady Narges Iridie, always mantled in her white and violet silks, her hair a soft purple, almost blue. By her side, the woman from the Academy, Professor Almicar, seemed almost unremarkable in Rosa Aeterna’s brown robes, though the deep gold in her eyes and unshifting stance were striking. Princess Hiramatsu greeted them courteously, having enough time before the arrival of the Imperial Princesses that she needn’t hurry.
“Good morrow,” said Narges, while Almicar offered a barely-perceptible nod. “We have taken the liberty of arranging one of the ritual chambers, should you wish to show Ryscrux and Krisolde a taste of our magics. They shan’t be granted the gift of Blossoming as quickly and thoughtlessly as Duchess Nimautt, but I can think of no better presentation of the merits of our Order than the deep and ancient spells of Stonetree and its roots so deeply burrowed.”
“That is very considerate of you,” Sayuri said, politely. “It would be awe-inspiring, certainly, the ingenuity cultivated by millennia of Blossoms.”
“Professor Almicar aided me,” she said, then handed the Princess a circular, alabaster slab, perfectly smooth in appearance, but, upon Tomiris putting a finger on the edges, she could faintly feel a myriad of jagged depressions and elevations along it. A keystone. “We would be gladdened if you would join the Imperial Princesses in this, hmmm, illumination, let us call it. As outsiders, they will doubtlessly have cultivated some misguided notions of the mysteries. Men make magic into such tedious banalities, and we must disabuse prospective Blossoms of these follies.”
“How so?” Tomiris asked.
“My services were once requested,” it was Almicar who responded, “by a knight-captain of the Imperial legions who wanted me to fashion for his troops wands of fire and death writ in scrolls… Such prices they would pay for such trifles.”
“But we would never dishonor the Art, no matter the price,” said Narges. “Nor would we be so careless as to grant these gifts to savages. It is outrageous enough that outsiders are allowed to work any spells at all, and it speaks to the small minds of so-called conquerors and warriors that when privileged to bear witness to the secret language of the Kosmos they wish to twist those words to create… A bolt of lightning? A ball of fire? Ridiculous. The Imperial Princesses may have similar illusions. We cannot fault them their breeding overmuch, merely correct it.”
“We will be sure to show them the true worth and power of the Rose,” Sayuri promised. “I myself have learned such lessons, that the duties to which we are bound are paramount over coronal pretensions.”
Perhaps those whose families are not as awful as yours might think differently, Tomiris thought. Then their loyalties might not be so admirably undivided. But she knew better than to contradict Princess Hiramatsu in front of an authority of the Rose. Narges smiled at Sayuri’s words, though there was little warmth in it, but no mockery either. Nor did their eyes ever meet.
“Admirable loyalty,” Almicar said with disinterest. “The Red Rose has always bolstered worthier avenues of study than noble patrons always concerned with practical applications of the Art… And practical, of course, can only mean profitable or martial. It is good that the survivors of your calamity maintain such priorities. Grim though it may be, tragedy is not the end of all things. Your Tower’s name bears witness to that. Even more ruinous would be if you forgot the nature of your mission.”
“So rare to see sentiment from you, my dear,” said Narges. Did this pass for sentiment with Almicar? “We shall forever mourn our fallen sisters, but those of us who yet draw breath will suffice to bear the torch of righteousness. For all her faults, Elanor is stalwart in her defense of the Ruby Blossom, the same as Lunéciel, even if I disagree with her. Valchenza is a firm and fair guide, experienced and adept, and Layla is as formidable as her sister. The Mire Kings of Mirvholl will, in due time, rue taking up arms against her. But that Priscilla Varvozi…”
“You’ve misdoubts about her?” Sayuri asked. Tomiris listened closely. It was very bold of Narges to so openly speak ill of a fellow high officer of the Rose in front of Blossoms of undefined affiliations.
“I mistrust greedy diplomats like her who wear the gilded masks of dignitaries but who see diplomacy as mere warfare bereft of bloodshed. War is war, but not the inevitable extension of politics, all aiming for the same recompense. Priscilla wishes to win, without knowing what a triumph even would bring. She is a woman to back causes as lightly as she makes alliances. Princess Sayuri, you would be well-served to at least reflect on that. Priscilla is a dreadful enemy to have, but a friend fouler still. She will wring from you all secrets and advantages until you cease to matter to her.”
That was most curious. It was not at all how Tomiris had judged what she knew of Priscilla. Narges was hardly a fair, disinterested source of information, though. I wonder if Sayuri blindly believes her. But Tomiris knew her to be too clever for that. Sayuri was no fool, and surely could recognize that both Narges and Priscilla tried to make use of her. Through Sayuri, after all, they could have access to Krisolde and Ryscrux…
“We ought to hasten,” she reminded Sayuri. Henriette had told them that though there was value in keeping people waiting for the Rose, a reminder of who was always the greater authority that determined when and where all meetings were held, but the Imperial Princesses warranted a kinder introduction to their new home. Their new family, we shall hope. “Lady Narges, Professor, thank you for your help. I look forward to witnessing the magic you have prepared.”
“I know it will impress, and hope it will please,” Narges smiled pleasantly, looking at neither Tomiris or Sayuri. “It is the ritual chamber immediately opposite the one where the rites of pallium are held. You will likely find Margalit there, preparing the next rites well in advance, for the next crop of Blossoms… Another hastened harvest, but such are our needs as of now. A garden all in bloom, where, though the flowers are yet only budding jewels, the colors nevertheless awe and the scents enchant. We have many promising initiates, soon to join our ranks.”
Two such bloomings in under a year. It was too much, too fast, however great the need. Their years of training at Rosa Aeterna were not solely to learn the many skills a proper Blossom needed for her duty, but also to select the most promising pupils and purge those who proved themselves ill-suited for the Rose’s ideals. Fools spoke of the abundance of princesses and noblewomen in their ranks, but failed to see all the seedlings discarded and unplanted, however high their birth. That monster Ingrid Rosavor was cast out like a leper and not even considered for the Order, while unfit noble brats, the surplus spilled from the loins of aristocrats with little better to do but breed, were ten a brass farthing and worthless to the Rose.
The rest of their descent was silent and uneventful. By now it was no longer a frequent shock to see these steps deserted where once there were always Blossoms making their way up or down, throughout the whole day, even through most nights. But that made the absence no less sharp an ache, this wound which closed but still throbbed unseen, with nothing to lament, a loss that left nothing to mourn. Will it feel like this forever, now that we have felt what it is like for our souls to be rendered so barren and inane?
It was not a covey flocking around the Imperial Princesses that awaited at the ground level, but the two sisters alone, unaccompanied, so diminutive at the foot of the alabaster stone sculpted in its immensity in the solemn form of Syleria the triadic autosophe, her sculpted visage turned ever upwards to the sky while the other Founders looked ahead and below. Tomiris and Sayuri stepped lightly towards the two girls, careful not to disturb them as they were deep in thought.
They were certainly imperial, with the distinctive Rosavor white cascading down their backs in beautiful flowing waves, the sort of elegance that seemed restrained to paintings and poetry. Ryscrux greeted the two with a nod, before tugging at her sister’s sleeves to call her attention. Though the older of the two, Ryscrux was shorter than Krisolde even with the beret atop her head, red like her neatly-fastened coat. There was a curious simplicity to Ryscrux’s attire, but the same could not be said of Krisolde, splendid in navy and gold and adorned with ribbons all over. She was very pretty, but in a girlish sort of way, showy and extravagant as if all elements she favored were joined in a single outfit, to the point where it was surprising that she didn’t wear a lavish hat to match all her frills.
“Do you suppose it’s true?” Ryscrux asked, turning as they approached. “How many thousands of years ago did they live, your Founders? Ten thousand? Twelve? These are old stones, but how old…? These three could be but legend, and how would anyone know? Do you believe your Order has accurate records for an unbroken succession of millennia?”
“My own family’s millenary reign is but a ripple to the seas of the Rose,” said Sayuri, “and of our earliest dynasts only their names have not been lost, for their deeds have turned to mist. The House of Ubami is far more ancient, and bound to the Red Rose, and has kept itself apart from any dynastic struggles of Tawarasato. Even so, such lengths of time are beyond human comprehension. They are real, the Founders, I believe. But there were more by their side, when the first foundations were laid for the Tower of Rebirth and the Ruby Blossom took to root and earth-marrow and drank deep of the sap of ousia. It has been said that even if the Tower of Rebirth was not built all those thousands of years ago, exactly, when its roots embroiled themselves around and into the leylines it has forced itself into that past, so that it has always existed.”
“Do you believe in such mysticism?”
“It matters not, sister,” said Krisolde. “You are always such a skeptic. For that which has passed ages ago has no bearing on our present, and thus where is the harm in believing in this grandeur, this splendid fantasy? So beautiful to be part of something greater, eminent beyond fathom… Where is your love for the romantic, Ryscrux, the wondrous and majestic?”
“Somewhere beyond the reach of sunshine,” she said. “You are enough of a romantic for the both of us. Let us stop wasting time. You are Princess Sayuri Hiramatsu, no? I suppose you are no longer a princess, if such a title may be relinquished, which we both know it cannot, not really. But my sister and I can pretend, if that’s required of us. And you are…?”
“Call me Tomiris,” she said. Some family name from the plains of Noiongat would mean less than nothing to these daughters of Rosavor. It meant nothing to Tomiris herself. “Have you had time to make preparations? We have apartments awaiting your arrival, and set aside some basic supplies as well as uniforms typically donned by our initiates, but here at the Tower of Rebirth we won’t insist on a standard for attire. Of course, Rosa Aeterna is stricter in that regard.”
“But our initiation will be accelerated, will it not?” Ryscrux asked. The two nodded in confirmation. Best to be entirely honest with their sisters-to-be. “So it is true that your calamity has thinned your ranks to such a barren wretchedness. Mother implied you were desperate, yet arrogant, too. But, then again, she sees arrogance everywhere but within, and has a gift for always uttering stupidities.”
“Please, Rysie, we mustn’t speak ill of Mother to strangers…”
“Why? You fear they might think one of us has a modicum of good sense? Come, now, let us greet these ladies properly,” she said, with a curtsy so perfect Tomiris could only stare in awe. Some part of her felt the urge to applause. “Sayuri, Tomiris. What follows now? Do you take us to take part in whatever your ceremonies of Efflorescence consist of? Send us immediately into battle? What a sight that would be.”
“The Red Rose would never do such a thing,” Krisolde was more offended than either Tomiris or Sayuri. “This noble sisterhood does not lightly choose her guardians. That we have been given the opportunity to even attempt to join this Order is a great honor we must acknowledge. Princess Ingrid herself was not deemed worthy.”
“Princess Ingrid murdered a pregnant woman so as to elucidate whether her unborn babe would serve as another life as a sacrifice to dark rituals,” Ryscrux spoke so plainly that Tomiris was startled still and silent. “It is only Father’s sentimentality for his late law-sister and the grief he and his brother shared that stayed imprisonment or, even better, execution. I hope Princess Ingrid is dead.”
“W-Well, I assure you, we’ve no such sins to confess,” Krisolde turned to Sayuri and Tomiris, who did not fail to realize that while she was somewhat shy in her bearing, she tried to meet both of the Blossoms’ eyes. So often people would treat exclusively with Sayuri and deem Tomiris as decoration of some sort, or a servant. But both of the Imperial Princesses knew her to be human. Should I be so impressed? “The worst things I’ve done were to steal some of Rysie’s sweets, but though she knew, always knew, she never informed our parents so as to spare me from being disciplined.”
“Yes, the holiest of saints am I, what joy,” she sighed. “You too have a younger sibling, do you not, Sayuri? Perhaps you understand my exasperation.”
“I-I do, yes,” she threatened to smile, but, like Krisolde, her meekness stilled her lips. “A little.”
“And you, Tomiris?” Krisolde asked, in a fit of boldness. “You strike me as a younger sister. Am I correct, do you have any siblings?”
I don’t know. Home was not often in her thoughts, and she had left it at too young an age to have any recollection. In spite of a lifetime of people remarking on her Noiongat descent, she knew very little of those lands.
“Yes,” Tomiris had more than enough time to learn how to easily navigate such topics. “Many older brothers. Though I’ve not returned home for years. I am happy enough here.”
“Perhaps we shall be so lucky,” said Ryscrux, more to her sister than to the others. “Wouldn’t you like that, Kris? A place where one can happily relinquish one’s past.”
“I would like that very much,” she said, smiling.
“Come, then,” said Sayuri, extending a hand to the sisters. “There is much you cannot learn from hearsay, only from bearing witness… So come and see, bloom-sisters.”
The Rose's Torn Petals 