In Her Element
Chapter 28

The bodyguard was restless. Rupert was as much a prisoner here as Almyra was and he knew it. He supposed it was his fault too, for allowing himself to believe the boy Samuel. He had permitted himself to be used, to get through to Almyra, and now he was in the same corner as she. True irony, if he would be able to appreciate it under different, less trying, circumstances.

A sudden wind rattled the window panes and Rupert went to look out at the world beyond the citadel, to see what was being said to him. The sky was a light gray, foreshadowing of the first snow of the season coming just around the corner.

He smiled sadly when an old memory of a young Almyra surfaced. She had tried many times to build a snowman—ahem, snow lady—and no matter how many times it fell over, she began again, her little tongue, colored by whatever sweet she had managed to sneak from the kitchen, sticking out as she put all her concentration and effort into her building. He had tried to help her, but she had pushed him away, insisting she was capable of doing it by herself. And she had, although perhaps it had been with a little help from the Elements, snow being iced crystals of water.

All his memories of Almyra were now being thrown into a different light, the light of her Power. The time Almyra climbed a tree; when the branch cracked beneath, she had fallen at a pace slow enough for Rupert to catch her even though he remembered being too far away to get to her quick enough. How she always seemed to dry off quickly when she came in from a storm—everyone in the household had noticed that, and appreciated it. And of course, Almyra had always loved being outdoors, hated being cooped up in the house no matter how many toys sat waiting for her. She sought comfort in the winds, she never minded the rain ruining her hair and dress like other girls did, and the vastness of the manor’s garden was largely on her account, and Fire…well her very soul burned bright. And when something worthwhile caught her attention, she focused on it with a passion that was normally unseen in a youth.

A knock on the door brought Rupert away from his fond thoughts of his charge. Alert, he moved to his side of the door, his right hand automatically at his left hip, where his scabbard was tied—minus the dagger though, as of course the Master had thought he might be a threat if armed—and leaning forward, whispered, “Who’s there?”

There was a long silence on the other side, and Rupert wondered if he had only imagined the knock, but then a voice answered, pleading with him to open the door, it was urgent.

Rupert realized right away that it was Frederick, and hesitated to open, not knowing where he stood with the boy. The boy, he pulled back suddenly, who was currently digging around in his mind, testing his feelings; Almyra had somewhat explained to him how it felt and he now understood. This made Rupert mad, and he threw open the door to tell the boy exactly how he felt, and it hit him a few seconds too late that he had just been baited. And he had fallen for it hook, line, and sinker.

Frederick had already pushed his way into the room before Rupert could react. He crossed the room and motioned with his hand to close the door. One look at his white face, and Rupert complied, despite his animosity towards the boy. The boy must have heard that thought, or the bodyguard’s expression said it all, because he gave a wry smile; it just made him look even sicklier.

“It’s happening. Tomorrow night.”

Rupert shook his head, not comprehending, and Frederick strode to him and grasped his shoulders. The man made as if to brush off his adversary’s hands, but Frederick held tight and gave him a good shake. That in itself shocked Rupert, that the boy had that strength in him to move a man whose job was to make sure nobody got through him.

Frederick was in his face now, breathing heavily, sweat beads forming on his forehead and his eyes burning with passion and anger. “Tomorrow. Night. They plan to do it tomorrow. She will refuse—I know she will—and then they will kill her. Even if she goes along with them, she’ll be used and then most likely discarded, and her life—if she’s left with any—shall never be the same.” He shook the bodyguard again, staring him in the eye. “If you ever cared for her,” he rasped, “then you must help me intervene, to get her away, safe.”

The statement finally penetrated, but it was the insinuation that he did not care about what happened to Almyra more than the imminent danger that she faced that made him shove Frederick off of him, hard enough to send the boy stumbling backwards into a wall. He made as if to follow the boy’s momentum, but stopped after several steps, his hand rubbing his forehead in exhaustion. He knew the pain he was feeling was clearly visible in his eyes, and he felt the sting of tears building up, slightly distorting his vision until he blinked them away. “I care for her more than you shall ever know. I was the one who practically brought her up, taught her everything she knows.” His voice caught, his emotions welling up in his throat, which he cleared with a strangled cough. “It was me whom Almyra came running to when she had a problem, me whose shoulder she cried on, me who comforted her when she thought she was losing control over the Elements.”

Rupert looked at Frederick, who was slowly peeling himself off the wall, the brightness in his eyes now displaying dismay, fear, and love—for Almyra. Of that much Rupert was sure, and it was the love he saw that shook him to the core and broke through to his heart, to the little compartment that was set aside and locked up for Almyra. His eyes watered again, but this time the tears fell freely. It was quite a sight, although definitely not humorous: the burly man, a resolute bodyguard, with red eyes and cheeks streaked with tears, shudders rippling through his body as he failed to hold in his gasps.

“Did you know that, Frederick? Did you know that she feared—fears—losing herself and others to her Power?” He stepped over to his bed and sank down heavily onto it. He leaned forward and placed his head into his hands, sighing as an old man would—the old man he was becoming, if he had the chance, if he lived through this all.

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