The Dreamers of Peace [Book 2 Complete]

The scholar jerked awake, trading one nightmare for another.

A faint light snuck under the door of his windowless room. Another day in Paradise. Alfread pulled green robes over a sweaty body then strung his bow as if he was heading into Zamael's Hells. The dread was familiar—a daily occurrence since arriving in Rubinia and saddling himself to an institution that despised his very existence—but today, today it was the unfamiliar that made it a struggle to breathe as he performed the well-practiced act. He slung his quiver over his shoulder, seized the strung bow, grabbed his meager pack, and gave a long look at his too-small bed.

Even though the nightmare echoed in his mind and the heat still scalded away his courage, the flames emblazoned into eidetic memory were enough to remind even this cowardly scholar that he had something to keep fighting for. He rushed out the door, dashed down the hall, brushing past several Cradle servants, foregoing his usual niceities. Being disregarded and unseen was yet another too familiar experience for folks like them. Alfread prided himself on treating people as though they were human, thinking that ought to be the bare minimum in a world built right. He learned their names, discussed their dreams, shared their space. But not this morning.

This morning, Alfread couldn't see them. Couldn't see anyone or anything. The burning tower seared into his eyes from the nightmare refused to be extinguished. Not for sharing a piece of humanity with those dehumanized. He ran as if in a tunnel with a rapidly fading light at the end, promising to snuff out hope and leave all in darkness. The divinedamned image, the screams, the sense of impending doom clung to him worse than sweaty robes.

He burst through the Cradle doors, morning light shining in his eyes as the sunrise glowed atop Seraxa's Wall across the familiar Rubinian skyline. Lordlings glided over manicured pathways on an awakening campus grounds. Another day in Hell.

Mirielda had taught her son to read scenery with an eye for diagnosis. Thirteen different lordlings in varying colored robes decorated the view. Alfread accounted for all of them, placing them in the story. None were important to him now, save the portent of their number and their lack of distress.

It was just a dream, Alfread assured himself, seizing to the banality of the thought. That didn't rid his memory of flames and soul-piercing screams. Nor did it prevent their reprise, or change the reality of these indelible indents in his consciousness. Asa and Serapheena shrieked his name as shadows spread around them, extinguishing light and flame, leaving all in darkness and cold. For them, Alfread would endure. Even if neither wanted anything to do with him anymore. After all, he had only his own cowardice to blame for the holes left behind where he wished they were

But neither Alfread nor his fear trusted a lordling to see what was right in front of them. They lived in their own little worlds, disconnected from the realities of everyday people, seeing only that which they wanted to see, that which gave them the justification to lord over others. He needed to confirm with his own eyes that there was still light and flame in this world, that the tower had not burned in the night.

Evan's son stepped through dewy grass as the season of summer turned toward autumn. The Athenaeum and the Boudoir blocked his view, and more of the denizens of Leverian University appeared on set. His breath and heart labored, panic gripping him tighter than he could grip his bow. When at last he set his eyes upon Ruby Tower, Alfread exhaled, his grip going slack and his gut unclenching for the first time this morn.

No black flames. No screams. The tallest of the thirteen towers shimmered orange-red, its usual burning visage, not the shadowy inferno that Alfread had seen in his nightmare. This morning didn't begin on a page from Zamael's storybook. He let out a long-held breath knowing that the Firemaiden—that Princess Serapheena Ruby—hadn't been killed while he slept in a refurbished broom closet. The relief was shorter lived than the princess, becoming a bitter brew as he remembered that she wanted nothing to do with him now.

Alfread plopped to his arse, put his head in his hands. He tried not to cry this early in the day.

He'd ruined what could've been. Too scared to seize the quill of destiny and write their story, he'd broken his very first promise to her. Since missing her birthday ball, Sera had vacillated between ignoring him and systematically dismantling him in academic debate. In the space of one day, Alfread managed to not only alienate his closest ally in preparing agains the Celegans, but bring down the wrath of Irvaine Celvine and Salora Rainwater. The rest of the dominos lined up behind them, falling upon Alfread, oppressing him into the ground. The safeguards against their abuse were taken from him, as those who might support him were forced to stand aside. Valice Dalardor had given him nothing more than unspoken sympathy lest her father send her back to Meridian. Even the Cradle's servants were warned not to let him among them. Pheline and the others still shared small, secret kindnesses, but they couldn't welcome him into their spaces.

Head in hands, Alfread still heard the gaggle of lordlings encroaching. Alfread pretended they didn't exist. He wished they had the decency to return the favor. But decency from a lordling was about as likely as mercy from a yasmar.

"Look! The mighty hunter hath arrived to save us from street rats!" Franz Fairlaine called out. The stocky lordling with the overly-alliterative highbrow name was never far from Iravine's pocket and too far from having a conscience beyond banal malice to satisfy his higherborn master.

Alfread was larger, both in height and sinew, than Irvaine and any of his followers. If it came to blows, Alfread knew he was worth more than any two of them combined. These were the leavings that were bound for lives as stewards, socialites, or scholars—though the latter path was far less likely for most of them, Alfread hoped for the sake of future generations. None of them would ever sniff the scent of a battlefield or a mess hall. The most dangerous weapon they'd ever yield would be a steak knife. If they didn't have servants cut their meat for them.

But Alfread stayed down. They could shove Alfread, but if Alfread so much as loomed over them, the Rubyguard would intervene. Alfread had already spent one night in the community cage with the drunkards before Emmalyn Panacea retrieved him with a scolding to either ignore his assailants or claim his mother's family name. Alfread wouldn't become one of them. But they didn't let him ignore them.

Irvaine coughed. His entourage waited, teeth bared and ready to laugh like the hyenas they were. The heir of Qorath shrugged then cleared his noble throat. "Of mighty hunters, I see naught. Perhaps you could hire this hunter of yours, Franz, and compel him to rid us of this farm rat before he gnaws on all of our books and scats upon our seats?"

As if they lacked the free will to do anything else, the whole flock sniggered. Alfread gripped a clump of grass, crushing the blades between his fingers and his palm, trying his hardest to displace his anger and keep his hands busy doing something that wouldn't get him thrown in the community cell. Or worse. He barely held on, wishing he could use his wit or his might to fight back.

The others followed Irvaine in throwing decreasingly clever and more repetitive insults. Alfread clung to the grass as if it were the edge of a great precipice. His temper raged within, burning through his gut, his chest, and devouring his limbs, seeking a vent to be released from. A lifetime of despising these people echoed in his mind, making his wrath harder to subdue.

Ignore them. He tried. He tried so divinedamned hard to do what his mentor advised. It felt cowardly. He felt small, powerless. But Alfread did it, even though it felt like pretending you weren't being shat on by a flock of squawking seagulls. He did it, inevitably until he could not. Until Franz Fairlaine's spittle struck him in the eye.

Alfread shot to his feet, fingers finding feather-fletched arrow. The shaft lifted, then he let it fall back into the quiver. Alfread tried to walk away, to retreat to the Cradle, but Irvaine's lackeys circled him.

"That grass you pulled is University property," the Celvine heir said.

Several of Irvaine's lady lordling attendants had crossed the campus grounds to share in the pastime of cornering and taunting the boy with no last name. The girls laughed at Alfread. He was utterly alone, penned in, and surrounded by silver spoons that prodded at him like he was an exotic curiosity.

Alfread wouldn't give them anything to use. The only way he could win was by not lowering himself to their cruelty, by showing them he wasn't the subhuman animal they treated him like. Alfread wouldn't even contemplate treating the most obstinate animals like this. He was better than they were. He could ignore them.

Irvaine sighed. He shook his head, offering a countenance overflowing with false sympathy. "The penalties for servants destroying University property tend to be fairly severe, Alford."

Salora Rainwater stepped into their circle. She was as nasty as Irvaine and as clever as he thought he was. "Indeed. As a scholar of Leverian University bylaws and their history, I recall that the penalty for lawn defacement is the forceful removal of the offender's pubic grass and the offender's subsequent consumption of said pubic grass."

The lordling horde erupted with unlordly laughter. Despite Alfread being clean shaven, Franz Fairlaine tossed in a cheap comment about he'd be able to afford a fine for once given that a farm rat didn't know how to use a razor. Alfread glared at Salora, sick that he almost gave himself to her. No amount of natural beauty could mask the ugliness behind her wink.

Iravine scowled, obviously annoyed that he was upstaged by Salora. "You heard the lady, peasant. Hand in your robes. Pull out another clump and try not to choke on your free meal." Irvaine hesitated a moment. "Or do choke. Free us of your presence, Alford."

The lordlings became a chorus, as though they were chanting for their favorite at a Pageant contest. Franz Fairlaine mimicked ripping out his pubic hair and the laughter escalated. Alfread hesitated, trying to be better, trying to ignore. A scream sought his lips, but he swallowed it while they demeaned his intellect and compared him to his mule. Tears on the edge of his eyes, he bit down to keep the floodgates closed. He stifled the urge to rush into them, fists flying until the guards arrived.

Cry and they'd see how much they hurt him. Fight back and he'd "prove" he was the animal they claimed he was. If he bit back with wit, they would only amplify their cruelty. Another day in Paradise. If Paradise were a place where you couldn't win no matter what you did. He'd been through this hell already. Emmalyn's words were the only thing keeping him from losing control.

He couldn't win today. Victory was not here, in this chapter of life. He had to accept that there were many chapters before things got better. Alfread had to endure, taking these blows for all the generations that would follow his trail. They wouldn't break him. In the end, he would triumph. Shifting his mind, he found peace and his voice.

"Insult me. Threaten me. Laugh at me. I am where I belong. I am a scholar."

The horde went silent, looking to their leader for guidance on how they were supposed to feel. Irvaine crossed his arms over his chest. "Apprentice Salora, remind us all of the penalty for failure to comply with University penal law?"

"Of course, Adept Irvaine." Salora beamed at Alfread. "If the offender does not remove his pubic grass, the entirety of the pubic region becomes property of Leverian University." The beautiful yellow-haired monster stalked toward him. "Remove it or you will be castrated."

Franz Fairlaine drew a dagger and waved it toward Alfread. "Be a good dog, boy. Obey! Or you get cut."

Alfread quickly weighed his options. Though never a long-term solution, appeasement was the only way out of this predicament. Powerlessness made him feel castrated enough. He reached into his robes, digging under loincloth. Alfread scanned the crowd of faces. Twenty-three. None of them showing signs of sympathy. He didn't spare the time or energy reviewing his memories, but Alfread didn't think he had ever felt so utterly alone. His fingers curled around nether hair. Then a shrill voice, yet one of the most beautiful he'd ever heard, like a Goddess come with divine intervention, a champion defender of the vulnerable, rang out behind him.

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"Stop this! At once!"

Alfread tried to avoid exaggerations. He tried to be an objective storyteller, one who dealt in facts and an honest appraisal of opinion. Alas, some things were so profound, so beyond explanation, that what sounded like exaggeration to one who'd never experienced them could always at best be an underestimation. The Crown Princess of the Ruby Kingdom was the most beautiful woman the world had ever known. As subjective as beauty was, Alfread's mind couldn't process this as anything but truth.

Alfread's blue-haired savior stepped between Alfread and Irvaine's posse without hesitation. "Why are you doing this?"

Like every predatorial creature Alfread had ever known, as soon as Irvaine wasn't the biggest and baddest he was small, obsequious. His dominance came from pushing down others who were beneath him, but set against someone above him he was the meekest mouse. He too, was a coward.

The heir of Qorath bowed his head. Shoulders slumped, his voice was as weak as if his explanation offered was from peasant to queen. "He isn't one of us. He doesn't belong in the same space as you, Sebreena."

Sebreena Ruby set her hand on Alfread's shoulder. Had such a small gesture, a simple kindness, ever felt so good? Her touch was water to a man dying of thirst.

Alfread lacked the bravery to meet his rescuer's eyes. The Coward glanced down at ground, where he felt he should be groveling at her feet. He felt emasculated, a damsel in distress, as well as intimidated by her. She was too high in society, too divinely beautiful, as if he couldn't afford to look at her with mortal eyes.

"Alfread is a scholar just like any of you," Sebreena said. "He passed the test and was accepted by the Masters. He belongs here!" The ferocity of her verdict sent a shiver down Alfread's spine. Several of the lordlings startled. A few, Franz Fairlaine among them, crept behind their ilk. But Sebreena wasn't finished. "Even if he wasn't a scholar, you have no right to your cruelty. For Leverith's sake! Alfread is a person. If you believe it is alright to treat a person like this, I question your character."

Alfread stifled a choking noise, keeping his head down to hide the tears that were glossing his eyes. It had been so long since one of them had shown him compassion. Not since Valice before her father put an end to their association.

Irvaine sputtered like a speechless fool. His submission was balm to Alfread's wounded psyche. Then it got even better. A jet of water slammed into the back of Irvaine's head. He stumbled forward and Apprentice Damina entered the circle with a chorus of gasps and giggles. Sebreena held to Alfread's shoulder, showing neither joy nor surprise at her friend's irreverent nature.

The diminuitive cognitive-affectomancer with the rough strawberry-blonde hair walked into the circle like she was as much a princess as Sebreena. "Makes ye look rotten," Damina declared. "I'd toss y'all back into the water until ye washed off those shitty attitudes."

Irvaine's posse split between chortles and scoffs. The cute cognitive-affectomancer was a divisive figure on campus, seen either as a sideshow amusement or an affront to society. Irvaine's glare declared him a member of the latter, but Alfread had heard that might be more because Damina had repeatedly refused to let him bed her and had proudly taken to calling him "Itty Bitty Pervy Irvy." Alfread typically wasn't one for body shaming, but in Irvaine's case, whether it was true or not, he felt an exception could be made.

Pervy Irvy flattened his glare. "Thank you for showing me the error of my ways, Dearest Sebreena." His lips twitched as he set his gaze on Alfread. "I eagerly await the opportunity to engage in scholarship with you in Master Historian's seminar this morning." Irvaine tipped his sopping head toward the princess. "Until next time, Sebreena."

The princess kept her hand on Alfread's shoulder until Irvaine and his lackeys disappeared into the Study. Alfread didn't want it to leave, didn't want to venture into the lordling's den without her protection or return to his compassion-starved existence. But fall her hand did and a smile arose in its place as she turned to face him. "I apologize for that, Scholar Alfread."

Alfread's mouth fell open as he briefly met her crimson gaze before bowing his head. Sebreena Ruby was like a mythical figure straight from an epic tale. Songs of her beauty were sung nightly in every tavern alongside stories of her charity. Alfread couldn't imagine what somebody so perfect could ever apologize for. He felt as mousy as Lexyn meeting Zyryxa for the first time. Alfread drew strength from the comparison, remembering that Lexyn proved herself worthy of Zyryxa's early protection. Eyes on the bejeweled riding boots peeking out beneath her equestrian skirt, Alfread squeaked, "You have nothing to apologize for, Princess."

Sebreena daintily took his hand, holding it with both of hers. Alfread couldn't remember a touch so soft. Her chilly grasp soothed his nerves enough to lift his gaze up from her feet. She was extremely fair, like her sister but without the specks of fire that blazed on Serapheena's face. The twincesses were deeply marked by the blood of Queen Kaidaxus of Volqor, carrying those proud lineages of fire and ice. Sebreena's cool-blue Volqori hair fell neatly down her back, a lone red camellia braided into it amplified the crimson of her eyes; eyes level with Alfread's. Her purple sequin blouse shimmered in the morning glow, tailored to accentuate her perfect curves and angleglass physique. A golden necklace crowned her sternum, a white diamond shining at its heart.

Alfread was grateful that Sebreena spoke first, for he had completely lost himself in her splendor.

"It is the responsibility of a princess to care for her people, to protect them. I know this isn't the first time they've done things like this to you." Sebreena's eyes glossed wet, her throat constricted, and though it was slight, Alfread saw her shake. "I apologize that it has taken me so long to work up the courage to speak to you."

Alfread digested her words. Work up the courage to speak with me? What did someone like her have to fear in speaking to him? It made sense for him to fear her. She was the crown jewel of the kingdom, the king's most valued treasure. One wrong word from her and he could find himself swinging from the gallows or buried deep in the Blood Cells. But when in doubt, he could always fall back on his mother's lessons in courtesy and his father's rhyming.

"I'm glad you found your courage. For it is me you encourage, with a deed I shan't forget. So, please, carry no regret." He bowed with as much flourish as he could without pulling his hand free of hers.

Damina, who Alfread had forgotten, snorted as if Alfread was the sappiest soul ever to put words together. But when he lifted his gaze back on the Crown Princess—the most beautiful woman in the world, the jewel of the Ruby—he discovered her fair cheeks bloomed near as crimson as her flaming eyes sparkling with unshed tears. His heart ran away, forgetting a moon of misery.

"I am glad you are here, Alfread." She gave his hand the slightest squeeze. Just like that, he felt like he could endure anything Irvaine and Salora could conjure. Alas, this dream didn't come free of its own nightmares.

A man cleared his throat. A Crimsonblade with his gauntleted hand on his sword hilt stepped toward his charge. His meladonite plate and crimson cloak didn't spoil the deadly glare he offered. Apprentice Damina's sworn shield wasn't quite as imposing, armored in leather but he too looked at Alfread like a cat might at a rat.

King Adameon would hear about his prized daughter holding Alfread's hand and Alfread would be lucky to keep the hand if the king got it in his mind that the farm boy from Bear's Crossing that dared to pursue an education amongst the kingdom's elite would seduce his daughter. The menacing expression on Sebreena's guardian's face gave Alfread no doubts that the knight would take justice into his own hands if Alfread loaned him a reason. Whatever connection he made with Sebreena wouldn't be permitted the oxygen it needed to grow. They'd suffocate it or they'd suffocate him.

"So…" Sebreena elongated the small word.

Alfread, perhaps foolishly, took a long look at her face, trying to enshrine this moment before their future was stolen. Looking closely, he'd seen her face before. Thousands of times. A face he could never forget, even could he forget. Melody of Mirrevar met his eyes, identical save for the color of her seers. Alfread shook it off. Another woman that had been lost to him too soon.

Indeed, Sebreena was one of a kind. Alfread could spend forever describing the princess's face and still fail to paint it with a million words. Then let it be done with one: perfect. For that was what it was to his eyes, and he anticipated the eyes of every person that ever shared this privilege.

Sebreena's mouth opened, her eyes widened, and her breath became heavier. Her eyes—twin fires—darted sideways. Her fair cheeks were flushed. Alfread listened to the changes in her, and noted, with experience, the bashfulness that sometimes came upon a person rendered breathless by another's beauty. Qoryxa's Kiss! He knew that too well right now. Both the princess and the scholar were rendered speechless, their minds smothered by the other's visage.

Sebreena seized his hand, words rushing out of her in torrents. "I know! Come play Castles with us. My sister is busy this morning and we need a third! Three is so much better than two for Castles!"

Damina grabbed Alfread's forearm. "Sebreena overprotects her peasants and lets me take her queen every time. She could use the help."

"I do not! If anyone needs help, it is you, Damina! You're reckless with all your pieces. It is a good day for you when your king survives the first assault on his castle!"

Alfread caught the exuberation on Damina's pixie face as Sebreena took the bait. The witch set her hook. "I can use his help. He could deepen my attunement with Leverith." She smooched the air and winked. A small wisp of ethereal blue light emanated off her little wand.

Sebreena's cheeks bloomed scarlet once more. "Damina!"

"I need to learn, Sebreena. About Leverith. About the body." Damina winked at Alfread. "Think of all the things we could teach each other, my one-named scholar."

Alfread took a step back. He cleared his throat, searching for something courteous but clear. It wasn't that he didn't like the irreverent witch. Life never lacked excitement near her. Nor was she hard on the eyes. She'd make an excellent friend and ally in this city. But he couldn't stomach how irreverent she was as more than a friend. Besides, his heart was already split in two and rapidly dividing into three.

Blessedly, he was rescued. Sebreena stepped between him and Damina. "He is more than a piece of meat for you to taste."

"The way Salora described it, he is a lot more than a piece."

"That is enough, Damina!" Sebreena took his hands and held them with a tenderness he had never known before. This sensation coursing through every nerve fiber between hand and brain made Alfread more flushed than the little cognitive-affectomancer's words ever could. "I promise she will behave better. Please, join us for a game of Castles."

Alfread wanted to seize the moment, to learn about Sebreena rather than listen to Talen Dalardor. He envisioned playing Castles with Sebreena and Damina. For once, he would be happy in the moment, not struggling for a future where happiness might someday exist.

Alfread couldn't find the strength to deny her. Her touch liberated him from loneliness, her smile the sweetest sight he had known after so long in darkness, her kindness a welcome harbor after the fiercest storm. But the Coward knew that this couldn't withstand the storms that would try to sunder them. The Crimsonblade looming behind him cast a shadow over them.

The warning bell rang, announcing him late for lecture. They startled, exchanged an uneasy grin that turned into a nervous laughter, then wide, warm smiles.

"Today, I met someone kind. She freed me from a bind. She tells me that I belong. I offer her a simple song. Not a fair trade, for one Leverith made. I wish I had more, to even the score. Alas, most friendly lass, I must be away to class."

Sebreena's dimples revised his heartbeat, as if forming a third ventricle. Her fingers danced with his. "If you must go, might I have another song to remember you by?"

Alfread could not deny her this. He took a moment to find the words. It took longer with her Crimsonblade guardian's hostile glare in the background. "Today is the start of our epic tale. Princess of pure heart and scholar named Al. I want you to know I feel seen by you. I hope that I show my gratitude is true. Sebreena, I see you too. You are beautiful through and through. The perfect outside, cannot be denied. The compassion inside, you cannot hide. I say this to thee. Your presence is a gift to me. One last rhyme: until next time."

Princess Sebreena Ruby pressed a hand against her heart. Alfread knew she felt the same fluttering weightlessness that he did. They might have stared at each other until they passed out from lightheadedness had not the starting bell rang, declaring Alfread unequivocally late. It was funny how little he cared about that now. What was Talen Dalardor's criticism beside the petals that blossomed in his heart?

Sebreena grabbed Damina's hand. He didn't mistake her subtle shake for it was his own. "Until next time, Alfread."

She led Damina and the witch's guard toward the Cradle. Alfread watched them go. Damina freed herself of Sebreena's grip and strode backwards. She pointed at him then at herself and motioned toward the Cradle with her thumbs. The little pixie mouthed, "Tribute." She tossed her short hair with an exaggerated lip nibble. Though Alfread had always deplored Leverian promiscuity, he couldn't deny the former fishmonger's charm.

The Crimsonblade blindsided Alfread as soon as Damina and Sebreena entered the building. Alfread spilled to the grass, quiver and pack flinging their contents. The Crimsonblade marched after Sebreena, dispensing no further warnings. He and Alfread could agree that the one wasn't lacking clarity.

Frustrated with his own powerlessness, Alfread stomped toward the Study. Maybe Talen Dalardor would ignor him as he usually did. Alas, that was a fool's hope. Master Historian would never overlook a chance to demean him.

Alfread narrowed his vision and moved forth, feeling everything and nothing as he numbed both his outrage and his doomed adoration. He'd have to let go of these daydreams, pluck them before they could flourish and see him grow a head shorter. Yet, he ought to have known better than to let his guard down to contemplate being the subject of royal execution. He had come to the University to learn and the first lesson ought to have been beware Irvaine Celvine.

Alfread pulled the Study doors open. Brown sludge struck his face and the hyenas laughed. Even Talen Dalardor watched on, arms folded, as Alfread wiped horseshite from his face. Franz Fairlaine held the empty bucket. Irvaine leaned away from Alfread and his smug smirk was the most aggravating thing he had ever seen. "Today's history lesson, Alford. This is what happens to shitboys that refuse to learn their place. Back to the farm, son. You do not belong."

Tears stinging his eyes, Alfread fled. Laughter pursued.