Blood of the Sea, Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter 39: Petrichor

Vance

The rain started light enough as to be a whisper - not quite scratching at the panes of glass in the Red Queen’s castle, but just enough to catch his attention as his sleepy magic flickers, his hands twitching. He holds his hands up, examining them while the Queen’s voice fades into the background. Slowly, Vance turns to look over his shoulder as, distantly, the sound of thunder reaches his ears. The light in the room has dimmed: the sunlight from earlier in the day becoming soft and gray, the bank of clouds rolling toward him from the headlands to the northeast. The tingle races up his arms and blooms across his chest, filling his lungs with air as though he had not truly breathed during his time at the castle. The air tastes crisp as he stares out the window, entranced, even though he isn’t standing outside. Under his assortment of robes and the clothes he kept from home, his skin feels tight, dry, and he pushes to his feet.

“...Vance, are you listening to me?” Veyda’s voice snares him, stopping him in his tracks.

He tries to form words in a parched throat, his tongue working, but as he turns back toward the mage, no words come out. Her bright, red eyes bore into him, her fingers smoothing out a small crease in the fabric upon her knee.

“Very well. The balcony is through those doors,” she gestures behind her, the mage standing watch at the indicated door swings it open, and Vance’s blood hums as the smell of rain, crisp, cold, and wet, reaches him.

On feet too fast for the circumstances, he all but runs for the balcony, throwing himself against the railing and leaning forward into the open air. By this time, however, the rain has moved beyond the castle, heading in that northeasterly direction where the clouds are darkening. Rain falls heavier in Seyune proper, the water droplets growing fat and heavy, plopping against the ground and buildings with a kind of blissful relief. The city sparkles in this gray, wet light, but it feels like torture as Vance watches the clouds retreat from him even as he wishes to feel the water kiss upon his skin. Cobblestones darken, glass streaks with rivulets of rain running down their surfaces, and the plants lining the Queen’s square stretch to catch the skies’ offering, their leaves glistening, and Vance’s eyes do the same.

Footsteps approach slowly from behind him and he throws a hand out toward the clouds. He pulls at the reservoir of his magic, working at it like a net that he can throw around these clouds and pull in his direction. He feels the magic miss, and he tries again, his other hand clutching the rail, his knuckles turning white as he grunts. This time, it catches, and he sighs in relief, pulling the cloud back toward him. The sound of the rain grows heavier and closer, and he can almost taste the rain on his lips. A voice creeps into his mind like the swell of a wave; release the rain, Wave Caller.

He startles, almost dropping his hold on the cloud, and it retreats a hair before he says aloud, “No, I deserve this too.”

You meddle with things beyond your understanding. This is not the ocean where you can control your destination. The shores of your home no longer back you. Release the rain.

“I need it.”

There’s a soft tut in his mind. The ocean needs to be free. It chafes at the riverbed’s restrictions. The raincloud squeezes free through the holes in his net of magic, retreating once more towards the ocean. If you want to remain a storm, you need to remember where you came from.

Water warms his cheeks as tears track towards his chin. The Red Queen’s presence, almost sticky and warm like her magic, settles next to him. She sighs as she stares out at the city. “Rain is quick here. Never lingering for too long. It fills our streams and coats out mountains in a blanket,” she points west, though the mountains remain obscured by distance. “The people will enjoy the brief shower and still be grateful it wasn’t a deluge.” Her hand comes to rest on Vance’s shoulder, his hands now both gripping the balustrade. “Come, water caller. It’s warmer inside. You’ll catch a chill.”

Vance turns angrily from the railing, shouldering back through the balcony doors and heading towards his room, leaving the Queen behind him in her red throne room. Slamming his door shut, he leans his back against it and slides down toward the floor, his arms on his knees, his head in his hands.

Despite it all, the smell of rain lingers in his nose, and he allows himself to cry.