Erion -

The moment the carriage door opened, the weight of the world fell off my shoulders. The air was cool and humid, the breeze was gentle, and the road was paved with limestone. The sun did not scorch my skin. But, most importantly, there was no sand. Finally, I was home.

Somehow, I had expected it to change in my absence, but it looked as if I had only left yesterday.

“Lad, your things,” Sangar said as he thrust my bags at me. One was the standard issue all the apprentices received and the other was the bag I had packed so many years ago. I took them and, without another word, he shut the door and the carriage rolled away.

Out of curiosity, I opened the clasp and found a few clothes and the roll of parchment, inkwell, and quill. Only now, the parchment was horribly creased, the quill broken, and the ink had dried long ago.

“Erion?” asked a high and musical voice, like a viola. “Erion!”

I turned and saw her. Gods above and below, time had been kind to her. Gone was the pretty girl who tripped over her own feet. In her stead was a beautiful raven-haired creature, tall and willowy, who moved like a dancer as she flew down the stairs. Only those big eyes were familiar to me.

I set my things down, ready to hold her hands in greeting, but Marielle had other ideas. She launched herself at me and I thanked the gods for my training, for our foreheads almost collided. I held her to me and wisps tickled my face as I rested my cheek on her hair. She still smelled of vanilla and oranges.

“Where have you been?” she exclaimed, a little too close to my ear. “It has been so long and I missed you so! I have so much to tell you!”

She pulled away from me and it took all of my strength to let her go. The feeling of her against me comforted my bruised heart. It was fitting that she was the first one to embrace me in all this time. It was her face that kept me strong through the grueling training and horrifying tasks. The thought of seeing her smile gave me the will to continue on.

“My mother did not tell you?” It was odd to think that Marielle had seen Mother more than I had.

“She told us that she sent you to study culture across the sea,” Marielle said, her brow furrowed. “But it was so strange of you to just disappear. Jerlorn and Solin were convinced that you were dead. And Eline, oh, Eline was livid with you for the longest time.”

I smiled at her. “That is more or less the truth. I learned slightly more than culture.”

“Oh, Erion! You know how I hate it when you act so tight-lipped! Tell me all about your adventures,” she scolded as she nudged me.

“Truly, I –”

“Is that Erion?” boomed a rolling baritone.

“By Archanie, it is him!” was the slightly deeper answer.

Before I could do a thing, I was bowled over by two hulking men, one with hair as deep as Strician coffee and another whose locks could rival a setting Lianian sun.

“Solin! Jerlorn!” I managed to wheeze from the courtyard floor. “I cannot breathe!”
Laughing, they leapt up off me and pulled me to my feet.

“Where in three hells have you been?” Jerlorn asked. His close-cropped beard suited him well and from the looks of it, it barely covered a new scar on his cheek. “You have missed so much! It felt wrong that you were not with us for all of our adventures.”

“We were both sent to the Lianian badlands,” Solin said.

“Then to the Strician Ocean.” Jerlorn had started to count on his fingers.

“Over the Macraton Mountains –”

Suddenly a window flew open and a blond woman leaned out. “What is all the commot –” Her eyes caught mine and I knew that sharp gaze anywhere. It was Eline. Twenty years or a second later, I really could not say, she disappeared into the depths of the room.

Solin elbowed me and whispered, “Heirokeps have mercy on you.”

“Why would I need him, of all the gods?” I looked away from Eline's window to see Solin looking quite solemn.

“Eline was a right terror for at least six months after you left,” he said. “She just about tore off all of our heads, one time or another. She missed her best friend.”

I ran a hand through my hair and tried to compose myself.

Marielle grabbed my free hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “This was years ago. We have all grown so much since then.”

“Thank you,” I breathed and after a returned squeeze, I made my way inside the palace.

It had not changed in the slightest since I had left. The same velvet runners were laid precisely across the floor and up the staircase, bordered with embroidered braids of all of the house colors. The crystal chandeliers still glittered with light from white candles, up in the lofty rafters. Once I reached the third floor, in the Camile house’s wing, the runners turned to the amethyst of their house gem.

I went to the door that was as familiar as my own and ran my fingers across the engraved plaque on the door. I could still remember the day they put it up. Eline was so proud that she could barely contain herself. It read Eline Camile and underneath it had her family crest and motto, Guardians of Knowledge, Agents of Progress. I knocked gently.

“Enter,” was the quiet answer.

She was a sight. The sun streamed through the open window and set her neatly pinned curls aglow. The breeze played at the gossamer curtains and stirred the gentle air. The only sound was a faint scratching of her quill across what looked like a ledger. She did not look up.

“Cat?” I whispered as I entered and closed the door behind me. The click had a certain finality about it.

“Did you not have a quill and parchment?” At her cold tone, I could not help but think of the first time we met. It had taken me weeks to get her to smile.

“I did,” I lied. How could I tell her that I had been an assassin apprentice in all the time I was gone? Telling her I could not have written her would have just led to more questions. The very thought hurt me to no end, but there were greater things at stake than my feelings.

“Did you become illiterate?” She continued to write.

“I did not.” At this, she finally looked up at me.

“I see that you are still in possession of your hands. So why did you not write me?” She paused and waited for my excuse.

I could not think of anything. I was too busy looking at how she had changed. She still looked like a fairy, but she had grown into herself. Fair had turned to elegant.

She dropped her quill on the blotting cloth and pushed herself to her feet. The scraping of her chair against the floor was deafening.

“Do you have an answer? At all?” Eline asked as she strode up to me. One thing had remained unchanged. She was not afraid to invade a man’s personal space to make a point – which she did by shoving me with all her strength. She pushed so hard that I actually had to take a step back. “Answer me, you idiot!”

She spun away from me and went to the window, her infuriated breathing filling the silence. Eline patted her hair back into place and it struck me how adult the movement was.

After what felt like an eternity, I found my voice. “I could not find the words. I wanted desperately to get back and accept you. But mother sent me away the very day you told me how you felt.”

Briefly, I thought about reaching out to touch her. In a way, I did love her and seeing her in pain caused a pang in my own heart. I just did not love her the way she wanted. In the end, I kept my hands by my side. “When I was able to write, I realized that I could not change my feelings. I thought of you, but my heart yearned only for her. I thought that you would be better off if you moved on without me. That is was kinder of me .”

She turned to me with piercing eyes and clenched fists. A tear ran down her cheek and the weight of it caused my chest to constrict.

“You were gone for four years.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I never had a chance, did I?”

“I –”

She held up a hand and cut me off. “I do not want any more excuses. Leave me.”

“Eline –” I made a move towards her.

“I will see you another time, Erion.” She moved past me and opened the door. “I need to be at Solin’s side.”

I watched her skirts swing around her as she left.

Notes 

Me: Erion calls Eline "Cat" because she can be so temperamental some days and affectionate in others.

• -To answer the bride questions – so when I actually write the wedding scene the traditions are going to peak out. But yes both of their dresses are going to be white – in their culture, much like ours white does signify purity. The differences are going to be the colors that are interwoven into Eline’s gown.
• -So all of the twelve houses (their country is run by two King Houses that run Economics (Solin’s house) and War (Jerlorn’s house) and ten lower houses) have their own house gems and colors. Marielle is an outsider/peasant so she has no house colors to bring with her – thus pure white. Eline is from the education house whose color is purple, so she will have purple (either flowers or gems) throughout her gown.
• -The brides, because they are to become Queens of King Houses will receive ceremonial daggers encrusted with jewels of their respective husband’s houses. So I’m thinking that they (Eline and Marielle) will cut away their veils to signify cutting away individualism and joining into an eternal partnership with no barriers.
• Also for time period I'm thinking like medival-ish….

TryToDoItWrite: 

• The moment the carriage door opened, I felt as if the weight of the world fell off my shoulders.
  To me, a metaphor would be stronger and flow better here, instead of a simile, i.e. The moment the carriage door opened, the weight of the world fell off my shoulders.

• She launched herself at me and I thanked the gods for my training, for our faces almost collided. I held her to me and her hair tickled my face as I rested my cheek on her hair.
  Seeing as this is an action sequence of sorts/sweet moment, I feel like it probably needs to be drawn out more? Or made to flow a bit smoother? (also you used the word face twice in two sentences, and that's something I normally avoid) Something like this: She launched herself at me and I thanked the gods for my training, for the impact almost knocked us both over. Her face came within inches of mine. I held her to me and rested my cheek on her hair, which tickled slightly.
  you know you can ignore like all of my suggests lol

• The thought seeing her smile gave me the will to continue on.
  The thought of is probably what you wanted to say :)

• Marielle grabbed my free hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, “this was years ago, we have all grown so much since then.”
  Small thing. Capitalize "this" :)

• Telling her I could have written her would have just led to more questions.
  This could just be me misunderstanding the passage, but shouldn't it say "I couldn't have" because he's not letting her know that he was training as an assassin and they literally took away his means of communication?

WriteOutOfTime: 

This section is absolutely lovely! I really like the way you were able to describe everything without it feeling clunky or unnecessary. Often when a place is described through the eyes of the narrator, it feels off, because people don't typically describe things in detail if they see them every day. However, I like that he draws comparisons between how things were, and how things are now –relatively unchanged, but still slightly different. Not only was the tone impeccable for that description, it also painted a clear picture in my mind of each character and setting. I only have a few suggestions:

“Erion?” asked a high and musical voice, like a viola. “Erion!” Something about this sentence doesn't flow. I think it's the fact that you describe her voice as musical, and then compare the way she says his name to a viola. It might flow better if you stick with simply "high and musical" or if you alter it to something like "a voice high and musical like a viola."

Suddenly a window flew open and a blond woman leaned out. “What is all the comot –” Her eyes caught mine and I knew that sharp gaze anywhere. It was Eline. Twenty years or a second later, I really could not say, she disappeared into the depths of the room. I think you need to slow this down, just a little. Since Erion feels the moment lasted for twenty years, it might be better to describe her features here, or at least describe something about her features that Erion notices in that brief moment. I think stretching it out more will justify the last sentence just a bit better.

Can I just say I adore the dialogue between Eline and Erion? It feels so real. I could practically hear the iciness in her voice when she asked him about the quill and parchment.

Riorlyne: If I picked this up in a bookstore I would definitely keep reading after this section! The world you've created feels very rich and real and I love the character interactions, especially between Erion and Eline. The two women are especially well-written and poor Erion seems like he's getting the short end of the stick all over the place. (I'm not exactly shipping Solin/Eline and Jerlorn/Marielle right now, but again, that's probably because I know next to nothing about those two men.) And I'm intrigued by more than just the romance - I want to know why Erion had to go do this assassin thing and what's going on in Holvim and where and who is this missing princess and what colour is Marielle's dress and so much more!  https://docs.google.com/document/d/17nQ_eGAIPNp0Ay8AEjsyLZuL_Ki6VhxnsNtVxqe3eV8/edit