Peter felt warm, but in a good way. Like it was okay to not be too alert. Like it was safe.
Safe? Peter's eyes shot open and he found himself on the couch in Iria's room… in the princess' very arms. Again.
"You awake?" Iria asked.
Peter jumped out of the sofa, almost stumbling against the nearby coffee table.
"You don't have to be too surprised all the time." She looked at him sadly. It made Peter feel uneasy.
"Why are you looking at me that way?"
"You were talking in your sleep. They beat you up for stealing bread?"
Oh, it was just that. Peter exhaled in relief. "Life's just unfair like that. And that's why I need to learn magic. So I can defend myself."
"What you need at this age are people like parents who will take care of you."
Peter snorted. "I've survived this long without anyone taking care of me. I'm not going to start relying on someone now."
"We'll, it's true that you've taken care of yourself until now. And I'm proud of you for your independence. But don't the nightmares quiet when you have someone who can at least be there for you?"
Her singing, her pleasant smile, and her warm arms immediately came to mind. Peter tried to push those thoughts away. Those weren't for him. He might have them now, but she was planning to hand him over to her council once they were out. The thought made him want to make a cutting or at least sarcastic remark about the wisdom of relying on someone. But the few memories of children with loving parents from his time in Pal flashed through his mind, and a pang of longing engulfed him.
Iria, oblivious to what was happening inside his head, got up cheerfully and headed to get dressed. "You'd better hurry, too. I don't think Marquelle likes being kept waiting."
*****
It had been days since they started staying at the mages' castle. Today, Marquelle taught him to combine elements to make fog, lava, and typhoons. It was a bit more intense than the previous days so, Iria had to create a shield around her to prevent her hair and clothes from being damaged. As she sat on her usual bench in the courtyard where Peter and Marquelle were practicing, she allowed her mind to wander to what she had encountered. She had gone through the castle tunnels the night before, after her after-dinner drinks with the mage, which had become a regular thing. And she saw scrapes in a tunnel with its grills broken. On the grills was maroon goop. She hadn't encountered a creature that was made of or excreted maroon goop before.
"A coin for your thoughts?"
Iria looked up and saw Marquelle. Peter was concentrating on conjuring up mud. But earth seemed a challenging conjure for him. So, Marquelle had left him to his task. "I tried tracking our intruder again last night," Iria told the mage. "It may not be a natural creature."
"What are you saying? That it's a golem or similar sort?"
"I'm not sure yet. But its composition is corrupted somehow. I created a lure, a spell to call it out of hiding. I don't know if it would work, though."
"Hmm, until we know exactly what it is, it may be a good idea not to pursue it alone."
"I may look all pretty but I won't be a gatekeeper if I'm not at least a decent magic user." She winked playfully at him.
Marquelle chuckled, his ears slightly red. "It seems you're very much aware of your… strengths."
She laughed heartily in response. "I'll be careful."
All of a sudden, something exploded in the courtyard. Iria was immediately on her feet and Marquelle turned with an alert expression. "I did… I did it!" Peter exclaimed triumphantly between coughs. Mud and earth were everywhere.
Iria let out a breath in relief, realizing it was not the corrupted intruder. But before she could move, Marquelle touched her throat and left a small sigil on it.
"Summon me if anything is amiss," he said, then left to check on Peter's work.
Iria couldn't help but blush at his touch. Most physical contact she's had were from battles and not this concerned and gentle kind. Clearing her throat to hide her embarrassment, she proceeded to Peter as well.
"A bit messy," she heard Marquelle comment as she approached. "But indeed, you've done it."
Peter looked happily at Iria, and Iria smiled proudly at him. "I knew you could do it!" She noticed his dirty cheek. "Oh, you have mud on your face. Let me get that." She took out her handkerchief and started rubbing the mud from his face.
"Mph! Stop, ouch!"
*****
"Isn't this… steak?" Peter's eyes were wide open when he saw what greeted them at the dinner table. "Can I really eat this?"
The mage rolled his eyes. "Are we doing this again?"
"Of course, you can," Iria replied to Peter. "You did very well today and you deserve every bite of it."
Peter looked at Marquelle, who nodded.
"It'll be hard once I leave," the boy commented, looking sadly at the feast before him. "I'll miss the food I've been eating here."
Marquelle, however, was relentlessly blasé about it. "Would you rather not eat it then?"
"I'll eat it! Gods, you're so unfeeling." Peter sat on his chair with a pout. "Keep it up and you'll never win the gatekeeper over."
"Is that a way to speak to the person teaching you magic?"
"Keep it up and you'll never win the gatekeeper over, teacher." The boy's tone drastically lost its bite. But not completely. "I was just offering advice," he added as he took a bite of his steak.
Their bickering had become a normal thing for Iria. It wasn't something she saw in her life in the palace, where protocols were the norm. So it was refreshing to see something as delightfully mundane as this. She imagined this was how families sounded like.
"I notice you never call Iria by her name," Marquelle commented as dinner proceeded. "Do you still hold some sort of grudge against her?"
"A grudge?" Peter turned to him, surprised. "Why is that the first thing that came to your mind?"
"Your tone…"
"Teacher," Peter quickly added, a little subdued.
"You refuse to say her name, so you refuse to acknowledge who she is. Anyone would think that. Do you dislike Iria?"
"It's not that! It's just that…" Peter stole a glance at her. "It's disrespectful," he replied in a soft tone.
"Disrespectful?"
"It's disrespectful to call someone you respect by their first name, alright?" He snapped, his ears a little red.
Iria blinked. He respected her? She didn't realize he would. Iria couldn't help but smile at him. "Oh, Peter, I'm touched."
"Stop making such a big deal out of it." His face was turned away and his voice was harsh. But Iria could see his ears turn a bright red.
Marquelle, however, remained cold. "You can't call her by her first name but you can speak to me in that tone of voice?"
Iria chuckled. If she didn't know better, it seemed the mage was sulking.
"I-I don't call you by your name, either!"
Iria ruffled Peter's head fondly. "I'm sure Marquelle is fond of you, too."
"Hey–"
"Oh, I made us pie as well." Iria stood up happily. "I'll be right back."
With a spring in her step, Iria headed back into the kitchen. The first sign of something wrong was the putrid smell that greeted her. As she stepped in, she found herself face-to-face with a creature made up of different pieces of beings. It was large. Its scaled snake-like body almost filled the entire kitchen. Its face looked like a bearded old man, and attached to its torso were pieces of human limbs and faces. Its tiny legs looked like those of foxes. And on its back we're dragon-like wings that were already sweeping down plates and cups from their places. Glancing at where the plate-sized hole she had previously seen had been, she found that the creature's tail was still partly in it. How such a large creature had squeezed itself out of it told of its gloopy corrupted nature.
It lunged at Iria. She quickly drew her weapon from beneath her skirt. But because of the layers of her skirt, she was late drawing her dagger. Before her blade could pierce its skin, the old man's face had already split open and had sunk its shark-like teeth into her shoulder. "Aaaahh!" She cried out as it clamped tighter.
Even before she had finished screaming, she heard an urgent incantation followed by the creature being pulled away from her by an invisible force that also flung it against the kitchen wall. When she looked behind her, she saw Marquelle standing with his arm outstretched. She touched her throat. Thankfully, the sigil Marquelle made worked.
She heard footsteps. And in a few seconds, she saw Peter run up behind Marquelle, stopping in horror at what he saw. The creature, regaining its composure and seeing a weaker target, lunged towards the child with an ear-splitting scream. "Peter!" Iria exclaimed. Adjusting the dagger in her hand, Iria threw herself against the creature. It cried out as Iria put her entire body weight into the dagger she pierced into the torso of the old man. But the pressure also caused her own blood to spurt from the wound on her shoulder, with enough pain for a princess like her to curse under her breath. At least the child was safe.
There was another incantation, and the creature was thrown back against the wall again. She looked back and gave the mage an appreciative smile. Marquelle was truly reliable, she thought to herself. But behind him, Peter was paler than she had ever seen him. Trembling, the boy fell to the floor.
She heard stirring, when she looked forward, the creature was getting ready to attack again. She needed to get Peter away from here. But she let out a cry when her shoulder suddenly throbbed. She cursed again. The creature's bite was venomous!
"Go back to your room," Marquelle told Peter before she could say anything. "Your rooms have high protection. Stay there until we can subdue the creature."
"B-but the gatekeeper!"
"She has more fighting ability in that state than you do at your best."
Peter stared at her shoulder, horrified. She had to admit, the black veins spreading from her wound would make it hard to convince the boy that she wasn't dying. Not yet anyway. "Marquelle is right. It's not as bad as it seems."
"Don't worry," Marquelle added in a kinder voice. "I won't let her die. Now, run!"
The creature lunged, swatting Iria to the side as she, too, lunged towards it. Marquelle pushed Peter back with a force that sent him hurtling into the corridors.
"RUN!" Marquelle commanded as he held the creature back with his cane.
And Peter ran with all of his might, not stopping until he reached Iria's room.