The King's Craft (The Petralist Book 6)

by Frank Morin

  Desperately Connor opened himself to Student Eighteen. How could he feel angry toward Verena? Close to panic, he embraced the peace she offered him like an invisible lifeline. He closed his eyes and simply absorbed the calming piece and let the whispers she pushed into his mind urge him to relax.

  “It is still winter, Connor. Spring has not yet arrived,” she whispered.

  What? That was so weird, but it seemed to help. His headache eased and the terrible anger faded like oil seeping through his fingers. He felt tainted by it and shivered at how close he’d come to totally losing control.

  After a moment he opened his eyes. She winked and said, “Pace yourself, Connor. Some of these dishes have more kick than you realize.”

  Verena, who had been watching him with concern bordering on fear, leaned farther away, suddenly looking worried. “Don’t you dare explosive vomit, Connor. Not tonight.”

  It was a good way to divert the conversation away from what had just happened. He sensed that neither of them wanted him to talk about it yet. He couldn’t imagine why, but he refused to ruin the feast.

  So he took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Don’t worry. Whatever that was, it’s past. I’m not about to waste any of this food throwing up tonight. I can throw up any meal.”

  He forced himself to return to the feast, but his appetite was gone. He felt a little unsteady, his thoughts still fuzzy, even though he tapped sandstone and drew in a warm current of healing power. For some reason it didn’t seem to help as much as it should.

  After a few minutes, the weird effects of his unexpected rage wore off. He couldn’t explain it, but definitely didn’t want to experience that again. He triple-checked to make sure he hadn’t accidentally absorbed any porphyry, but he hadn’t. He avoided chert too, just in case he’d unwittingly tapped into someone’s concealed anger. External anger shouldn’t affect him so much, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

  The rest of his friends continued feasting with undiminished gusto. Hamish was consuming enormous quantities of food, but seemed ready to go all night. Maybe that was why he’d worn his battle suit. He rarely took it off, although meals were common exceptions. Had he worn it with the hopes it could help hold in his stomach if he ate himself to exhaustion?

  That was cheating. No way Connor would ever agree to an eating duel with Hamish again while he was wearing the suit.

  More dishes continued to flow around the room as many of the diners were shepherded out groaning, patting full bellies, and exclaiming the wonders of the feast. Eager newcomers rushed in and took their spots. One of the benefits of the high table was that they did not need to rotate out. Connor wondered if Hamish would insist that Jean include that as a bylaw. He wouldn’t complain.

  Despite Hamish’s inexhaustible appetite, most of the table began to slow. The servers noted the change and shifted to desserts.

  The main courses had been epic, although Connor didn’t know their names. The desserts looked even better, and the sight of cakes and cookies and puddings presented on silver trays helped Connor regain his enthusiasm. He shouldn’t have eaten so much. He needed more room for dessert.

  Some of them were variations on desserts he already knew. His Grandurian was pretty basic still, but he’d memorized the names of most of the desserts.

  The light, fluffy krapfen rolls, still warm from the oven, surprised him when he bit into one and found it filled with Althing chocolate. He chewed slowly, letting the sweetness curl around his tongue.

  Eating windbeutel cream puffs, drizzled with honey glaze, was like licking a sweet cloud, and he wished he could eat a hundred of them. He only managed to grab four before the tray emptied, though.

  He didn’t have time to feel sad because the frankfurter kranz cake showed up next. The four-layer confection was shaped like a crown, complete with seven tall points, topped with bright, jewel-like cherries. He served one tower to Verena and got a piece with another for himself. The cake was light and fluffy and sweet, and eating it was like consuming one of Verena’s laughs.

  The crispy-crunchy springerle biscuits with their uniquely chewy centers delighted him. Somehow they were cooked with patterns on the top, like the Grandurian royal crest or Lord Eberhard’s crest. Others were shaped like the healer symbol or tiny Builder mechanicals. The artisanship was fantastic, and the crunchiness reminded him of the feel of striking stone with his father’s hammer.

  Verena’s iron will finally crumbled under the onslaught of sweets, and she consumed more than he had ever seen. Hamish had been trying to get her to embrace a higher sugar diet for a long time, promising that sugar-induced state of creative brilliance that he referred to as Mind Fracking would double her best creative day.

  She usually insisted she didn’t need it, but that night she experienced what he was talking about. Connor watched her with growing concern. She half-closed her eyes while slowly chewing one sugary dessert, made up of a flaky pastry filled with cream. She looked like she had reached the sugar saturation state. If she kept going, she might push herself to the stomach revolt point, or simply pass out like well-bred ladies were trained to do.

  He’d never seen her pass out. He’d also never seen her throw up, although he bet that if she put her mind to it, she could challenge any of them for the record.

  Aifric was chatting happily with Kilian, who didn’t seem to have any trouble keeping up with the many personalities that kept switching in for momentary control. Connor caught occasional snatches of their conversation, enough to realize he would’ve been hopelessly lost.

  They were talking in several different languages, and by the bits he understood, it sounded like they were discussing customs and peoples across the continent. Connor doubted anyone but Kilian could keep up with Aifric. Or maybe Aifric was finally the one person who could keep up with Kilian. They both seemed to immensely enjoy the conversation.

  He did notice them glancing in his direction more than once, and in those moments their lighthearted chatter faded to more serious expressions and softer words. He was tempted to tap serpentinite and listen in, but the moments passed quickly and he decided that sugar was addling his mind and making him see things that weren’t there, like the shadowy figure lurking around town the past couple of days.

  Verena eventually pushed her plate back abruptly and stood. She glared at the last sweet on it. “No. That’s enough. I will not be controlled by sweets.”

  Connor glanced from her to the innocent pastry. Her outburst had caught the attention of other people at the high table, and Hamish wandered over to join them, stretching and looking supremely satisfied. When he reached Connor’s side, he leaned past, snatched up the offending pastry, and popped it into his mouth.

  He gave Verena a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll stand as your champion and defend your honor against any other desserts thrust upon your unwilling gullet.”

  “Unwilling gullet?” Verena laughed.

  Connor added, “Hey, I’m her champion, remember?”

  Hamish shrugged. “It was worth a try, right? I did get one more desert out of it.” He patted Verena on the shoulder. “It’s okay. Not everyone can handle full-contact desert combat. You’ll get used to it.”

  She rolled her eyes and shooed him back to his seat. Smiling after him, she leaned closer to Connor. “If he doesn’t pop before the night’s through, I’ll be amazed.”

  Connor grinned. “If he pops, he’ll die a happy man.”

  “He’d better not die. Lady Jean has definite plans for him.” She winked at Connor and added, “I feel like I’m about to pop. I can’t believe you ate so much. I need to stretch.”

  He moved to stand, but she gestured him back. “Finish your meal, but don’t overdo it. I want to go chat with some of the newcomers.”

  Connor wasn’t sure any of the newcomers wanted to chat with anyone. They were all trying to catch up. Verena moved off into the crowd anyway.

  Connor returned to his food, but did eat more slowly. He felt i
t his duty to remain at the high table until every rotation of other diners passed through. That meant he had to continue eating for perhaps several more hours.

  Duty could be hard, but sometimes it was sweet. And savory.

  14

  With Shona, Surprises Are Rarely Unexpected

  Connor looked up in surprise when Shona settled gracefully into Verena’s vacant seat. Luckily Verena did not notice, or she might have flown across the room to issue a death battle challenge. Verena and Shona had managed to coexist together through the winter in sort of an uneasy truce. They had promised not to kill each other, or even maim each other, but that did not mean they would not happily get into a fight at the drop of a hat.

  “I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to sit there,” Connor advised.

  “Don’t worry, Connor. I’m not interested in hurting Verena today. I need to speak with you.”

  “Okay. Speak away.”

  Good thing he was already stuffed to bursting. He could not have enjoyed feasting while sitting so close to the beautiful, deadly high lady of Merkland. Sure, she had switched sides during the battle of Merkland and thrown in with the revolutionaries, but that didn’t mean as much as it might if anyone else had made the bold move. Connor’s relationship with Shona was far too complex to trust she had made that choice out of simple patriotism.

  Shona glanced to either side, even though no one was paying them any attention. “It’s a private matter, Connor.”

  It was not the first time that winter that Shona had tried to get Connor alone. She and Ivor had spent much of the winter in Merkland, but every time she saw Connor, she had tried to pull him aside. He had managed to deflect all of those invitations, usually by ensuring he was with Verena or Hamish.

  He did not believe Shona would try again to twist his heartstrings and pull him away from Verena like she had so many times in the past. She seemed to have accepted his choice, but what if she was going to try to get him to fulfill that promise to kiss her one more time? Breaking his word had been necessary to prove to both her and to Verena where his heart was.

  So he gestured at his plate. “I’m not really finished.”

  She didn’t buy it. He only had only one pastry left. She had timed her approach well. The servers were busy with the flood of new diners and had left the high table unattended for a few minutes.

  “This will only take a moment, I promise. It’s important, Connor. It’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time. Please trust me that I have no ill intent.”

  She looked at him with those big, hazel eyes, her expression open and honest. Despite all the time and experience he had with her, he still felt moved by that look.

  When he hesitated again she added, “I promise. No more than one minute. And if you feel uncomfortable at all, you can leave and fetch Verena.”

  They had to start trusting each other eventually if they were going to work together to overthrow the queen and free their country, but did that moment have to be now?

  She took his hand and tugged him to his feet. He did not pull away. That would’ve drawn too much attention, but he did slip his hand out of hers. He would never allow Verena to see him walking hand-in-hand with Shona. Not only would Verena probably attempt to murder Shona right there, but she’d probably maim him too.

  Both Aifric and Kilian glanced up as they passed, and Connor said, “We’ll be right back.”

  Neither of them looked convinced, but they did not interfere. Connor glanced across the room, hoping Verena might spot him with Shona. She would move to intercept them, which would be perfect. Unfortunately, she was sitting at a table on the far side of the room with a couple of Builders and a few of the Althing researchers, engaged in a lively discussion. Even though she regularly received brilliant insights to help other projects, if she had one now, Hamish would insist that he’d proven mind fracking worked and redouble his efforts to addict her to sweets.

  Connor followed Shona cautiously across the room. Nicklaus trotted up to them as they wove through the crowds. “Hey, Connor, are you getting a special dessert?”

  “No, just a boring meeting.”

  “You’re not supposed to have boring meetings during a feast, you know,” Nicklaus pointed out.

  Shona gave him a reassuring smile. “We won’t be long.”

  “I’ll come get you when the next round of desserts are served,” he promised and sped away.

  Connor suppressed a grin. With any luck, Nicklaus would mention to Verena that Connor had left with Shona. She could still catch up. Unfortunately, no one else stopped them as they exited the room.

  He expected her to stop in the hallway, but she continued down the stairs and outside into the chill air of early evening. The crowds seemed bigger than ever. Connor wondered if word of the singular feast had drawn people who had previously not planned to tempt the long hours in line.

  Shona led Connor a block to the south, stopping in a pool of lantern light at the corner of a side street. The new Schwinkendorf Academy administration building rose four stories on the next block, but it was unusually dim and quiet. At that moment they were very much alone, even though thousands of people stood barely a block away.

  Shona paused there, looking somber, but not angry or intense the way she did when she was planning to attack.

  She almost looked nervous.

  It was hard to tell because that was such a rare expression for Shona, but as she opened her mouth, then hesitated, that’s what she looked like. Seeing Shona nervous made him very nervous. He was tempted to tap chert to figure out the mystery, but something in her mood made him hesitate.

  Shona had thrown herself into battle without reservation. She had survived a lengthy stint in the dread queen’s company. She was clever, ambitious, and very deadly. Anything that made her nervous, Connor did not want anything to do with.

  He wondered if she was about to ask for more aid for Merkland. It was a wonder that the queen had not swept north from Donleavy to crush the budding revolution. The attack had to come soon and she would raze Merkland to the ground, despite their preparations to defend the city.

  He was completely unprepared when she grabbed his hands and burst into tears. “Oh, Connor. I’m so sorry!”

  Connor recoiled from her anguish and glanced around in both directions, preparing to tap his affinities. Had she betrayed him to the queen? Would the queen dare strike all the way into Granadure to come fetch him?

  They were still alone.

  Shona continued, not seeming to notice his reaction. “Queen Dreokt personifies everything that I used to think was great about being a noblewoman. She’s powerful, experienced, and has a clear vision of what she expects the country to become under her reign.”

  Connor wasn’t sure where she was going but asked cautiously, “What you used to think?”

  Shona nodded, actually sniffling as she rubbed her nose and then her eyes with the back of her hands. “Connor, she enforces absolute obedience. She takes the lives of everyone around her without consideration of their will or their intent. She owns them and considers that her absolute right.”

  She paused, stepping a little closer, her teary eyes wide and vulnerable. Her voice fell to a whisper. “Just like I used to treat you.”

  Connor blinked. He couldn’t think how to respond. Was she actually apologizing? Shona, the high lady with all the answers? She was usually so confident. She’d even negotiated a place as one of the three commanders of the revolution right there on the battlefield.

  She embraced him, sobbing. Connor was forced to awkwardly hold her, more shocked in that moment than he’d ever felt about her.

  That was saying something.

  Shona had done a lot, but always she had felt convinced that she was not only doing what was right for her, but right for Obrion, her realm, and for Connor. He wondered if the queen had messed with Shona’s mind after all.

  “I realized that’s why you had to leave. It’s not that you didn’t lov
e me or want to serve me, but you had to break free of the shackles around your freedom.” She pushed away from him, her face a mess, her hair disheveled, looking more alluring in that moment than she probably ever had.

  That was weird.

  “I don’t blame you, Connor. I blame myself. If only I’d understood, we could have avoided some of that heartache and accomplished so much together.”

  She seemed to be coming back around to dangerous territory. That helped Connor feel that she would be okay after all. “Lady Shona, I appreciate it. I really do. I think you know that I only ever wanted to be your Guardian. I think we should leave all that in the past and try starting fresh.”

  She sniffled again and nodded. “I would like that. I know we can never be what I’d hoped we could be, but being your friend and regaining your trust, and knowing you’ll no longer recoil from me when I approach would be more of a victory than I ever hoped I could get.”

  She seemed to be acting in earnest, although with Shona one could never entirely tell. Well, most of the time one couldn’t.

  Connor tapped chert.

  It was probably considered bad form to listen in on a high lady’s thoughts right after she had bared her soul and apologized for evil behavior, but he couldn’t help it. As he met her gaze the connection snapped into place.

  “I can’t believe I actually said that. I’ve never been so terrified in my life, but it feels so good to get that off my chest. Is he believing me? Does he think I’m lying?”

  Connor opened his mouth to respond, but caught himself. He managed to say, “Ah, good.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she added, “Connor, if you’re listening to my thoughts, know that I’m telling the truth.”

  He started to relax. She wasn’t angry.

  Then she thought, “But don’t you dare ever do it again.”

  She spoke aloud, “I’d love to know your thoughts, Connor.” Her poise had returned, and she lifted one fine eyebrow as if to challenge him to respond with as much honesty.