Roots of Insight (Dusk Gate Chronicles -- Book Two)

by Breeana Puttroff

  William smiled. He often forgot how foreign all of this must be to her. “No. The gifts pass through every royal bloodline. The firstborn child is always given the gift of leadership, but only the first-born of the king becomes king. My own first child will have leadership, but would be far from first in line for the throne, because I’m a fourth-born. Simon’s son will be the heir once Simon becomes king.”

  “I guess that makes sense.”

  “Very different from your world, I know. Okay, a few more splinters, and I’ll be just about done here. I’m going to look in my bag for some ibuprofen.”

  “I’m okay,” she said. “It’s not hurting.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Quinn, I know that you think everything is fine and that you didn’t really hurt yourself, but your arm is torn up. It is going to be hurting tonight. If you take some ibuprofen now, and keep up with it every six hours, you might – and only might – not be asking for something stronger before you go to bed tonight. And,” he added, staring her down, “if you do need something stronger, you’d better ask.”

  She nodded, subdued.

  “You’re going to need to be really careful with this for a few days. Let Mia or Linnea help you with getting dressed, because this is right where it’s going to rub against the sleeve of your shirt all the time.” There was a definite downside to the fact that the injuries were on the outside of her arm. “I don’t want to be putting these stitches back in anytime soon, okay?”

  She nodded again. “William?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m already grateful.”

  ~ 11 ~

  Frustrated

  AS WILLIAM HAD EXPECTED, his mother was beside herself by the time he walked into the dining room with Quinn. Thomas and Linnea had gone in a few minutes before them to explain, and now they were sitting together at the far end of the table, looking guilty. Good.

  Queen Charlotte flew across the room as soon as they entered.

  “Quinn! Are you all right sweetheart?” Her forehead creased as she appraised Quinn’s bloody shirt and bandaged arm. “Is she all right?” she turned her gaze on William before Quinn even had a chance to answer.

  William sighed. “She will be fine. She’s banged it up pretty good. She’ll be pretty sore for a few days, but it will heal. Some of those stitches will still have to be in when she goes home, though.”

  Quinn’s eyes popped wide at that news. Good, he thought again. Let her think about that. Choices have consequences. Let her explain that one to Zander Cunningham. He’d had plenty of time on the ride home for his irritation to build again. The danger that girl had put herself in … she just didn’t think. She treated his whole world like it was imaginary … she could step in and have fun, and then just go home as if it had never happened. He wondered exactly what she’d told her boyfriend she was doing this weekend.

  “What were you thinking, Quinn? You could have been seriously injured. Or worse!”

  William’s shoulders sank at the tone in his mother’s voice, so he nearly choked when Quinn looked her straight in the eye. “I wasn’t thinking about anything except that little boy.”

  “I know. And I … both Charlotte and I are very proud of you for that.” King Stephen had joined them. “From what Thomas and Linnea say, you probably saved that child’s life today, and for that we are grateful. Our entire kingdom is grateful.” His father paused; emotion had crept into his voice. “But to put yourself at that kind of risk while you are under my care, away from your home, when I think about what could have happened to you today… Your poor mother…”

  “I’m sorry I frightened you, Your Majesties. Truly. I didn’t mean to worry you, or put your family at risk. But if I had just stood there and watched…”

  William’s jaw dropped – when had the shy and quiet Quinn turned into someone who would talk to a king that way? He watched several emotions flit across his father’s face before his expression suddenly softened. Stephen exchanged a wordless argument with Charlotte, which, from the look of acquiescence in his mother’s eyes, his father won.

  Stephen cleared his throat. “We’ll settle on grateful then, Quinn. We’re grateful to you for taking such a risk to rescue that boy, and to the Maker, for protecting you both today and returning you to us.”

  William looked on as his parents simultaneously wrapped Quinn in a hug. There was moisture in his mother’s eyes.

  “And William,” his father said after a moment, “we are, as always, filled with gratitude and pride for your skills and your willingness to share them. The Maker has blessed us indeed, to have given us you for a son.” The tears ran freely down his mother’s cheeks as his parents embraced him tightly.

  William escaped the dining room quickly, without having eaten. He would ask someone to bring him up something later. Linnea had been sent upstairs with Quinn, to help her get cleaned up and changed. He knew he would have to check on her later but for now he needed some time to himself. Besides, his own clothing hadn’t fared too well with all of the tree-climbing and blood, either. A hot shower would clear his head.

  What was it with that girl? The whole scene with his parents had renewed his frustration from the afternoon. Why didn’t she – or anyone else – see how dangerous this was? First, she came strolling through the gate behind him, and now she was running carelessly about the place. She had nearly poisoned herself the first time, and today … an image of that tree house crushing her kept playing in his mind. No, it hadn’t actually happened, but what if it had? She was running back and forth between the two worlds like it wasn’t a big deal, as if there wouldn’t be any consequences to the choices she made.

  Did she realize that this was real? That something could really happen to her while she was here? And what exactly were her intentions here, anyway? This wasn’t her world. She was building all of these relationships here, and she was just going to leave. Soon enough, she would go off to college in her own world, and marry Zander Cunningham, or someone like him. What was the point of her getting involved here? He sighed. Thinking about this was only making him more tense, so he decided to concentrate on clearing his head.

  After the hot water had finally unknotted most of the muscles in his shoulders, William put on clean clothes and wandered down the hall. He ended up, as he often did, in the room of his little sister, Alice.

  Technically, she shared the room with Emma and Sarah, but he could hear them running and screeching in the playroom across the hall. Alice was in here alone, sitting at a little table, contentedly coloring with the colored pencils and sketchbook he had brought back for her from Bristlecone.

  He sat down next to her in an undersized chair. “Hey, precious girl, what are you doing?”

  She looked up at him, all wide gray eyes behind her wire-rimmed glasses, but she didn’t dignify his question with the obvious response.

  He smiled. Even at only four, Alice was easily the most serious of his siblings, and he loved her for it. “Can I draw with you?”

  She pushed the box so that it sat between them and pulled a blank page out of the notebook.

  They sat there like that for quite a while. He watched as Alice drew a very detailed picture of the swing set in the play yard. He mindlessly sketched a picture of Skittles; she would like to keep it when he was finished. “What did you do today?”

  She didn’t look up; she was carefully outlining a red flower. “I played outside with Emma, and then Mama had a tea party for just the little girls.”

  “That sounds like fun.”

  She nodded. “We had cookies shaped like flowers.”

  He smiled.

  “How did Quinn hurt her arm?”

  “I didn’t see exactly how she did it, but she scraped it somehow when she was getting a little boy out of a tree house that was about to fall.”

  “Is the little boy okay?”

  “Yes, he’s fine. He didn’t even get hurt.”

  “Is Quinn okay?” Alice looked up at him now, concern in her wide eyes.
He knew all of his little sisters liked the girl.

  “Yes, she’ll be fine. Her arm will probably hurt for a few days.”

  “I’ll tell Emma not to hang on it then.” She blinked before turning back to her paper. “I’m glad Quinn got the little boy out of the tree house, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I suppose I am.”

  “And I’m glad that she’s okay.”

  “Me too.”

  She was silent again, concentrating on her picture. Finally, she looked back up at him; he could see his own eyes reflected in hers. “Were you scared?”

  How could such a tiny girl see so much? “Yes, I was.”

  She nodded, then put down her pencil and climbed into William’s lap, wrapping her little arms tightly around his neck. When she was done, she climbed back down, carefully removed a purple pencil from the box, and began drawing again.

  William smiled. “Thanks for drawing with me. Do you want to keep this picture?”

  She nodded.

  He slid the paper under her sketchpad, and kissed the top of her head as he stood. “I love you, Alice.”

  “I love you too, Will.”

  * * *

  Thomas watched William skulk out of the dining room after Linnea took Quinn upstairs. It was going to be one of those nights. Will was never great company when he got himself all worked up like this.

  Across the table, Maxwell was watching, too. His eyes met Thomas’ and he sighed. “Why does he always take everything so seriously?”

  Thomas frowned. “You’re his older brother. Can’t you do something about him?”

  “I thought that was your job. Use your charm to keep him happy.”

  “You see how well that’s going.”

  Maxwell chuckled. “After dinner, Simon and the boys and I were going to go and play that basket game you and William were teaching us. It looks like Will’s out, but what about you?”

  “Well, you do owe me a rematch after that last time, but…” He glanced uncomfortably toward the dining room doors.

  “Let me guess, you’re going to go up and check on Quinn, and then we won’t see you again until tomorrow.”

  Thomas shrugged.

  “If I didn’t know better, Thomas…”

  “Since when have you ever known anything ‘better’ Max?” He stood and winked impishly at his brother. “We’ll have that rematch soon, though.”

  He stopped at the end of the table to kiss his mother before leaving, and then scooped baby Hannah from her cushioned high chair. “I’ll get her bathed and changed before I bring her back to you for her bedtime feeding,” he promised.

  “Are you just trying to charm your way out of trouble?”

  “Who’s in trouble? Quinn is fine, the boy is safe at home, and everything is as it should be. She made that decision today all on her own, you know. There was no stopping her.” He smiled warmly. “Besides, Hannah and I haven’t had any quality time together lately, have we?” He cooed this last part to the rosy-cheeked baby.

  Charlotte rolled her eyes, but kissed the baby’s cheek. “She had a late nap today, so she should be happy for a while yet.”

  * * *

  The door to Quinn’s bedroom was propped open. “Can we come in?” Thomas called. He didn’t wait for an answer before carrying Hannah in. Quinn was sitting on the couch with her back to Linnea, who was gently pulling a comb through her damp hair. They both looked up at him curiously, the word we probably having caught them by surprise.

  Quinn’s eyes lit up when she saw the infant.

  “How’s your arm?”

  She made a face. “The feeling is starting to come back.”

  He frowned. “Did Will bring you something for it?”

  “No, but Mia knew where my bottle was from last time. She just left here a couple of minutes ago to take our dinner dishes down.”

  Thomas nodded. Of course Mia would have already taken care of it. That girl was amazing. “So are you feeling up to some baby kisses?”

  “Always,” Quinn answered, holding out her arms for the baby, though her right one didn’t make it nearly as far as the left.

  Thomas smiled, carefully setting Hannah down right in her lap against her good arm.

  “Mmm… she smells good.” Quinn pressed her nose to Hannah’s hair.

  “She just had her bath; now she has that clean-baby smell to her.”

  “You gave Hannah a bath, and didn’t bother to clean yourself up?” Linnea asked, appraising his shirt and shorts, which were still caked in dust and spattered with drops of blood.

  “What? I think it makes me look roguish.”

  Linnea rolled her eyes. “You’d think you looked roguish if you were wearing a dress.”

  “Wouldn’t I?” he asked, batting his eyelashes. “I’d need lipstick, though.”

  “You’re hopeless.”

  “True story.”

  “She’s grown,” Quinn said, after she had played with the baby for several minutes, “but not as much as I expected she would have.” She looked up at Thomas and Linnea questioningly. “Hasn’t it been so much longer here than in my world? How does that work, exactly? I mean last time I was here, you told me that people in this world have longer life spans, but…”

  Thomas shrugged. “If you ever figure that one out, let Nathaniel know. He has stressed over it for years. Actually, I don’t know that it’s accurate to say that our life spans are longer, because we really seem to age at the same rate. It’s just that more days pass in our world for the same amount of aging.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, look at William and Nathaniel. They both spend significant amounts of time in both worlds, and physically they’ve aged the same amount they would have in either place. Babies tend to grow a bit faster, I guess, at least compared to the rest of us, but, still, Hannah here is only a little bigger than she would be if she had spent this time in your world. It’s just that more days have passed here.”

  “Wow. How is that even possible?”

  Thomas opened his mouth to answer her, but he was interrupted by the sound of William’s voice. “Who knows? How is anything possible? How can two entirely different worlds exist together in the first place? Maybe the days here are really that much shorter and they just feel like they’re about the same length because we can’t directly compare. Time is a strange concept in the first place. Why would the rules for time in your world apply to ours?”

  Quinn’s eyes were wide, but Thomas and Linnea only laughed. “Be careful listening to him for too long, Quinn. You’ll find yourself holding on to the floor because he’ll have you convinced that there’s no way to know that anything is real.” Thomas shot a look at his brother.

  Quinn looked fascinated, though. “What you mean is, nobody really knows, right? Even though our worlds are so different, in many ways they’re the same, or at least the people in them are.”

  For half a second, Thomas thought William was going to answer her, but then his voice shifted to its more business-like manner. “How is your arm?”

  Thomas and Linnea exchanged an exasperated look. If William would just get over his … attitude … he might realize Quinn was someone he’d actually get along with … maybe more than just get along with.

  “It’s … okay.”

  “Is it still numb?”

  “A little, but it’s kind of starting to hurt. I can’t take any more ibuprofen yet, though. It hasn’t been six hours.”

  Thomas took the baby as William knelt in front of her. He was gentle, but utterly distant and clinical as he lifted up the short sleeve of her shirt and scrutinized the bandage. He touched lightly around the edges of the tape, raising noticeable goose bumps on Quinn’s arm. “You’d be okay taking one more. It’s going to hurt more than last time did. It’s a lot more stitches. Once you can feel it all the way, you can put ice on it too. I’m sure Mia will bring some up for you.”

  As soon as he was finished, he stood and left the room, leaving Quinn staring at
the floor, and Linnea shooting him a murderous glare.

  “I’m going to take Hannah back,” Thomas said after a few minutes. “And maybe ask Mia to bring you girls up some cake?”

  “That would be good,” Linnea said. “Quinn and I have some talking to do. I want to hear about Zander.”

  * * *

  After Thomas took Hannah back to his mother and relayed the message to Mia, he made his way back to his room. William wasn’t there, which didn’t surprise him. He was probably in the laboratory attached to the castle clinic, working on one of his numerous projects. Depending on how upset Will still was, there was a good chance that Thomas wouldn’t see him before he went to bed.

  As he walked toward his dresser, he reached into his pocket and retrieved the object he had purchased today from one of the jewelry vendors. Well, perhaps purchased wasn’t the right word. The man had looked startled when he’d recognized Thomas at his stand. He’d tried, a little too hard, to direct Thomas’ attention to a small case of expensive-looking rings, but Thomas had already caught sight of the necklace he now held in his hand.

  The man had mumbled something about having recently discovered the item was a fake – a replica – and then he’d told Thomas to go on and take it. By the time Thomas reached Linnea, across the square, the man had disappeared, his market stall empty.

  He held the chain up in front of him, and the pendant dangled, catching the light from the lamp. That was what had caught his attention earlier, a glint of sunlight reflecting off the silver charm.

  It was a gift pendant, given to a child of royal blood at the time of his or her Naming Ceremony. Thomas reached automatically for the silver pendant at his own neck, and rubbed his thumb against the etched surface. Where his pendant bore a heart, the symbol for his gift – grace – this pendant showed the sign of the healer, the ameliorosa flower.

  Even tarnished as it was, he could tell it was real. The chain was cheap, and too clean and shiny to have been on the pendant for long, but the actual charm was as genuine as the one around his neck. Now, he took a clean cloth and polished the pendant, so that he could examine it more closely.