Gib had settled into a steady routine. In the mornings, he attended weaponry class with his peers. He would then scarf down his midday meal and report to the palace for training with Diddy. For Gib not to be tardy to his afternoon classes, he would then have to sprint from the royal grounds back to Academy and hope he arrived before Lady Beatrice began the day’s lesson. Nights were spent catching up on his studies with Joel.
Gib stayed so busy he had little time to think about the assassination attempt, and after a couple of moonturns, it seemed like everyone else had forgotten about it too. It was possible that after one botched effort, the assassin was too scared to act again. Possible, but nothing was ever certain.
The King never returned to watch Diddy spar, but other members of the royal family frequented the arena. The students’ daily training sessions were becoming quite the spectacle within the palace walls. Diddy introduced Gib to all the visitors as they arrived—cousins, siblings, family of family—it was all difficult for Gib to keep track of and he didn’t pretend to understand the different titles and ranks they associated with themselves. However, after two moonturns of training inside the palace, Gib certainly had learned how to bow correctly. He realized a gracious bow could spare an awkward conversation in situations where he simply didn’t know what to say or do.
“You gonna make it through class, Nemesio?”
Gib jumped to attention. He hadn’t realized he’d been slouching so low in his seat that his chin was resting on his chest. In fact, the sentinel trainee was so out of sorts that it took him a moment to remember he was sitting in his Ardenian Law class.
Gib held back a yawn and blinked his heavy eyelids fully open as he turned toward Nage. “Sorry. I’m tired.”
Nage clasped him on the shoulder. “I can tell.”
“We could hear you snoring,” Kezra snorted. She sat on the opposite side of Gib. “Better not let Lady Beatrice catch you sleeping in her class or there’ll be hell to pay.”
Gib grimaced. He believed it. “Lady Beatrice isn’t here yet. I can’t get into trouble if class hasn’t begun.”
Tarquin issued a groan, leaning around Nage to address Kezra. “Gib and I have to sneak in naps whenever possible. Training once a day with Roland is brutal enough. You guys try doing it twice in the same day and let me know how you feel by nightfall.”
Kezra’s green eyes speared the young highborn. “Spare me your whining, Aldino.”
The assembly hall was filling quickly; students poured through the open door in droves. A group of young, well-dressed ladies passed by, and Gib caught part of their conversation.
“—having a new gown tailored just for the celebration,” one girl squealed in an excited voice.
A second girl giggled. “My mother is allowing me to wear her fine golden jewelry. It’ll be sure to catch the attention of the young men in attendance.”
“Oh, I can’t wait for the dancing. The royal palace is the perfect place to hold such a glamorous ball—”
The rest of the conversation was lost as the two girls moved away. Gib furrowed his brow. “What do you suppose they were going on about?”
Kezra rolled her eyes. “Oh, just mindless twitter about the ball.”
“Ball? What ball?”
Kezra and Tarquin exchanged amused glances before the young lord elaborated further. “The ball held at the palace every year to celebrate Aithne.”
Gib froze. Aithne. Daya, how could I forget? Had he lost track of time so completely that he’d forgotten the most important holiday on the Ardenian calendar was less than a moonturn away?
Aithne was the celebration marking the day, some five hundred years ago, that Arden had won its independence from the Northern Empire. Like a phoenix emerging from the ashes, the people had risen against the tyranny of the Empire and fought for their freedom. The price of such freedom had been immense and many had lost their lives. Each year since, bonfires were lit in every village, town, and city to honor the sacrifice Arden’s ancestors had made for their children to be free.
But Gib had never heard of a ball to commemorate Aithne. Of course, he’d never spent time in Silver City either—among highborns who seemed to thrive on wealth, possessions, and extravagant celebrations.
“It must be a pretty spectacular event if it’s hosted at the royal palace,” Gib replied.
“Ha!” Tarquin spat, sarcasm lacing his tenor voice. “One would think so.”
“It’s not?”
Now it was Kezra’s turn to groan. “It’s awful.”
Tarquin echoed her sentiment. “Completely dreadful. It’s so boring. My father makes me go every year.”
“Mine too,” Kezra lamented. “He says it’s the ‘duty of every highborn’ to celebrate Arden’s independence in the presence of the King.”
“King Rishi goes?” Gib asked curiously.
“Yes,” Tarquin answered. “The whole royal family attends. And they always look just as bored as the rest of us. The whole thing is a waste of time!”
Nage let out a snort, shaking his head. “You highborns have it so bad,” he teased. “Being bored at some stuffy party with the King of Arden sure seems awful. You should try spending the holiday in the streets of Silver, scrounging for food and a warm place to sleep. I’ve had to do it a time or two in my life.” The lowborn boy turned a sly grin onto Gib. “It’s all right, Gib. While these two are enjoying the ball with the rest of the social elite, me and you can head over to the Rose Bouquet and have a real party, eh?”
The sentinel trainee frantically tried to think up an excuse for why he couldn’t accompany Nage to the tavern, but luck was with him as Lady Beatrice strolled through the door and announced class was beginning.
Gib returned to his room still pondering everything his friends had talked about during class. He’d never heard of such a thing as the Aithne Ball before—but then again, the residents of Willowdale were too poor to hold great feasts or festivals for any of the major Ardenian holidays. Families had always celebrated Aithne alone, in the privacy of their homes. Gib remembered his own family setting a candle in the windowsill each year and taking time to say a word of gratitude in tribute to the ancestors who had sacrificed so much for the country. But no splendid parties or grand dances had occurred.
Joel greeted him warmly as Gib came through the door. “Hey. You’re back early.”
“Yeah, Lady Beatrice dismissed us. The highborn students were restless today. She told us that if no one was going to focus then we all should get out of her assembly hall.” Gib grinned, though at the time, it hadn’t been the least bit funny. Lady Beatrice was known for her patience and kind heart, but even a woman of such petite stature could be intimidating when bellowing at her unruly students.
“Oh?” Joel asked, raising an eyebrow. He extended a hand to the sentinel trainee.
Gib graciously accepted the silent invitation. Taking the offered hand, he was pulled closer by the older boy. “Yeah, they were all going on about the ball—”
“Ah yes,” Joel interjected, smiling wistfully. “To commemorate Aithne. I should have known. In the highborn world, Aithne is the biggest celebration of the year.”
“Well, my friends didn’t seem very excited to go. Tarquin and Kezra were complaining all through class.”
Joel chuckled, stroking long fingers through Gib’s hair. “It can be dreadfully stifling. Being an event held for the social elite, I’m sure you can imagine the proper decorum and mannerisms that need to be followed. It’s certainly not like the party your friends took you to at the Rose Bouquet.”
The sentinel trainee grinned and relaxed against Joel’s sturdier frame, enjoying this private moment. Life had kept them so busy lately. “Will you be going?”
“Unfortunately it is expected of me.” Joel rested his chin on the top of Gib’s head, sighing into his curls. “People will take notice if the son of the seneschal is absent, and rumors will ensue. Of course, people will talk even if I do go. It seems as though I’m destine
d to be the subject of nasty gossip everywhere.”
Gib took hold of the mage trainee’s hand. “I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could do to stop it. No one deserves to be slandered in such a way—least of all you.”
Joel’s eyes were sad as he leaned his forehead against Gib’s. “I appreciate your words, but it’s my own fault. I should never have said what I did.”
“You shouldn’t have to hide.”
“No one should.”
Gib gave the older boy a gentle smile. “Maybe someday things will be different.”
Joel remained quiet for some time. His eyes were far away, as though he were caught in some momentous reverie. At last, the mage trainee spoke. His voice sounded a hundred leagues away, hushed as it was. “Gib, this might sound like a foolish request, but how—how would you feel about attending the ball with me?”
“Lady Mrifa, you really don’t have to go through the trouble—”
“Oh, nonsense! I don’t want to hear any of it,” Lady Mrifa lamented as she circled around the young seamstress who was taking Joel’s and Gib’s measurements. Her eyes were attentive, as though she were truly concerned the tailoring apprentice might overlook something. “I insist you have custom-made attire for the ball.”
Gib looked to Joel for help, but the mage trainee only shook his head and snickered. “Don’t. It’s not worth the argument.”
“I’ll have to work a lifetime to be able to repay this!” Gib protested, unable to quiet himself. The seamstress huffed for him to stand taller, and with a wince, the sentinel trainee jumped to do as he was told.
Mrifa scoffed. “My brother, Joran Nireefa, is Headmaster of the Tailoring Guild, and he owes me a favor or two. There will be no need to repay me, Gibben.” She smiled, blue eyes twinkling with warmth as she set a hand against Gib’s face. “Besides, truly it is I who am indebted to you.”
Gib met her gaze with shy, uncertain eyes. “I’m afraid I don’t follow you, m’lady.”
Mrifa sighed, her own eyes flickering to Joel for a moment. “This world can be so cruel. For a while, I believed my son would never recover from the scorn he was made to endure, only because he was—different.” She stroked the sentinel trainee’s cheek. “It wasn’t until you came into Joel’s life that I could once again hear his laughter or see a trace of a true smile. You brought him back to us, Gibben. And one silly outfit will never be enough to repay you for that.” Mrifa leaned forward, pressing her lips to Gib’s forehead as a mother might do to show affection for a child.
His cheeks were as hot as iron rods. “I–I, uh, it’s easy to like Joel. You raised a wonderful son.” Gib stole a glance at his roommate. Joel was smiling shyly back. “I’m honored to be able to call him a friend.”
For a moment afterward the room was silent, and the seamstress took advantage of the lull by clearing her throat and announcing her work was complete. “All done with the young lords, Lady Mrifa. Will you be needing measurements taken today as well?”
Mrifa turned away from Gib, dismissing the girl with a wave of her hand. “I assure you, my brother has made enough dresses by now to have dedicated my measurements to memory, and I haven’t grown—taller or otherwise—since Carmen’s birth nine wheelturns ago.” Mrifa laughed as she helped the seamstress collect her belongings. “If you could inform Master Joran to have Joel and Gibben’s outfits delivered to their dormitory room when they’re completed, it would be most appreciated.”
“Of course, my lady.” The seamstress clutched her satchel between her hands and offered a low curtsey. “I’ll return to Master Joran at once.”
“I’ll see you to the door,” Mrifa replied. She gave Gib a scandalous wink as she passed. “Try not to grow any more between now and Aithne. There isn’t enough time to make a second garment for you.”
The sentinel trainee couldn’t stop the crooked grin from spreading across his face. “I’ll do my best not to, m’lady.” Mrifa patted him on the shoulder as she departed, following at the heels of the young seamstress.
As soon as the two women left the room, Joel stepped down from his pedestal and swept to Gib’s side. “Well, I’m certainly glad that is out of the way.” The mage trainee took hold of Gib’s hand, weaving their fingers together. “Thank you for your kind words.”
Gib nodded as he stared at their interlaced fingers, lost in a trance. It was still hard to believe they were finally together. “Is your mother having fine garments made for all of your siblings?”
“I’m sure she is.” Joel let out a deep sigh. “We highborns tend to go above and beyond for these kinds of celebrations, especially ones where the royal family is promised to be in attendance. My family’s attire will be modest in comparison to some, no doubt. You’ll see what I mean.”
“I still can’t believe I’m allowed to attend,” Gib replied. “You’re sure they won’t take one look at me and bar me from the palace?”
Joel’s lips curled in a dashing smile. “You’ll blend in by the time you’re dressed in my uncle’s finery. Uncle Joran is the best tailor in the city. He can make a pauper look like royalty. Besides,” the mage trainee leaned down and rested his forehead against Gib’s. “You are my family’s guest—my guest—and no one would dare turn away the company of Seneschal Koal’s son.”
Gib chuckled lightly but couldn’t think of anything to say. It was nearly impossible to believe that he would be attending a grand ball. Of course, if someone had told him a year ago that he would join the Arden Sentinels, train with a prince, fall in love, and meet a king—all within the next six moonturns—Gib would have laughed until he’d turned blue in the face. At this point, I shouldn’t have even been surprised when Joel asked me to go. Tay and Cal won’t believe me when I go home and tell them I’ve been to a grand ball at the palace. Or when I say my friend is a prince and I got to stand in the same room as the King of Arden! He smiled to himself. It all sounded absurd, even to him.
Gib’s thoughts lingered on the royal family and for the first time in sennights, the sentinel trainee found his mind troubled.
“Joel,” he began. “Do you think it’s a good idea for the royal family to be present at the ball? I mean, I know there haven’t been any threats made on King Rishi since Midwinter, but—with so many people in the palace for the celebration and the royal family in attendance, don’t you think it would be the perfect time for the assassin to strike again?”
The mage trainee’s smile was grim. “It would be unwise to rule out the possibility of such a thing happening, I won’t deny it—but Gib, you’ve been to the palace enough times to know how well protected the royal family is.” Joel squeezed the younger boy’s shoulder. “How many royal guardsmen were with King Rishi the day you met him?”
“I know, but—” Gib tried to keep his voice level despite his churning stomach. “Why not just cancel the ball? Is the safety of our ruler really worth the risk for some petty highborns to gather and exchange gossip with one another?”
“They can’t just cancel everything. Life can’t come to a grinding halt just because some terrible person tried to murder the King three moonturns ago. It simply can’t be.” Joel sighed, his mouth set in a straight line. “Besides, if the Aithne ball is cancelled, people will question King Rishi’s strength as a ruler. Some might even go as far as to call him a coward.”
Gib made a horrified sound. “That seems unfair.”
“It is. King Rishi is no coward, of course, but you have to realize that danger is unavoidable for a king. The High Council would never allow the Aithne ball to be cancelled anyway. The patrons who keep all those old men’s purses filled would balk too much.” Joel’s voice grew lighter as he rubbed Gib’s tense shoulders. “Don’t worry yourself over all of this, Gib. I would have you enjoy the ball, if possible. I’ve never seen a student handed as much responsibility as you and not crack beneath the pressure. You deserve a night of frivolity.”
“Yeah,” the sentinel trainee replied. “I’ll try not to worry.” Despite Jo
el’s reassurance that things would be all right, Gib wasn’t entirely convinced he would be able to have a good time. The entire situation screamed of unnecessary peril—
And something else unrelated was weighing down on his mind as well.
Joel was giving him a measured look. “Is something else bothering you?”
Gib nodded slowly. He knows me too well. “Yes. It’s about—us. I need to know before I go with you to this ball.” He dared to meet the older boy’s gaze as the words began to pour out with no reserve. “What are we, Joel? What are we to each other? And to other people? Are we lovers in our dormitory room but only friends the moment we step outside? What about when I tell my brothers about the wonderful person I met in Silver? Am I to introduce you as a friend—or something more? Are you going to tell your family or is this whole thing supposed to be a secret? Or have I gotten the wrong impression about everything? Are we only just friends?”
Shock registered on the mage trainee’s face. Joel lifted delicate hands into the air, holding them in front of his body as though deflecting a physical blow. “Slow down, Gib.”
Gib winced, biting down on his lower lip until it hurt. “I’m sorry. I just—I need to know.”
Joel allowed a moment of silence to pass between them before he took hold of the younger boy’s hands once again. “No, you’re right. We haven’t had time to discuss such things.” Joel swallowed and a deep sigh escaped his lips. “You’re my best friend, my partner, the person I trust above anyone else. There is no other person I’d rather spend my time with. I—cherish you. But—” Joel paused there. His voice was a pitch lower when he next spoke. “—but you have to understand that—for now—we have to keep our relationship private. I can’t afford to cause another scandal within my family. I need time to figure this out.”
A Call to Arms: Book One of the Chronicles of Arden Page 26