"Hm, well then let's hope that same weather keeps most of the guests away." I grinned at him.
His gaze returned to the present and settled on me with thinly veiled irritation.
"I hate large crowds," I continued, feeling Danton's wariness blossom, "and I really don't like being the subject of them, because that means I can't hide in a corner all night. Which is what I prefer."
Carter squinted at me, bewildered and skeptical, as if he suspected I was drawing him into some kind of verbal field littered with landmines.
"I think you two have that in common," Danton added. "Carter abhors every function he's forced to attend."
I smiled and was about to say something else when a voice said, "Ah, there you are."
Lord Commodus Pontefract barged into our triad, apparently to speak with his youngest son, whom he was currently frowning at. Carter seemed to be a magnet for frowns. "You're supposed to be at the gate welcoming our guests."
By the look on Carter's face, I figured this designation had been crafted as an insult.
"I asked to borrow him for a moment, Father," Danton said. "I thought he should meet his future sister-in-law before the guests arrive."
Lord Pontefract's frown deepened. "Whatever for? He'll have the rest of his inconsequential life to show her what a worthless lout he is. Go. Now."
I was appalled.
Carter's cheeks splotched pink, but before he turned to leave, I placed a hand on his arm. "Carter."
He started at my touch.
"I'm really glad to meet you," I continued, and I meant it. "And if you're at all allowed back inside for the dancing, please save one for me. I'd really like to get to know you better—especially since we're going to be family. I have a brother of my own, you know. We're really close too, but since he lives so far from here, it would mean a lot to me if you could stand in for him while I live here, and I have a feeling you'll be perfect for the job. I'm a Pandor, you know. I can sense these things." I gave him a genuine, but timid smile.
He didn't smile back, and my words were met with a very awkward pause. It was the kind of pause when you've said something either wrong or offensive on so many levels, unbeknownst to you, and the people you've just said it to stand there in a moment of shared discomfort while trying not to be obvious about it. Which they always are.
Lord Pontefract broke the silence, and the moment. "Carter." It was as if his gaze were physically pushing Carter away.
Carter bowed his head and slipped away, and I turned back to find Lord Pontefract watching me. He opened his mouth to say something I knew would be a rebuke, but then his gaze fell to my necklace and he faltered. I felt his surprise, and then anger flashed in his cold eyes as they lifted to mine.
"Danton, a word, please."
Danton excused himself with perfect control and followed his father through a narrow archway and out of sight. I waited for them, pretending not to be watching the doorway while trying not get run over by servants. Danton and his father returned right as the guests started arriving, but Danton didn't come to my side. He cast me a furtive glance, then busied himself with greeting the guests.
The guests were an opulent bunch, just like the court in Valdon had been. Dressed and pressed and glittering like the jewels on the wall scones. Lord Pontefract announced our engagement to the crowd—there wasn't another word about the necklace—and I responded as Cora had instructed. The news was met with loud cheers, which were undoubtedly made louder by the endless supply of wine and ale. A reception like this could've lifted anyone's spirits, but I was too aware of what was happening to my brother in Valdon. Here I was, dressed in this too-rich gown wearing this too-rich necklace in the middle of a too-rich celebration, and my brother was pacing the castle walls, staving off an army of shadowguard.
As the evening progressed, Danton continued avoiding me. He led me into the first dance, all smiles and grace, but it was forced—overdone and unnatural.
"What was that about, anyway?" I asked him while he twirled me.
"What was what about?"
"Your father." I prodded. "Is he mad about the necklace?"
"Why would he be?"
All right, fine. He wanted to play dumb.
"Because the necklace is a political statement…?"
"Who told you that?" Danton snapped.
"Your mother," I said.
His eyes narrowed a shade, but he continued turning me around with grace. "She has a tendency to…overstate things."
"Did she also overstate your army of fifty?"
His eyes flashed to mine, and I knew that he knew he'd been caught.
"We will talk about this later," I said.
The dance ended and he bowed. "Of course, your highness." He didn't meet my gaze as he handed me off to another polished gentleman, who ended up being the start of an exhaustive list of dancing-partners.
During my twirling escapades, I noticed Danton had his fill of lady partners. It seemed like every young lady in Orindor adored him, and he retained a charming smile as the hours dragged on. It bothered me how he acted. Not that he danced and thoroughly enjoyed himself with so many young women, but how he so obviously kept a distance he hadn't kept with me since I'd arrived. It was as if he was hiding something from me and was afraid that if I got too close, I might catch a glimpse of it behind his back.
After what felt like forever, Danton interrupted my dance with a short, balding little man who owned a dozen mines on Orindor's southern shores. Tired of dancing, I sighed with relief when Danton cut in.
"I'm flattered you missed me." He gave me that charming smile, and as he pulled me in his arms, I wondered if his face hurt from smiling so much.
"I don't have the stamina for this much dancing," I said.
"Would you like to sit down?"
"Am I allowed to?"
"Of course." He slid his hand into mine and led me through the dancing pairs.
"That doesn't mean you have to stop," I said. "I think there are still a few ladies in line for a third dance."
"Unless you're one of them, I'm done for the evening."
He led me through the crowd, still holding my hand and keeping me close. No one approached, seeing me with Danton. Except for her.
Isla emerged in our path, smiling and batting her eyes at Danton. "Good evening, my lord." She bowed low, her cleavage in full view, and Danton didn't bother hiding the fact that he was helping himself. Actually, it looked as if he were taking seconds.
After much too long, Isla stood upright and pressed down the folds of her emerald green skirts, and she regarded me. "Princess Daria. I was hoping I might have the opportunity to speak to you this evening, because I wanted to give you my formal congratulations."
"Thanks," I clipped.
"I wondered if I might have one last dance with his lordship before he's a married man." Isla's smile was huge and flirtatious, and she acted like the idea of marriage was a death sentence. Also, it should be noted she'd already danced with him twice tonight, not that I kept track.
Before I could say a word, Danton—whose eyes finally returned to her face—said, "Thank you, my lady, but I will be attending my fiancée for the remainder of the evening."
Her smile faltered. "Of course, my lord. Enjoy your evening, then." Her gaze simmered on me, just as a sharp pain exploded in my chest.
13
STEFAN
"Pendel isn't coming," Headmaster Ambrose said. "They landed on Campagna's shores early this morning, and Lord Vega's men were there waiting for them. As far as I know, there were no survivors."
I sat on the steps of the dais, staring at my hands while absently spinning the signet ring on my index finger. There used to be a throne on the dais—my grandfather's throne. It too had been a family heirloom, much like the discussion table. The throne had been constructed by my great-grandfather, Cassian Regius, and given to my grandfather on the day of his coronation. It was the first real throne Gaia had seen since the fall of Galahad Estroian, and I'
d had it carried off to be used as firewood. It was a heavy chair, made of dense Aliothan oak with iron fastenings. It had taken five men to cart it away, but since my grandfather still hadn't exited his chambers, I felt he'd long forfeited his right to have any say on the matter.
"Sire."
I looked up from my hands. Headmaster Ambrose stood near the base of the steps, hands clasped yet mostly hidden in the long sleeves of his robes. He'd taken to wearing his large cowl, due to the frigid drafts that had taken permanent residence in these empty halls. His sharp angles and pasty white skin pierced the shadows of that hood, and the effect made him look like the harbinger of death. With this news, perhaps he was.
"The Sight showed you this?" My own voice sounded far off, distant.
"It was Master Antoni who saw it," the headmaster continued.
The Sight was Master Antoni's strong suit, which was why he'd been assigned to Fleck's care and training during the short period of time when Fleck had lived here. That seemed like so long ago, though it'd only been a few weeks. He'd left with Tran Chiton to find the other Dalorens at Indanna's Keep, where he belonged. Where he would be safe—hopefully.
"Where is Master Antoni now?" I asked.
"He's in his chambers, trying to gather more information for you. It's been difficult for him because the Sight is unstable at this time."
"Why is that?"
"We're not sure. There seems to be something happening to Gaia—some kind of interference with the magic inherent to this world."
"Could it be the shield?" I asked, and everyone in the room had their attentions locked on the headmaster.
"It is a natural assumption—yes—however the shield is not whole, sire. Lord Pontefract still possesses the unity stone."
"You're certain?"
"Yes."
"But what's to stop him from handing it over today? This moment, even?"
Headmaster Ambrose did not comment.
"If I may, your highness," Aegis Del Conte interjected. "Perhaps you should explain the urgency of the circumstances to King Darius?"
I looked over at Aegis Cicero Del Conte. He'd aged ten years in a matter of weeks. And I'd been the one to give Aegis Sonya, his wife, leave to go to Pendel. I took a deep breath. "You think I haven't tried?"
Aegis Del Conte's gaze didn't waver. "I think you need to try again. We can't wait any longer, and his power would be a great help in this war. It would also be good for the people to be reminded of what he can do. It's been a very long time since he's shown them what he's capable of, and the display might give the people hope."
He was right, of course, but I'd tried and tried to get through to my grandfather, and every failed attempt left me more discouraged than before.
"There is something else, sire," Headmaster Ambrose said.
I almost didn't want to know. "Yes?"
"The princess has accepted Lord Pontefract's offer."
I shut my eyes, feeling Aegis Cicero Del Conte's eyes on me. All my efforts to keep Daria from being a political piece, and she'd gone on her own volition. I thought of Alexander, and I felt hollow inside.
"When?" I asked, opening my eyes again.
"According to Master Antoni, it happened sometime yesterday, though he couldn't be exactly sure. Again, the Sight is—"
"Unstable. Yes, I understand. Does this mean I no longer need to worry about Lord Pontefract handing Eris the unity stone and that we're finally going to receive Orindor's aid?"
The headmaster's thin lips pinched together. "We hope; however, the Sight is ambiguous on both accounts."
I silently cursed the headmaster and his blasted Sight.
"Speaking of Lord Pontefract, sire," Aegis Rol Garrix interrupted, "Aegis Han and I haven't seen Lord Tiernan amidst the ranks today."
I looked over at Sir Armand de Basco who, apparently, hadn't heard this news either. He frowned at Aegises Garrix and Han.
"When did you notice he was missing?" I asked.
Aegis Garrix glanced at Aegis Alver Han, who stood beside him. "Aegis Han saw him leave sometime during the night watch."
"Define leave," I said.
Aegis Han scratched the stubble on his jaw, "We've been keeping an eye on Lord Tiernan's position, your highness. He's been patrolling their ranks since they arrived. Last night, I saw him on the eastern corner talking to someone. It wasn't a shadowguard. The person was in a cloak and I couldn't see their face. But then Lord Tiernan just…vanished. He was there one minute and the next…gone. I haven't seen him since."
He must have used an amulet. I frowned. Lord Tiernan was the commander of my uncle's army. It didn't make sense for him to leave. "Why didn't I know about this sooner?"
Aegis Han's gaze dropped. "I'm sorry, sire. I…I thought he would come back. I wanted to make sure he didn't before I told you. I didn't want to concern you needlessly, and at the time, his absence didn't seem important."
"I decide what's important," I said.
Aegis Han's gaze dropped. "Yes, your grace."
I looked over at Sir Armand de Basco. "Why in Gaia's name would Tiernan leave his station?"
"I have no idea, sire," Sir Armand de Basco replied, still frowning at the two Aegises.
"Any thoughts, Headmaster?" I looked to the headmaster, but the headmaster only stared straight back.
A figure in my periphery drew my attention to the doorway. There stood my grandfather.
How different he was. It had always amazed me how my grandfather's presence could fill a great hall. It was as if he were a beacon, blinding everyone with his power and strength, and when he left, the room seemed dull and lackluster with a void that was impossible to fill. But not today, not now.
Now he was the shadow of the man I knew him to be, an artistic sketch with defined edges and shapes but no substance inside, no flourishes or distinguishing characteristics. Nothing that filled him in and made him alive. Nothing that lifted him off the page. This man was weary and old, cheeks hollowed from malnourishment, eyes sunken and dulled as though someone had stolen the light right out of them. But there was something humbling about him, too—about the way he wore those simple grey robes. He looked like an ordinary man, one who had experienced so much trauma in his life that it hovered over him like a cloud. He'd come to us exactly as he was, looking precisely how he felt, and it was the most honest I'd ever seen him.
It took all of us a moment to forget our surprise and remember this weak and frail man was Gaia's king. And then it seemed no one quite knew what to do with themselves. They would have stood, but they were already standing. They would have bowed, but he was still too far away. I, however, stood up from the steps and descended, heading straight for my grandfather. "Your majesty, I'm so glad to…"
The king cut me off with his eyes. There was a spark in them now—not quite the light from before, but something else. Something very determined. I slowed to a stop. The hall was silent except for the rain that had begun smattering upon the windows.
"I am not your king," my grandfather said at last.
I opened my mouth to respond but faltered, unsure of what to say to that.
"A king doesn't run and hide in his chambers when things get difficult," he continued. "A king doesn't abandon his kingdom when he's struck by tragedy. At least not any good king." His eyes moved over my face. "The people deserve better. They've always deserved better. They deserved your father, and they deserve you. I didn't come here now to be worshipped, Stefan. I came to serve you, in any way that I can—that is, if you'll still accept my help."
His eyes were so blue, it looked as though something inside of him had melted. Perhaps something had.
"Yes," I replied. "Yes, of course."
He nodded and strode into the room. We all watched him as he walked, stunned by this new Darius who was so different than the man we all knew. That man had spared no expense in his displays of power and pomp and steely resolve, yet he'd never seemed stronger to me than he did right then.
"What happened
to the table?" he asked.
Headmaster Ambrose looked accusatively at me.
"Ah, it's gone," I said, scratching the space behind my ear. "I had the servants take it away to use for firewood for the people."
My grandfather stared at the place the table had been. "Good. Though I'm sad to see it gone, it seems it's serving a much better purpose."
A few of the guards exchanged surprised glances.
My grandfather's eyes slid over the room slowly, as if he were trying to fill all the empty spaces with his memories of what should've been where. "I hate to ask this of you, since my ignorance is no one's fault but my own…but it would help me better serve you if I knew how things stood."
I exchanged a weary glance with Aegis Del Conte, and then I told my grandfather everything, starting with the night my father died. My grandfather stared at the bleary window, his gaze lost in my words. I told him about Alioth, I told him about Gesh. I told him what I'd just learned about Campagna and Pendel. I told him about Daria and her mission in Pendel, and a haunted look crossed over his face.
"Where is Daria now?" he whispered.
"In Orindor. She accepted Lord Pontefract's proposal to secure his help."
My grandfather sighed and closed his eyes. His face sagged with guilt. "I've done so much wrong by her." There was a tremor in his voice. He opened his eyes, and I noticed they were glassy. "She should never have gone. Orindor will not help us."
"Why do you say that?" I asked.
Everyone waited on my grandfather.
"I know Commodus," he said. "He might have loved your father, but he loved his brother more. Unless Tiernan turns—which is doubtful—Commodus is as good as Eris's, assuming he doesn't run away with his tail between his legs. That's possible. Commodus might have a veneer of dragonbone, but he's all cowardice inside. He will do what needs to be done in order to save his own skin, and his son, Danton, is just like him." He exhaled slowly, and then turned to face everyone standing in the room. "If Tiernan has left, as you say, we haven't much longer. We may even be too late. I propose we attack tonight."
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