Thorns of Decision (Dusk Gate Chronicles)

by Breeana Puttroff

  As he looked at the girl standing next to him, he was in awe of how in control of herself she seemed – more so than he felt. Most likely, she was just as confused as he was; he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to suddenly find out you were the heir to the throne in a kingdom in a world you’d never known existed.

  Confused as he was, though, his only real instinct was to stay next to her, to the girl who had somehow come to be the most important thing in his world. And he knew, now, that he would support her in whatever she wished to do.

  More than anything, he wished the choice wasn’t so desperate and confusing. If only she’d grown up in this world, knowing her destiny always ... He knew that there was no use in “if only,” but he truly wished that at the very least their kingdoms were at peace in the way they should be.

  He’d made a decision late last night that he hadn’t yet shared with anyone. Although he had always wished for Philotheum and Eirentheos to be at peace and joined together the way the Maker had intended, lately, the need for it to be so had intensified inside him.

  The idea had been simmering in the back of his mind ever since his encounter with the Halpern family, since he had seen how much trouble they had trusting him, when he so desperately needed them to. And especially after the conversations he had had with Jacob, first at the clinic, and then three nights ago when Jacob had told him that he’d made the decision.

  Now that William knew about Quinn, knew what was really at stake, it had become more than an idea; it was something he felt he had to do.

  He was going to join the Friends of Philip.

  Quinn followed him to a distant corner as more musicians down on the lawn below began to play. Looking into her eyes now, he wondered if there was ever really a time he’d been angry she’d discovered the gate. He couldn’t even hold on to the anger he’d been feeling toward his parents for using him – both of them – the way they had. Because if they hadn’t done it – hadn’t sent him there, or hadn’t hidden the truth from him – there was no way this girl would be standing in front of him right now.

  “Thank you,” he said to her again, putting his arms around her waist, swaying softly, not caring if his tempo matched the music.

  She smiled, playing absently with the pin at his neck as her eyes met his, and he was amazed at how well he could read what was there. He saw her almost blow it off, almost make a remark that would undermine her part in this, and then he watched as she decided not to, and she nodded softly at him instead.

  If he lived another hundred cycles, he would still never find the words to describe what that look did inside his heart.

  He leaned down, brushing his lips softly against hers, and her arms reached up around his neck.

  “All right, Will, even if it is your birthday, and even if you are officially courting her now, you still can’t monopolize Quinn all evening.”

  William rolled his eyes and turned around to see Thomas grinning at them, mischief in his eyes, Linnea and both of their dates just behind.

  “Are you sure about that, Thomas?” William teased. “Perhaps it’s just an adult matter you’re not ready for yet.”

  Thomas only laughed. “Stick to healing, Will. I don’t know what you see in him Quinn; he can’t even pull off a joke with his baby brother.”

  Quinn and Linnea both giggled as William punched Thomas lightly on the arm.

  “Come on sweetheart,” Thomas said, “I need to get in at least one dance before it’s time to cut the cake.”

  “There’s birthday cake in your world, too?” she asked.

  “Well, in our castle, anyway. Since about eight cycles ago. We’ll probably dance the Hokey Pokey again later, too.”

  William’s blushed slightly, although right now it would have been very difficult to dampen his mood. “Dance with me, Mia?” he asked, extending his hand while Thomas whisked Quinn away.

  * * *

  It should have been a perfect evening. Quinn helped him cut into the elaborate chocolate cake decorated with purple and silver roses, and William thoroughly embarrassed himself when Thomas dragged him into the center of the circle during the Hokey Pokey.

  He had just handed Emma off to Joshua and finally gotten Quinn back for a slow dance when he noticed that something wasn’t right.

  The crowd seemed a little smaller than it should be, and when he looked, he couldn’t see his parents anywhere. Across from the dance floor, over by the drink table, Evelyn was chatting with Howard and Rebecca, but her face didn’t look quite right – none of their faces did, actually, and Simon wasn’t anywhere, either.

  Thomas and Linnea were still dancing – he’d just stolen Quinn back from Thomas, actually – but a feeling of unease settled over him.

  “What is it?” Quinn asked, looking up at him. With her head on his shoulder, as it had been, she’d probably felt him tense.

  “I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “Just ... something.”

  She looked around at the other guests now, too. “Where are your parents?” she asked.

  “That’s what I was just wondering. I don’t see Simon, either – or Max.”

  Quinn’s whole body stiffened in his arms. “Something’s wrong. Let’s go.”

  The door to his father’s office was closed, but William could see soft, yellow light pouring out from underneath. When he his hand hesitated in the air, Quinn reached forward and knocked, hard, three times. A moment later, Simon’s face appeared through a small crack. He didn’t look right; there was a strange shadow over his features, and a deep crease between his eyebrows.

  “William,” he said, “you really should be outside. Your guests ...”

  “Let us in, Simon.” Quinn’s voice was firm, almost forceful, and a strange emotion rippled through William’s stomach at the sound of it.

  Simon, too, looked taken aback, and he held the door wide for them to enter, and then closed it behind him.

  Both of his parents were inside, and when he saw them he knew that Quinn had been right; something was very wrong. His mother and father sat next to each other on one of the couches, holding hands, distress plain on their pale faces. Across from them, on another couch, were Marcus Westbrook and his son, Ben.

  The four of them stood as soon as they saw Quinn and William, which made him feel strange. Although he had known Marcus all his life as one of his father’s personal guards, and he’d grown up knowing Ben, he’d recently gotten to know them both much better when they’d come along on the journey to rescue Thomas.

  Marcus and Ben both looked extremely upset now, and a sense of panic started flickering inside William’s chest.

  “What’s wrong?” Quinn asked.

  Marcus looked down at the floor before he began to answer, which made William’s panic grow, the flickers steadily becoming sharper against his ribcage.

  “We’ve just received word that Dorian and James Blackwelder have been arrested.”

  Quinn gasped beside him, and his own knees suddenly felt softer than they should. “What? When?”

  Marcus sighed, a shadow crossing his features. “Come sit down Lady Quinn, Prince William. We’ll tell you what we know.”

  William led Quinn over to a pair of upholstered chairs that made another side of the square where everyone had been sitting and talking. His two older brothers sat down across from them, and they all turned their attention back to Marcus.

  He cleared his throat. “About an hour ago, we received a message, carried by Ellen’s bird.” He nodded toward the low table sitting in the middle of them, where William could see a heavy, folded paper. The wax seal embossed with the Philothean seal was broken open. “You can read it if you’d like,” Marcus said, as his gaze followed William’s, “it says that she found out this morning that Dorian and James were arrested on charges of treason, and they’re being held at the castle, awaiting trial.”

  “Which they will most surely be convicted of,” Ben added.

  Next to him, Quinn had gone completely whit
e. “And what will happen to them?” she asked.

  William reached over and took her hand in his, holding it tightly as Marcus answered. “They’ll be executed.”

  Her hand tensed inside his, growing cold and clammy. “For rescuing Thomas.”

  “Ellen’s letter says that the official charges list espionage and disobeying direct orders as examples,” Marcus said, his eyes on the floor again. “But yes. Most certainly it’s a result of their involvement in returning Thomas to us.”

  “So what can we do?” Quinn asked. “How do we help them?”

  Across the room, Simon’s posture changed as confusion flittered across his face. William could see Maxwell change, too, but his confusion was mixed with annoyance.

  “I understand that you are concerned and upset, Quinn,” Simon said, “but it really isn’t your issue.”

  Her hand broke away from William’s as it balled into a fist. He watched as she took a deep breath, though she didn’t speak right away. He wondered what was going through her head; knowing she would be torn by Simon’s statement. Torn by a decision she wasn’t ready to make yet – a decision that would ultimately distinguish whether an issue such as this one had either nothing to do with her at all, or if, as the rightful ruler of Philotheum, it would belong to her more than anyone.

  His father spoke before she could, turning to look at both Simon and Maxwell. “We’d like to speak to Quinn alone for a moment. There are guests outside we’re neglecting, Simon ... Max.”

  The annoyance on Max’s face shifted to outright anger, but he stood and walked toward the door. Simon turned to his father, more confused than ever. “And Will? It’s his party.”

  Stephen’s eyes fell on Quinn. “That’s up to you.”

  William felt, more than saw, Maxwell’s jaw drop.

  “He can stay if he wishes,” she said, reaching for his hand again. She looked up at him, and he could see in her eyes that she wanted him there, but she was leaving it up to him. He squeezed her hand, knowing she would understand his reply.

  The look on Maxwell’s face told him that he was going to have to answer to his brothers later, but he wasn’t leaving Quinn unless she told him to.

  “We’ll go out with you,” Marcus said, as he and Ben stood. The look Marcus directed at his father, though, told William the answer to something he’d wondered about.

  “Marcus and Ben know,” he said, after the door had closed behind them. “About Quinn.”

  “Yes,” his father agreed. “Marcus has always known. Ben was told much more recently.”

  “But before we went to Philotheum with them,” Quinn said.

  Stephen looked at her, a hint of wonder in his gray eyes. “Yes, before then.”

  William wondered how she knew that – wondered if there was anything else she hadn’t told him yet, and realized he wasn’t sure he was ready for the answer.

  “What can we do to help the Blackwelders?” she asked.

  Stephen sighed heavily, and Charlotte reached to take her hand in his. He looked – older, William thought. “I don’t know if there’s anything we can do. Relations between our two thrones are at a standstill. Hector sent a message a few days ago letting me know that if I’m not going to ‘promote peace’ between our kingdoms by allowing our families to join together, then the least I can do is actively support Tolliver’s ascension to the throne – at the end of the season.”

  William saw his own horror reflected on Quinn’s face. “How long is that? Summer is almost over, right?” she asked.

  “Summer is over,” William corrected gently. “Or Eternolis, as we actually call it. We celebrated the beginning of our harvest season – Carperos – while you were in Bristlecone.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “I guess I missed that one. So which end of season is he talking about?”

  “The end of Carperos – thirty moons from now,” Stephen said.

  Her eyes widened. “That seems like a long time.”

  “I doubt we actually have that much time before he really starts pushing against us. I don’t think he has any intention of there being peaceful relations between our kingdoms, although he did send another offer of marriage along for Linnea.”

  White-hot anger bubbled up in William’s stomach, and his hands clenched tightly at his sides.

  Stephen saw the expressions on their faces and nodded. “Of course, I doubt that Hector has any idea what happened recently with Thomas. I believe that was Tolliver acting on his own. However, I don’t think that particular offer merits even a response.”

  “Oh, it deserves a response, Father,” William spat, unable to restrain himself.

  “Exchanging hostilities is not going to further our cause. Even if he doesn’t know the extent of what his son has done, I don’t think Hector really believes we would allow our daughter to marry him,” Charlotte said quietly.

  “We think he’s mostly using the offer to stall us, anyway,” Stephen said. “He needs more time to get his people and troops in support of him, and against us. In the meantime, he would prefer to continue to undermine our own peoples’ confidence in us, and attempt to force us to close the border, so he can claim that we’ve initiated the hostilities, despite the fact that his kingdom has been poisoning our children and tracking down and killing innocent people.”

  Everyone was silent for a moment as those words hung in the air.

  Finally, Quinn cleared her throat. “So you need to act.”

  “Yes.”

  “And the hold-up is me.” She was sitting up straight, and her chin was taut, but William could feel her fingers trembling. His own surprise was heavy and thick – he hadn’t processed this whole thing that far yet, but he realized now that she’d pegged it correctly.

  “Yes, Quinn. We never wanted to force you into a decision, but ultimately, what you decide will be the determining factor in how we proceed.”

  She swallowed hard. “What would you have done if I’d never found the gate – if you hadn’t been able to tell me anything until I was eighteen?”

  “We’d always prayed that another solution would present itself before we had to make that choice. We’ve walked a fine line in our dealings with Tolliver for a long time now – first with Rebecca, and then with Linnea. If Thomas hadn’t decided to go searching for Lily, it’s likely that we could have continued to stretch that out for a while longer.”

  “And what is your other option, Stephen?”

  “If you choose not to fight this battle with us, Quinn, we will attempt to install Charles’ daughter, Gianna as the heir apparent, and Charles as Prince Regent, until she is of age.”

  “Why have you not done that already?”

  Stephen sighed deeply, and William was surprised when his mother began speaking, instead.

  “I know you were raised outside of our world, Quinn, outside of our beliefs. I don’t actually know if you were raised to believe in the Maker at all.”

  Quinn’s eyes widened again, “I think that’s a little different in my world,” she said.

  “We don’t actually believe it is, Quinn,” Charlotte said. “But either way, we have always believed that the Maker has his own plan for our kingdoms, and that it is only by following his lead that we will have the peace and prosperity he means for us to have.”

  “And you think the Maker wants me to be the heir of Philotheum.”

  “We believe that’s who he made you to be.”

  Quinn dropped William’s hand then, and she stood, walking around to the back of the chair she’d been sitting in, and leaning her hands against it. He turned around to watch her. “If that’s true, then exactly how is any of this my choice?” Her voice trembled.

  Stephen’s eyes were soft when he looked up at her, though there were dark, heavy shadows beneath them. “It’s always your choice, Quinn. Nobody can force you to be anything – not even what you were born to be. You could return to your own world and never look back.”

  She paused for what felt like a very long time
before she nodded. “And where would that leave you?”

  He stood now, walking over closer to her, meeting her eyes. “It would leave us in the hands of the Maker, and we would do what he leads us to do. He hasn’t yet directed us to do something other than wait on you, and so we haven’t.”

  “And we won’t, Quinn,” Charlotte said. “We may not understand the Maker’s plan, and it’s difficult, sometimes, when things look like they’re crumbling around us, not to take matters into our own hands and try to fix it.”

  “Maxwell is struggling with it very much,” Stephen said. “He thinks we are making a mistake now, but Charlotte and I, though I’m sure we will continue to make many mistakes, we truly believe that it’s never a mistake to wait on the Maker.”

  “Does Max know about me?”

  “No, he doesn’t. But it doesn’t matter. He knows enough to make his own choices about what he’s going to believe, and who he is going to trust.”

  “So what do I do now?”

  Stephen sighed. “Right now, tonight, Quinn, you get your first taste of what it might be like if you do choose to be the ruler of a kingdom. We’ve gotten some terrible and distressing news, but there is a celebration going on outside, and not one of us can afford to be away from it any longer.”

  24. A Big Decision

  Although William and Quinn both did their best to switch back into “celebration” mode, the rest of the party had a strained feeling to it.

  As soon as they got back outside, Linnea pounced on William, dragging him off to the dance floor, while Thomas took Quinn’s arm.

  “What’s going on, Will?” his sister asked. “And don’t blow me off this time; I’m tired of not being included in anything. I’m almost of age, too, you know.”