“Lord Zachary.” She bowed, her eyes wide.
“What’s going on? What’s happened?” Zachary was immediately alert, forcing down his fatigue. The servant jumped at his voice, though he hadn’t spoken loudly.
“Zachary, come and join us,” Sverrin called from within the library, and Zachary’s blood ran cold.
“The King is here,” the servant forced out, and then fled immediately for the kitchen.
Zachary slowly made his way through the dining room into the library, his throat tight. From the door, he could see Daniel and Isolde, sitting rigidly side by side. Zachary could make out the back of Sverrin’s head, peeking out over the top of the chair nearest the door, his elbow jutting over the arm-rest.
Zachary inhaled deeply, and came forward, bowing to the King. “Your Majesty, we were not expecting your company.”
“Oh no, no—I was merely dropping by.” Sverrin waved, pointing to the seat closest to him. Zachary settled into it uneasily, his back stiff and straight. “It occurred to me that I hadn’t met your brother yet. I thought I’d come and see him for myself.” Sverrin clasped his hands together, his fingers interwoven. He eyed Daniel, who was staring at a point on the wall over Sverrin’s shoulder. “He is quite pretty, wouldn’t you say? Looks a lot like his mother, though I suppose he has that Zachary air,” Sverrin observed, as if Daniel were a stallion on sale. “I have to ask, are you sure he’s your father’s, and not yours?”
Isolde twitched, her fingers tightening into her skirt. Zachary tried to ignore it—he knew they were all being goaded. Sverrin was playing with the mood, though Zachary didn’t know why.
The King hummed. “So, you are not a warrior then, Daniel?”
“No, Your Majesty.”
“A pity—the times are unpredictable. We need soldiers for the coming battles.”
“And we need architects to rebuild the cities when we’ve finished destroying them,” Daniel replied.
Sverrin chose to laugh at this, much to Zachary’s relief. “He is a Zachary, isn’t he? Not afraid to speak the truth.” Sverrin sat forward. “I commend that. I like truthful people—the starker, the better. They suit my temperament.”
“I will never lie to you, Your Majesty,” Daniel said starkly.
“No,” Sverrin waggled his finger, “you will not. I can trust that.”
Daniel’s mouth tightened, and he flicked his eyes quickly over to Zachary. There was something apologetic about his expression. Sverrin cleared his throat, and Zachary’s heart sank.
“I hear from your brother that you were out all night.”
Zachary fought the urge to close his eyes and bury himself in the chair, away from sight.
Sverrin continued. “You always did have dreadful nightly habits.”
“Some things never change,” Zachary said lightly.
“Hm.” Sverrin stared. “Are they alive then?”
Zachary’s entire chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself. He wasn’t able to disguise all of his surprise. Sverrin picked up on it easily.
“Zachary,” he said sweetly, “what were my orders?”
“No Night Patrol was to go to Sigel’eg.”
“And what did you do?”
This time Zachary did close his eyes, wincing. “I flew to Sigel’eg.”
Sverrin huffed. “See,” he turned to Daniel, “honesty. I like honesty. I knew you would disobey me Zachary, but in this instance, I should be glad of some news. Are they alive? Béatrice, and your friend Thornton?”
“They are,” Zachary said. Sverrin seemed to find his disobedience humorous, but Zachary didn’t dare hope himself forgiven. The King’s mood could change instantly and without warning.
“That’s a great relief.” Sverrin seemed genuinely pleased, smiling brightly. He leant in to Daniel. “When we were young, there wasn’t a man in the court who wasn’t in love with Béatrice Hathely,” he said. “She was the most desired woman in the capital. I fancied her for myself a while, I confess, and I might have taken her too, if not for her daughter.” Sverrin smirked. “Your brother, I think, is still rather soft for her, but then, he has always had a preference for older women.” The King strayed his eyes over to Isolde, who dropped her own with embarrassment. Daniel followed the King’s gaze, and Zachary could see his brother’s mind spinning and tumbling.
“Daniel,” Zachary said, “your classes will have started. You ought to get to them.”
“Y-yes.” Daniel went to stand.
Sverrin put up his hand, and motioned Daniel to remain where he was. Daniel sank reluctantly back into the chair.
“I want to hear more about you,” Sverrin chirped. “Your classes can wait—surely your teachers will forgive you if you mention my name.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Tell me of your childhood. Where were you raised?”
Daniel found his point on the wall again and spoke, as if reciting. “I was born in my mother’s home, in Corhlam. At six, when I was old enough, my father summoned me to live in Anaes’s Fort. I was schooled and educated there privately. When they discovered I had a capacity for magic, I attended an academy close by. Completing my studies there, I was sent here to the capital to do a further year and take the assessments.”
“You must be very studious,” Sverrin said. “Did your father beat you?”
The silence was piercing. Daniel’s eyes bulged. “No.”
“Never?”
Daniel winced. “He struck me once when I was a child, for speaking out of turn. I apologised. He never raised a hand to me again.”
Zachary gripped the armrests tightly, trying to keep himself rooted to the seat. Sverrin continued, as if oblivious to the atmosphere he’d created.
“You wouldn’t believe what he used to do to Zachary.” Sverrin whistled. “But then your brother is inherently disobedient, and sometimes extreme measures must be used to correct that.”
Zachary was glad he hadn’t eaten, his stomach heaving. He swallowed, and said, “The dragon was defeated. I went to see that our people were safe. I was discreet.” His voice came out surprisingly calm, even though he felt like all his muscles were trembling beneath his skin. “I didn’t think you would mind.”
“If you really thought that, you would have asked my permission first.” Sverrin kept his pleasant tone, and it made Zachary sicker. “Fortunately for you, I would have said yes.” Sverrin pushed himself to his feet, collecting his sword, which he’d unbuckled from his belt and rested against his chair. He reattached it to his side, gesturing for Isolde and Daniel, who’d risen, to sit again. They did so. “You’re to get ready and ride out for Corhlam immediately, Zachary. The Princess is joining us sooner than expected.”
“Today?” Zachary’s knees felt weak at the prospect of riding out again after such a long journey.
“Yes. Today. And my friend,” Sverrin leant over Zachary’s chair, “you will not disobey my orders again. This indulgence I grant to you, but next time…”
“I know,” Zachary croaked.
“You know.” Sverrin rested his hands on either side of Zachary’s face, like he was about to snap his neck. Zachary could hear his blood rushing in his ears, beneath Sverrin’s palms. Sverrin retracted his hands, and leaning down, kissed the top of Zachary’s head, almost in a chaste farewell. Zachary shuddered and the King straightened, turning to Daniel. “I hope I have the pleasure again soon, Daniel,” he said. “Study well, and good morning to you all.”
And then, with a well-natured wave of his hand, the King departed, leaving an icy silence in his wake.
Isolde waited until they heard the door close before flying into a rage. “How could you endanger us like that?” she screamed, standing so suddenly she almost kicked the table. Daniel leapt a foot in the air. “I thought after twenty years, you might’ve gotten over your need to push boundaries, but clearly nothing has changed!”
“Mother!” Daniel gasped.
Zachary, who’d expected her outburst, didn’t mov
e. Isolde’s whole body heaved with anger.
“Did you even think about what would’ve happened if the King wasn’t so forgiving? Did you think about the implications it’d have on Daniel!”
“Mother, stop—”
“No, because you don’t think, Arlen! You push, and you push, and you push, and then you’re surprised when everything collapses in on you! You’re as bad as your father!”
Zachary rose so abruptly, Daniel gasped. Zachary, who’d staunched the tremors with Sverrin, was now shaking with rage. Isolde shrank back, as if she actually believed he would ever strike her. Zachary wanted to shout, to tell her that what he’d done, he’d done for love and loyalty—neither of which he expected her to understand. Instead he turned and stalked out of the library.
He made it to the stairway before wilting. The shaking didn’t stop. Isolde’s words rattled in his mind.
Collapse, she said, over and over. Collapse. Collapse. Collapse.
Like the tunnel had collapsed, bricks and stone falling down over his head. DuGilles wanted to bury him too, and Zachary had thought it wise to push his boundaries?
“A-Arlen.” Daniel followed after him, his voice quavering as he spotted his brother doubled over the stairway banister, gripping it so tightly the wood might have splintered.
“What is it?” Zachary forced out between his teeth, pushing himself straight.
“I wanted to talk to you, but…” Daniel stood, unsure and small. “It’ll wait until you’re back.”
“Good. Go to class.” Zachary started up the stairs. If he couldn’t sleep, he would at least change his clothes.
“Arlen,” Daniel called as Zachary mounted up toward his bedroom.
“What?” Zachary snapped. Daniel looked even smaller and more out of place at the bottom of the stairs. He seemed to regret speaking out, his face pinched with uncertainty, unsure of what he wanted to say. Finally he settled.
“I’m glad your friends were safe, and,” Daniel continued, once more interrupting Zachary as he made to walk away. “And I don’t think you’re anything like our father. Not in any way that matters.”
Zachary was stunned, not least by the sudden, unexpected wave of relief Daniel’s words brought. Daniel didn’t know where to look, the compliments uneasy on his tongue.
Zachary felt himself relax a little. “Go to class,” he said again. “We’ll speak when I return.”
Daniel, grateful to be excused, nodded awkwardly and scurried out of the house, grabbing his books from where they had been left in a pile by the door. Zachary spied Isolde watching him from the dining room door, but he was too tired to face another confrontation. He turned away and made for the safety of his chambers, his footfall heavy.
“It’s not moving.” Joshua focused on the grape intently, his chin on the table. “Try harder.”
“I am trying.” Rufus sat opposite him, his torso leant over the wood, and head rested in his hands. He scrutinised the grape, reaching out his senses, trying to replicate the feeling. He felt himself take hold of the tiny fruit, and then it exploded with a small spray.
Rufus sat back with a frustrated grunt and Joshua wiped his face, which was spattered with grape juice. “Maybe you need to try with something larger?” the boy suggested, maintaining his optimism. “Less fiddly.”
“I don’t want to run the risk of blowing anything larger up,” Rufus grunted, picking another grape from the batch and eating it dejectedly. “Maybe I imagined the whole thing.”
“You said their swords flew out of their hands. Fae wasn’t responsible. It must’ve been you,” Joshua insisted, plucking a grape and placing it back into the centre of the table. “Try again. And this time, recreate the feeling.”
“I was under attack, Joshua. Timid as I may be, grapes don’t instil the same kind of fear as three armed Cat Sidhe.”
Joshua gave him a pointed look, and Rufus grumbled and lowered his head back onto the table, focusing on the grape.
“Clear your mind,” Joshua said sagaciously. “Empty it of unnecessary distractions.”
“Be quiet Joshua.”
“Focus on the grape,” Joshua ignored him, “feel it, smell it, taste it.”
“Stop.”
Joshua giggled, and then grew quiet again. “Do you think it’s possible? To suddenly develop a new ability like this?”
“We’re all born with set capacities, but it takes years before we can use them to their full ability. It’s why most children aren’t capable of manipulating elemental magic until they’re at least ten. I was an odd exception to that.” Rufus breathed out, his voice monotonous as he concentrated. “Master Odin told me he was near fifty when his level six abilities formed. It’s perfectly feasible, then, that mine might do the same now.”
“It would’ve been a useful technique,” Joshua said, “against the alchemists.”
“It may yet be.” Rufus kicked his legs with frustration, staring intently at the grape.
Joshua gasped. “There—it moved! Did you see?”
“I knocked the table.”
“No, no it moved on its own. It twitched!” Joshua spoke quickly. “I’m sure of it. Oh…Oh, no wait—you might be right. It was the table. Try again.” He rested his head quickly back down and Rufus laughed and obliged.
“How goes the training?” Fae’s voice carried out from above, and both brothers looked up in time to see her descending down the path toward them.
“Well he made a grape twitch apparently,” Boyd responded, from where he was lounging beneath a tree close by, reading another of his frightening anatomy books. “But it might have been the table.”
“No progress then?”
“Speaking for myself, I’m starting to think he might’ve made the whole thing up,” Boyd said, and Rufus leant back in his seat and flicked the physician in the forehead. “Ow!”
“I saw him disarm my brothers.” Fae picked the grape up from the table, turning it in her hands, as if it might somehow be the thing at fault. “Though I presumed at the time it was through some sort of wind manipulation.”
“Maybe it was.” Joshua helped himself to a handful of the remaining grapes, tossing them up in the air and catching them in his mouth one by one.
“Your collective faith in me is appalling.” Rufus caught one of the grapes as Joshua tossed it up, and ate it himself. Joshua slapped angrily at his hands, and Rufus stuck out his tongue.
“Hm,” Fae hummed, and then, with a sudden sharp draw back of her arm, she launched the grape in her hand directly at Rufus’s face. Rufus flinched automatically with a cry, and Fae burst out laughing.
“I don’t believe it!” Joshua slapped his hands on the table, and Rufus peeked between his fingers to see the grape floating delicately in front of his face. Rufus coughed in disbelief as Boyd scrabbled up to his feet.
“Impossible!” the physician gasped, as Rufus reached up to the floating fruit. It dropped a few thumbs in height, and hovered over the palm of his hand.
Fae put her hands on her hips, pleased. “You were always a creature of instinct.”
“This is incredible.” Boyd moved around as Rufus slowly compelled the fruit to circle his hand, like an orbiting moon.
He could feel the difference in what he’d been trying to do, and how he was doing it now. Rather than ‘grab’ the grape, he felt more like he was cradling it. It was a little like taking the edges of a piece of paper and pulling it apart, compared with taking it by the centre and lifting it up. He had hold of the core. Carefully, he visualised turning the grape, and watched as it began to spin. Fae plucked it from the air and put it in her mouth.
“I was training with that,” Rufus cried.
“If you want this new skill of yours to actually be any use, you’re going to have to manipulate more than one grape.” Fae picked up Joshua, moving him along the bench and sat down, her arm looped around his shoulder.
“Maybe you should train him?” Joshua suggested.
Rufus took another grape and
held it in the palm of his hand, concentrating on it. He managed to make it lift up slowly, but it was more difficult than before, and his head was already starting to hurt.
“Fae has more important things to do.” He spread his fingers and weaved the grape between them slowly, before flying it straight into Joshua’s open mouth, his brother dropping his jaw expectantly.
“Actually, since his display, Reilly has been avoiding me, so I suddenly have an abundance of free time.” Fae pulled a dagger from her side and balanced it on the tip of her finger. The blade was sharp and Rufus was surprised that the weight didn’t pierce her skin. Cat Sidhe truly had natural armour. “I think it would be a good idea.”
Rufus folded his arms. “I’m already more than capable of defending myself.”
“Setting things on fire and running away is not a dependable way of defending yourself.” Fae flicked the knife up, and let it drop onto the table. The blade embedded itself deep into the wood, standing upright. “No, my lowly lord,” Fae smiled pleasantly, “I will make you battle worthy yet.”
Zachary hadn’t even realised it was the month of Haylix until he spotted the children gathering flowers in the fields outside of Harmatia. They wove garlands together for their mothers, celebrating the month of the children by first thanking the women who’d raised them.
“They’re making crowns,” Princess Aurora said with delight. Zachary looked back at her. He’d been surprised to discover that Aurora had journeyed the whole way to Harmatia accompanied by only a handful of servants and Knights. Usually, in the absence of father or brother, Harmatian noblewomen would journey under the protection of an uncle, cousin or family friend. Aurora’s solitary presence only gave credit to the suspicion that she’d decided to come for herself. It was said that in the Betheanian court, the Princess wielded equal power to her brother Hamish, the named heir, and that her word was heeded carefully by their father.
Markus couldn’t have liked Sverrin’s invitation, but he’d given his blessing and Aurora had crossed the border through the Myrithian forest into Corhlam.
Blood of the Delphi (The Harmatia Cycle Book 2) Page 42