Seventh Born

by Rachel Rossano

  Hadrian nodded and turned away to look at the road before him, but Renato didn’t accept the hint to drop the subject. “Hadrian, I can’t take care of things if I am not completely informed about what is happening.”

  “You don’t need to know this. Just keep her away from your father. If he wants to discuss her future, refer him to me. I am her guardian. She is no longer in his care.”

  Renato looked stormy, but he accepted the instructions without protest. Instead he continued to prep me for the upcoming events. “Your quarters should be adjacent mine and Hadrian’s. You are now part of the Sept Son’s escort. We accompany him to all formal dinners and wait upon him.” Carefully he outlined the exact procedures and protocols that I was to follow. Thankful for Errol’s training, I committed them all to memory.

  “I don’t want her serving me,” Hadrian commented. “She will take Anton’s place at my left hand.”

  “But what about Anton’s position as your Defender?”

  “She is trained for it and it will keep her close. You don’t seem to understand what her presence is going to mean to those that follow the Mesitas. She is going to cause a small sensation just by being female and a trained talent, but when they realize that that uniform is more than honorary, she is going to be seen as a tool that they can use against me. That is why I want you always at my side, Renato. If she is in my company, you are to be there also.”

  Renato nodded. “With me as chaperone you cannot be accused of...” His voice dropped away.

  “Impropriety,” I offered with a slight smile. My manly big brother was blushing slightly.

  “You should also avoid your father,” Hadrian told Renato. “Remember what he is entrenched in before he sways you with references to fatherly allegiance or entreaties of fatherly advice. He almost had you last time you spoke.”

  “Will you never let me forget that?”

  “No. Learn from the past so that we can build a better future.”

  “Sept Son?” A young man in Defender uniform approached. “We need to form the procession, Master.”

  Hadrian nodded his approval. Within moments we were surrounded in a sea of blues of all shades. The light blue of the Trainee to the dark navy of the Defender’s uniform, they formed ranks around us.

  “Stay at my side.” I turned to find Hadrian watching me.

  “I understand.”

  “I know...”

  I raised a hand to stop his thought. “I do understand, Hadrian. Stop worrying.”

  “Thank you for understanding.”

  “Tell me what to expect.”

  He smiled at the change in topic. “First, there is the procession into the city through the eastern gate. We will proceed down the main avenue and then turn onto the royal approach. When we reach the steps of the High King’s Palace, High King Marcellus will offer the traditional greeting and we will be escorted to our chambers.”

  As the last of his words flickered through my thoughts, the great doors of the Eastern Gate were beside us. I gazed in appreciation at the foot thick wooden doors as we passed. Just beyond them, the iron portcullis’ tips hung suspended over our heads, each the width of my wrist. On my one journey into the goddess’ city with my family, we had entered by the southern gate which wasn’t as well fortified or as impressive.

  The avenue beyond lay wide and gaily decorated. Garlands of ferns and deep red garshroses draped from window to window. The blood hue of the blooms honored the goddess, but I couldn’t help noting that by noon they would be wilting in the summer sun.

  My energy-sight picked up the golden brown of my brother’s energy and the richer brown of Hadrian’s mixing into a screen around the three of us. Hadrian’s energy field seemed to be thicker around me than himself and Renato. Renato’s focus seemed to be Hadrian. I quickly added my own energy to the mix. Green flooded around us thicker than either of their fields.

  “You don’t have to lay it on that thick.” Hadrian’s taste flooded my mouth with a strong undercurrent of amusement. I glanced over at him. He was still looking straight ahead as though nothing had happened, but my brother shot me a look of surprise. I quickly thinned the field to match theirs.

  We were approaching the opening to the royal approach. It was guarded by two towering pinnacles shrouded in gowns of garshroses, one on each side of the road. Vague memories of approaching a similar entrance to the royal grounds flickered, but they were soon replaced with the beauty that spread out before us as we turned onto the white gravel road. On the left, towering ash trees rose in a magnificent host stretching from the public road to the high royal palazzo in the distance. To the right, the green grassy carpet covered the hillside falling away from us and down toward the widest of the many rivers and streams that wound through the grounds. The great open expanse of green called to me in a strange way I had not felt before. Something within me wished to wander barefoot across the lush living carpet and nap in the sun like a contented cat.

  “Luxurious, isn’t it?” Hadrian’s voice slipped through my thoughts as though it were one of them. The natural feel of its presence made me almost forget to reply.

  “How do they maintain it? It must take hours to trim every week.”

  Hadrian’s laughter flooded through my mind. It took me a minute to realize that his laughter was for me alone. I glanced his way only to find him still staring straight ahead and looking slightly bored. “Only you would think of that,” he sent.

  “So how do they do it?” I couldn’t help wanting to keep him distracted. He was dreading the ceremonies ahead.

  “A team of fifty gardeners work constantly to care for all the grounds. The High King’s gardens are famous throughout the kingdom for their elaborate beauty.”

  “I personally love the willows best,” I commented. “I have spent a great deal of time among them and found they are wonderful company.”

  Hadrian’s warm agreement was interrupted by a greeting party appearing on the wide raised terrace that spread before the main entrance. I recognized the arches and columns behind them from my one previous visit. Hadrian straightened his shoulders and Renato sent me instructions on what exactly to do as we drew up. Stiffening my own chest beneath my new uniform, I composed my face and raised my mental guard. From now on, Hadrian and Renato’s lives were my main concern.

  By the time we were within hearing, the welcoming company had arranged themselves across the top steps of the terrace. Each king, with their chef advisor at his side, stood stiff and formal. My father was on the far left, the position of the house that hasn’t had the high throne the longest. Ten generations of kings had passed since the Ilars had held the highest kingship. As I lowered my guard slightly toward my father, I was almost paralyzed by the hatred that radiated from him. Instinctively I raised my guard again. Then, more cautiously I tried to see the object of his displeasure. Despite the warnings of Hadrian and Errol, I was stunned to find that it was Hadrian. I was even more disturbed to discover that the other kings near my father also seemed to share his emotion.

  On the other end of the array, the former High King Honorus’ son, Cayphis Honorus, planted his feet firmly on the marble beneath them. A sensation of relief seemed to come from him aimed toward Hadrian. He alone among the lower kings appeared pleased to see the Sept Son arrive.

  “Welcome Sept Son Aleron,” High King Deucalion Marcellus called out to us from his place standing before the kings. Surrounded by six armed, formal guards and wearing the elaborate robes of the High King, I almost didn’t recognize the childhood friend of my brothers.

  Janus and Deucalion trained together, fought together, and for much of their childhood were inseparable. I remembered him as a gangly teenage boy from the summer I first tagged along with my brothers. While Janus, Clovis, and Blan all ignored me or told me to go away, Deuc always found time to distract me with a game or prank idea. Even now, there was kindness in his saddened, weary eyes as he stepped forward to greet Hadrian as he dismounted.

  “Welcome
to my estate. May you be blessed while you stay beneath my roof and bless my household with good things.” It was the formal greeting demanded by ceremony, but I could see that he truly meant it as he grasped Hadrian’s left forearm and saluted with his right hand.

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