“You’re no fun, you know that?” Peter bumped shoulders with him. “You’re supposed to ask again so I can tell you that since you were the only adult who encouraged us, I’ll give you a few bits.”
Farrell snickered and shook his head. He’d never had the chance to be a typical sixteen-year-old, and he wondered if this was how he’d have been. “Please, Prince Peter? Would you please share some tiny bit of detail about your salacious affair with the dashing young Wallace of Dumbarten?”
“Honestly, you’re more of a child than Claire.”
“And to think I said, ‘I won’t ask anymore,’ before you told me to ask again.” His tone was a bit angrier than he intended. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so pissy. I’m exhausted right now.”
“I can imagine.”
“So, are you going to tell me what’s happening with you two, or do I need to use the Eye of Honorus to find out?” He wiggled his eyebrows.
“That’s an empty threat.” Peter did, however, smile. “There’s not a whole lot to tell. He’s very sweet, a bit shy, has a wicked sense of humor he rarely shows, and he’s always doing little things that make me smile. He hasn’t asked anything related to business. In fact, one time when I was at dinner with his family, his father admonished Rendal, Wallace’s older brother, not to discuss business at the meal when Rendal started down that road.”
“Quite a change from Purvis.” Farrell yawned again. “So you like him?”
“Yes.” The one word told Farrell all he needed to know. “And you were right. Doors do work between Belsport and Dreth.”
“I was right? Really?” He snorted. “Amazing.”
“Yes, I have to say, even if begrudgingly, you have a good idea now and then.” Peter bumped shoulders harder this time, sending the unprepared Farrell into the wall. The clang reverberated down the stone corridor.
Peter opened his mouth, but Farrell put a finger to his lips and listened for his guards. He’d managed to keep them away until now, and he preferred to move about without them. Hearing nothing, he put his finger down. “It takes an act of the Six to get away from my guards.”
“Sorry about that. I—”
“Don’t be sorry. I’ll have to remember to be on alert around you, that’s all.” He winked and pointed for them to continue. “Back to the topic. I’m happy for you. If I can help, let me know.”
“Thanks, but I need to handle this one by myself.”
“I only meant if you need me to open a Door, not slip him notes, arrange clandestine meetings, or cast love spells.”
“You can do that?” Peter sounded horrified. “The love spells, I mean?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never wanted to, so I’ve never investigated.” He thought about it for a moment and shook his head. “Even if I could, any wizard above a novice could tell Wallace was under some sort of enchantment. Not that you need any help from me.”
They rounded the corner and into the corridor leading to Horgon’s rooms and a quartet of dwarves snapped to attention. Farrell muttered a curse under his breath.
“What is it you always tell me when I complain?” Peter asked. “Oh yeah, ‘Get used to it.’”
Farrell stiff-armed his friend, forcing Peter to bump into the wall. “Even if I can’t make someone fall in love with you, I can make them vomit every time they see you, you know.”
Peter hmphed. “You don’t fight fair.”
“Not that I’d ever think of doing that.”
“No, never.” Peter continued to glare at him. “I think I’ll warn Penelope that if something weird happens to me to suspect you first.”
Farrell laughed. “You mean more than she already does? Not possible.”
Laughing, they made their way to the entrance to Horgon’s “wing.” The guards saluted and Farrell acknowledged them as he walked past. They didn’t need to knock as one of his guards opened the door. Farrell reminded himself to speak to Jagwin about that. King or not, good manners still required they get permission before entering someone else’s rooms.
Miceral, Markus, Penelope, and Marisa were in Horgon’s sitting room when Farrell and Peter arrived. Their conversation ended before the guard announced them. Farrell didn’t have a chance to sit before Markus cleared his throat.
“I was just saying to Miceral, I don’t trust Heldin.” Markus rubbed his forehead. “Sorry to be blunt, but it is early morning for me, and I’ve been up all night.”
“I’m tired, too, so I’m happy to get to the point.” Farrell smiled when Miceral sat next to him and massaged his neck.
“Note my position—he’ll be the one to betray us to Meglar.”
“I don’t know if I agree.” Farrell leaned back against Miceral. “Heldin’s a horse’s rump, but he’s shrewd, not stupid. Siding with Meglar is a fool’s decision. His lifespan and his people’s would be measured in days and hours, not months and years.”
“Perhaps, but he also just might be arrogant enough to think his lot will be different.” Markus slapped his thigh softly. “For now he’s our ally, but be on guard when you deal with him.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for trouble.” Farrell hoped that was everything his cousin wanted to say.
“And an Ear as well?” Markus asked.
“What?” Farrell stared at him, hoping for more.
“An Ear? The Ear of Lenore?” Markus’s smile disappeared, and he threw up his hands. “Neldin’s balls! If you’re going to ruin my best lines, I need a new cousin to go to gatherings with.”
Farrell was too tired to get in the mood. “Sorry, Markus, it’s been a very long day. Dealing with Meglar’s cloud took a lot of my strength.”
“Yes, but that was yesterday for those of us from Dumbarten.”
“Why don’t you go back to tomorrow and let the boy get some sleep?” Penelope coming to his defense surprised Farrell, but he nodded his thanks. “I would like some breakfast.”
“Just another moment or two, Auntie.” Markus emphasized the last word, but Penelope didn’t react. “I want to discuss something with Farrell first.”
Farrell’s shoulders slumped. Discuss? That sounded long. “Markus, if this is going to take a while, we’ll need to do it another day.”
“No, this won’t take too long—at least not today.” He paused, and Farrell indicated he should continue. “Are you aware that Yar-del’s navy survived?”
Sleep suddenly didn’t matter. “It survived?”
“Grown a bit, actually.” Markus gave him a do-I-have-your-attention-now look. “A few years before Yar-del fell, your mother came to my father to discuss what to do with Yar-del’s navy. Not only did she want to deny Meglar her warships, she was concerned he would use it to invade Dumbarten. My father didn’t like that idea any more than your mother, so he offered her a solution.
“There is an island—Trag—about a day’s sail from Dreth. It’s little more than a worthless lump of rock. We used to station a few men and a ship or two there, but it had little strategic value. It couldn’t grow enough food to sustain itself without a large fishing community, the harbor was too shallow close to shore for ships without major dredging work, and we had better islands closer to Dumbarten that we’d fortified and manned. In short, it wasn’t worth the cost.”
Farrell had wondered what had happened to the navy. Everyone from Yar-del had. “But to my mother, who was desperate—”
“Exactly. She had the money and the inclination to do what was needed to make it usable.”
Despite his interest, Farrell yawned again. “Mother knows all of this. Why tell me?”
“True, but with all the things going on tonight, I never got the chance to speak to her. To shorten this a bit, Trag and its officers answered to Dumbarten as a quasi-protectorate. They maintained that when Yar-del was liberated, they and their ships would return home. My father and I didn’t object so long as they followed any orders we gave them until that day.
“All of that, however, was predicated on the fact that Zenora had die
d. Now that she is alive, they are rightfully hers to command.”
“They were rightfully Farrell’s once you learned he was Prince Halloran,” Miceral said.
“Yes, but no one was telling the world Farrell was Halloran. Once word spreads that Zenora is alive, the officers and people will have an unresolved conflict of who to follow.”
Miceral nodded. “A fair point.”
Interested as he was, Farrell wanted to go to sleep. “What is it you propose? Do you want the sailors and families to leave? Swear allegiance to Dumbarten? Do you—?”
“I’m giving Trag to Yar-del to rule in perpetuity.”
“Ah, not what I was expecting,” Farrell said as Markus grinned at him. “I’ll speak to Mother about this and have her work out the details.”
“She’s a bit busy defending Belsport.” From his tone, Markus wanted something.
“You know I can’t commit to anything on behalf of my mother.” Farrell didn’t mean to be so testy, but this wasn’t urgent. “Can you just tell me what you want?”
“I’ll send someone to negotiate with Horgon.”
“Me?” Horgon asked, surprised. “I have less authority to negotiate for Yar-del than Farrell.”
“Agreed, but if you negotiate a fair deal, Zenora will have less work to do when she has the time to review it.” Markus stood and indicated he was ready to go. “The reason I want to do this now is things are likely to come to a head soon. Those ships and sailors need a clear line of command. Both for their safety and ours. We don’t want to depend on them only to hear Zenora moved them to do something else.”
Farrell looked at Horgon. “If you don’t mind, I’m sure Mother won’t object to you working on a plan for her to review.”
“I’d feel better if she were told first.” Horgon didn’t sound completely convinced.
“I’ll get her a message tomorrow.” Farrell stood and stretched the kinks out of his back. “Once she gives her okay, and if you’re comfortable doing it, you can meet with Dumbarten’s delegation.”
“Excellent.” Markus clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “With that, Auntie, we can go now.”
Chapter Fifteen
Farrell felt like he’d just gone to sleep when Geena and Bren ran into their room. Bren stayed by Miceral’s side, while Geena ran around the bed to face Farrell. They laughed loudly the whole time and thumped on the mattress.
“Bren is hungry,” Geena said, once Farrell opened his eyes.
“Don’t you mean you are hungry, Geena?” Miceral asked as he rolled out of bed.
“No, Daddy, Bren is hungry. I can tell.” Her little face got serious as she nodded.
“Empathy,” Farrell whispered to Miceral. He extended his hand, wiggled his fingers, and the children floated up to the bed. They giggled as he let them fall the last inch onto the mattress.
“You’re teaching them bad habits.” Miceral pulled on a robe to cover his bare chest. He and Farrell had taken to wearing lightweight pants to bed now that the children lived with them.
“Allowing them to wake us up is a bad habit.” He tickled Geena first and then Bren. “Making them laugh while you find their nannies is not.”
Bren began to jump up and down on the bed. When he got too close to the edge, Farrell grabbed his nightshirt.
“Why not keep him back with magic?” Miceral asked.
“That would be a really bad habit for him to start.” He wrestled the toddler down and tickled his side. “If I did that, he’d think he could jump off the bed and not fall.”
Miceral smiled at them. “Enjoying yourself?”
“Immensely. But you still need to get Urana or Teless.” He grabbed his son as he tried to jump again. “Much as I love this, they’re hungry, and I need to go back to sleep. Otherwise I’ll be useless most of the day.”
Miceral nodded and headed toward the nursery. Geena began jumping, less enthusiastically than her brother, and Farrell recognized the signs. He scooped her up with his other arm and pulled her onto his chest. The children crawled all over him while he tried to guard his tender bits from flailing arms, legs, hands, and feet.
They were still playing when Miceral returned with the nannies. Urana was the more reserved of the pair and hesitated at the doorway. Teless, however, marched over as if Farrell were her brother and scooped Bren off the bed.
“That’s enough, you two,” she said. Urana finally joined her but stole glances at Farrell as she helped corral the children. “Time to get washed and dressed so we can get breakfast and let your daddy get some rest.”
Geena put up a mild protest, but after a hug and a kiss, she bounced down and skipped off with Teless. Once they were gone, Farrell waved his hand and shut the door.
He’d learned almost from the morning the children arrived to soundproof their room. Miceral closed the other door leading to the main entrance, making the room not only quiet but secure. Not even Lisle could come in anymore.
He snuggled into his pillow and sighed. The other side of the bed sagged, and Farrell inched back. He hadn’t expected Miceral to join him, but he welcomed the company.
Sun shone through the fake window when Farrell’s stomach decided he’d slept long enough. From its position, Farrell judged it to be about midday. He hadn’t meant to sleep this late. The other side of the bed was empty, and he heard voices from down the hall.
He stretched, pushed the covers back, and went into the bath chamber. A long soak would have been nice, but he’d slept too late for more than a serviceable washing. Miceral had laid out clothes for him and Farrell quickly put them on. He’d just pulled on his second boot when he heard Miceral approach.
“I thought I heard you.” He leaned over and kissed Farrell on the lips. “You have no idea how hard it was not to wake you earlier.”
Farrell wiggled his eyebrows. “Woke up in a mood?”
“Yes, and only the extreme pity I felt for you stayed my hand.”
Farrell laughed and kissed his partner. “What you mean is you tried to wake me, and when I didn’t respond, you decided it wouldn’t be any fun if I wasn’t awake.”
“Guilty.” Miceral laced their fingers and pulled Farrell to his feet. “Lisle already cleared away the food, so I sent word to the kitchen when I heard you get up that we’d be down shortly.”
“How very thoughtful.” Farrell enjoyed this type of treatment. When he heard a sound from the other rooms, his smile faded. “Lisle is going to blister my skin for sleeping this late.”
“No I won’t, child.” Lisle appeared in the doorway with a feather duster in hand. Farrell saw a person behind her and assumed it was the new help. “I understand that cousin of yours had you up to all hours of the morning. You’re not a god. You need sleep.”
Farrell’s good mood returned. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Lisle made a terse wave. “Come on, girl. He’s dressed.”
“But, he’s the prince.” The voice was timid and soft.
“And he makes a mess like everyone else.” Lisle took the girl by the hand and led her forward. “Farrell, this is Elibella. I engaged her to help clean the suite.”
Farrell held out his hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Elibella. And please, call me Farrell.”
Lisle watched with disapproval as Elibella shied away. “Oh, for the love of Lenore.” She shooed the girl back into the other room.
A loud rumble in his stomach reminded Farrell food was waiting. Miceral chuckled.
“C’mon. The others will be there soon.”
“Others?” Farrell hadn’t planned for company.
“Kel slept late, too, so I invited him.” Miceral shrugged. “And then Heminaltose and Sanduval came to talk to you, and I told them not before lunch. So they invited themselves.”
So much for his quiet meal. But it couldn’t be helped, not after the luxury of a long rest. “How did you know Kel slept in?”
“Greigel told me.”
“And he knew that how?” Farrell step
ped into his closet to get his staff.
“Ah, this should make you feel better. Jagwin assigned two companies full-time to Kel. Something about him being king, Champion, and savior of the dwarves. If you think you’re not happy with guards, you should hear the things Jagwin said your grandfather said.”
“I look forward to seeing him interact with his guards.”
In the time he’d been living at Haven, Farrell had never created a private dining room in the kitchen area. Formal dinners occurred in the formal hall; private ones had been held in his or Heminaltose’s quarters. The area off the kitchen was for staff and guards to use when on duty. Today, six of Haven’s leading figures sitting down to eat there caused some commotion.
Jagwin and his dwarves commandeered a back corner for the group. No one, not even the kitchen staff, was permitted to approach. The guards assumed serving duty, over his and Kel’s strenuous objections. Finally Farrell gave up. He wanted to eat more than argue, and he needed to discuss some things with Sanduval and Heminaltose before they left.
Halfway through the meal, Zenora arrived, and Jagwin made an exception and let her join them. Fortunately Farrell had spent the time eating, so almost nothing of substance had to be repeated.
“We can take care of speaking to the officials on Trag,” Kel said. “I have need of a ship, and we can get one while we’re there.”
“Who is ‘we,’ and why do you need a ship?” Heminaltose looked suspiciously at Farrell.
Kel bristled for a moment. “Farrell and I are going to Rastoria.”
“You’re both going?” Sanduval asked.
“Yes. Why is that surprising?” Farrell asked before putting another piece of cold chicken in his mouth.
“It’s not,” Zenora said. “How soon will you leave?”
Something was brewing between Kel and the others, but Farrell only caught whiffs of it. His mother obviously understood.
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