"Steven?" I called, looking around. I don't see him anywhere.
"I'll be right with you," came his deep voice from the bedroom.
I turned to the aquarium. A few colourful fish, which I can't name, are circling in a flock about halfway through the tank. A bit lower swims bright yellow, slightly longer fish. Among the inhabitants of the aquarium this one stands out because of its colour. I took a few steps to the aquarium. I wanted to get a better look at the little creatures, but they scattered quickly and hid in the plants. Except for the one, which is watching me closely. Something about the fish intrigues me. I can't stop looking at it. Where did he get the fish?
"All done," I slowly turned to follow his voice. The sight of him took my breath away, all thoughts of strange fish suddenly disappeared. He is not wearing an Athran suit, but a simply cut, more elegant suit made of dark blue fabric. He chose the same colour for the shirt and vest. Thus, the silver wolf heads at the collar of his shirt protrude. "You look gorgeous. Dark colours look almost as good as white would on you."
"Well, at least we have something in common," I remarked with a smile. Steven came to me, the smell of cedar perfume flooded me. I fell in love with the scent when I met him. And when he presses his lips to mine, it completes the whole magical atmosphere, I feel like in a trance. I could stand here with him all evening and maybe a little longer.
"Why?" he took a bushy, knitted white wool sweater from my hand and raised his eyebrows in question.
"Listen to me, real careful. It's my favourite sweater, in case we decide to sleep here in the cold, inhospitable North... I took it from Jim's cabin when he forced me to sail with him to the Islanders during the worst storms I’ve ever seen. I agreed not to use any magic, because… well, not the point… and his ignorant heiry ass was freezing all the way. It's my trophy and I love it." he laughed again and kissed me.
"Adorable, but wouldn't pyjamas be more comfortable?"
"Have you ever seen me in something so hideous?" the nightgown absolutely and utterly terrifies me. From the formless white shirts to colourful pyjamas with a row of buttons. All disgusting. A shirt or sweater is enough for me. Or nothing at all, that's best suited to the hot south anyway.
"Something I should know before I go to the execution?" he joked, carefully placing the sweater on the sofa.
What advice should I give him? Jonathan may be a selfish bastard, but he wouldn't just condemn anyone. In fact, he is sympathetic to almost anything. And Steven, well... who wouldn't love him? "Just be, you know… you."
"I'm pretty good at that," he laughed sincerely, his green eyes shining bright. Unlike me, he never looks nervous.
"I think so." I grabbed his hand as the modern apartment disappeared. We instead appeared at the house I grew up in. Old and full of memories.
The dominant feature of the entrance hall is a huge wooden staircase with a massive carved railing. An intricate network of spirals winds along the stairs to the second floor and is the only unmistakable element that does not have a sun or lion's head on it. A heavy crystal chandelier above our heads illuminates the motionless portraits of my ancestors with a pleasant golden light. Not that there's many of them, my father has one and so do my uncles, my grandparents and their daughter. So much for the big happy family… I took a deep breath, I love the smell of this place. The family mansion is scented with the sweet smell of magic that has held it together for centuries and the smoky haze of my father's cigars.
"You're early." Marcus greeted us with a wide smile and open arms. Blond hair tightly pulled back, jacket and vest unbuttoned. He looks relaxed, which means Jonathan is in a good mood. "A bold dress for dinner, don't you think?"
"Don't you like it?" I took a sharp breath in feigned surprise. Marcus has always been my favourite nanny. Strict enough to keep an eye on me while calmly lying to his friend for me when I needed to get far away from him.
"On the contrary, I just don't know what you're up to,"
"Up to? Are you suggesting I'm not here to spend some lovely time with my dearest father?"
"Andrea," a sincere laugh full of joy filled the air. "I'll tell him you're here."
"As if he didn't know," I replied quietly. Marcus chuckled, turned, and disappeared into the door leading to the lounge. I thought he would go upstairs. I also wanted to add that for someone who spends most of his life on business trips outside of this house, and mostly outside our little empire, Jonathan has a damn good overview of what's going on around him. Always. And especially in his house. I paused at the sight of Steven. There's another painting on the wall that caught his attention.
"That's her, isn't it? Your mother." can't take his eyes off the portrait. A woman with wavy hair, a sad smile and green eyes stares right back at him. The colour of her eyes is not nearly as pronounced, interesting, full of life… not in the least similar to the colour of his eyes. Hers can only be described as boring. Which is fitting, such a word can also describe her entire personality.
"Mhm… Aeli'neth, Elizabeth, Jonathan's wife, the mother of the Child of the Light..." I listed quickly. "call her what you want, I couldn’t care less." it's the only painting of my mother on display in the entire mansion that I know of and I hate it with all my being. I don't want to look at it every time I come home, but there's nothing I can do about it. He's living here, not me. And he loves the stupid portrait.
"You didn't mention that..." surprised, half frightened, he looked at me. He cocked his head to the side and frowned. I rolled my eyes, turning towards him so he could see my perfectly ordinary ears. The pointed ones in the picture are not even close. I do not share the common emblem of all the inhabitants of Tre'Asco. Thank God, or more precisely, thanks to my grandfather.
"You're right, I didn't. How could I if I don't talk about her. Ever." it's an open secret. Everyone knows that she is a citizen of a nation, which several times allowed itself to be voluntarily destroyed by magic. Everyone is so fucking obsessed with the fact that she's not quite human. But no one would ever dare to say it out loud. And even if someone tried, Damien would put an end to it.
"You look so much like her, I mean," he finally tore his eyes from the painting. He's right, everyone knows we look very much alike. I have the same cheekbones and full lips. I'm the same height, exactly one head shorter than Jonathan.
"Like you've never seen her statues…" I grabbed his hand and got him away from the horrible painting. "Fortunately, the only thing we share is appearance."
He frowned, but only shrugged. "You'll have to explain it to me sometime."
I nodded sadly. He's right, I'll have to explain it to him sometime, but I'm in no hurry. How am I supposed to explain to him that I let him think she died while giving birth to me when I talked to her years after that. And then again and again. How can I explain to him that I hate her flawless portrayals as much as I hate every defect in her character, and therefore I can't even stand her in the same room?
Fortunately, I don't have to think about it now. Jonathan ambushed us as soon as we entered a lounge with red wallpaper and a few small pine cones of lions between the armchairs, with a new girlfriend by his side. She looks like all the others, completely uninteresting next to him. Average height, slim with a brown bun of hair and a dull look. I immediately forgot her name, there's no point in trying to remember it. None of them lasts by his side for more than a week. But at least these acquaintances keep him in a good mood. "Did you talk to Emmett? Shall we wait for him?" he finally asked with a perfectly innocent smile. Steven immediately let go of my hand. There's definitely still a fight ahead.
"Yes and no. He left for Lemford in the afternoon," I replied after a moment's thought. It's strange that he doesn't know that already. With a sigh I added. "He's got an offer to buy a bar right on the island, tomorrow he's got a meeting with a baron or something."
"I thought he’s tired of the damn bar idea." Jonathan shook his head disapprovingly. It's not his concern, he shouldn't get involved, but he always is.
"He talks about it every time, I doubt he'll ever get tired of it," Steven said, pulling me to him possessively. Can't he decide if he's angry or not? Whether I belong to him or not?
"If he wants to leave and play bartender, let him. You owe him that much, just as much as any of us." father straightened up in his white suit. It suits him, much more than other colours. I know he won't argue with me about Emmett. He never does, I just hate his remarks. "Where is Jim?"
"Damien has work to do." Jonathan emphasised his name, turned and headed for the dining room. That ended our little debate altogether. His new girlfriend, Marcus and Katherine, followed him.
Jonathan had carefully prepared for the evening. His long speech praised Athran to the sky. He congratulated Steven several times, and welcomed him among us – the rulers and friends. And talked the whole time like nothing was going on. As if he hadn't even lied. Which is funny, before we gave it to Edgar, it was just a resource-rich province for him. Guess still is. And as much as I don't like the cold North, I do enjoy some parts of it.
And when he finally finished, Marcus started talking. His speech was at least short and concise, but still. So many words about something neither one of them care for?
Jonathan joked the whole first course, he and Marcus told Steven funny stories from my childhood. That is funny in their opinion. I feel like Steven is having a good time and is starting to get along with Jonathan. I'm not having fun at all, but that was to be expected. I wait in horror to see what story the two of them will dig up next. There aren't many innocent and cute ones left about how I hid behind the curtains in my father's study during a storm and refused to use cutlery as a five year old. What's worse, Jonathan didn't ask about my work at all. He doesn't behave at all as I would expect. He's suddenly just my loving father and not the Fourth Heir, the noble Duke of Parlasse, and so on…
It wasn't until the second course that Jonathan decided to change the subject. "I spoke to Edgar this morning," he said simply. I need a bit more context to make it the subject of a new conversation at a table laden with plates and glasses full of wine.
"About what?" Steven seems to be of the same opinion.
"About the Council, is he really not going to join? He doesn't seem to have that much other work." he sounds worried, I don't see anything wrong with that. Edgar shouldn't have a say in Steven’s decisions, especially not in front of the others.
"The letter came this morning, official I mean. He made up his mind a few days back," Steven drummed his fingers on the tabletop. "But as for what he's going to do... I don't really know what he’s trying to prove. He's looking for evidence of something he doesn't even think exists. So how does he want to find it? It makes no sense."
"He's going a bit too far with it, don't you think Anie?" his gaze shifted from Steven to me. He eagerly waits for my answer.
"You want to know what I'm really thinking?" I put down the fork I'd just picked up the little white balls in the sticky sauce with and looked into his brown eyes. "I think I've told you several times that I don't like dishes that aren't from our continent."
"First of all, this is a dish from the continent, and if you hadn't been so anxious about Tre'Asco, you'd know it," he instructed me as quickly as only he can, even though he knows it’s a lie. "And secondly, I didn't ask you that, did I?"
"Fine," I joined my hands over the saucer. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Marcus's disapproving look. "I think you're meddling with something, that’s between Steven and Edgar. You're not a member of my Council either, and as much as I love you, I couldn't stand you there. Besides, since when do you take an interest in what he does? I thought you two don't talk outside of meetings. And the whole besties thing of yours is over."
"We have our differences, but that's about it. You wouldn't just give up Emmett's friendship either."
"You know that's not true." the past tends to repeat itself anyway. "So, don't even start."
"Edgar's opinions could help Steven make decisions."
"It’s like Steven can’t make his own decisions." I laughed incredulously. "You know what Edgar's like. Manipulative and bossy. His presence in the Athran Council wouldn't help anything, Jon." I feel the eyes of others on me. Especially Steven's. I'm just concentrating on Jonathan, he started this. "If he wants to stay in his Study, immersed in books and texts he can’t read, so be it."
"But that's what makes me worried. He'll be locked up there for days." so he didn't want to just talk about it.
"I spoke to him at the coronation. He's fine, still an asshole, still annoying, but fine. Trust me," I remembered the conversation. The uncompromising bastard isn't going anywhere, Edgar just found a new obsession. As usual. That's exactly how it was when I worked with him. It's unbearable with him until he finds a new lover or another pastime. And in the meantime, he’s just acting crazy. I drowned the rest of my thoughts in wine. Fuck... I'm not the only one who knows him.
"I'd be calmer if you’d gone to him anyway. Talk a little." Jonathan drank too. He smiles so innocently at me. Except there's nothing innocent about it. He wants me to do it, as he always does. To make sure his crazy friend doesn't do anything unforgettable, far beyond our rules.
"Forget it. I'm not going to babysit him again," I flatly refused.
"Again?" wondered Steven beside me.
"I just want you to talk to him," Jon insisted. "Make sure everything is okay."
"I,"
"There's nothing complicated about it." the sly smile on his face suggests the opposite.
"Then why,"
"Jon won't leave you alone, until you promise to go there," Marcus interrupted. His look suggests that there's really no point in arguing with him or Jon.
"Fine," I sighed. "let it be your way." If I'm lucky, the conversation will be quick. "I'll stop there, it’s not like I have anything important in the capitol."
Jon nodded in satisfaction. He could not remain silent for even a minute. "Do you have a list of candidates, Andrea?"
"I do," I put down my cutlery again. I picked up a tall glass from the long table and leaned back in my chair. The Seven finally met and put together the list I need, to select a new member. I was only interested in one name on the list, the one I asked Will for.
I looked at the woman next to Jonathan again. She’s not very pretty. Certainly not to fit him. Not in a way that she could ever match my mother. And it doesn't matter how much I hate her. She suits him, more than anyone. More than this lady. The brown in her eyes can't be compared to anything pretty. Her lips aren't exactly thin, but they don't look sensual. And she definitely thinks of herself as something more. Because she was chosen by one of the Heirs. She's lucky she wasn't chosen by the Second or the First, though…
"Anie?"
Jonathan watches me patiently. I guess everyone else does as well. "I will vote for Gallien," I announced.
"How would Gallien get among the candidates?" he thought about it for a good minute. That's how long it took him to control himself. Before he smiled again. He's smiling suspiciously too much tonight.
"You ask as if I'm allowed to interfere with the selection." the wine in my hand somehow became bitter, sour even. I can feel Steven's gaze on me. I can't let that distract me. I'm only interested in Jon now. A smile plays on his lips, he's enjoying all this.
"No, you aren't. Yet, you do."
"I said no such thing."
"Andrea..." he raised his voice slightly, almost imperceptibly. He shook his head disapprovingly. His laughter is absolutely perfect, melodious and divine. He wants to admonish me, but he knows so well that he would do the same if he’d be in my position. He's been doing it all my life. He can't moralise. And he's ready to do it anyway. Damn, I love my old hypocrite.
"Dad..." I stopped him with a sweet smile. His expression changed, completely melted. I prefer his name, but I leave it out from time to time. Precisely because of this reaction. That one word, a little insignificant title means more to him than all other titles, this one changes everything. Even Steven paused. In front of him, my father is simply Jonathan. I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from laughing out loud.
"I was beginning to think I've raised you better than I thought, Anie." Jon's laughter was joined by Marcus'. I hate the diminutive of my name. It's almost as horrible as my middle name. Why does everyone need to shorten my name?
"The problem isn't how you raised Andrea, Jon, but who screwed her up." Katherine gave Marcus a significant look.
Marcus turned to me. "Damien!" we both shout out. Katherine laughed. The two make a perfect married couple. She is gentle in every way, gentle and careful. Next to her he looks like a clumsy mountain of muscles, which is quite misleading and a bit true. And they understand each other even after a hundred years, which is admirable.
Steven leaned over to me. He placed his hot hand on my thigh as he whispered. "It's really strange, Tavin came to me yesterday with a very interesting offer, but he didn't mention his new place on your Council."
"That's really strange," I replied in a whisper, without looking at him. I stared at the glass of wine, even though he squeezed my thigh slightly.
"I didn't sign it," he whispered in an icy voice as he got closer. I want him to get a little closer. I want him to kiss me. I like it when he disagrees with me.
"Yet," I finally looked into the green eyes. I smiled, but he didn't return the smile. He doesn't take it as a game.
"Gallien belongs to me."
Gallien was born in Athran, but he has been a subject of mine for quite some time. As one of the few nobles, he cares about the fate of both countries. I need just such an ally to help me protect Athran and his new king. Whether he agrees with it or not. "It's his choice, not yours."
I'm not sure who's behind all of this, but the intention of our little problem is already taking shape. The seemingly idyllic relationship between mages and ordinary people is held together only by compromise. Thousands of small concessions, petty agreements and promises, all for another day of peace. And all it takes is to scare a few farmers, massacre a unit of soldiers and kill a seemingly untouchable member of the Council. And even ordinary people begin to ask. What can magic do? What's next? And what will be the reaction of the mages to the fact that the first Athran Academy was destroyed by a series of seemingly ordinary explosions just before it could even open. Maybe the Athranians didn't want their own Academy, but now they're definitely going to mind that they don't have one. I've heard the first gossip that tells this fairy tale.
What a cute little fucking problem…
We moved into one of the lounges, the mahogany piano in the centre of the room invites my fingers to dance on the ivory keys. About as much as a bar invites me to pour myself a glass or take away a whole bottle.
But the piano always wins. My father can play very well, he taught me the basics, but he always needs sheet music. His creativity is limited to the terms of contracts. I blatantly ignore most of the notes. I sat down on a red velvet-covered stool, the high slit exposing my entire thigh. I tried not to notice it as I stroked the cold keys with my fingertips. A quiet melody resounding through the room. The conversation behind me fell silent, I didn't mean to interrupt them.
I let my fingers dance without concentrating on the individual keys. I'm only interested in the rich, slowly fading melody, which comes back stronger and more dynamic. With a smile on my lips I closed my eyes, I just wanted to perceive the music. It's like a little story, first I quietly outline the scene, the music announces the arrival of individual tones, which then combine with others and create a melodic connection. A few chords have taken most of the attention to themselves, returning louder and more urgently, like main characters, presenting their arguments. Drawing all the attention to them, telling their own story.
A stranger crept into the world of my melody. Unsure at first, he overwhelmed me, he took my keys one by one, and when my melody died down, his awakened. I opened my eyes, but I didn't stop playing. I took back some of my keys. The second melody complements mine and uplifts it. My chords don't have so much room for themselves, but together with his they merge into a perfect symphony. I know well the second melody that joined mine, it's the music from my puzzle box. He finally opened it.
"I didn't know you played." I'm shaking. I hate doubles, but my fingers on the keys - joined by his, for the first time in my life I feel like my melody is complete. It's a whole new feeling that has consumes me.
Steven took his hands off the keys. I’m starting to regret we stopped playing so early. My heart slowly returns to its usual work, rather reluctantly. Only to start running again as Steven's hand returned to my thigh. It's hot and burning. And I hope he'll take it even higher. If it wasn't for all the people around, I would have helped him with it.
Our moment was interrupted by another intruder. A man in a red uniform with a golden collar appeared in the doorway, followed by an exasperated servant in a tuxedo. I quickly removed Steven's hand, "Excuse me," I stood up and left the room.
"Your Majesty, I apologise for the interruption, Lord Terrick said it’s urgent." the older man bowed and handed me the sealed letter.
"I tried to stop him, to explain to him..." one of Jonathan's servants tried to explain. Like he doesn’t know better.
"It's okay," I stopped him with my hand and smiled. I broke the blue wax with the war hammer embossed and headed for my father's study. I suppose Terrick’s waiting for an answer.
"Is there anything else Terrick has to say?" I asked as I straightened out the letter.
"No, he just insisted that I deliver it immediately." I left the grizzled messenger boy and the younger servant behind me and entered the study.
The shaky writing mentions an attack on Quasnaw province without much detail. Places where most of the precious stones imported to the continent and gold comes from. I had to read the letter twice to understand what he’s trying to tell me.
Terrick describes a brief but brutal attack on the province's harbour fort. Zessia's wealth largely depends on this province, and after the capital, it's one of the most heavily guarded places in the kingdom, or it should be. Gold and stones are not the only things in need of protection in Quasnaw. The report states that despite heavy losses, the attack was quickly repulsed, but the fortress lost its commander. Terrick asks permission to travel to Quasnaw so he can resolve the situation, call in new soldiers and name a new commander.
I leaned back on the wooden top of the old table and thought. My heart is racing again, and Steeles has nothing to do with it. Terrick's report makes no mention of any monsters kept alive by magic, no biting and blue light. Could it just be a mistimed coincidence? Quasnaw is under attack all the time, mostly small groups of thieves are attacking transports, so this would be no exception. That's why there are so many soldiers there.
The letter in my hand caught fire. On a blank sheet of paper, I wrote the credentials he had asked for in the letter. I folded it carefully, the hot red wax spilled on the folded paper, and the seal on the ring closed both sides of the paper.
Until Terrick finds out exactly what happened in the province, there's nothing I can do about it. I stood up and picked up the letter. I was howling at the door when I remembered my own ring lying on the table top. On the otherwise perfectly aligned desk, a letter thrown carelessly caught my attention. I hadn't noticed it before. I immediately recognized Jim's handwriting. Untidy letters fall to the side, each at a slightly different angle. A single sentence shook me more than the whole message from Terrick.
Edgar is right, you need to talk to your daughter. Please. -Damien
I have no idea what Edgar is right about, but something tells me I don't want to know. Damien never signs letters for Jonathan with his name just to provoke him with that nickname. And he never asks or begs him for anything. He uses all the rights he thinks he has as an older brother.
I put the message back on my father's desk and picked up my ring. I didn't put it on my finger, but instead squeezed it tightly in my hand. I always thought I had a good overview of the situation around me, but since my coronation I have understood absolutely nothing.
Immersed in thought, I almost run into Katherine. Her hands readily caught me before I could fall. She giggled apologetically. "Marc sent me to check if everything is alright."
"Just the Council… they're surprisingly clueless." I quickly conjured up a rather convincing smile. I'm starting to feel like I'm going to have to keep my thoughts to myself.
The messenger waited patiently in the same place where I had left him. "Tell Terrick that whatever happens from now on, falls on his head," he bowed again and disappeared into the long corridor with the other servant. I turned to Katherine, a tight white dress with long sleeves and a high collar emphasising her slim figure. Uncharacteristically, she kept her brown hair loose. "We should go back, Steven is alone with Jonathan and Marcus."
"I feel like he gets along well with them. Especially with Jonathan." Katherine looked around as if someone were watching us here, and added in a lower voice. "But that's good, isn't it? Do you like him?"
"Everything is completely different with him," he effectively turned my perfectly aligned world upside down. I've allowed myself to fall in love with him, and the more time I spend with him, the more painfully I realise our differences. He either doesn't see them or chooses to ignore them, and that's even worse.
"That's good, isn't it?" she asked curiously. Loud laughter came from the lounge. "Maybe you need someone with whom it's different."
I stopped in front of the door, spinning the ring in my hand. I find it hevier than usual. I don't want to put it on, I feel alone with that little piece of jewellery on my finger. Even when Steven is with me, I can't talk openly with him about everything. I don't want to talk to him about these things because it would endanger his life. Maybe it's me? No... with me, he has a fighting chance. "Perhaps," I conceded, pulling the ring on my finger. If there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's pretence.
For the rest of the evening, I mentally counted the minutes while joking with others. Jonathan is hiding something. It's not the first time and I know from experience that it won't be pretty. Jim doesn't tell the whole truth either, which is even worse because his tolerance is the lowest in this regard. Stephan has disappeared somewhere, and I can only guess that this is not one of his trips to the past. And all three of them are certainly doing it in my best interest. But what interests me the most is, what the fuck is Edgar up to?
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