Chapter 27 #2
With a little smile, Victor motioned for Hugo to follow him down a different aisle.
After a couple of minutes of searching, the king grabbed a thick, leather-bound book with gold leaf on the front and whimsical drawings.
It appeared to be a children’s book of folktales.
The book balanced on one hand, the king thumbed through the pages until he stopped at one with a drawing of a fluffy four-legged creature with a long neck. Not at all what Hugo had imagined.
“Okay, so…maybe they weren’t alpacas,” Hugo hedged.
“Uh-huh. Sure.”
“They are quite adorable. Can you ride them?”
“Some do. I understand they can be quite stubborn. Many of the mountain villages use them for pack mules, but most are raised for their wool. It’s quite soft.”
Hugo skimmed the story alongside the picture. It looked as if it were about an alpaca that went on an adventure up a mountain and got lost.
Victor closed the book and returned it to its spot on the shelf. “You’re willing to marry your brothers off to me, but you don’t think I’m handsome enough for you?”
A choked laugh escaped Hugo, and he backpedaled out of the aisle. “What? What does that have to do with anything?”
“Then I’m not dashing enough? Smart enough?” Victor stalked him, tossing out comments as Hugo retreated.
“I think you are plenty dashing and smart.”
“You don’t think my kingdom is rich enough?”
Hugo rolled his eyes until he retreated right into a heavy leather chair. “Ridiculous. Wulia has ample wealth. I don’t care about that, unless it’s to worry about whether your people are suffering from not having enough money to feed and clothe themselves.”
“My people are fine.”
“Your Majesty, I’m flattered. Truly, I am. But let’s be honest, you don’t actually care for me.”
Victor stared at Hugo in silence for several minutes before his face cracked into a smile. “I think if we had met under different circumstances, we could have been friends.”
“You know, as a friend, you could always move Prince Everand out of the dungeon for the night.”
The king’s expression turned hostile. Hugo hurried over, hands up as he tried to make placating motions.
“He’s been in the dungeon for several days, and he could use a nice bath.
Plus, it’s going to be a long ride to the crypt, right?
Wouldn’t it be wise for him to have one good night’s sleep prior to our journey? ”
“And I’m guessing that you’d like him moved to your room?”
Hugo shrugged and tried to be nonchalant, but he had a feeling he missed it by a mile. “It would make it easier for the guards and the servants. They’d have to bother with only one room.”
Victor snorted and stalked to the library door. “I have plenty of guards and servants. It’s not a bother.” He gave orders to the guard outside the library to have Prince Everand moved to a private room for the night, but not the same room as Hugo.
This was still a win, and Hugo would not let his good mood flag. He wouldn’t have to worry about Everand for one night. He’d have a nice hot bath, maybe an evening snack, and sleep in a warm, soft bed. With any luck, this time tomorrow, they’d be free and in Branem again.
After the arrangements were made, Victor closed the door and strode into the room to join Hugo at the table where the steel and glass swords rested.
Hugo picked up the glass sword and inspected it.
He’d made it quickly as a laugh since Victor had been silly enough to grab a real sword to battle savage alpacas.
It wasn’t a terrible effort, but it could use a bit of cleaning up.
Without thinking, he called upon his magic and began making tweaks. He frosted the handle while making the blade clear. He added a guard between the hilt and blade. From the guard, he started winding a vine around the blade with leaves popping out here and there.
“Forgive me, but what’s the national flower of Wulia?” he asked, his eyes still locked on his work.
“The Midnight Orchid.”
“I have seen pictures of that. Rich velvety, deep purple with a white center like a touch of moonlight,” Hugo murmured. As he spoke, a glass Midnight Orchid blossomed on the vine in the center of the blade. Another appeared near the tip and a final one on the guard.
“Exquisite.” Victor breathed.
“It’s not bad. I’ve seen others trained in the glass arts who can make things so beautiful, they would bring tears to your eyes.
I was never formally trained. My mother didn’t want me going into trade and ruining my chances of making a good marriage match.
” Hugo held it up to the lamp, inspecting his work.
“It’s not a particularly useful magical skill.
My father’s magic was in baking. At least he could feed people.
Dorian’s magic can make, mend, and restore books.
The world will always need books to preserve and share knowledge. ”
Hugo set the glass sword next to the steel sword and swallowed a sigh. “I can make windows. Cups. Pretty trinkets.” He lifted his gaze to the king. “Which would you prefer? A person who could make steel swords or a man who could make windows and cups?”
Victor reached out and ran his fingertips along the smooth blade of the glass sword.
“I would prefer a kingdom where my citizens didn’t need swords to feel safe.
I’d rather they had windows through which to see the world but keep out the cold.
Cups filled with wine and glass plates covered in food. ”
“Then no matter what happens tomorrow, take a step back from the war we are racing toward. While I will never understand the depth of pain you and your father have felt, war will only bring more suffering to innocent people caught in the middle of this old feud. How many families have been destroyed because sons and husbands have fallen in battle? Through the years, how many battles have been fought over grazing fields and farmlands, which have resulted in more destitute and starving families? It’s time to lay this old conflict to rest for the good of Wulia and Branem.
Stop now, and you can gain what you’ve not had in a long time. ”
“What’s that?”
“Family. Everand is your cousin, after all.” Victor’s nose wrinkled as he sneered, and Hugo laughed. “Okay, that was a step too far.”
“Much too far,” Victor confirmed.
Hugo bumped Victor with his elbow. “He’s not that bad. You remind me of him a bit.”
“That’s enough!” Victor shouted, wringing more laughter out of Hugo. “Go to bed. I don’t want to see you again until morning. And I’m confiscating this sword. Prisoners aren’t allowed to have swords.”
Hugo walked to the door leading out of the library, a smile on his lips. “If the alpacas devour me before I reach my room, it’s on your head,” he called out.
“I’m sure I’ll find a way to go on.”
Yes, Hugo was sure he would, but at least he seemed to be in a somewhat better mood. If what he’d said helped to sway him to end this standoff with Branem tomorrow, Hugo would count it as a win.