Chapter 33 #3
“Alwyn,” Krujha said, so soft he might have imagined it. “Even if that was what happened, you could hardly be to blame for it. You were a child, a baby.”
Alwyn shook his head. “Even so… Something must have happened. Something that either killed them, or… or made them give me away.”
Krujha let out a long, slow sigh, leaning back in his chair. When Alwyn finally mustered the strength to look into his eyes, his heart squeezed in pain—he had never seen such a sad expression on Krujha’s face before.
“That is a heavy burden to carry,” he finally murmured, reaching across the table. A second passed, then Alwyn closed the distance, allowing Krujha to gently cradle his hand. “I can understand your conflict. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t know if it would be better to just... keep not knowing,” Alwyn whispered. “I don’t know what would be worse.”
“You don’t have to decide right now,” Krujha replied. “You have the information. Take as long as you need to consider it.”
He supposed that was true. Wherever Mistfield was, surely it would still be there in a month, or a year, or more. He didn’t know how long it might take him to ever come to a decision about the matter—if he ever could.
“You’re right,” he sniffed, wiping his eyes one last time with his free hand. “I’ll think on it.”
Krujha nodded, flashing an encouraging smile when Alwyn glanced back up at him. He managed a shaky smile in return.
“Oh, there was more,” he said, suddenly remembering the invitation tucked into his pocket. “Tomorrow night—Tessarion told me there’s to be an award or something with us and the king. I’m assuming that whatever King Ruven planned will happen there.”
“Oh, I know,” Krujha replied, grinning. Alwyn frowned—how could he know already?
He slid his hand away from Alwyn’s, reached into the chest pocket of his coat, and pulled out a small piece of folded parchment.
“That girl who left the office first—after you went in, she doubled back and passed this to me. A note from the king himself, telling us about the ceremony and our part in it.”
Alwyn scowled, his face burning. “You couldn’t have mentioned that before?”
“We were discussing more pressing matters,” Krujha replied, shrugging. At Alwyn’s scowl, he laughed and shot the elf a wink. “But I suppose you’d better take a look. I’ve already got my part down. I, er, might have had a few discrete meetings with the king to provide some input.”
Alwyn’s frown dropped into an open-mouthed gape. “You spoke with the king? When?”
“To be fair, you took some long afternoon naps this past week,” Krujha chuckled.
“And I never went back up to the castle. There was this tavern with a secret room in the basement—it was all very clandestine. I think I made a very good impression, by the way. Really got to prove to him why I was the man for the job and all.”
“I can’t believe you,” Alwyn said, still reeling. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this sooner?”
Krujha shrugged again. “It never came up.”
“You’re insufferable,” Alwyn muttered, but he couldn’t keep the hint of a smile off his face.
Krujha laughed as he passed over the parchment.
Despite everything, Alwyn’s heart ached with pleasure to hear him laugh.
One final job, then they could be rid of this place forever, and he could hear that laugh and see Krujha’s sweet smile everywhere they went.
At sunset the next day, Alwyn and Krujha stepped through the gates into the castle courtyard, dressed in the finest robes that they could procure on such short notice, with heavy winter cloaks draped over their shoulders.
Snow had been falling steadily all day, making the trek up to the castle wet and cold.
“I wish you could come with me,” Alwyn sighed as they trudged up the stairs to the grand entrance. Krujha shot him a small smile.
“I know. But I won’t be far,” he replied, his voice a low rumble. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
Alwyn nodded, and they stepped into the foyer. “I suppose this is where we part.”
“Not for long,” Krujha replied, winking at him. Alwyn sighed. It was hard to remember how good he was at all of this when he was being so completely obtuse. “See you soon.”
A guard in the foyer gestured for Alwyn to follow him. As they stepped out, he could see Krujha take a seat at one of the stone benches, now alone. The plan was in motion.
The guard led him to a parlor on the ground floor where the small award ceremony would be held; because of the secretive nature of the Order, no grand displays would ever be awarded to them, but modest commendations were not unheard of.
Then the guard pulled open the heavy wooden door and announced Alwyn’s presence.
“Ah, here he is,” the king’s voice came as Alwyn stepped inside. “The man of the hour. Please, be welcome.”
A stark contrast to the stiff formality of their last meeting, King Ruven had a slight smile on his face, his demeanor almost warm.
He was dressed in fine, but subdued robes of a deep navy blue.
Something too resplendent would draw unwanted attention, but it made Alwyn feel less self-conscious—his own robes, though finely made, were relatively plain.
At a quick glance, the parlor itself was similarly modest. It was big enough to comfortably fit the handful of chairs that were facing the front of the room.
The long table pushed up against one wall, overflowing with goblets full of ale and honey-wine, and all manner of fruits and desserts, was the only indication that this meeting was a celebration.
Alwyn spotted Tessarion near the king, of course, but was surprised to notice two more familiar faces: Galred and Fionia, standing together in one corner.
The few other guests were instructors within the Order, but no one he particularly cared to greet.
The king gestured for Alwyn to approach, and he took a few steps closer before bowing deeply.
“It is my honor, your majesty,” Alwyn said, keeping his head downturned. “The opportunity to continue serving the crown is thanks enough.”
“I am happy to give credit where credit is due,” King Ruven said.
“Though there are some unfortunate specifics, the fact of the matter is that this rebellion has ended before it could boil over into something worse, and we have you to thank for that. But I am giving away too much of my speech. Please, avail yourself of the refreshments. While we are truly in winter now, I am pleased that I can provide some of the best of Aefraya’s harvest to you here. ”
“Thank you, your majesty,” Alwyn said. The king turned back to Tessarion, obviously dismissing him. He hesitated, wondering if Tessarion would say anything to him; but after a beat of silence, he stepped away.
Alwyn’s eyes kept darting over to Galred and Fionia as he stood at the refreshment table.
They were speaking with each other in low voices, but occasionally Fionia’s eyes darted in his direction.
He hadn’t thought of Galred once since they’d left Drol Kuggradh, but after Fionia had split away from the group, he had worried about her.
It was a relief to see her alive and well, and he hoped he would get the chance to speak with her in private before everything went down.
As he picked up a goblet of honey-wine, Alwyn glanced nervously back at Tessarion; but he and the king were now speaking to each other, paying no attention to him.
He needed to know where the adjoining room was, he remembered; he turned slowly and looked around.
Opposite the entrance he had come through, there was a smaller, unassuming door.
It was the only other exit out of the room that he could spot, so that had to be it.
The door was closed, but he knew it would lead to a small connected parlor used to expand the space for larger parties.
It didn’t seem very private, but he could only trust what Krujha had told him about the plan.
Before he could think too much more about it, though, Fionia came up beside him.
“Hello, Alwyn,” she said, her voice prim and proper, as if their last meeting had been over tea. “I’m glad to see you’re doing well. Master Tessarion told me you had been injured.”
“Hello,” he replied, keeping his voice as even as he could. “He told you true. I am not fully healed, but I’m feeling much better now. Thank you. I’m glad to see you made it home safely, too. What about the elves you accompanied?
“Yes, luckily everyone arrived healthy and whole. Or as much as possible, I suppose,” she replied. Before they could say anything else, the king cleared his throat, and the room fell silent.
“If you would all be so kind as to be seated,” he said, gesturing towards the chairs arranged at the far end of the room. It seemed Alwyn had been the last arrival.
Alwyn’s heart thumped in his chest as he joined the shuffle toward the chairs, finding the one in the front row marked for him.
Fionia sat on one side of him, Galred on the other—an unpleasant shiver crept up his spine as he realized Tessarion was sitting directly behind him.
He took a deep drink of his honey wine as the king stepped to the front of the room, moving with a perfect elven elegance.
“Thank you all for joining us today, despite the short notice,” King Ruven said, standing before them.
“Though the Order of Twilight cannot be recognized publicly, I do not wish to diminish the work of its members. The work the Order does is often unglamorous, but in many instances, it has been integral in assuring the continued safety of Aefraya and its citizens. This is one such instance.”
The king’s eyes landed on him, that hint of a smile returning to his face. Alwyn took another nervous sip of wine.