Chapter 8 Syrus #2
“Because soldiers gossip, and none more than the palace guards. I’d really rather my mother not find out that I lost him.
Or Brandow.” He’d almost rather face his mother than his oldest brother.
As crown prince, Brandow’s sense of self-importance bordered on arrogance and there was a high likelihood Syrus would punch him, which would just make this entire situation that much worse.
“You never did explain to me how, exactly, you lost him.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Syrus peered through the first door on the right, which turned out to be an old storage cupboard. It didn’t appear anyone had opened this door in years. The number of unused or abandoned rooms he’d found this morning was actually quite surprising.
“Syrus.”
Xan’s annoyed huff stopped him before he got to the next door and he sighed heavily, turning back around. “We can discuss it later.”
“No, I think we need to discuss it now. What happened? I’m not going to keep helping you if you don’t trust me.”
“It’s not about trust,” Syrus said. He’d started his day tired and now all he wanted was to go back to bed, but he couldn’t do that until he found Eiri and for that, he needed help.
“Eiri and I got into a fight last night and he refuses to continue sharing my room. Since my mother clearly wants us to, I need to find him and bring him back before she finds out. Can we keep looking now?”
“A fight about what?” Xan crossed his arms over his chest, dark eyes narrowed.
He was a small man, barely reaching Syrus’ shoulders, and slender.
His shoulder-length curls and high cheekbones gave him almost a feminine edge, leading most to underestimate him.
He was a Vardor through marriage, rather than blood, yet he’d somehow inherited their infamous temper.
But where Syrus wielded his like a hammer, Xan honed his anger, his words cutting with a surgical precision that even hardened soldiers tried to avoid.
“I barely even recall. It was another stupid argument, nothing new for us. Why does it matter?”
“The fact that you don’t want to tell me about it makes me think it matters very much. It also tells me that you likely either started it or escalated it and you’re trying to hide exactly what happened. So, which is it?”
Footsteps on the stairs provided a moment of distraction, both of them going quiet as a pair of servants passed.
If they were surprised to see a prince in this forgotten corner of the palace, they hid it well, giving quick bows before going about their chores.
Syrus tried to use the reprieve to come up with a way to explain things that didn’t make him look like a complete ass, but by the time Xan turned back to him, he’d come up with nothing.
“My mother ordered me to get him acclimated to life here and get him to adhere to Vaetrean customs and etiquette. I set an appointment with a tailor to get him into proper clothing, and he refused. I insisted, he got upset, we fought, and he left. Now can we keep looking?”
“Oh?” Xan raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, somehow packing that one word with enough sarcasm to fill a whole tirade.
“You know what? I don’t need help after all. Thank you for your assistance,” Syrus snapped, abruptly done with the conversation. He didn’t have time to deal with his cousin’s recriminations. He’d fucked up, he knew it, and he’d deal with it later. After he found Eiri.
“Syrus, stop,” Xan huffed before he could get too far down the hallway. “I’ll help you find him. I just wish you’d take my advice about—”
“Not right now. I love you, but I’ll worry about all of that later. If you’re going to help me, then let’s keep moving. If not, then just drop it, alright?”
Xan wasn’t pleased, that much was easy to tell, but he didn’t keep pushing the issue. He kept his silence as they walked up and down the corridors of the third floor, searching in vain for Syrus’ runaway husband.
“Have you considered looking down at the docks?” Xan asked, only breaking his silence once they’d cleared every room on the floor and ended up back near the family library. “The Canjiri always seem to prefer being around water, right?”
“He wouldn’t make it there without someone spotting him.
Same reason I doubt he’s hiding out on the main floors,” Syrus said, shaking his head.
The first and second floors of the palace were the only ones open to the entire court, with many of the second floor rooms occupied by courtiers and guests.
The third floor was reserved exclusively for the royal family and those select few they allowed up here.
This time of day, the first two floors would be bustling with servants, courtiers, guards, and guests moving about and visiting.
Eiri would stand out and immediately be the center of gossip, which Syrus would have heard by now.
“Outside, then?” Xan suggested. Syrus crossed to one of the windows overlooking the rear of the palace and grimaced.
The gardens alone were massive, spanning several acres of land.
Tall hedges created a maze-like walkway, interspersed with beds of rare flowers and trees.
Artfully arranged fountains and statues drew the eye, a blatant show of wealth installed by his great-grandfather that his heirs had built upon, until the Lodie Palace Gardens were famous across the world.
“If he’s out there, I’ll never find him.”
“Find who?” a very familiar voice asked, and Syrus had to stifle a curse.
His youngest brother, Ellis, stood in the doorway of the library with a small stack of books in his arms. Fifteen years younger than Syrus, at just twenty years old, Ellis was just as broad across the shoulders and already an inch taller than him.
He still held the lankiness of his youth and along with his tendency to have his nose in a book all the time, he had a reputation for clumsiness around the palace.
“Your brother-in-law’s servant. Bodyguard?” Xan cut in before Syrus could fumble for an answer. “Whatever he is, he’s a pretty one, isn’t he?”
Ellis flushed, tightening his hold on his books when the stack slipped. “Xan. Hi. I-I didn’t see you there.”
“Hello, Ellis.” It was a simple greeting, but for some reason, Ellis’ blush deepened.
“Hi, Xan,” he said again, then bit his lip. “Sorry, I just said that. Anyway, I’ve got to go. Up to my room. Just to drop off the books, not for… I mean, I have a lot to do today. Bye.”
Syrus just stood there watching as his brother fled the hallway as though being chased, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to get back to his room.
“He’s adorable,” Xan laughed, but it was fond, not teasing.
“Ellis? He’s twice your size, at least. I don’t think he’s capable of being adorable.”
“It has nothing to do with his size and everything to do with that puppy personality of his. That’s beside the point, though.”
“Right. We need to keep searching,” Syrus agreed. “We’re running out of time.”
“I guess it’s time to head outside, then. I can’t think of anywhere else.”
“I may know one more spot,” Syrus said suddenly. “I doubt he’s there, but I’ll check just in case. You can head outside and I’ll join you in a minute.”
Xan nodded and left, heading for the servant stairs that would take him down through the kitchens and outside.
Syrus went the other way, back toward his rooms. The stairways and corridors the palace staff used were everywhere, usually behind the walls to allow them to move unseen.
He doubted Eiri had found them yet, but he couldn’t be entirely sure.
The entries to those hidden hallways were discrete, nearly invisible unless you knew where to look.
Syrus had found all of them as a child, using them to escape particularly boring tutors.
There was one in particular he’d used regularly and that’s the one he went to now.
It was barely big enough for one person to push a cart through, the reason almost no one used it anymore.
Even the floors were dusty with disuse, which made spotting the fresh footprints simple.
The tiny hallway split off in two directions from the door. If he went to the right, he’d travel the length of the corridor before coming to the stairs. Several doors out to the main hallway dotted the wall, most of them sealed to prevent unauthorized access.
If he went left, there were no more doors, just a hallway that ended in a steep staircase that climbed up instead of down.
This wing of the palace only had three floors, so the staircase going higher had proved irresistibly tempting to him as a young teen.
As he climbed them now, he was far less excited than he’d been as a youth, his knees protesting the sharp incline and narrow steps.
At least there was no one else around to see him when he paused to catch his breath at the top.
In front of him, there was only a single door.
It was sealed with wards as well as lock and key.
The wards were nothing, of course. He was no mage, but he was a Vardor and the palace wards were all calibrated to allow the royal family access.
The simple lock was the more difficult challenge and had stymied him on his first foray, but he’d long since disabled it, counting on the wards to keep out any unwanted visitors.
He didn’t need to use it here, though. The door was already slightly ajar, which confirmed what the footprints in the dust hinted at. He’d found his recalcitrant husband. Now he just had to figure out how to fix this mess.