Chapter 6
Cai
The silver cutlery practically sparkled on the dining table.
Dinner was laid out on a white tablecloth with a cup of wine next to each plate. There were slices of roasted pork glazed in a honey sauce, along with some vegetables, and some fruit on the side. I stared at the food in front of me but didn’t have much of an appetite.
Elara had requested I join them for dinner this evening. So far, I had mostly dined in my rooms. I wondered how many nights Elara had sat at this dining table alone. The thought created a pang in my chest.
I knew she’d been doing everything alone these days, running the palace, going to council meetings. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d left my rooms. I didn’t really want to come down tonight either, but Elara’s eyes were so pleading that I didn’t have it in me to break her heart any further.
Instead of taking her seat at the head of the table, she’d walked into the dining room and taken a seat next to me.
Elara was looking beautiful again. The upper part of her hair was pulled back, and she wore a dark blue dress, one of my favourite colours on her.
Gwen and Anesta sat next to each other while Lance took a seat on the other side of Elara. It was strange to think that, despite everything he’d done to me and his sister, he was not the person I despised most in the world.
My eyes travelled to Gwen. She took a sip from her cup and met my gaze across the table.
“It’s good to see you out and about, Cai. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
I forced a small smile for her sake. While Thatcher had been like a brother to me, he was actually Gwen’s older sibling. She must have been equally, if not more, devastated, though she did a much better job of hiding it than I did.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Lance spoke up, meeting my gaze. “We haven’t seen you for quite some time. I do hope you’re feeling better.” There was no sincerity in his tone, but I gave him a nod anyway. I didn’t have the will or the energy to deal with Lance’s games tonight.
Gwen shifted her attention to Elara. “This supper is delicious, Your Majesty. Thank you for inviting me to join you.”
“Of course. You are always welcome to join us. I hope you know that.”
I used my knife to cut a piece of meat. It was warm and juicy, but everything tasted bland in my mouth.
The table was awkwardly silent until Anesta spoke up. “I must say, I adore your dress, Lady Gwen.” Gwen often wore green or teal dresses, which complemented the colour of her eyes. Tonight’s dress was forest green with gold trim on the bodice and sleeves.
“Thank you.” Gwen used a napkin to wipe the corners of her mouth. “There was a wonderful seamstress back home.” Her expression grew sad suddenly and she must have been wondering if she was ever going to go back. But Gwen quickly recomposed herself. “She always knew exactly what I liked.”
“Perhaps, one day, the three of us should go into town,” Elara suggested. “We could look at materials and dresses and make a whole day of it.”
“That sounds lovely, Your Majesty,” Gwen said.
Lance cut in. “As long as I don’t have to tag along on this little day trip.” He grabbed a nearby jug and refilled his cup. “It sounds positively dreadful.”
Elara opened her mouth to respond but Gwen beat her to it.
“Very well. But then we won’t bring you any cakes or tarts from the bakery either.
” Lance shifted his gaze to Gwen and his expression changed to intrigue.
I couldn’t remember them interacting much when Lance had come to Norrandale a few years ago, but since we’d arrived, it looked like Gwen wasn’t overly fond of him.
And she appeared in no hurry to change her mind.
Not that I was complaining. She should stay as far away from Lance as possible, as far as I was concerned.
“Lucky for me, I don’t like cakes,” Lance responded, and Gwen’s brows lowered into a near glare.
“I don’t know how we’re related,” Elara muttered under her breath.
“You know, there’s a new bakery in town that just makes the most exquisite desserts, Your Majesty.” Anesta attempted to prevent the tension in the room from growing.
I took a sip of wine and sat back in my chair. There was a tiredness creeping onto my eyelids. I wasn’t sure why — I spent most of my time sleeping the day away.
“Then we shall add it to our list of places to visit.” Elara sent a smile in Anesta’s direction, but I could tell it wasn’t fully sincere. Not like the way she used to smile at me. Her thoughts were running away with her again and I saw the worry hidden beneath her expression.
She doesn’t deserve this.
“What do you mean you don’t like cakes?” Gwen clearly wasn’t ready to let the subject go.
Lance thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know. They’re too . . . sweet.”
She looked at him like he’d just said the most ridiculous thing in the world.
“Maybe you’re just too dark and depressing to enjoy anything good and worthwhile,” Gwen threw back. If I hadn’t been so caught up in my own thoughts, I might have raised my eyebrows. Gwen had always been feisty, and most people didn’t like Lance, but I wondered what her particular reason was.
Lance surprised us all by responding, “Maybe I am.” His face didn’t give anything away, but he lifted his cup as if making a toast before taking a sip.
“That’s not something to be proud of.” She continued to prod the bear, and I expected Lance to grow annoyed, but it was quite the opposite. The Prince of Everness appeared rather entertained by the conversation. That made one of them.
“Perhaps not. But I have a reputation to uphold.” For Lance to suggest that he was anything other than a heartless prick was almost laughable.
“Any desserts you have a preference for, Lady Gwen?” Anesta attempted to draw her attention again, but it was almost as if Gwen hadn’t heard her.
“Is that really all you care about? Your reputation?”
“Touchy subject for you, is it? Considering you are now known as the sister of the man who betrayed his kingdom.”
Elara tensed up next to me and Anesta’s eyes widened a little. A momentary silence fell over the room, as if nobody knew quite what to say.
“Enough.” I found the word escaping my mouth, but my tone remained calm. “Gwen is not her brother.” And just because Lance always seemed to get a thrill out of pushing people, and because my temper and patience were not at their best, I added, “And neither is Elara.”
“Of course not, Your Majesty,” Lance responded after a second. “No one would make the mistake of believing such a thing.”
I nearly flinched when Elara’s hand carefully took hold of mine under the table. Her hands were a little softer in comparison to when we first met, but the calluses were still there. There was a slight comfort in knowing that some things didn’t change.
I didn’t pull away, nor did I look at her. But I heard Elara release a breath as if she was relieved.
My mind drowned out the sound as Gwen and Anesta continued their earlier conversation. I wanted to turn my head and look at her, but I was afraid of the expression I would see.
I feared the pain and anxiety that probably hid in her eyes, and I couldn’t face her knowing I was the cause of most of it.
Her thumb brushed back and forth in a caressing manner, and we continued to sit like that throughout dinner.
After dinner, I decided to go to the library to have a drink and find something to read for the evening.
I would welcome the distraction of a work of fiction.
Perhaps the story would infiltrate my dreams, and I wouldn’t wake in the middle of the night from another nightmare.
One of the servants had lit a fire, warming up the room.
I poured myself a drink and started walking along the shelves, scanning through the titles, hoping to find something of interest.
The Levernian palace had a very large collection of books, some old and dusty, while others still had bright covers and unworn spines.
My mother had encouraged me to read from a young age.
Not just because it was important that I was literate as I would be king one day but because she believed it would open up my mind to new words and ideas.
She used to say that books sat on shelves waiting every day to be read, hoping to be picked up so that they could tell their story.
As a little boy, I used to think books contained some kind of magic.
I couldn’t understand how ink on paper had the ability to create places and people that you could see in your mind.
As I’d grown older, that magic slowly began to fade, until the only things I had time for reading were letters and ledgers.
I picked up one of the books, scanned the first few pages and put it back on the shelf. This I did repeatedly, making my way through the fiction section of the library. I couldn’t find anything to catch my interest, so I decided to move along to the next section.
I discovered the shelves where the much older books were kept, and the further I walked, the older the books got.
Some of their covers were so worn that it was difficult to make out the titles.
If I had to guess, I would have said that a few of the books were at least two hundred years old, if not older.
I put my glass down on a nearby reading table and picked up one of the books. As I paged through it, I quickly realised it was a romance novel, which was not something I was particularly in the mood for, so I put it back on the shelf.
The one next to it didn’t have a title, which I thought was a little odd, but it did have a crown on the spine.
When I looked for the name of the author, I could find none.
The first page began to tell the story of a wicked queen who craved power.
She was cruel and fierce, and the people hated her.
One day, she went to a sorcerer and asked him to make her three powerful objects that would protect her and help her rule without opposition.
The sorcerer warned her that there would be a price for using such magic, but the queen did not care.
She threatened him that if he did not make her the objects, she would kill his family.
The story had now caught my attention. It reminded me of the legend of Queen Riona and the Myrgonite objects.
The book was clearly inspired by the tale, but considering how old the writing was, I wondered if the book contained anything about the history of Queen Riona and King Evrin that might have been lost to time.
I took a seat in one of the big reading chairs, the fire crackling in the hearth.
Once the evil queen had her objects, her greed for power grew.
The king wanted to stop her, but he didn’t know what all of the objects were.
The kingdom grew to despise her even more, but despite all the attempts on her life, no one managed to kill her.
It was almost as if she’d become immortal.
But the magic started to consume her. The woman that the king had married was gone and she was replaced by a monster.
The king knew he had to find the objects before the magic killed her.
He began to struggle with his mind and, fearing he would grow mad, he kept a journal of his discoveries.
He was afraid the queen would try to kill him if he took the objects away from her.
He learned that the magic could not be destroyed, but he did not want to give up.
Then the queen died in mysterious circumstances, but the king knew it had to do with the power of the objects.
He had discovered what two of the objects were and decided to hide them, but the third was never found.
I ran a hand through my hair before taking a sip from my glass.
This was just a story based on true events that took place during the reign of King Evrin, but what if the writer’s work had some truth to it?
What if King Evrin truly had kept a diary that held the answers to what the objects were?
If there was a chance it could help us, then it was worth looking into.