Chapter 27 #2
Veronica watches me for a few heart-pounding beats and then smiles. “They ask many questions about you. I do have fun telling them all your misadventures.” Her eyes twinkle and she gestures to the plum tree closest to me. “Remember how I tricked you into learning drakopagon?”
“You told me the first ripened plum of the year was magical and could make any wish come true. You told me I could have it if I learned drakopagon and helped you win against your brothers.”
“You really believed it. I’ve never seen someone master a sport so fast.”
“I wished to become a healer!”
“Looks like the plum was magic after all?”
I clear my throat. “Ah, did you really tell them that story?”
“It’s part of the reason I love plums so much.” She gazes at each tree, smiling. “I love this garden. I used to have another tree, right over there, but I donated it to the capital when the little prince was born.”
Heat sneaks up my throat. “I—I’m familiar with it.”
Her gaze descends to me. “You are?”
“I may have, sort of, accidentally destroyed it?”
“Cael!”
“Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to.” I peek at her through the gap between my arms, which are shielding my face. “Let’s call it . . . payback?”
Veronica tuts. Forgiveness and understanding. I hope, but I’m not sure, I deserve it. She looks over my shoulder, past my flushed cheeks. “Prince Nicostratus is approaching. Practice. I’ll visit my son.” She stands, and pauses before pivoting away. “Don’t hurt any more of my trees.”
To make sure of that, I guide Nicostratus deeper into the garden. The air is thick with the scent of violas and the tang of upcoming rain. It mingles with Nicostratus’s familiar smell: metallic and sharp, a trace of the long days he spends training. Letting them abuse him.
Then he comes here to train me.
He curls behind me to correct my hand motion and slides an arm around my waist, the flat of his palm on my abdomen. “Breathe in.”
“You must be tired,” I murmur. “Maybe we should stop for the day.”
He presses me closer, hand a hot imprint on my stomach. “The deeper you call your shield, the stronger it’ll be. Try to connect it with an emotion.”
“Emotion?”
“Haven’t you wondered why people leak magic when they get angry, upset, or even happy?”
I’ve leaked magic like that, of course. We all do. “It comes naturally.”
“Exactly.” His nose brushes my ear. “Feelings amplify magic.” He leads my hands into a dance that fires up nervous shivers. “They strengthen your attack, and your defences.”
The earthy shield before me pulses, thickening with bursts of colour like flower-heads before whizzing up over my head, behind me, to my side—
Nicostratus laughs softly, pleased. “Of course the stronger the feeling, the harder it is to control.” He turns my hands out and tells me to breathe in. I regain hold of the shield and keep it steady around me.
“Oh look, there’s Constantinos.”
I snap my gaze across the courtyard to Quin’s stubborn cheekbones and poise. The sight is a slice of light cutting through the dimness of the garden, enough to make me blink. He’s not just Quin. Not just Nicostratus’s brother.
He is the king.
My shield jerks and expands with vines of shimmery blue roses, then fires out in a multiplying boom into the courtyard.
Nicostratus steers my hands and helps me rein it in. “I’m perhaps not the best person to practice with in this instance. Constantinos!”
I drop my shield and the roses burst into petals that disappear in a waft of perfume as they hit the ground. I palm Nicostratus’s knuckles at my stomach, my palms sweaty as I clutch him tight. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
I dare another glance at this new figure before me and murmur under my tongue, “It looks like he’ll use the opportunity to kill me.”
Nicostratus’s laughter is as genuine as he is. “He’ll do no such thing.”
Across the courtyard, Quin raises a daring brow.
“Nevertheless,” I say.
“Calm, calm. I want to grab some crude weapons to test it. Constantinos, help out for a minute.” Nicostratus lets go of me and whisks away.
The ground seeps cold through the soles of my boots. A few drops of rain pelt my face and my breath is a large cloud clawing after Quin, who is—who is turning away.
Relief is a bubbling shiver rolling up from my feet to my chest and back down again. Except, wait. What am I doing? He might be king, but he’s also Nicostratus’s brother. Also just Quin. There are things I need to ask Quin.
Ignoring a lurching hop in my belly, I chase after him, sliding over stones to his side and landing a hand under his around the cane.
He slides his fingers up from brushing mine; I catch my breath and fumble a short bow. “I haven’t seen you.”
“Entirely intentional.”
“I know you’re worried about your brother, but I’ve been careful—”
“Watch how close you are.”
“Sorry?”
“Our uncle surely has spies about, and you have your hands all over one another.” He pivots towards the entrance to the queen’s palace.
“He’s teaching me to hold a shield. Anyone can see that it’s innocent.”
Quin pauses for a moment and continues striding away with a hollow laugh.
He summons magic to open the doors ahead and they rattle and slam against the outer stone. My stomach jumps like an echo. My teeth rattle. I grit them. I haven’t seen Quin since the night spent on my knees. I’d approached him with a good attitude. Why is he acting like this?
“Wait.”
The air tightens. It’s so quiet the frustrated thump of my heart pounds in my ears. Slowly, Quin turns. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”
There’s a new glimmer in his eyes—cold, stubborn.
I drop to my knees, forcing reverence. “Your majesty.”
He draws back, boots and cane crunching over grit. He’s about to leave. Urgency has me scrambling forward on my knees. “What about taking me out of the royal city with you?”
Quin pauses; the rich scent of uncertainty leaks from him.
“Or—or better, a pass to visit my family?”
Cool words prickle against my downturned head, race over my scalp and neck.
“My uncle might have dismissed your part in recent events, but he’s a suspicious man; he’ll be keeping tabs on all of you.
If he finds you’ve irregular permission to leave the city, he might decide to play safe instead of sorry. ”
I snap my head up.
I’ve spent the last month hoping I might soon get to visit Mother and Father, Akilah, my brothers and nieces. It seems that’s out of the question. I sink onto my haunches.
Quin shifts slightly, uncomfortable, grip white on his cane. I rein in the impulse to check his leg and offer him relief. He’s too volatile; the thought of sliding my fingers along his wrist and reading his pulse . . . He’d snatch my hand and his gaze hitting mine would be terrifying.
I suppress a shiver. “May I ask for a different reward?”
“You hurt my brother. That’s not something I can forget easily.”
I swallow. “I accepted punishment for that. I didn’t heal myself, either.”
Quin frowns. “You didn’t—you knelt all night, on hard ground. It rained!”
“Please?” I murmur.
“What?”
“Grant permission for Florentius and me to go to his brother. On the other island.”
A streak of fear and pain lances through Quin; his hand shifts and whitens around his cane. “No.”
I raise plaintive eyes to his.
“No.”
“But—”
“No.” Quin throws out a spell. It first hits hard against the clasp on my cloak, which breaks and clatters to the ground along with the fabric it had held together. The spell slides over me like a blanket, suctions close until my body is enclosed in a quiet, glowing hum.
“What is this?”
“A reminder. Keep your distance, or you’ll find my patience has limits.”
He pushes into the palace; his son screeches his name, rushes towards him, and pounces into his arms. Veronica follows, gently chiding the boy as Quin sheds the sternness he had with me and lifts him over his head, using magic to spin them around. “You’re getting heavier every day.”
“Soon I’ll be as big as you!” He giggles. “When can I visit? I miss Generalus.”
At Quin’s fatherly-warm reply, I pick up my cloak and tie a knot to keep it in place. Nicostratus was right. I just . . . Florentius . . .
“Shield!” Nicostratus yells from behind, and I whisk on the spot and freeze—
The sword doesn’t land. I’m sure it wouldn’t have anyway—Nicostratus would have pulled back. But something stops his sword before he can. The glow around me booms outward at the attack and punches his weapon away.
“That’s not your shield,” Nicostratus murmurs. He tries to come forward, but the aura around me stops him coming any closer than a foot.
I frown. Nicostratus can’t reach out and touch me, but I seem to be able to reach through and touch him. I pull his sleeve. “Your brother did this. What is it?”
“A cloaking shield. Some use it when they fear poison; it won’t let anything harmful in. Nor out, for that matter, so if you were planning on poisoning anyone, best not to while wearing a shield like this.”
“Poison anyone! I’m a healer.” I pause. “Some medicines are poisons though.”
Nicostratus nods.
I ask him to try to touch me again; he can’t. “Couldn’t you wear this all the time? Instead of armour?”
“Magic is mighty, but it’s fickle. What if the shield dissolves mid-attack? You’d be left with no protection. It’s always better not rely on it.”
I shake my arm, but the glow doesn’t waver. “How long does it last?”
“My brother’s shield will last longer than most. Perhaps, though,” Nicostratus grins, “not as long as mine.”
I laugh. “Are you trying to impress me?”
“That depends. Are you impressed?”
He laughs and I follow his footsteps to the canal on a hummed sigh. His kindness is always a warm blanket, a safe space. Cozy, comforting. Definitely not sharp with a propensity to utter harsh truths.
“Let me take you to your quarters,” Nicostratus offers.
I glance along the water to a boat of retiring aklas. Any one of them could be a spy for the duke . . . “I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”