Chapter 23 #2
Finlay strolls forward, surprised when he glimpses the lowborn girl sitting one chair away from a student hailing from a lesser noble house near the front of the class.
She looks elsewhere—like she is physically here, but her mind is not.
Though, that is not for him to worry about, nor does he care to contemplate the conditions of someone beneath him.
His father warned him against such a thing.
When he reaches Master Strithmore, he straightens his spine and lifts his chin. “Wielders, today I am going to provide you with some training techniques that’ll help enhance your lakt?’s capabilities. You should strive to complete these exercises at least once a day, when—”
Someone clears their throat. Finlay’s eyes rove toward the back of the room where the disruptive noise came from, his tongue already preparing its lashing. Yet surprise clamors through him at the sight of The Keeper, Josiah.
“Forgive my interruption,” he says, that calm yet captivating voice of his carrying lightly through the room. “But I’m afraid I am in need of both Captain Fjolla and Gray Nightenjoy.”
Finlay quickly steals a glance at Gray, finding an equal amount of surprise resting in his expression.
“For what reason?” Master Strithmore questions, the slightest current of irritation brushing against her words.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss such things openly,” he says through an easy smile, as inviting as it is diplomatic.
Josiah’s warm charm is something that has always astounded Finlay. The authoritative way in which he carries himself, yet the current of calm always surrounding him.
“Very well,” she concedes through a sigh. “But know your timing could not have been more inconvenient. Captain Fjolla was just about to provide my class with a small lecture on ways to strengthen their lakt?.”
“Hopefully he will be gracious enough to return to provide the students with such knowledge another time.”
Finlay grunts at that. For the love of the gods, he does not want to have to sit through another first-year class again.
“Hopefully,” she agrees. She turns her attention onto Finlay and dips her chin at him. “Be on your way then. I’d prefer you not make the Keeper wait longer than he must.” She throws a glance at Gray. “You too.”
Gray rises, collecting his things and stuffing them into a satchel. As Finlay struts through the center of the class to meet them, he catches the farm girl glancing back at Gray, a flash of some expression Finlay would have preferred not to see.
Truthfully, it makes him scowl—the momentary open display of weakness.
Yet he doesn’t have time to think about it further.
He reaches Josiah and Gray, and after Josiah jerks his chin, motioning for them to follow him outside the classroom, they wordlessly do as instructed and trail behind the aging, white-haired man until he eventually leads them out the final winding corridor and into an elaborate garden.
His personal garden, Finlay realizes with no small amount of surprise.
Questions bubble in his throat, but he remains silent, not wanting to speak first.
Josiah stops between a line of terracotta pots where tall and leafy black dahlias flourish and prosper in thick and staggeringly tall bundles.
“Congratulations to you both.” He reaches into the inside of his light blue tunic and pulls out two rolled up scrolls, each sealed with the Erandor Kingdom’s official crest—a castle wedged between two rivers.
He places a scroll in each hand, extending them out to Finlay and Gray.
Gray, with a crease in his brow, takes the scroll tentatively. “Why are we being congratulated, exactly?” He breaks the seal and scans the scroll’s contents.
Josiah looks to Finlay next, gesturing for him to take his own scroll. He holds the man’s blue-eyed gaze a moment longer before reaching for it and unsealing the parchment, scanning the contents as well.
He grimaces first. Then, his lips twist into a bitter scowl as he actively works to not let a long, dissatisfied groan spill from his lips at the instructions awaiting him in his personalized note.
By the fucking gods…
“You both have been cordially invited to this year’s Winter Solstice Ball, held at the beautiful Sagamon castle in Talderine, King Erasmus’s home itself.”
Finlay knows his expression must look positively bored—he has attended this event more times than he cares to count.
Though a flash of surprise does flicker through him at Gray’s invitation.
He glances at him sidelong, finding it odd that Nightenjoy’s expression remains unchanged.
Even if anyone with the slightest understanding of political underpinnings would know his invitation is no mere coincidence, with Gray Nightenjoy arguably being one of the most beloved damn figures Erandor Kingdom has right now.
Word about what he did in Ninmere for both the town and its people has spread like wildfire.
It’s irritating.
Lion of the Heart, they call him. Dumb and impractical, in Finlay’s opinion. It doesn’t even have a catchy ring to it.
“It seems your recent fame has resulted in you being invited to one of the most prestigious events in Erandor,” Finlay muses to Gray.
His resulting smile is slanted. “Indeed.”
“You have each been granted leave for the duration of the night. You both have been offered rooms in the castle as well,” Josiah informs them. “An aether-wielder will transport your group, and he will return the following sunrise to bring your group back.”
“Group?” Gray questions.
“Captain Dalmar, Captain Larking, and Captain Sulien will be joining the two of you for the event as well. Then of course, the dates you each select to accompany you for the evening.”
“Some of us don’t get to choose who we bring,” Finlay mutters under his breath, irritation heating his blood as he again curses the instructions within his scroll. You must bring Rhea Brooksley as your date. Signed with his father’s very own signet ring and all.
Really…what in god’s veins is his father thinking? Why her?
“Be that as it may,” Josiah replies through a skip of laughter. “You will enjoy the company of a date nonetheless.”
“Enjoy is a loose word in this context.” Finlay feels his sneer curling his lip.
Josiah ignores him. “Oh, by the way. Huxley Rangard will be joining you as well. As the son of Lord Rangard, I understand his presence is also expected.”
Gray openly grimaces at the information, and Finlay arches a brow at the surprising gesture. “Do you have a problem with a member of my aggregate I should be aware of?”
“None other than my cousin being an unbearably unpleasant ass.”
Finlay’s brows shoot up. “Cousin?”
Gray groans before heaving a frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Unfortunately.” Yet he only seems to sulk in his frustrations a moment, dropping his fingers from his face and resetting his expression into something focused and quizzical.
“Josiah?” he asks through a particularly curious lilt.
“Yes?”
“Why are you allowing us leave for the duration of the night? Or perhaps I should instead narrow my question to focus solely on me. It makes sense why Captain Fjolla, Dalmar, and Sulien must attend, seeing as they’re the heirs to their Great Houses.
Even Captain Larking and Huxley make sense, since their Houses also reside within Erandor’s borders and are deeply connected to King Erasmus.
Yet I am a nontitled son from the Rivara Kingdom whose name is only circulating because of my recent actions.
Actions only stemming from my responsibilities as a future Jurafen.
” He pauses, as if wanting to emphasize his next point.
Finlay’s eyes narrow in curious anticipation.
“Jurafen answer to no king, and Bathara is politically neutral. Why, then, grant me leave to accept a politically motivated invitation?”
Josiah studies Gray for a long beat, seeming to really consider the question.
“There are times where it is necessary to simply show your face. Even for Jurafen. Though having you in attendance is most certainly some political ploy concocted by King Erasmus’s advisors for one reason or another, it also holds benefits for Bathara to have you there as well.
” He steps forward and cups Gray’s cheek while something inscrutable swims in his gaze.
Finlay’s brows furrow at the intimacy of the moment—Josiah holding Gray’s face as if they have known each other far longer than the short time Gray has been here at Bathara.
And there is something else about the gesture which catches Finlay’s attention.
A near-imperceptible sorrow seeming to line the man’s eyes as his fingers twitch with an apology.
Then again, Josiah has always been one of the few people Finlay has never been very skilled at reading, so he could be off the mark entirely.
“Take someone you care for and enjoy yourself, Gray,” Josiah says with a peculiar sternness.
Though he looks hesitant, Gray nods. “I will.”
“Good,” Josiah murmurs, dropping his hand and stepping back.
“That is good.” With distant eyes, he draws in a loud breath and claps his hands gently together.
“Well then, if you two will excuse me, I have other matters I must attend to. Gray, give your father my regards, would you?” Gray again nods, and Josiah offers each of them a parting smile before turning his back to them and strolling deeper into his sprawling garden.
Gray calls out, stopping him. “Wait.” He steps forward and reaches for a small, oblong item clinging to Josiah’s shirt. He plucks it from him and holds it up for all to see. “This was stuck to your back.”
Josiah gingerly reaches for the stray black dahlia petal and observes it for a long, silent moment. Until he ultimately grinds the velvety thing between his fingertips, scatters the deep maroon pieces to the ground, and strolls away without so much as another word.