Chapter 12
Sebastien traveled to Castle Vega the long way around, via the Aswad Woods.
Not that he planned to go anywhere near Rotten Rupert’s hunting lodge there.
He just needed some time in the forest to clear his mind.
It had worked, except that he hadn’t counted on Nina and Nonna being so excited to be back in the area where they’d been born.
Home home home.
Home home home.
Nina and Nonna had been happily singing their homecoming chorus since they’d entered the woods, undeterred by Sebastien’s repeated reminders that they weren’t going to visit their hound family.
He felt a little bad about it. Had he realized how badly Nina and Nonna missed the woods of their birth and how much a trip home would delight them, he would have taken them for a visit long since.
I don’t want to go back to that place, Kismet commented sourly.
I’m just happy to go anywhere at all again, he added, not the first time he’d said something about being cooped up at HASP.
Those three mares in the corner stalls are very snooty.
They won’t even talk to me. And did I tell you that Sterling, the gray stallion, is boasting that he’s been with all three of them? But Rosie says that he’s making it up.
“You did tell me all of that,” Sebastien replied. He’d never expected that being able to hear animals meant being admitted to the wacky world of horse drama.
Well. Kismet blew out a bubble of disdainful saliva. I’m happy to have a break from their nonsense. Finally.
“I’m sorry, buddy,” Sebastien said, patting the horse’s neck. “I’ve been neglecting you and I’ll do better.”
Kismet made a verbal harrumphing snort of clear doubt that included a great deal more slobber and Sebastien felt doubly bad.
Between the heavy class load and all the outside work assigned to him to catch up with students much younger than he, Sebastien had very little free time—and what he did have, he spent with Rose.
It was good for him that she was so serious and ambitious, so determined to spend every moment on study, or he’d probably be failing.
As it was, he’d barely kept up passing marks in even the remedial classes.
Madame Hendricks might be thrilled to have actual royalty at HASP, but that didn’t translate to her or the professors cutting him any slack.
For the first time in his life, he wasn’t cruising easily along on his charm, a generous smile, and a willingness to please those more powerful than he in whatever way they wished.
It would be galling, but he had to laugh at himself.
He’d wanted something to make him more powerful, to make his life easier to bear.
And now look at him: a sorcerer, if a low-level one, and having to put effort in because of it.
He’d had a shot at a better position at court, at pleasing his irascible father, with Rose.
And then he’d gone and bungled the proposal, which should have been easily within his skill set.
He should have set it up to be romantic, with flowers and poetry.
But he’d thought, well, that Rose would appreciate the practicality of the proposal.
They’d both entered the affair with clear knowledge that they could benefit each other.
Alas, no one but Rose would turn up her nose at the prospect of being a princess.
A thousand girls would kill for that role, but Rose—contrary, prickly, difficult Rose—just had to treat a future with him like a prison sentence.
He didn’t expect her to love him. Frankly, he truly didn’t believe in love. Even Ali and Dianna scoffed at the notion of love, commenting that it was propaganda to entice people into otherwise destructive marriage contracts. The much-touted familial love had never made its presence known either.
Love you, Nina said.
Love you, Nonna said.
Love you, Kismet said, but had to add, when we get to go places.
He smiled, his heart warming. Maybe he did feel love, for his faithful companions, at least. Still, it seemed he should feel something like it for Rose, too.
He found her beautiful and awe-inspiringly powerful and intelligent.
Her determination never ceased to amaze him.
If he could love anyone, it should be Rose, and yet …
Well, he didn’t love her. Part of him kept expecting that headlong fall the poets spoke of so lyrically, but the rush never came.
They were fond of one another, so it seemed like that should be a decent enough basis for marriage.
Apparently not. And Sebastien tried to tell himself that his disappointment wasn’t entirely because of his hopes of having a shield from Rotten Rupert. Still, he felt like he’d let down Ali and Dianna yet again.
Something stirred in the woods, yanking him from his morose thoughts.
Like shadows shifting against each other and making a sound like chain mail slinking.
What’s that what’s that what’s that? Nina bayed.
What’s that what’s that what’s that? Nonna joined in.
Both hounds eagerly looked to him for permission to give chase.
I don’t know what that is, Kismet said, prancing to the side nervously. Sounds weird and scary. What if it’s a tiger?
“There are no tigers in these woods,” Sebastien answered the horse absently, mentally telling Nina and Nonna to hush so he could listen. They obediently sat, ears cocked and tongues lolling with excitement.
A dragon then, Kismet suggested. Horse-eating dragons could be a thing.
“No,” Sebastien replied. “Be quiet a moment.” Kismet continued to fidget fearfully, but Sebastien concentrated on the odd sensation, like a dull knife against raw nerves.
It felt familiar and he realized his latent, fairly weak sorcerous senses were picking up a magical something.
He’d only just begun to be able to identify different magics, and remained pretty shoddy about most of them, but this was one he knew, simply because he’d been around Rose so much.
Sometimes she met him after her sessions with Monster Zoltan seeming covered in residue from the Dream, like Nina and Nonna when they’d found something odiferous to roll in.
Yes, he recognized this particular magic easily: oneiromancy.
And there was only one oneiromancer in this part of the world, which meant Rose was here.
Sebastien’s heart leapt like Nina and Nonna on the scent.
He didn’t know how Rose could possibly be in the Aswad Woods, but she must have come after him.
She wanted to come to Vega after all! To meet his father, and agree to the contract.
Maybe she’d seen the practical benefits of a loveless but nevertheless rewarding marriage to him.
He could salvage his one job after all. Everything would work out fine.
Turning Kismet’s head in the direction of the magic, he asked the horse to run.
Kismet walked a few steps.
Slowly. Unwillingly.
The horse wouldn’t refuse Sebastien’s command full stop, but he made his reluctance very clear, adding little sidesteps and hops between the dragging steps forward. You don’t know it’s not a dragon, he pointed out querulously. Or a tiger.
“I do know it’s not a dragon because dragons don’t exist,” Sebastien replied.
“And tigers don’t live in this part of the world.
Please hurry.” He was learning to impose his will on animals, practicing on mice and birds at HASP, but he didn’t care for the feeling.
His professors insisted that the animals wouldn’t notice one way or the other, but Kismet—like Nina and Nonna—was his friend.
One didn’t force friends to cooperate. It just felt wrong.
With Kismet continuing to drag his feet like this, however …
There was too a dragon, Kismet said sullenly. There was that one time when—Holy shit! What was that?
Sebastien, recovering from Kismet’s sudden sideways hop, said, as neutrally as he could, “That was a leaf.”
Looked like a dragon.
Sebastien didn’t say anything to that, keeping his mediocre sorcerous senses trained on the sensation of oneiromancy drifting through the woods like heavy smoke, all the while keeping Nina and Nonna close by and Kismet reluctantly moving forward.
He nearly dismounted to walk—it would be faster—but then he saw the clearing amid the sentry-like columns of thick black trunks of the winter trees.
A lifeless cottage sat behind a briar-covered fence, and in front of the gate …
Rose.
Pale face turned in his direction, her long black hair loose and spilling unkempt around her slight frame, she wrapped her arms around herself.
Something was very wrong. She wore some unfashionably plain sack of a dress and no cloak despite the chill.
Finally, finally, Kismet broke into a trot, responding to Sebastien’s stab of fear.
Once close enough, he swung off the gelding and ran the last few steps, stopping short of taking Rose by the arms. She’d come to enjoy his touch—the fact that he alone could touch her in a pleasing way never failed to give him a singular delight, and he’d once believed that was a sign they were meant for each other—but she still didn’t like it if he touched her without warning.
“Rose?” He made her name into a question, for she stared up at him as if she wasn’t sure of him, wonder and a hesitant joy in her dark brown eyes.
Nina and Nonna circled around her, sniffing her feet, not flinging themselves at her like they normally would.
Rose reached out a tentative hand to them, as if she didn’t know the hounds.
Who’s this? Nina wondered.
Who’s this? Nonna asked.
Could be dangerous, Kismet noted, sidling away. Sebastien had to tell him to stay put, lest they end up walking to Castle Vega. While he was at it, he told the hounds to go explore and they happily trotted off to snuffle around the briar-laden fence. Rose watched them with keen interest.