Chapter 2 #2
She catches my face before I pull away and plants a kiss on my cheek.
“Good morning, my youngest child.” She softly pinches the hair on my chin and moves my face about while studying my appearance.
“I beg you and your brothers to stop aging. It only reminds me that my time is getting shorter.” She leans in close and drops her voice an octave or two above a whisper.
“Maybe your next trip should include locating the Ivian Flower. Bring me back a bit of that immortality people claim it possesses.”
She pulls away, laughing at the legend of the flower that is supposed to bring eternal life. I join her, but our interaction is cut short when it sounds like my father is choking from across the table.
He coughs a few times and chases his food down with wine.
Seeing he’s okay, I offer him a bow. “Good morning, Father.”
A servant slides out a chair for me and another brings forth a golden plate filled with eggs, meat, a variety of fruit, and my favorite, cinnamon cakes. It’s been months since I have had the addictive, flaky pastries and oh, how I missed them. I inhale one as a servant pours me a drink.
“I see your brothers are late, as usual,” my father says. “You’ve been gone for nearly three months and still manage to make it on time.”
“Glad to know nothing has changed,” I retort, tossing in another bite of one of the cakes.
“Tell us, Iann, did you find anything new during this trip?” My mother’s eyes grow eager for information.
So do my father’s, but his reasoning is different. Mother actually enjoys listening to my stories, while Father appreciates them, but cares more about the findings than the experiences.
“Yes, brother,” Deean, my older brother and middle child, says.
“Please tell us all about your travels.” He drops his body weight against me, providing a hug meant for annoyance.
He then drops his lips near my ear as he whispers, “Please tell me you spent time exploring the beds of the women in Diamondhead. I hear they have a special taste for us, Saden men.”
“Heard or know?” I mutter, pushing him away.
Stealing a slice of melon off my plate, he chucks it in his mouth and lets some of the juice dribble down his chin. “If I knew, you would have certainly heard about it.”
“Am I suddenly invisible to you?” Mother remarks, trying to get Deean’s attention. “Or have all the manners I taught you been forgotten?”
I would say the latter, but I keep my mouth shut.
Deean has always been the wildcard of the family.
One to do as he pleases, with little to no repercussions.
The fact he is second in line to the crown is a detail he doesn’t hide and many times uses it to get what he wants.
This mainly comes in the form of women or extravagances.
Deean gives our mother a kiss on her forehead. His skin matches the sepia brown shade of hers and they share the same rigid jawbone.
He drops a diamond bracelet into her hand. “So, you’ll always be reminded of your favorite child.”
She only shakes her head. “Then I shall think of all of you when I look at it.”
“Deean, stop messing around and take a seat,” Father orders.
Deean offers me a slap on the back of my head as he passes, but eventually finds his seat. It’s hard to think he’s nearly two years older than me.
“Where is your other brother?” Mother asks, taking a sip of wine.
Deean shrugs. “The last time I saw him was with…”
His sentence dies when Marcel, our oldest brother, strolls in. It’s not his presence that keeps us quiet, but the woman he strolls in with.
She is full-figured with most of her hair pinned up, only leaving a few curly strands to wander over the deep complexion of her skin. Her lips are painted a deadly red and she has on a dress to match.
Deean raises his eyebrows at me when I look back and together our gazes float to our mother.
“Family,” Marcel announces himself, adjusting a button on his black coat that runs wild with gold stitching.
Marcel looks more like my father and me. Same russet skin and thick black eyebrows that arch over hazel eyes.
The woman bows and goes to sit in the chair across from me, next to my brother. She doesn’t get halfway before a cane occupies her seat.
My grandmother, appearing out of nowhere, blocks the woman from joining us at the table.
My mother raises her eyebrows at me as she takes a sip of wine, covering up a grin.
“Marcel,” my grandmother says, “did you miss the part about this being a family breakfast?”
My grandmother’s lips thin out as her eyes focus on my brother. Sensing how vexed she is, he answers quickly, “She simply wanted to know what breakfast in a palace was like. What’s the issue?”
“Because she hasn’t had that experience before?” Deean whispers while cutting into a sausage, but Marcel waves him off.
“Are you, his wife?” Gran asks her.
The woman looks around the room, flustered. “No, but—”
“Betrothed?”
“Not yet, but—”
“Did you get an invitation to this breakfast from either my son—your king—or my daughter-in-law—your queen?” The girl doesn’t try answering this time.
“I thought so.” My grandmother turns to a guard.
“I’m sure you’re a lovely girl, but this is a family affair.
This man will escort you out.” The woman looks towards my brother, who looks to have forgotten her entirely as he eats like he’s the only one at the table.
The girl doesn’t wait to be escorted out, she gives a half bow before running out of the room.
Gran takes her seat and cuts her eyes at Marcel. “Must you be so careless?”
“You’re the one who kicked her out. I cared enough to let her at least join us for breakfast.” Marcel licks a finger.
Gran mumbles under her breath. We all know she isn’t in favor of Marcel taking the throne after my father. His every move has been the subject of her scrutiny. But if a part of him cares, he’s good at not showing it.
“Good morning to you too, Mom,” Father says, directing the conversation to something more positive.
“Iann my boy,” Gran shouts, ignoring my father and waving off the servant who offers her wine. “It’s been too long. Tell us what you found in Diamondhead.”
“Yes,” Marcel says before taking a sip of wine. “Do tell us all about your grand adventure.”
Gran doesn’t turn to him, only exhales loud enough for us all to hear.
My eyes lock with Marcel and his annoyance subsides. “No really. Tell us, brother.”
This time, he says it with sincerity. I straighten myself in my seat, ready to share every detail. “At first, we thought the entire trip was a waste. Found nothing for two months and every clue we had about the diamonds hidden deep in the mountains led to nothing but dead ends.”
“So, you found nothing?” Deean interjects. “That’s rather boring.”
“We thought we found nothing,” I clarify. “After listening to local stories, we found the coordinates to be off. The diamonds weren’t in the mountains at all. They were buried deep, near the edge of Shadow Pass.”
“Tell me you didn’t enter those lands?” my mother asks with a mix of horror and intrigue.
Shadow Pass leads to the Untouchable, a land no one has ever explored.
“No, the diamonds were near it, but we didn’t actually enter it.”
“And what about…?” Suddenly my father’s courtier appears at his side, interrupting Gran.
After a few whispers my father gets up from the table, and we all stand with him.
“Marcel and Deean, accompany your mother and grandmother to hear the people’s concerns. Iann, follow me.”
All eyes drift to me, but no one interjects and we each do as we’re told, with the others heading out of the room, and me going in the opposite direction after my father.
The tail ends of his coat flap back as he flies through the halls. Paintings smear across my periphery, trying to keep pace with him, and if the speed is alarming, his lack of speech turns a tighter knot in my stomach.
Coming to his study, he barges in and crosses the room in a few strides. He keeps moving, but I stop.
Stacks of books line the floors and maps inked with scribbles are sprawled out on the walls.
There is an old musty smell and I spot dishes that look to be untouched for days.
He pulls on a book snuggled into a shelf.
The movement sets off a series of clicks and we watch as the shelf retracts from the wall and forms a strip of darkness.
It’s similar to hidden doors all around the palace, but never have any of us entered my father’s hidden rooms.
“Don’t stall, boy, keep up.” he warns before descending spiral steps. Not daring him to repeat himself, I follow.
At the end of the staircase we come to a room that is already lit by a fire, and standing at the other end is a man who leans forward, exerting weight on to a cane. Wrinkles pinch his face as he offers us a smile, a smile so trustworthy it could make anyone confess their darkest secret.
“Iann, meet Rolley Mackall. He is an explorer like yourself.”
Rolley bows. “Your Royal Highness. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
My father sits in a black cushioned chair and gestures to two empty seats on the other side of the desk. “Tell me, my son, what do you know of the Ivian Flower?”
Taking my seat, we stare at each other for a good minute and when he doesn’t offer clarification, I find an answer for him.
“Umm…you mean the mythical flower that’s a part of a fable you and Ma told us as children?
” My father’s face grows with excitement and I am clueless as to why.
“That’s it. It’s a fable. A delusional quest people have gone on, only to return with crushed dreams or worse, not to return at all. ”
My father pulls out three glasses from his desk, followed by a bottle of apple bourbon.
The apples are grown in the orchards that surround the castle and are known as Saden’s sweetest. A crisp tang hits my nose before my father slides the glass across the desk.
Alcohol has never been something I acquired a taste for, but there is something about apple bourbon that I enjoy.
A refreshing, yet burning sensation, prickles the inside of my mouth, but that doesn’t stop me from taking another swig.
“As I was saying—” My father gets out half a thought before downing his glass. “What if I said it was all true? What if a flower like that truly existed? I know you well, my son. There had to have been a time when you thought it was more than just a fable.”
He isn’t wrong. Beyond my nursery years, there have been several times in life when stories have troubled my desires to set out on the dangerous expedition.
But the thing with legends is they are all stories that come from people with no proof.
The ones with potential proof are dead and unable to leave stories behind.
My gaze goes to Rolley, who hasn’t taken a sip of his drink and still carries some of the weight on his cane. “I assume you know something about this?”
Rolley smiles. “I believe my great-grandfather may have discovered it. My great-grandfather looks no older than His Majesty, but was born nearly one hundred and fifty-seven years ago. He outlived my grandfather, my father, and I reckon he will outlive me. He has stayed hidden most of his life to keep speculations low. There isn’t a soul outside my immediate family that knew of this secret. Well, so I thought.”
“Why isn’t he here to tell us himself?” I pry. “That might make your case stronger.”
Rolley nods. “It would. Unfortunately for us all, he was taken. The only thing the captors left behind was this.” He tosses what looks like a black fur ball onto the table.
My father doesn’t seem the least bit surprised, so I assume this is something he has already seen.
I touch the item, immediately recognizing it as fox fur, the tail no doubt.
“I was setting out to look for him when His Majesty’s men arrived.
Turns out the news of the flower and my great-grandfather’s connection with it isn’t as much a secret as I’d hoped. ”
My father’s chair slides back and he rises to his feet, causing Rolley and me to stand with him, Rolley taking a little longer than everyone.
“Thank you, Mr. Mackall. I would like to speak to my son alone now.” Rolley bows and takes his leave, but my father stops him one last time. “The plans we discussed earlier are still in motion. Departure is in three weeks.
Rolley nods and makes his way up the steps. My father and I sit in silence until we know the door is shut.
“Do you honestly believe him?” I ask my father, who pours himself another drink.
“Do you not?” His lips curl into something wicked, but once the glass hits his mouth, it vanishes. “Can you imagine the power Saden would gain if we had access to something like that?”
“I don’t think anyone should live forever.” My retort rids him of any pleasurable thought he has. “And that’s if it even exists.”
A finger traces the rim of his cup. “Fear has a knack for persuasion.” He leans forward, tugging on my attention. “I’ve asked you to go on many expeditions for me, and just like all the other times, this one is no different. I need you to team up with Mackall and find the Ivian flower.”
A deep sigh slips out and my grimace meets the desperation in his eyes. He’s asked me to go on several expeditions, most of which are fueled by a blend of power and greed with a dash of wonder. This time is different. He looks like he might wither away if my response is no, and that alarms me.
“Where does he think it is?” My question comes out dry, but I would be lying if I didn’t want to know where the legendary flower resides.
“Farella Isle.”
“Farella Isle?” It is not the place I expect him to say. “Going on a hunt for a flower that may or may not exist is one thing, but you’re telling me it’s located on an island, not only owned by your greatest enemy, but by a queen ruthless enough to kill us on sight?”
My father finishes the contents of his drink once more before slamming the glass down on the desk. “Your one and only task is to find the flower. Let me deal with the Queen of Haymel.”